304

Day Three Hundred and Four:  My Halloween Pickle

The thing about my confusing issue with Halloween began one Christmas probably eighteen years ago.  My grandparents were taking me to the evening parade as my parents were in it in the small town where I grew up.  My mom had come around wearing an elf costume with a large bear and told me the bear was my father.  Um, no, that’s a bear.  She said it was my dad and he tried to hug me, and I wouldn’t let him.  I didn’t like that he didn’t look the way he really was.

Fast forward two years to my Auntie’s bedroom when I was five, we were watching Barney, and she asked me what Barney was.  I said he was a large purple friendly dinosaur but there was a man on the inside making him work.  My Auntie asked how I knew he wasn’t a real dinosaur, and I didn’t know.  These two very vivid instances in my mind are the reason I cannot go to football games, parades, or the mall around Christmas time because I have an issue with hugging people when they are in full-parodic costume.  Mascots freighten me, Santa’s in the mall freak me out, but here’s the catch:  If they’re on stage it’s fine.

It is something about knowing and being for sure about the understanding that when someone is on stage they are intentionally pretending to be whoever they’re dressed up as, and that’s okay with me.  They acknowledge that they are something different elsewhere and that’s what makes stage work okay.  It’s the parading around in a costume, interacting with civilians, and refusing to come out as your own true self.  Maybe I’m just in the business of understanding identity.

So you can understand my “pickle” as it is with Halloween.  I have nightmares already let alone  the reality issues that comes with an over-active imagination.  So when children and people of all ages are encouraged to frolic around neighbourhoods dressed up as varying degree’s of terror it’s hard to believe that I’m not a fan, right?  The reality (I think) of this whole deal is is that I love being scared, but I have an issue not understanding the blurred lines of pretend and reality on evenings like tonight.  I love handing out candy, I love clever, cosy costumes.  I love cosplay and all kinds of traditions that I have in my family but it’s the scary bits that get to me.  That’s why I haven’t dressed up as anything scary since I was… I was Sharon Osborne in like seventh grade, does that count?

However you celebrate Halloween let it be sitting in your bedroom watching Ferris Beuller’s Day Off with a box of chocolates (like me), hitting up a party dressed however you’d like or following kidlets around collecting candy I hope that tonight is what you hope it to be.  I think I’m spending the night in with my Judith and we are going to eat chocolate and watch a film.  On nights like these it’s easy to get away with a box of chocolates, right?

Happy Halloween!

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303

Day Three Hundred and Three:  Mickey B

I haven’t talked much about my independent study despite how much I love it right now because I am going to be developing a project for next term around it, but I just watched a film and I need to talk about it.  The thing about Macbeth by William Shakespeare is that there are some obviously identifiable themes that we can all point out immediately:  desire, greed, ambition, persuasion, witchcraft, guilt, revenge, and probably more but off the top of my head those are what we’ve got to work with.  Now, the film I just watched was called Mickey B and it was set in a maximum security prison in Belfast, and the cast were, as I have come to believe (and unless my research is wrong) were a group of “lifers” themselves.  The film-makers set this version of Macbeth around gangs inside the prison system, and for the most part this works.

Until the guilt sets in.

The thing about Mickey B is that we enter the story after these men have been put in prison, so we have no idea how or why they were sentenced to a long stay if not life in jail, and this brings me to the conclusion as to why Mickey B himself (the Macbeth character) feels guilt.  Silly question?  Is it?  Men who are sent to prison for killing people to begin with are the kind of men who do not feel guilty for their previous sins, are they not?  Is it because Mickey feels guilt towards his former leader (Duncan?) and that now he is not a loyal gang member?  In all due respect to the actors, film makers, and the adaptation it just didn’t come off as reasonable or transferable.

Everything else about it worked.  I mean, the change in power and following, the loyalty, the gluidity of “Oh Duncan’s dead okay, his son’s off appealing his death, so Mickey is in charge cool okay,” and the fact that no one starts questioning all of these deaths or putting them together is nothing new as it happens in Shakespeare’s edition as well.  What bothered me was that we didn’t see enough of the faithful relationships to really understand why Macbeth felt guilty.

Maybe guilt is just one of those human emotions that really is inexplainable.  Why does anyone feel guilt anyway?  Is there a point to it?  Can it be provoked systematically?  Or is guilt just something that happens and we search for the answers as to why we feel this way?  I love that this is what I’ve focused on and what I got out of this adaptation.  The most amazing part about this project is that I learn something new from each adaptation. 

Mark’s gonna be so proud!

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302

Day Three Hundred and Two:  Rugrats

I’ve been having these weird dreams about this cottage I used to visit when I was younger.  It was on the water, and I remember dreaming about it in highschool and I was with faceless friends and we were all wearing our university sweaters and drinking coffee’s and watching the water at night.  Sometimes I only hear the waves roll in, and it is fine with me.  The waves, despite how little I hear them anymore, make me nostalgic and comfortable.  It’s one of the sounds that I remember from when I was younger, spending long days at the beach. 

I remember this one time I was in the back seat and wasn’t wearing a seat belt (certainly the oldest car I’ve ever been in) I was about three, and I had a large beach towel.  My grandma and auntie were taking me to Port Elgin for the day.  We had left early so I spent most of the trip playing in the blanket half asleep, and I thought we had parked the car so I stood up.  Alanis Morrisette was playing, and then there was a jolt, and I landed on something sharp and cut open my knee.  I cried silently in the back seat.  I don’t know if either of them know that happened.  I didn’t tell them.

