Clever Title Goes Here
Friday, February 04, 2005
ahh, i haven't posted in here in so long.

that makes me giggle. i totally forgot about it until i wanted to comment on someone else's blogger, and it said no anonymous comments allowed. then i realized i had an account from ages and ages ago.

har har.

anyways. maybe i'll try to use this thing sometimes. i'm basically married to livejournal though.

Saturday, August 02, 2003
everything exists in the future.

one day i'll be pretty and skinny and smart, and people will like me. one day i'll do the things i want to do. one day, i'll decide to go travelling and not let the fact that i have no money stop me. one day i'll stop trying to avoid the issue, or even just avoid the homeless guy on the street, who probably is the issue. or at least one of them.

i like to say that i live in the present. screw what happens tomorrow. i don't even know where i'll be in an hour, let alone a week, month, year. this is just a cover. what it hides is the fear of doing, of being exposed. the fear about being found out.

since the theme of the day is being self indulgent, why not start at the beginning.

The Story of My Life

my mother was 17 years old when she got pregnant. my father was 19. i was an accident. either that, or a mistake. i really have no idea when my father decided to leave. i know i was young. i may not have even been born when their relationship crumbled. but that's what happens when you're young and stupid. it doesn't last. funny thing is, kids don't go away when you decide you don't want to take care of them.

i was born on march 7, 1982. without a doctor. because my mother was so young, and i was her first child, they didn't think the labour would go so fast, so the doctor took her sweet ass time eating dinner and missed the whole thing. apparently, the nurses just let my mother do her own thing.

i don't remember a whole lot about my early childhood. most kids don't. i know i was a weird kid who had a habit of running around the house with pants on her head yelling "tick a die, tick a die". i know i used to bark at fire hydrants. i used to think that hellicopters were going to land on my head, and i would only eat watermelon if my mother called it "strawberry melon". i used to think that my wrist was my income tax return.

we moved around quite a bit. when i was 2, we went to calgary. i don't remember much about that either, except for this kid named david luingi who used to follow me home and write love stories about me which he would then read to the class during show and tell. i hated him. i wanted to kick his ass.

i can't remember when my mother started drinking, or when i noticed that she was. i have flashes of being in a car, and having her friends pulled over for drunk driving. or the time she put on that song about it being blue monday and just crying. i don't remember her drinking being a problem until i was about 11 years old, and we were living in grande cache again.

one week, my mother disappeared for three days. i went to go stay with my grandmother, who lived a few blocks away. one morning before school we got a phone call, and some man asked to talk to me. when i came on the phone, he said "we have someone here who would like to talk to you." my mother came on the phone, and i found out that she had been drinking with some people who had decided to go driving down to the river. they had crashed the jeep into the water, and she had to swim across. many people have died in that river, but somehow she made it. i was embarassed.

i spent a lot of time being embarassed. friends would come over, and she would be passed out on the couch. if i asked her anything, she would just mumble yes, and continue snoring. my friends thought it was funny.

later, when i was older, my friends went from thinking my mother was funny, to thinking she was so cool because she would let them come over to our house to drink.

i was 13 years old when i started drinking. maybe that's why i don't drink that often now. it's almost all out of my system. it started with my friends stealing alcohol from their parents, and then went to finding older kids to buy it from us. one night when i was 15, a friend and i got drunk at another friend's uncle's place. he was in his thirties, and kept trying to hit on my friend. our parents came to get us, and we took off. we spent the night hiding in the trees and crying, telling each other stories from our past. she told me about how her grandfather had molested her and how no one knew about it. i told her about how an older "friend" in calgary had tried to rape me when i was 6. eventually, they found us, and took us back to her house, where my mother and her mother proceeded to get drunk and then yell at us for drinking.

i used to skip school a lot when i was younger. i was a master at faking sick. the funny thing was, i even had the doctors fooled. it wasn't until i went to a new doctor, when i was "sick" that i was found out. he told my mother that i wasn't physically sick. i was depressed. maybe he deserved a medal for that. at any rate, i was found out. the game was over. around the same time, i decided that i wanted to move to vancouver. i really had no reason for it, but it was just something i wanted to do. i spent the next few years trying to convince my mother that we should move, but she didn't bite. when i got to grade 12, i realized that if it was going to happen, it'd have to be for university. so i applied to UBC.

it was the only school i bothered to apply to. i had offers from some other schools. full scholarships and such. which i rejected. instead, i took out a student loan and left. i remember when i got off the bus (i couldn't afford a plane ticket), and went to get a taxi. i was so completely scared. i doubted everything that i was doing, and it's really a wonder that i didn't turn around and go back. all of my friends, my family, everything i knew was back in alberta. but i got in that taxi, and well, here i am.

