been a while since i begged for/anything but now i want more

i've had to stop sitting cross legged. when i run on the treadmill now, pain shoots up my upper left calf, connecting my ankle to my knee in a tight band of pain. most people would probably say "well, stop running then." obviously it hurts, but it hurts not enough to stop since my half hour on the treadmill is part of my day i look forward to the most.

around the end of the first mile is when i zone out. i try to always run on the same treadmill, the one across from stairmaster number 122. sometimes i watch sports on tv, sometimes i just stare at that 122 bobbing up and down and i run at 5.7 miles per hour on a machine that gets me absolutely nowhere.

i'm also trying to focus on breathing. try concentrating on breathing in your nose and out through your mouth for a half hour; it's incredibly zen. there are four things i'm consciously aware of: the techno pulse in my ear which eventually (also around mile 1) starts to turn into white noise, the placement of my feet on the treadmill that coincidentally helps me check if my calf is in burning pain or just a mild tingling, the 122 bobbing up and down, and my breathing. it's the one time of the day where my brain shuts up and my body goes onto autopilot. on the bike or elliptical i'm able to think, and form little conversations in my head, but on the treadmill, everything just shuts up and for half an hour it's the peace of a nike commerical where the woman is running down an open, empty road.

so in a month where nothing has made sense, my mind is permanently racing, and my body feels beat down, i'm going to sacrifice a little bit of my knee, which now feels like it's permanently shifting to the left for a half hour of glorious peace and quiet.

i get so lonely/can't let just anybody hold me

From the English Patient, by Michael Ondaatje:

when someone speaks he looks at a mouth, not eyes and their colours, which, it seems to him, will always alter depending on the light of a room, the minute of the day. mouths reveal insecurity or smugness or any other point on the spectrum of character. for him they are the most intricate aspect of faces. he's never sure what an eye reveals. but he can read how mouths darken into callousness, suggest tenderness. one can often misjudge an eye from its reaction to a simple beam of light.

everything is gathered by him as part of an altering harmony. he sees her in differing hours and locations that alter her voice or nature, even her beauty, the way the background power of the sea cradles of governs the fate of lifeboats.

so let's face it, this is never what you wanted/but i know that it's fun to pretend

heather came to visit yesterday; somehow i always have so much fun when ottawa people make impromptu visits. the evening always ends up being so much more than i expected, a crazy night when it should be simple.

we went to the white party, which simply enough is where everyone wears white and goes and gets smashed. we were there incredibly early, which ended up making us do several tequila shots and then pounding back the gin and tonics. by midnight our drunken asses were ready to move on, so we went to a random house party thrown by one of the Carnival teams. i don't remember much after this, as terrible as that is to say. it was loud and dark and i had no clue what was really going on.

i'm incredibly tired today, after all our shenanigans. i really should rest tonight, in order to do some readings and clean my room tomorrow. it's an exploded mess in here; i don't even know what laundry is clean and what isn't. carnival was just such an upheavel of my life, and i still don't really feel in control of anything, which i hate more than anything. i'm trying to, but it seems like things just keep cropping up, and more pop up than i can handle. however, my vacation of hiding is over, and things need to get back into gear again. if only i could get motivated.

these words are all i have so i'll write them/so you need them just to get by

things that never, ever, ever fail to cheer me up:

- Ashlee Simpson
- the "Lazy Sunday" SNL Digital Short
- mangoes
- gypsy bracelets
- my new scarf from American Apparel
- my checkered Vans
- running on the treadmill
- playing with makeup
- trenchcoats
- my upcoming trip to the Dominican Republic
- having long hair to play with
- The Distillers
- green tea in my tulip mug
- singing at the top of my lungs when the house is empty
- my Arrested Development DVDs

well i never pray/but tonight i'm on my knees/i need to hear the sounds that recognize the pain in me

i know i've been blogging sentences like crazy, and i'm sorry. this one is a real blog, albeit brief since i have an early wake up call. january has been a bitch to me, essentially. i had the death of my godmother, which i'm not particularly done greiving for, had to compartmentalize that for Carnival, and now W breaking up with me. january has essentially shitkicked me.