I spent the whole day in a wind jacket and climbing over rocks, listening to the waves, playing in the sand, and pretending I was older having adventures.  Beaches, the water, Lake Huron and now the ocean make me feel so comfortable I could stay there forever.  Last year in England we spent a few hours on the beach in Dover.  With the rocks under my back and the sky above me, I heard the waves that connected me to France. 

I don’t really know why I decided to write about this today, or what it all means, and I’m not sure I care.  I remember being at that cottage I dream about and my sister and the boys who owned the cottage going swimming after dark and it was freezing.  I remember hearing them squeeling with joy and terror of the cold water, the rocks under their feet.  I didn’t go in.  I regret it, a little, but only a little.  I haven’t missed a moment to get in the water since.

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301

Day Three Hundred and One:  Staycation

This notion of going on vacation without leaving the comfort of your own home fascinates me, and I’ve always thought I was going to do this but never thought I’d get around to it.  I am about to begin planning a Staycation that I would like to have this Christmas break.  Since I can’t get anywhere fun I’m going to have a solo staycation for myself.

A quick Google search tells me there are steps.  So, here it goes.

1)      Set start and end dates for your vacation… Well, I’m not quite sure when this is going to work out for me, but I think I am going to be trying for December 10 until the 13, which I think wil be reasonable as I will be in Guelph, done exams, and a lot of my friends aren’t done so it will be time for myself.

2)      Avoid working on projects around the house… Easy, no chores.  That I can do.

3)      Ignore regular routines… This one will be easy by not setting alarms, eating special breakfasts (you mean, not Oatmeal and yogurt every morning?) and spending more time with the moments of my routines that I actually enjoy (showering, etc.)

4)      Set a budget…  This one is interesting to me.  I always assume a “stay”cation implies that you don’t leave your house, but why should it?  I think my budget is going to be $100.  This is reasonable and will not include normal grocery costs, but the costs of going on outings, dinners out, coffee’s out, etc.

5)      Act like a tourist in your own town… I think that will be fabulous.  Right around Christmas, I have this feeling that I am going to just spend a lot of time downtown, in the snow, drinking hot chocolates with candy canes, taking pictures and enjoying myself.

Those have been the guidelines I’ve been given, and I am sure this will develop.  I will plan for a pamper evening, special movies and meals, and if other people have time maybe a special dinner out or something that’s big and extravagant.  I want to feel like I’ve completely gotten away while still being in the city, and if I can succeed then maybe a Spring Break Staycation is possible after all!

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300

Day Three Hundred:  Dating Myself and Counting.

After reading a rather motivated post by Carrie Fletcher I find myself identifying with her words not because she has opened my eyes or anything but because she has effectively presented what I’ve been doing for the past year. For the past twelve months (and counting) I have been dating myself.  I suppose there was a brief (albeit lovely) moment this summer (two months, sorry dear I do count it I promise) that I was engaged in a romantic relationship with someone, but it has been intended through the past twelve months that I have been determined on being alone and figuring this whole relationship with myself out. 

Carrie mentions that she hadn’t been disconnected from romantic feelings since she was fifteen, and that is similar to my own situation.  I had the first single Christmas in nearly five years this past Christmas, and it seems to be looking like the one coming up is going to be a single one as well.  I’ve effectively dodged any kinds of romantic feelings, it seems, and it has only brought me closer to…being settled into myself.

I spend a lot of meals alone on campus or elsewhere reading, treating myself, trying to figure out what I want to do and not worrying about another person in the process.  It doesn’t mean that I don’t have the capacity to care about someone romantically or directly, but at this particular moment I find it easier to root for me instead of carrying two people’s loads (which, to be honest, isn’t what being in a relationship is about anyway so good for me!).

I think it’s great to think of being single this way.  It doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t love a relationship, a date, a night out someone’s hand to hold in the cold someone to take out and worry about, but for now I can (try) to do those things for myself as much as possible.  Life, it seems, can be shared with a lot of people, and I’m figuring my way into sharing it with the people I care about from my own personal lone perspective before sharing it intimately with someone else.  I am thinking this is good for me, or at least that’s what I’m saying for now.

I guess what I’m trying to get at this brisk Sunday evening is that although I’m alone romantically I don’t feel alone in my life. Sometimes I might feel lonely or tired or fed up with the way men seem to be these days (my age, university, any man I meet it seems) but I am content with being invested in this relationship I have with myself.  It’s good, we sometimes don’t get along and I find it hard deciding on what to wear when we go out but I nearly always have a superb time.

I recommend it, it’s quite a nice time.

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299

Day Two Hundred and Ninety-Nine:  Today.

There was a moment this afternoon when I was sitting in my 1984 garb between Nat and Leo, our heads resting on eachother hair-sprayed, make-uped, and chilly.  There were people bustling around us building and gluing and lighting things, it was background noise.  We weren’t talking, but just comfortably sitting together, fitting into eachother’s day as warmth and support.  It was a long day to say the least, but a good one.  I am lucky to have such good people to work with.

