She lives on love street, lingers long on love street...

Last night I had a wierd dream. it was one of those dark, film noir dreams, or it had that tone, at least.

I dreamt that Joel had been gone for two months (which he pretty much has), and that all the while he had been staying in my dads house, but with his aunt instead of my dad. my dad was in the garage all the time, or something, that part wasn't clear. but all of the two months, he was just staying there, and leaving really early for work and getting back at five. but for some reason, I hadn't found out until this dream, last night, when I thought "Hey, I wonder if he's home?", or something dumb like that.

so when I saw him just before he left for work, he was taller, and reminded me of a dead fish. hm. not flattering, no. his eyes were bright, albino-like blue, and his skin was really pale. then he left, because he would be late if he didn't. and I just hung around my dads house, waiting for him to get back.

that was my dream. or one of them.

I've got the feeling something's going on in Ottawa without me. I kind of hope something is. it would make life a lot easier for me, I think. oh well.

Grad tomorrow night. I'm getting it over with. I'm going to go and graduate tomorrow night, I'm going to get my art's certificate, and hang around for a bit afterwards. and instead of going home and meditating on the past four years of my life, I'm going to go and get drunk on red wine in a hot tub with a few people who just graduated with me.

I'm such a field day

yet again!

So, i know my problem. two problems. both incredibly interrelated with one another. one with the other, the other with the one, they effect one another with hardly anything to move it. The main problem, that most of my life has revolved around, is getting away from things. places, people, things, in general. and I realized last night that I was actually able to understand why I wanted to get away, and it was because of my other problem. see, this first problem was riddled with all these tiny hints, memories and thoughts about past times, and how so many of those past times were, in some way, a tangent of my second problem. so, in a way, you could say I have one problem. but they're both smaller problems in themselves, just much more complicated and needing of the other.

I've realized a trend, when i'm in a car. i'll be zoning out, and find I'm zoning out to thoughts of either past events that involved this road, or season, or i'm zoning out into a fantasy world, that is actually taking my memories and transforming them into perfect worlds, alternate realities for myself to hide in. not to say i'm hiding from anything all that well in this place.

so, no matter what road I take in this area, I've likely taken it before, and the circumstances of that drive will lead to a memory of this second problem, the second problem that is beginning to form a new, temporary problem.

in short: I can't escape the past. not around here. so, I know what I need to do, and I need to do it soon. I need to get out of stirling, and far away from everything around here, everything I know. i'm not going to cut myself off from friends and family though... and that, of course, means the problem isn't solved. but, if there wasn't a problem to solve, what sort of life would that be?
bland.

i need to move. and i have the opportunity. but it's also a double-edged blade. I could move... but things would happen, and a relationship would be destroyed. if i didn't move, I would deteriorate into nothingness and...well, then what?
theres a third option, but i'm weary of it.

I'm in quite a sticky place. I'm 50/50 all the time on it. i'll feel this way one day, and then another way the next day, and i'll bounce back and forth between these two feelings, these two equally good ideas (not good, just equally equal ideas...?), which is leaving me incredibly stressed the fuck out. and depressed.

what else can I do?

I know what I need to do. it's the last option. the one i'm weary of. the one I dont really feel confident in, but more confident than the other two.

I just don't want to do it. so much would be fucked up. but, i suppose that would happen anyway, wouldn't it?

