!PUBLIC NOTICE!

While Danika may have  H1N1, please know that I am NOT infected with the virus.

oh.my.god.

My “get well soon” card is en route…

Happy Monday, God has a sick sense of humour.

N

Yikes, gadgets! and french braids.

Quick recap: Ottawa- amazing. Nightlife is rad, lots of boho merchants during the day. No scumbags that creep around at night, for the most part I felt safe at 2 am buying juice from the 24 hr  convenience store down the street from t he hotel. Totally a good thing.

Green day show @ the Scotiabank place… Wicked night. Played 3 new songs then went into the oldies. ie SHE. I nearly melted, then decided it best to dance instead. Lots of crowd-band interaction. I bet alot of kid’s lives were changed that night. We’ve got a new generation of musicians!

Returned to Brampton for Ky’s birthday party. Big turn up. Stayed up til 5am, drinking rye and talking about nothing. At one point, we had both of Ky’s poodle creatures in the pool on surf board looking contraptions. Hell of a night. My boyfriend is 25 and I am almost there, as well.

Highlight of the night was definitely the lack of sketchy behaviour. Thank god for that. (I must seem so uptight.)

That night I was giving a parking ticket by Bob Dylan himself. Brad had some interaction with him:

“wtf, are these tickets necessary?”

“Are you trying to make this difficult?”

“Don’t give us tickets, man. We’re drunk, leaving in a cab. Our cars have to stay here!”

“Have a safe trip home, guys!”

Officer Zimmerman, you’re an arse hole. Too bad I wasn’t there.

This weekend was long awaited. It came and as a result of the shock , I have been up until the early hours of the morning drinking, talking about nothing and always with different people. I think I am liking it. My counterparts may not.

No movie night with Danika this weekend. No coffee with Ann, either. Let’s get to that next week.

True Blood, episode 6 on tonight. HBO owns my eyes. I don’t want them to land on any other chanel for the remainder of my life. Oh, Ms Dramatic. I mean every word.

V Fest this September. Is the line up worth buying tickets for both nights? I may just enjoy the time away from home.

Did you know Barrie has a black widow problem?

Maybe the two night thing is not warranted this time.

peace. love.vampires. says my shirt.

but the mosquitos that have masacred my ankles will have to beg for redemption. I am not a donor. I don’t remember signing the paperwork.

God, I am so abstract. Does it show?

Off to buy some lip balm.Nite,nite.

Some say our life is insane. but it isn’t insane on paper.

I am like Barbara Walters… with better hair.

Most of you know I am planning to write a book of short stories on my life. (I am so self righteous, aren’t I? I am out of control!)

 

I am looking for an original title… involving the mention of “grandfather” and it must be appropriate!

Following his  death in May, many memories and moments have popped into my head and I wish to immortalize them in copy. No promise of an actual completion or publishing date, of course.

 

Oh, Tuesdays… At least I got those Green Day tickets for their show in Ottawa this week. (happy, I swear).

 

N

broken homes are over rated/home sweet hell

Most kids find that being first generation Canadians somewhat keeps them down. They are exposed to hard working parents without a high school education and it is usually the same life that they succumb to. I do not see it that way. While I am the first grandchild to be born in Canada, I find that it is the accomplishments and current roles of those  closet to me from which I long to stray from.

Over the years I have witnessed a great downward spiral even Trent Reznor would much  rather not depict. The marriage of my parents complicated the way I looked at the world from a very young age.  It left me questioning things and always analyzing not learning to appreciate. Comments like “that’s so unrealistic”, or “Who ever did that, did it horribly”usually follow my eyes,ears,fingers falling victim to some sort of art or other forms of expression.I will never claim to be a know-all of anything and my street smarts outweigh my book smarts, but there is a certain cynical persona I take on quite often. And it’s something I can’t control. And I have let it scare people away. “But they’re weak”, I think to myself.

My aura is bright, most will say there is a subtle something else that makes my presence present. I don’t believe it is negativity. I feel it is something more. Something carved into my soul that makes the road to my destiny a little jagged and a somewhat uncomfortable drive. It’s a drive, most definitely, because I feel I am the driving force… I am not simply being taken for a ride. (Regardless of  how much I hope and pray that something from above would pick me up in their palm and say “don’t worry, I got you”. Until then, I will be heading out there on my own).

Maybe it’s the constant  battle I have been stuck in that has poisoned my view on the world. Alternating between the streets and spare rooms at the houses of many a generous friend during my late teen years was an unpredictable time for me. Not caring about maintaining my job, relationships or even communication with friends.  My parents where always glad to have me home when my emotional  seasons changed, and for a minute I would forget what it was like at home. It seemed as if when I was gone, both of them got along just fine. And as soon as I returned, it was like a cloud parked over our house and even the weather man couldn’t have predicted it’s appearance.

In some respects it is normal, I suppose. A child is the responsibility of the parents. But I wasn’t reared to be a pest or some sort of burden.

During my childhood I was often left alone, would not speak until spoken to and never asked the redundant things children are asked, such as “how are you feeling?”,”do you want to go to your favorite park?”,”which do you like better?” and so on. My childhood was pretty black and white. This is what is for dinner, so this is what I will eat. This is where we are going today. This is what my mother placed on my bed, so this is what I will wear. Mechanical daily living never prepared me to express my thoughts/feelings on the spot. I was not prepared for deciding what I wanted to be when I grew up.Sure, they asked about it in school but my parents were only concerned with how much the field trips cost and what time they were to drop me off and pick me up. I was not made ready to stand up for myself or to feed my own self esteem.

I was taught to behave. To listen and to act accordingly. I wasn’t taught to respect my creativity and think it something of value. I was taught to think realistically. Rationally.

And I know you think this sounds like a rant, better poured into the ear of a close friend. But,to me,  it’s more of a conclusion. A closing argument of sorts. It is my reasoning for how the rest of my years will be lived.

Happy Sunday, verging on  Monday, for all!

N

change. ruttle. roll.

change.

I will admit that change has occurred steadily in my very own life. It was the case up until now. So why is it that now, at 23, it seems to have remained in holding pattern with no grim possibility of the switch being flipped?

ruttle.

I have come to terms with the fact that before any change can take place, a disaster of  some sort leading to a week long fit of devastation MUST take place first. ( and no, not the death of a celebrity or hell, even that of a family member). MORE. Something like heartbreak, ache or destruction. And an identity crisis in the mix with a hearty spoonful of a personality/emotional disorder. A chemical imbalance instantly becomes the salt required. This is the collaboration  required for full throttle change to occur.

roll.

You’ve all heard the Limp Bizkit song- ROLLIN’,ROLLIN’,ROLLIN’.Adapt to the change that has just taken place and roll with it, bringing on more.

So, this is where I must have stopped. No more rolling, sortof in a stand still. No more change.

What is my 24th birthday resolution? Purposely placing myself in bullshit scenarios. Something is bound to happen.

N