Needless to say I’m exhausted.  After a late night, feeling sick, beng in the theatre all day I just feel like cuddling in and watching some Who and knit.  It’s been a very reflective day, being in the theatre being around things that make me so comfortable, and trying to figure out what I want with my life and realising that among many things I want to be involved with this whole theatre thing.  It’s hard to turn your back on something that makes you feel as good as theatre does for me. 

Not the pretending, or the story-telling, but it’s about the dedication and the community.  I love being a part of something, and eventually contribute in a creative and useful way. Theatre isn’t always about performance, but about getting to that performance and all of the steps it takes.

Hard work and laughter is all we need, really.

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298

Day Two Hundred and Ninety-Eight:  NO

I think I had an entire post written up and it’s gone somehow and now I am very disappointed.  What do I write to replace it?  I’ve got a few to write today.  I should be working on my playwrighting outline for Monday but instead I’ve cleaned my room and snuggled into comfortable clothes after a day or two of constant working (with a little party inbetween).  I’ve got so many things on my plate that if I ended up eating them all I’m sure I’d be full and yet I’m still happy.  I’m not lonely, world, look at that, and I’m comfortable with the people I’m close to, and I’m relatively good with the coursework that’s been coming out of me and it’s all coming together, or it seems like it.

World, I think I get it.  I mean, I don’t get all of it, but for now I’m on the understanding side of things.  I get what’s going on, and even if I’m not sure about the future I’m sure that I’m going the right way now at least. 

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297

Day Two Hundred and Ninety-Seven:  One time, on a

 Thursday evening in October, I took my first solo trip on a Guelph bus at night and survived.  It was just down one street and I had told the driver that I needed to get off, and so I made it home safe.  I was nervous and things but that is usual, I find, whenever I get on any bus that it is not the right bus and will take me somewhere undesired and I’d be lost forever.  But no, last night I found myself safe and sound at home, which was good news bears.

I think one thing about the bus that is intimidating for me is that I do have to ask the bus driver to get me off at the right stop, but with my CNIB card and not my student card makes it clear I need a bit more help.  What I like about this is that the other students don’t know that I’m using a different card, so it doesn’t seem like I’m…different.  Ever since I was diagnosed and started having surgeries I’ve been obsessed with not being different.  I still drove, did math equations, drank, and did everything a normal teenager could do until around my eighteenth birthday when I could no longer drive, and a lot of things changed.  Now I am living, four years later, in the aftermath of that life changing surgery (and moment, really) where I now have to do practically everything in a different way than everyone else.  Coming to terms with that is hard, and not a lot of people can empathize with how I’m feeling.

And so taking the bus is different for me, I can’t just get on and see the road sign for where I’m getting off (to be fair this is the only city in the effing province that doesn’t have automated announcements or even automated in-bus stop-notifications) or any other mundane activitiy really.  For example getting groceries, I go the same exact route every single time so I do not miss a vegetable, hummus package, or yogurt package because otherwise I would miss them.  I can’t go looking for them.  That’s the true reason that I don’t buy meat at school, it’s hard for me to differentiate between the different meats.  And I am not afraid to ask questions, but if I could do it another way independently I would rather do it that way.

So this has become a strange post for me, I usually talk in person a lot about these things but not a lot of people get them.  I find myself repeating myself a lot with how I can see and how hard it is for me to do things, but I don’t usually complain about it or point out the things I do differelty.  Like ordering a coffee?  Like getting pastries at a coffee shop?  I don’t know what I’m getting until it gets to me.  Standing in line is a difficulty, I never know when it’s my turn to order, jeez have you ever been at subway and been yelled at because it was your turn to order but you didn’t know?  Well, I have and I’ve also been yelled at because I started ordering and it wasn’t my turn.  Things that people who can see probably have experienced too, but it could be avoided.

Just things that are frustrating to me but I get over them.  Last night was a mini-triumph because I did ask for help (I wasn’t going to) and did get home safe on my own.  The little things, right?

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296

Day Two Hundred and Ninety-Six:   Shakespeare, baby.

If there is one thing that I wish I had more time to do it would be reading.  I do quite enjoy some of the novels I have to read, and plays that must get looked over, for these degree’s.  But after a long conversation about which texts I’ve actually enjoyed over the past four years the list came out quite small.  After reading into them, writing papers, midterms, finals on them, they become tedious instead of enjoyable.  For example, the first time I read Persuasion by Jane Austen in first year I enjoyed it, and this time I am learning sort of new things but at the same time it just isn’t as good anymore.  In truth I’m happy it wasn’t a better Austen novel as it would’ve ruined the better ones.

So when I took on this study on Macbeth I was initially concerned that I would start to get bored of the story.  We all have read Macbeth, or at the very least know the story, and it is intriguing and fascinating on different levels because of guilt and perspective and all kinds of things you can look at.  But I have recently read my favourite version of Macbeth, and in this version was a novel, and it was short, and it was fascinating.

I love it when coursework is enjoyable like that.  Sometimes I find myself mesmerized by the beauty of literature, of words, like when I studied King Lear last term for the first time and all kinds of secrets about Shakespeare were opened just through the way it was taught.  Next term, when I end up guiding some teenagers through Romeo and Juliet I hope I can open their eyes in the same way, if that is possible, Ed sort of made it difficult to imitate his teaching style since most of his technique contained intimidation.