my subtle pressures

My hair is very crappy, apparently. not that I care at all. I like it crappy. it shows that I honestly don't give a big enough shit to wear three pounds of make-up and hair spray on my head, like you, mother. you, the woman who is so set on making me get "Nicer" clothes, and a nice new "up-do", because it's my graduation, and I should look good...
why?
why should I look good? everyone there (save for those other parents) will have seen me before, its not like the last time they're ever going to see me is the best time to try to impress them. jesus. why the fuck would I? It's going to be boiling, like it has been for the past four grads. It's going to be long. excrutiatingly long. I will not sit in clothes that are uncomfortable for two hours, and then go to mikes and have to undo everything. fuck that.
so dont get pissed off at me that I don't want to be all "dressed up". your dressed up is different from mine, so no matter what I do, you will be disappointed and ashamed of your ugly, crappy haired daughter. I'm so sorry I can't look good for you. I'm so sorry I'm not under 150 pounds. I'm so sorry i wear horrible t-shirts all the time, and have bad habits. I'm sooo sorry....
you sound like a friend of mine's mother. a friend of mine who was sent away somewhere, not too too long ago, for the same reason you want me to dress up:
because I'm such a fucking slob.
My way of life is not the same as yours, mother. I sit and watch movies, but what kind of movies are they? they're documentaries, they're "slow moving", they're ont he discovery channel... and this makes me lazy and a slob. in your eyes. and many many others. but I'm learning. I know you hate sitting through "Myth Busters"... but i'm learning. I know you hate the shows I watch, and how boring they are, and how the only show you can ever have in common with me in the slightest way is CSI... sorry i'm so weird that you can't seem to make me be like you without an argument. sorry I'm so much like my father, and not you. sorry i'm a little out of reach...

I know what I'm doing. I'll admit to my mistakes. I'll admit to my absent mindedness, and my lack of care over the fack that i'm not confident. but mistakes are the only way to learn. so fucking trust me already, and let me do my OWN thing for my OWN graduation, not yours

its my dead life

it's like a ghost.
a ghost that with every step I take into this empty hall
casts an echo towards my own voice
casts a shadow over my eyes
and calls it light to follow by.

it's like a pin prick
in the middle of the night
that wakes me to a darkened, empty room
with no sound
no sound
no sound but my own heart
listening

its like an echo
down the hall
an echo from a voice that isn't there
an echo from a footstep in the wrong direction

it's like a nail
digging into the side of my toe with every step I take
every step I take into my life
the further I walk, the more rust bleeds into my heart.

it's an empty room
a crowded room
a crowded room that may as well be empty without,
an empty room that may as well be full with-
with
with that heartbeat
that whisper
that ever so soft step to my side
past me
away from me...

its my own voice
following me
into some other life
another lifetime
where I've been before
where my voice is the same
but yours is not.

its a cage
with an open door
and a kind gesturing hand
guiding me into the great, open world.
a kind, warm hand for me to rest on if my malnourished wings are too weak,
a hand to strangle me when my cage is out of sight

that echo.
the echo that doesn't go away.
the heart that doesn't beat.
the room without a guest.
the foot-less step.
the voiceless whisper.
the cage with its dead captive

what use is it, my Dead Ghost?

my ghost is a pin-prick, and surely... Nothing more...

If it ain't broke, don't fix it

if it's broke, don't fix it. it broke for a reason.
ha

imagine a person had dozens of shelves, and every jar had a kleenex in it, or dried resin in the bottom, or (for the newest jars) a small amount of liquid that was the tears that person had cried. imagine those kleenex's were soaked with tears at one point, and that dried resin was from the tears drying up, evapourating. imagine hundreds of tiny jars filled with nothing, with nothing but a label that said why those once-upon-a-time tears were cried.
you could write a story from those jars. you could write a story about why those tears were cried, what was going on. Imagine a room of empty jars. empty save for the memories that can't be seen, or smelled, or detected in any way.

why would you do it? an aching heart? to remember. to remember. to remember. hurts. to look at all those jars filled with nothingness, and realize you cried into them all once...
would it really hurt? or just be there.

I think I'm making a mistake. consideration time is coming in. I think I'm making a mistake. I likely am. so what do I do? clean things up now, or later, after I've had my fun? After I've learned, and fucked up.

what options do I have, though? what real options do I have?... not much. frig. I think I'm screwed over big time

At long last

fuckin eh.
I am graduating (hopefully). two full school days left, then one exam, one picnic, one beach party, one "Exam", and I am done forever. No more Bayside. No more annoying grade nines in the halls. no more bullshit administration. nothin! it will be done! If I JUST pass english! which can be done.... i think. Hope so. my essays were kick ass, so I hope that helps, damnit....