Wednesday, July 30, 2003
i'll try to recreate it. but you know, when the moment is gone, it's gone.

apparently i'm too sarcastic.
apparently i'm too negative.
maybe i should have one positive day.
i could pretend that i don't live in the world.
and then people could be happy.
they could smile, and we could say "how are you" and not care what the answer is.
maybe everything is automatic.
the people who know me least know me the best.

that wasn't how it was. but that's how it is now.
i just lost something good.
another day.
i'm half way through my little 6 day work stint. it's not so bad anymore. the weird thing is, part of me wants to go to the gym tonight. which is lame, because my brain doesn't want to, but my body does. stupid body.

anyways, i get the key to my new place tomorrow, but i won't be able to move in right away, because i have to wait for steve to get his mom's blazer thing. i guess i can't complain about it, but i was secretly hoping that i'd be able to move in there tomorrow. blah blah blah.

writing this thing sucks.
my life is boring.
Sunday, July 13, 2003
the manson show was alright.
weirdos all over the place, but i suppose that was to be expected.
only, the weirdos were mostly weird old men. old drunk men who felt the need to chit chat with me.
the opening band, crystal pistol, are apparently from vancouver. and they were slightly amusing. i felt like i was watching some gothed out version of the ramones with some iggy pop mixed in for good measure.
i liked it. i'm not sure if they have a record out, because i can't seem to get into to find out the info on these kids.

so right now i'm hanging out, waiting for the third episode of the 6th season of sex and the city to finish downloading. i know i'm bad, but i just can't wait until september to watch them. stupid HBO and their non-canadaness.

went to playland today, with the peoples from work. it was good times. i surprised myself and went on the hellavator. it wasn't nearly as bad as the old rickety rollercoaster. i feel like that thing ought to be shut down. i felt like such a cheap ass because i didn't bring any money and my boss ended up buying me a pop. $3 for a freaking fountain pop. i mean, the cup and drink combined probably cost them a whole 5 cents, and yet they can get away with selling it for $3. evil. and in the same vein, i have to head down there again tomorrow to fill out some forms so those boobs at the PNE can steal money from me for the union. good times.

Friday, July 11, 2003
so the canucks are keeping brad may.

i suppose there are worse things. i'm sad that the klatter signed with LA, but such is life. well, such is hockey. there's a lot of talk about this whitney character but nothing has happened so far. meh.

tonight is the manson concert. i'm still amused by the fact that i'm going alone. i'm hoping it won't be bad... i dunno. some people seem to be impressed that i'm going to go alone, but... it'd be more painful for me to miss it than to go alone. who knows, maybe i'll meet new people or something. ah, who are we kidding...

i'll let you all know how it goes.
for now, i'm kinda tired. nap time.
Tuesday, July 08, 2003
the official drunk post starts here:

if i manage to make it through here with no spelling mistakes, that will be an accomplishment.

i have reached a new low. getting drunk on the internet. i remember grade 9, and them telling us that getting drunk alone was a sign of depression. did getting drunk at lunch time count?
i have no idea.

it's funny to think that only a few years ago i was young, stupid, and drunk. from the outside it's easy to wonder why there are so many teen pregnancies in grande cache. from the inside, it isn't so complicated.

sometimes i wonder how i got out alive. look at doreen, look at chrissie. married and divorced by 22, and 2 kids by 21. how did they get there? even better, how did i get here?

the story of my life.
you think you're going to do something good, something to be remembered.
then you get tired and do the 2.2 kids and a dog and a fucking white picket fence.
what does it take to get out of western civilization?

fucking america. fucking canada. fucking cowards.
fucking 12:49am and nothing of real value to say, anyways.
fucking, indeed.
Tuesday, May 27, 2003
whoa. just looking at my first post makes me realise how lacking in detail it is. sell book? that makes me sound so special, like i was going to pitch my idea to some fancy ass publishing company. truth is, there is no fancy idea. all i was trying to do was sell my abnormal psychology text book back to the bookstore. apparently, they didn't want it. the fuckers.

so today i met aimee for coffee. went to calhouns and had some weird veggie quesadilla. is that how you spell it? ah well. i didn't even have coffee. she talked, i listened. she's dating some guy who's old enough to be her dad. my dad, even. one part of me says that as long as she's happy, what does it matter? but the other part of me says that old men are not to be trusted. if he's so great, why doesn't he have someone his own age? sometimes you just have to sit back and watch things unfold i suppose. i don't imagine i know her well enough to be spouting off my fabulous relationship advice, seeing as i'm so experienced and all.

i'm making pasta right now and listening to bjork. making pasta. who are we kidding...? i'm boiling pre-packaged pasta. but hey, at least it's multigrain!

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