But understanding Shakespeare has been a developed talent.  I mean, being an avid English class lover since before ninth grade, my first introduction to Shakeseare was Romeo and Juliet, and it was difficult, but after reading a few different texts, and getting really into Macbeth in eleventh grade and understanding how monologues and soliloquies worked the beauty and poetry unfolds, and it makes more sense.  Maybe I’m just a nerd.

When I arrived at university I was bored of Shakespeare.  And luckily I didn’t have to read much, but after seeing Richard III at the Globe Theatre in London last fall I’ve fallen back in love.  I became obsessed with Macbeth, with the complexities with the different ways of manipulation, with William Shakespeare himself and his relationship to language and literature, the act of writing, reading, performance.  It is all so fascinating to me, to think that I can be a part of history just by studying these things, by making connections.  Through my own writing I can create bits of history.  My thoughts contribute to history, it’s all such a strange and beautiful world out there.

Jessie’ nerd is showing.

But seriously, I’ve never felt more comfortable in my own understanding abilities than lately.  I feel the ability to make statements, observations, connections, that ability has been highlighted for me.  I’ve never felt confident in my own answers, in my own thoughts or understandings, but lately it’s become clear to me that taking that risk is easier than it looks.  The world of language has allowed us to make mistakes, and through those mistakes we learn things.  I remember in eleventh grade I was struggling to understand what a comma splice was during essay writing, and after four years of university it still bothers me when I make one without thinking (in academic writing) and yet I know how to correct it.  This is such a great feeling!

If you take anything from this post let it be this: how you read is more interesting than what you read, because the way in which you read affects your life.  If you read things slowly, out loud, read it twice to understand, to get all of the pauses and emotional grabs, if you read and take nothing in it is all important because it says something about you.  Think about that for a while.

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295

Day Two Hundred and Ninety-Five:  Getting Closer..

There was a link yesterday circulating on my friends’ facebook timelines, and I reposted it to my own, and it stood out for me among the feminist posts that I am usually knee-deep in.  It contained pictures of women and over their mouths Google searches that had things such as “Women should” “women shouldn’t” and afterwards they have the top searches for those inputs.  It was revolting.  It reminded me of a Youtuber whom I love posting one of himself saying things like “Hank should” “Hank has” and it got me really thinking about this whole Google search input thing.  I did my own research and what I found actually appalled me.

As a frequenter of numerous internet websites where people are not as amiable as I would like, I am aware that there are terrible people out there.  But after typing into google myself “Women should” I clicked on one of the inputs another person had searched, for example: “Women should know they serve men.”  This was approximately the third entry down, and guys…  There are websites.

I knew these people existed.  I knew forums existed.  But people actually take the time to write these things.  It is worse than unfortunate, worse than revolting, it is unbelievable.  I couldn’t read it.  I knew these things existed, but I honestly disillusioned myself to believe that no one actually believed in inequality anymore.  I am naïve and it hurts a lot to know that a website like this, like..this exists.  Ugh. 

It’s disheartening to find out that things that you feel so strongly about aren’t universal. 

I wish it wasn’t naïve to wish that everyone could just get along, love eachother, and want the best for other people.  That thought is too optimistic for the world we live in.  How depressing.  All I can do is be positive, strong, and open-minded within my own life and influence the people around me to do their best to act similarly.

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294

Day Two Hundred and Ninety-Four:  Good Intentions,

I had this entire post typed into my notes on my blackberry and was all ready to talk about technology and the complexities of communities within social media, but I think I’m going to save that one for a little while.  I want to talk today about being okay with not knowing.

Trust me, it is difficult for me to even think that I am going to start being okay with this any time soon, but I am sincerely putting my best effort forward.

I am going to follow my dear Father’s advice and trust that if I enjoy what I’m doing and am passionate and focused on being the best person and contributor I can be that things will fall into place.  I have to believe that things will work out for me, and do my best, put my best me out there, and things will come.

Steve Jobs said that in his Graduation speech, he said that “you work a long time,” which is exactly what my Dad tells me every time we get into our “Future” chats.  He tells me I’m going to be working for the next forty years so I need to find something I enjoy doing so much that it is still satifysing forty years later.  I want to help people, and be creative and be physical and make a difference.  There is a program that I am completely enthralled with, but I have a feeling that I am going to find an alternative route to get to where I want to be.

The short story of all of this ramble is that I do not know what is going on in my life past April.  I hardly know which courses I’m taking for my final term of my undergrad let alone which Peru trip I’m taking let alone what jobs to even apply for this coming December.  I am sincerely determined to try, to search, to find, to do my best to identify what my next step is, but until it’s all figured out I promise to not worry about it.

And enjoy this beautiful autumn we’re having.

(That’s a joke, it’s pissing down rain and freezing out).

But I’m coming to realize that…what…what’s the point?  In worrying?  Money?  Welll, I’m going to find it.  I’m going to make this all happen I’m going to make my dreams happen, and so I pledge to, from this sentence onward, only be passionate, worry, and enjoy the present moment.  Think about it.  What if we all just thought “I’m typing right now, there’s a good song on I feel comfortable temperature man life is great.”  No looking forward to what time I’m getting up tomorrow or what I’m wearing.  This moment is about this post.

I hope I haven’t been complaining too much about the future lately, too.  It is taking over my life, but I have other, more interesting projects to talk about.  For example I have decided to create an ulterior way of recording one of my thesis projects for next term, which will be an up-and-coming wordpress as soon as I have the motivation to create it and design it.  I have become more motivated lately to start on my creative, out-of-coursework projects that will take a bit more time because it really is important to me.