I guess if I'm just barely failing, Mrs.Davis will bump my mark up. because i kick ass. at essays. yeah.

I've got one presentation left to do, one essay for drama. man... a big sigh. big. sigh.

despite hating this past year, highschool has been pretty good, I guess. I mean, yes... I focus on bad things a lot of the time. but all in all, highschool shall be remembered. duh.

heh. I'm just looking forward to having a month and a bit to sleep in before going to work full time in O-town. I'm looking forward to shindigs and what not's. hopefully. it feels like summer, alright. last summer. I've got this kick ass breeze coming into my room, wearing the tank top and skirt, just enjoying the laziness of it all, and knowing I really don't have all that much left to do, save for a presentation, take home exam, and essay.... and yeah. still a bit to do, but it can be done easily, at least.

finally, a relief. goodbye panic attacks and random chest pains. No more warm-ups in drama to dread. no more building to see everyone in, guaranteed, every day. nope. all done. i am a highschool graduate. I'm going to be a pretty-much-adult person. buaahahaha.
right.
well, eventually I'll grow up.

BEH, already have. psh.

now, time for the last bit of homework

what a wonderful world

Whenever a customer walks into my store, I read them. If a customer walks in and isn't familiar with the store, they'll slow down almost to a stop a few steps into the store, look around (but not at me) and then start off again in search of what they want. if a regular comes in, they come straight in, go where they want, etc etc...
if a customer comes in and wants propane, their body language is the same as the first person who hasn't been there before, only chin up more and looking straight at me, catching my eye.

and thats how I know people. Thats how I know who assholes are. body language. something i'm getting to perfect in this job.

so far, i'm not liking working during the day on saturdays. it was busy today. propane ALL day. add a hang-over and only a few hours of "sleep" to run on, it wasn't a good time.

people are fucking assholes, but today we got the worst of them. people who lectured us about something we knew already. so what? you think i give a shit? yes, we know twenty plus ten equals thirty, but that doesn't me we carry a thirty dollar calling card. do you want TWO CARDS OR ONE? Don't get fed up with me asking for your name three times. it's not my fault you mumble all the fucking time in a place with ten other people behind you, yapping loudly like hicks do. believe it or not, the teenager knows what shes doing in her own store, despite being hung over and grumpy. she knows how to do math, she's not trying to screw you over, and she's not going to carry your shit around for you.

i can't believe i have to put up with people butting in front of other people, people taking for-fucking-ever on the lottery machines and scratch tickets when there's a line forming.

at times, i can feel the air change when a real upper-class, "I'm so great" egotistical brat walks in. just the way they walk in. yeah, go ahead and be proud of your leather purse, your overly made-up face using the most "expensive" shit, and you designer sun glasses and Perfect hair... even if you are sixty. just because i have to give you things doesn't mean you own me. for fucks sake, I'm the one who takes your money and gives you shit. I have the control to not give you anything at all! Be a little respectful, dick heads! don't bitch at me, don't give me dirty looks, or maybe some day I WILL rip you off.

frustrating day. too many un-deoderized people. some i worked with... hint hint....