but i was in the shower tonight (which is where i get all my best thinking done) and i realized a few things. i'm still happy. i don't regret anything i've done in the past two months. i was in a relationship where i didn't play any games, i generally stated what i needed out of it, and tried to give what i thought he needed out of it. i didn't push away, and i didn't run from it, and let me feelings grow naturally as it progress, and now i realize that that's normal. i'm not ashamed of the feelings i still have, or about the way i acted, or who i am.

i became a little softer. don't get me wrong, i love being a bitch, a force of nature. but it had grown into a place where i couldn't be soft with people i love, that i always had this protectionist shell around who i was. i hadn't cried in front of someone in months. and everything that happened in the last two months softened the tough exterior. as trite and stupid as it sounds, i became more of a woman. it's made me slower to laugh, and quicker to empathize, which i like. it's made me more tolerant of who people are, and how they act. most importantly, it's lead me to realize that there's a way of telling the truth to people so it's not harsh or offensive, and will essentially help instead of hurting. in yoga it's called satya, choosing words so that they do the least harm and the most good.

as hard as it is over the next few weeks, i'm going to try and practice it as much as possible. there will be times where i want to say bad things, and snark on people, but i'll hopefully be able to do it with the people who won't judge, or repeat the things i say. it's so simple, that if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all; but i think a lot more people could use a little more practice at it.

then again, it's one a.m. so i might have absolutely no clue what i'm talking about.
peace.

if i was in world war two/they'd call me spitfire/cause you know that i can

ah, hello righteous anger. how i've missed you.

i believed in your confusion/so completely torn

i love those times where really bad stuff happens, one thing after another, and as soon as you dust yourself off and get back up, you get shitkicked again.

oh, and by love, i mean hate. really, really, really, really hate.

who thought we'd ever get this far?

ugh. one week of no posts and it's all due to winter carnival, a weeklong team drinking event at our school. it was an awesome time, but you start to feel like you're in this party bubble and when it's all done with, you just want to have five showers, brush your teeth a million times, clean your room and never have a beer again.

it makes you feel completely disjointed from your everyday life: school, friends outside of carnival, family. it makes me a terribly irresponsible person for a week, but as long as that's as long as it lasts, i'm okay with it.

i love carnival for a lot of reasons, but for one biiiig one: for a week, i get to go clubbing every night. i looooooove to dance. however, i love dancing in a particular settings. firstly, there needs to be some sort of riser that i'm allowed to climb on. i don't want to dance with the regular folk; i want to dance above them like some sort of dancing goddess that's risen above everyone else. optimally, someone is also bringing me drinks, so i don't have to get off my riser for some three froshies girls to get up there an grind on. grinding is not dancing, people, it's sex standing up with clothes on. it has its place, but its place is not on the riser. thirdly, the maximum people on the riser is generally three. any more and you can't move, any less is alright. in fact, i kind of like to be alone on the riser to do my thing. lastly, no boys on the riser, because boys always want to grind and see above for my theory on grinding.

people keep asking me what i'm going to do when i'm done school. for the next two weeks, i think i shall say "gogo dancer". too bad it's not the sixties and i'm not in swinging london.

you've gone a million miles/how far'd you get/to that place where you can't remember and you can't forget

She'll let you in her house
If you come knockin' late at night
She'll let you in her mouth if the
Words you say are right
If you pay the price
She'll let you deep inside
But there's a secret garden she hides
She'll let you in her car
To go drivin' round
She'll let you into the parts of herself
That'll bring you down
She'll let you in her heart
If you got a hammer and a vise
But into her secret garden, don't think twice
You've gone a million miles
How far'd you get to that place where
You can't remember and you can't forget
She'll lead you down a path
There'll be tenderness in the air
She'll let you come just far enough
So you know she's really there
She'll look at you and smile
And her eyes will say
She's got a secret garden
Where everything you want
Where everything you need
Will always stay a million miles away

I used to think that the "secret garden" was about sex, but I think that at 1:27 am on a Monday night, I've finally figured it out. It's really about that place, where you'll show the person you love, all of you. Your crazyness, your hopes, your dreams, your fears. You're surrendering everything you are and might ever be to the other person. And sometimes you know that it's still a secret to only you, not even your family or your best friends can touch that area of your life. And sometimes it makes you sad, because you know that you still can't give that part of yourself to someone.