But for now I hope that you are all well, and that these posts have been at least marginally interesting, if not just to see what’s going on with me.  Maybe you’re not confused about your future, but maybe it interests you to know that there are options, there is a journey waiting to be had infront of you and decided or not it’s fast approaching.

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293

Day Two Hundred and Ninety-Three:  I’ve gone French for the morning,

This week has been the rebirth of my addiction to 8tracks.com, which commonly happens every fall season when I crave new music (seasonal and the like) or convenient, pre-made playlists for reading/studying/writing/general good times.  I’ve found myself this past week on my parents’ laptop, and so I’ve been disconnected from my itunes.  It was a mutual break, we both thought it was best for a little while, but I’ve found myself having moments of complete silence.  They’re not my favourite, I feel foreign in quiet, and so I’ve come back to 8tracks and found my more ambient self snuggling up with a tea, knitting, reading/writing, and a good playlist.  

This morning I’ve found a lovely “chill”+”morning”+”French” mix.  An unusual taste for me, especially on a tame Sunday morning, but it’s really hit the spot.  It’s just quiet, and indecipherable, and perfect.  I’ve been rereading a novel for my romantic literature class and it’s been talking about the Navy and relations with France and all I want right now is to hitch a ride to Toronto, buy a one-way to the South of France and write.  How perfect would it be so be cuddled in a sweater, converse, aviators, side bag, headphones, fingerless gloves cosy hat apple cider or a glass of wine, a porch on hill looking down at fields of a French countryside.  This soft track in the background, and an open notebook.  It would seem as though I’d enter heaven.  Any way of winning a travel-writing scholarship?  Is that a thing?  I really should look into this.

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292

Day Two Hundred and Ninety-Two:  Oktober

Mark, my advisor for my Honours project this term said to me on Friday afternoon “Ah, you are not a Waterloo-ite until you’ve been to Oktoberfest.”  We have great chats, Mark and I, but this one in particular was about my evening plans which were to get down at Waterloo Rec and drink beer and have a nice German time uptown Waterloo.  It’s always been a big festival, and I’ve been aware of it, but it hasn’t been a thing in our family to go even to the family-friendly events so when I turned nineteen it wasn’t on the “Top Things” to do as a legal citizen.  So now, three years after my legal birthday, I have graced Oktoberfest for the first time.  What did I think of it?

It was dark.

I mean there was music and tables and beer, lots of pretzels and hats and pins, but as a blind girl attending the festivities I didn’t even know if there were people in their lederhosen or dancing or anything really, it just felt like a festive evening out in Waterloo.  Don’t get me wrong it was a lovely night, but Oktoberfest in Waterloo sometimes feels like it’s a bit… optimistic.  It seems as though people drink a lot more, make some interesting decisions, and it just happens to be an excuse to drink a lot, wear short German-esque clothing and do the chicken dance.  And does anyone really need a specific excuse for any of those things?  As a seasoned university student I can tell you that absolutely NO ONE needs an excuse for any of those things.

What I did enjoy was the community of it all.  I didn’t feel unsafe, I didn’t feel pressured, it wasn’t too crowded, and all-in-all it was a pleasant evening.  Call it nostalgic, sentiment, but I feel very fond of the moments in my life where I can look around a table and see the group of people I am with in good spirits at all times.  It might’ve gotten quiet, or confusing at times, but the spirits were generally good.

Vunderful.

 

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291

Day Two Hundred and Ninety-One:  Pretty Cool,

 

The weather is changing, the term is picking up, and it seems like the perfect time of year to invest in some very good tea.  Last year I bought some delicious apple cinnamon tea and never had any, and so I am planning on having a lot in the coming weeks.  I saw on twitter earlier this month about how Tea is a fad now, that people are only drinking tea because it’s cool to drink tea.  I’ve been drinking tea since I was first diagnosed when I was fourteen, and I think that people just like tea.  It’s like trying to say that chocolate cake is a fad because everyone seems to like that.  Oh pop culture, trying to take over the world.

 

I’d really like just an evening of full on cosy sweater, tea, knitting, and a seasonal film.  I’m thinking my Halloween plans are going to be just that and watching Ghostbusters.  You can be jealous if you’re smart, you’re also invited if you have no other plans.

 

I ain’t afraid of no ghosts!

 

I am though.  Halloween isn’t quite my thing, I mean I’ve always dressed as Sailor Moon or a kitten or Josie (and the Pussycats) or a Christmas Elf or whatever was lying around, but I’ve never gotten too excited about it.  Ceara and I used to go as duo-costumes, like Sharon and Ozzy Osbourne or Dumbledore and Harry Potter.  We were once Orcs from Lord of the Rings…  Those were highlights.  I think that I gave up on Halloween the year I was diagnosed and had my first surgery and wasn’t able to go out so I stayed in and watched Ferris Beuller’s day off and Forrest Gump.  I think I watched Independence Day around there too.  It’s miraculous the vhs’s you find when you’re in need.

 

I also had Speed on vhs. 

 

I think I will enjoy it more when I live in my own place and can decorate and hand out candies again, I’d love to carve a pumpkin.  I actually love carving pumpkins and eating the seeds and watching Charlies Brown’s the Great Pumpkin with my family.  I don’t get to do that anymore, and I really do miss it.  Growing up is hard at this time of year.