went to calistas last night. had some drinks, hung out with people i hadn't seen in a while, some i had never actually spoken to before. it was nice. fucking sweaty for a while, but by three or four it got nice. yeah. morning. i was up at nine for work. 4 hours of sleep tops. not much. but i'm still going.
I was hoping to get out tonight. at work, riding in the passenger side of a car seemed so perfect. the weather reminded me of last summer, of all it's ordeals. to think, i'm entering that summer again, but it's a year later, and everything is fucked up and in the wrong place and time and state. everything is different, yet the same. I guess I'm realizing now that my life will be a never ending cycle that never changes. not fully, at least. last summer will be every summer for the rest of my life. just a little screwed with. I'm moving out in little more than a month. don't know where. dont have another job lined up yet. but, thats ok...
I'm admitting to a lifestyle everyone hates. and i'll hate it too. but it's the ups of that life style I like the sound of. meeting musicians and artists, other philosophers, people with opinions, who rebel, who try to change things. maybe I'll get swept up in a wave, in some great motion towards something phenomonal.
but, i'm stuck. I have a lot to clean up before I leave, because this will be a big jump. not like going to school, where i have certain times off where i'm expected to go back home. I don't have those. I have something else, i think. work hours. full time job.
so i'm trying to put myself into my future position, to get an understanding of what I have to do now to either get there or improve it. but... I can't.
most of the time, it's fine. I'll picture this presentation I have to put on tomorrow, think of the best way to act in front of that group of people, and it works out...
but I can't with this. this is beyond stirling, bayside, my friends... this is something else. something scary in a way. and i know it. and every time I try to get ready, try to put myself in the future, like with my presentations.. the wiring gets fucked up, and I'm back in last summer, when everything changed. when everything and everyone I knew fell into this black hole and came out on a wierd end. when I woke up to it. It.

-fucking bikes are too loud. stupid motorcycles. assholes have ruined three shows so far. I'll never know all of King Tuts real name and how to pronounce it. arg.

yeah, lots yet to do...

its too hot though. we're all going to roast before 2020. or freeze. the winters and summers will get worse. colder. hotter. we'll be reaching 50 celsius in twenty years. less. we're screwed. my generation on will feel this horrbile curse and it's real havoc. we'll be burned to death, we'll freeze to death, we'll suffocate in this shitty little balloon of gas thats slowly tearing apart. see how we've fucked ourselves over?
Oh, i'm such a hypocrit. I've fucked myself over big time. difference is, my fucking up only effects me and a few others, not the world...

what a fucked up world

You scored as Existentialist. Existentialism emphasizes human capability. There is no greater power interfering with life and thus it is up to us to make things happen. Sometimes considered a negative and depressing world view, your optimism towards human accomplishment is immense. Mankind is condemned to be free and must accept the responsibility. Existentialist 88% Idealist 69% Cultural Creative 69% Romanticist 56% Postmodernist 50% Fundamentalist 44% Modernist 44% Materialist 31% What is Your World View? (updated) created with QuizFarm.com

giar

am I just too self centred or something?
I've got something due tomorrow, but I haven't done it yet. not much time to, lots of stuff on the mind, other things to do. but tomorrow it HAS to be in, because Mrs.Davis is going away to Manitoba as soon as these presentations are done....

and wont be back before the exams. what the fuck. is that right to you? the teacher leaves us all behind? and me, when i kind of NEED the teacher around? what the fuck...

i dont know. school took its toll on me last week when I had a rather serious Panic Attack. I guess that was the clue to get working, but I didn't take it. instead I caught my breath, took a nap, and went to work that night.

I dont know. everything feels fucked up right now. everything imaginable feels aggravating. as usualy, i'm pissed at my parents. tonight they had yet another dinner out together. I haven't been "out" with my mother to "dinner" in ages. i need a dinner with my mom and brother some night. but I'll never get it.

I guess the right feeling is that feeling of being cast aside to make room for someone else. someone better. good thing I'm leaving in less than two months, hopefully. where I can be alone with just one person, and know they won't cast me aside without giving a shit.

everything here feels fake. like it's all a show that no one takes seriously and only watches because they know I'm watching it, and they find that funny. what the fuck?

i feel fucking gipped out of a life. i dont even know the right spelling to that word. fucking school. fucking home. fucking tara and her stealing money. fucking everything sucks sometimes.

i wish i could get over this right now. then maybe I could write this fucking essay and stop swearing so fucking much