I hate these nights, where I just simply can't sleep. And there's a sadness that's so deep that it's almost tangible. The words weren't there tonight, to ask for what I needed from someone. Maybe that's what's making me sad, that I wanted someone to recognize what I needed and it wasn't there.

what have i done/truth is, nothing yet

i have the most thoughtful, caring, and loving three best friends in the world.

tonight was exactly what i needed: fun, food, laughing, and quietness.

thank you.

sorrow drips into your heart through a pinhole/just like a faucet that leaks/and there is comfort in the sound

I never really believed that this blog would last this long. I thought I'd get bored again, in the same way I always have and in a fit of modesty I'd pull everything down. It makes me feel better though, that the things I'm scared to say to people are here, and that I know the people who I want to know about it will read it.

It's sunny outside today, which means it's cold but I'm glad. Sunshine has this particular way of seeping through all the cracks, to shine into all the normally dark spaces in my room at school. I'll be glad for the sunglasses that I have to wear on the car ride home. On Thursday all I wanted was to be left alone, and no one would do it, thankfully. Now I just want to be surrounded by people, which I will be for the next few days. A wise woman said "keep your family and friends close by to love.", and I'll be doing that over the next few days.

Here's my wisdom: tragedy brings people close together. Never be afraid to ask for something; people can't read your mind and more often than not they're willing to understand why you're asking. I think that we sometimes all feel isolated and alone and scared sometimes, but the important thing to remember is that everyone has felt the way you're feeling at least one time in their life. And they'll understand why you feel that way right now.

This weekend I'm asking for quiet and understanding, for comfortable silences, for extra hugs and love, and for time with my family, and friends.

on sleepless roads, the sleepless go/may angels lead you in

sometimes i shy away from writing extremely personal things here, but then i figure that this is to keep those that are far from me updated on my life, and feelings, and thoughts as they happen; so i've decided to share this.

my godmother died today. i still can't say that without tearing up, i can't even think it without crying. an hour goes by, and i'll think that i can't cry anymore and then the tears surprise me by flowing again. she was an extraordinary woman: strong, and vivacious, and loud, and funny, and full of love and kisses and hugs. i could write about how she made the best salads, how she always played with us when we were kids and in fact, invented the best game ever called Cross the Tickle Line, or how she laughed loudly and often. i could write about how she gave me one of my favourite pieces of jewelry ever: a necklace with a monogram charm, or the way that she encouraged me to just walk into their house whenever i pleased, back in days before everyone locked their front door when they were home. but writing about all this won't bring her back, nor will it show the extent to which i loved her, to the extent that we all loved her.

i'm scared to go home, because right now it's a just a theory, a possibility that she won't be there. but going home will make this all real, and i'm afraid that i'll feel it more tangibly, when it already hurts my heart so much i can barely tolerate it.

Yes, feel too young to hold on/too old to just break free and run

too dumb, deaf, and blind/to see the damage i've done

so tired today. too tired to use proper punctuation even. had a really long day at school, of which the morning was spent in the b.Comm office trying to sort out my schedule and graduation, etc., the afternoon and evening were spent in class and night spent in a carnival meeting and eating at pistol with e. half of it is a sort of satisfactory tired, since i didn't do anything worth being tired for during christmas, it's kind of nice to feel tired because i did so much in one day. but the other half is weary tired, like i just really wanted someone to see how tired i was and to just tuck me under their arm and take care of me. the intense catching up with e was good, but was also exhausting because i had to list things and form opinions and figure out how to express what i was trying to say. i forget that loneliness is still palpable sometimes.

so this is the new year/and i don't feel any different

"the whole ritual cleaning thing is textbook for a reason.
for a couple of minutes you're in control, and everything is the way it should be."

Clean house: clean kitchen, cleaned floors, clean laundry, clean sheets, clean living room. A close family friend is in intensive care in the hospital, and rather than face all the thoughts about mortality and sickness and family, I'd rather clean my house. I still have to clean my desk tomorrow, in anticipation of a new term.

I miss school; I like having a concrete thing to do every day and the fact that this is my last term, possibly ever, makes me sad and a little nostalgic for the days of my first university school term.

New Year's was fun: I loved having all of my friends in Montreal, but the fact that there was so many of us made us segregate a little bit, and that kind of sucked a bit. My favourite part was definitely dancing my ass off with Dave and Jer. Oh, and my dress.