 

I compensate with tea, knitting, and Netflix.

 

Can you blame me?  Seriously, the invitation stands.  Do you need Halloween plans?  Spend time being an old British woman with me!

 

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290

Day Two Hundred and Ninety:  Finally Caught.

 

I’ve been behind for a week, and rightly so, it’s been a stressful time without my own computer, but I am hoping that this goes up Thursday and all of the other posts go up today too, and hopefully they are all working and quality and worth it, since it took a while to get back onto the writing desk.  I’m having trouble with my solo play, I’m feeling uncomfortable (as said in my last post) about the unstable future I currently have.  I am searching for a crutch so I can get thorugh the finishing of this play and then deal with this feeling but it’s becoming hard.  My anxiety isn’t something that just leaves when I ask it, unfortunately.

 

I have some plans to go out for drinks tonight and tomorrow (and potentially Saturday?  Well, drinking will be involved) and I am working on not being nervous about these things, and just enjoying myself.  There comes a time every week where I stop being confident and slip a little, and that’s allowed, I’m trying to pick myself up with slippery skates and no mittens (Canadian metaphors always make more sense).

 

At this point what’s been getting me through has been planning trips in my head to places elsewhere.  I would love to escape my head for a little while, but I’m not in the business of numbing anymore… I think I just need…something.  Why is everything like this so very hard?  I’d appreciate some kind of day off from all of this sometime soon.

 

In the meantime I will continue to “numb” my mind with Dr. Who.  I’ve just about finished my first scarf of the season, which is awesome, and then moving onto the next few.  It only takes me a day or two to get anything to the length I need, and soon I will be able to watch some seasonal things and feel a little more comfortable.  October is an awkward time because sometimes it’s still warm and other times it’s chilly (like today) and I’d really prefer chilly days,  I love wearing cosy sweaters, it always feels like I’m getting a hug.

 

And I’m in the mindset for hugs lately.

 

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289

Day Two Hundred and Eighty-Nine: Wed.

 

I feel weird.  I’ve had this unshaken-able strange feeling all day and it has dripped in from something unknown.  I feel like I should be comfortable but I’m not.  I’m second-guessing everything and worrying about applications and references and I don’t know how to..shake it, really.  I worry too much.  It’s hard not to though! I’m living in this world where I have no plan.  Do you understand how intense that is for me?  I schedule my every single day so I can be sure to make the most of each day, and it’s extremely hard for me to think “Ah, after April I have virtually no plans.”  I have no plans.  I have no plans.

 

I’m trying to figure it all out but there is no job lined up, no school for Fall 2014 at this point, no money, no motivation to get looking at it yet, and It’s…. Impossible to feel fine about it.  I do not like not knowing.  Why isn’t there a “Life Fairy” who drops into your life when you can’t find your path?  Kind of like the Tooth Fairy but there’s no losing of teeth or gaining of money, but there is a need I tell you, atleast for me. 

 

I saw a play tonight and it was well done, but dense and confusing with little plot that I could linearly identify.  I had trouble focusing on it for other reasons, but for the most part I sat there thinking those people have their life somewhat figured out.  They’ve been acting for a decade probably, and I’ve just begun my career as a… Jesus I don’t know.  I’m so tired of constantly thinking about what is happening next I’d just like to enjoy right now.  Too much.

 

It’s all just too much.

 

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288

Day Two Hundred and Eighty-Eight: This is all that’s left,

 

I’ve been listening to 8tracks a lot and have found that I like Ed Sheeran more than I’ve been able to admit lately, but Ed Sharpe is still my favourite Ed on the indie music scene.  I have this soft spot for Bastille right now but not all the time.  There’s something about him and Bon Ivor and Passenger that kind of all sound the exact same.  Do we really need all of these artists that sound so similar?  The band Zeus has this one song that I can’t remember the name of but it sounds like it was recorded in 1974, and I dig that kind of thing.  Just the pseudo-authenticity of it all just gets to me.  Whenever I sit at my desk here in Guelph my feet get really cold so I plan on keeping my hot water bottle below my feet and just settling them on there.  Or finding my comfortable aloe-infused socks again and only wearing them while I’m at my desk.  I also can’t decide which scarf to wear today, I’m thinking I’m going to go for warmth as opposed to how it looks, so I feel like my new cosy plaid pattern would be best and it is autumn colours too which is always good.  This time last year I was getting ready for my trip to Italy so that was infinitely better than whatever the hell I’m getting up to this week.  I am currently ravenous and would appreciate lunch soon, I think I’m going to get on that after I’m done writing these things.  I haven’t decided if I want to post all of these later today, like after I’m home from Toronto, I think I might.  There is a blank spot on my wall right now and it is bothering me enough to want to pay for a new poster or new photo’s or something because it really is bothering me.  I need to get my hair cut but can’t afford it, I checked my bank account this morning and this is the fastest I’ve run out of money ever.  Damn you textbooks, tattoo’s and doc martens….and delicious beer.  I really wish the Taps had good beer in drafts but they don’t really so I end up drinking either my Canadian beer or Hogarten and I miss my British beer a lot. An interesting fact about my life is that I will randomly go to malls all through November just to catch the first glimpses of Christmas music.  I also love Christmas music a lot.  I should probably knit a bit today just remembered I still have like ten or twelve scarves to do for Christmas and haven’t finished one, I know I’m impressive…  I have had an idea for a short story for a few days now but haven’t had the time to write it all out.  It would be nice to have a home made pasta dinner in the near future but I do not expect it.  Sometimes all I thinka bout is food.  Sometimes all I talk about is food.  Right now it’s pasta with bruschetta bread with olives and wine and cheese and just all of the good things.  I’d also like to have one of my hot crossed buns for lunch.  I think it’s weird that time is so un-tangible.  I have trouble coming to terms with the fact that I am graduating this spring and will be done all of the schooling that I technically need for the rest of my life, too bad I am a keener and gotta keep going.  I’m still hungry.

 

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287

Day Two Hundred and Eighty-Seven: Monday’s post

 

I can't help falling in love with you.

 

Isn’t life grand?  Really though.  There are some people who just get you.  I have that, a lot, actually, things I can’t shake, even as much as I try.  I heard an Ingrid Michaelson cover of that song and it just got to me, it got me thinking, going, how simple, how loving how….  I can’t keep thinking things like this.  My dreams, my thoughts my hopes…  How unrealistic my life is sometimes inside my head.  How simple she makes it seem, that you can fall in love with someone so easily and they will…potentially…reciprocate.  Ha.  Naïve, it seems, to me atleast.  I am so tired of loving, chasing, and finding myself shadow-less.

 

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286

Day Two Hundred and Eighty-Six:  A Million Here, a Million Thurr,

 

Drained.  Don’t you feel that way sometime?  Like you’ve had some time but it’s been time that you’ve used to complete potential or complete capacity, as if your insides were overtaken by your external drive to continue on with work, and well my insides are responding.  My lack of sleep, total focus, my energy put into all of my ventures and adventures and conversations, moments, seem to have caught up with me.  Drained is not always a bad thing for me, it means that I have enjoyed the time that’s passed, or lived it, lived those moments, but I need this week to recharge a little, get back on track before it gets busy again.

 

That’s why I’m not too worried about catching up on these posts.  I have them written, but I am working through them at my own pace.  It is not required of me, but I know that I need to get them done eventually.  I have the next few days to relax a little more than usual and then get back to my busy-life.  If you know me well you will know that although I complain about being busy I do enjoy it, I thrive when I am on the go, and I love being energetic and “on.”

 

But it is draining.  So, I find it hard to write at the end of my days because I feel drained the most, but imagine waking up and still feeling drained.  It makes it hard to write/focus/talk even at any time.  Actually, if you know me well (certain, particular people) will know how I am when my energy is low.  Not a lot of people know me that way, even when I feel drained I sometimes remain completely “on,” and trust me it is difficult.

 

And so this post is an off post.  I’m not trying to be anything, really, I’m just talking now.  Maybe I’ll do another stream-of-consciousness post sometime soon.  My thoughts tend to be interesting, sometimes, unless they’re not, in which case I apologise for this entire blog and suggest you stop reading.

 

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285

Day Two Hundred and Eighty-Five: Too Familiar,

 

How peculiar that it is not writ

That we have a right to know the time,

To know where we are, in the grand scheme,

The grand space,

Where we are in time.

Some of it we know, the sun passes through,

Dials change,

It gets warmer, the sun disappears,

The moon disappears, one slice at a time,

But that conformed, comfortable slice of time

Where we are, positioned, the true honest base.

Do we have a right? 

Is it writ in our constitution of being a human,

Our natural freedoms,

Is it something that is tangible enough to be placed down?

To be remembered?

Oh time, how slippery, and yet how vitalt.

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284

Day Two Hundred and Eighty-Four: Nothing Better.

 

This time of year makes me want to get into cosy sweaters and drink tea and listen to my books.  I did this a lot this weekend on the porch while the rest of my family shifted around me.  I went on little walks down to the lake to get some more fresh air, and having the ability to read a book for fun was the best feeling in the world.  I feel more like a grown up this semester than ever because I am able to maintain a social life, drink wine, and read a book for pleasure all at the same time.  I feel like this novel is distracting me from the fact that grad school applications are on the horizon and I should really be saving my money as opposed to going around spending it all at bars and things, but it really couldn’t bother me less.

 

I like doing what I’m doing right now, ‘tis the season, and all that, right?

 

The day I get to decorate, to paint, to hang a painting, to have something other than a single bed for my work I will be pleasantly comfortable.  I think the situation that I’m in right now is that I am hardly in this room as it is, but when I am I feel so dreary.  I have been striving to become more festive though.

 

For example while reading I knit.  OR while watching tv during the evenings, I bring out the knitting. It is important for me to get this knitting started since I have quite a few scarves to make and my time is dwindling.  Remember when I said I grew up?  I think I missed my twenties, thirties, and forties and headed straight into my fifties.  Tea? Knitting?  Smutty historical novels?...on audio, nonetheless? That’s me.

 

And I’m not really ashamed at all, I like me the way I am.

 

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283

Day Two Hundred and Eighty-Three: So behind it hurts.

 

So here’s the skinny.

 

Thursday I had a nice short and concise rehearsal in Massey, and met AJ to go downtown to shut down the shops and be the most sober people Downtown Guelph ever saw on a Thursday before a long weekend.  I like him.  Then I got home, opened up my computer and the screen was broken.  You can imagine my dismay, I had quite the fit, and then a friend showed up, and there were some events which led to me not sleeping until quite late (or early, depending on how you might look at it) and come Friday morning at breakfast (again, with AJ, he’s nice) I found myself forgetting about the entire stressful time it was going to be to have my computer fixed and get three massive assignments that were due on Tuesday done in time.   By the time I got to Waterloo and in my own house my computer had been registered at Future Shop and I was keyboard-less, as my ipad still held on for dear life (or I held onto it for dear life) either way it has been one of those weekends.

 

I have successfully finished all of my assignments that are due tomorrow on my parents’ laptop which they have lovingly thankfully donated to my pity party that is my life right now.  I have finished two assignments definitely, one needs a little rehearsal (that presentation tomorrow) and then I need to memorise one last monologue for the mainstage.  We move into the theatre tomorrow.  I am a little apprehensive about tomorrow on many levels, but getting onto the Pirate Ship (which we’ve called the GLT at the moment, terms of endearment, right?) but it should be alright at the very least.

 

The weekend has been a nice one, it was relaxing as long weekends should be, but that little voice inside of me reminded my turkey-dazed mind that I had work to do.  I’ve been itunes-less for a few hours now and am enjoying 8tracks.  If anything this dislocation of my laptop has granted me a more festive music selection.  Thanksgiving is over folks, all we have now is Halloween hurdles and then straight on through to Christmas.  Let the knitting and hot chocolates begin.

 

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282

Day Two Hundred and Eighty-Two:  Be Bold.

There was a poster in my eighth grade homeroom that said “Stand Up Even if You Are Standing Alone.”  It has really stuck with me.  I think I am a selective stand-up-er, and I strive to stand up for everything I believe in because I don’t have an issue with the things that I am completely passionate about.  I find it hard not to have a bold personality, because it is just who I am, I don’t walk around thinking I will say bizarre things sometimes, it just happens without thinking, and it is me.  I thinkt hat being bold is important, but being bold for a reason is also necessary.  I am the way I am from where I come from, and I make bold decisions and say bold things sometimes, take bold steps, I live my life as if it was written in Arial Black and it seems as though sometimes it isn’t the best choice.  I just…that’s just the way I am.

I recently had a presentation in a theatre practical class on a playwright and I asked for feedback on my presenting style from my professor who told me that I had just enough personality, energy and detail that it worked.  Sometimes I find that my personality, my puns, my jokes, my off-hand comments don’t come across in every classroom.  When I had to make a speech in honour of Paul Ord last term I used just enough humour and emotion that it worked, and I strive to do that in all of the speeches that I can make.  But is acting boldly always necessary?

I don’t know.  Sometimes I think we ask such bold questions expecting answers but in reality answers take lifetimes to get over, and in my case I don’t mind waiting for them.  I think life has become more of a exploration of the potentialities of life for me as opposed to the MEANING, I think the meaning comes and goes, and I don’t mind it.  If I am happy, and consider myself contributing in some way, does it really matter?

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281

Day Two Hundred and Eighty-One:  The girl with the flowers in her hair,

At this very moment behind me sitting atop my printer beside my bedroom door is a plant.  It has yellow flowers, and they’re a tad droopy since I haven’t watered it in a bit, but it sits there and remains bright in my gloomy room.  I’ve decided to not open my blinds anymore since I’m hardly in my room during the week anyway, so as it turns out I’ve always got a light on in my room no matter what time of day (exluding sleeping of course).  My flowers just bring an extra bit of light into an otherwise shadowy cave.

I’ve always wanted flowers in my room, because they bring an extra ounce of life.  I always feel a bit isolated in my room, even with a  cellphone and facebook and umpteenth amounts of social media and internet websites.  Nothing compares to a real person, really, and as the semester rolls right along it becomes harder to see real people, oh university how isolating you are.  But this plant seems to bring me back to the outdoors, reminds me that there isn’t just books and technology, but beyond these walls lies a large earth with grass and dirt and wind.  Gosh, remember wind?  Me neither, I haven’t been outside since yesterday before dinner.

Having flowers with me is just something I enjoy.  When people used to bring me flowers (a long time ago now it seems) I used to leave them in my room until they were beyond droopy and not take them out until another human being commented on them or they fell to the ground.  I just like having them there, they remind me, again, that outside there lies a world that is breathing along with me. 

I think that’s something I wish I could do more while travelling.  We are planning a trip to Peru and as I look through the various opportunities that we could do one happens to be camping.  Now that terrifies me a little in Peru, but it would be relatively safe.  I think that despite the amount of speed-train-travel Europe has, one of my favourite trips has to be to Scotland where we climbed mountains, on foot, through the mud and the mist, hands landing on only rock and weeds to grasp to get up.  There are pictures of me in my Canada Roots sweaters and converse, arms spread, on top of mountains.  Those memories are irreplaceable.  And to be honest are the only things getting me through this term.

I am an adventurer.  I belong out of my own room and on to wilder, exciting things.  But for now if the only thing that keeps me sane is the flower sin my room, then so be it.  Come winter I’m going to spend most of my holidays in the snow with my siblings (if I have anything to say about it) because snow is incredibly fun to play in.  So are leaves… Maybe I should make a pile on my front lawn.

Nothing screams emotionally stable like a 21-year-old university student rolling in leaves on a Tuesday afternoon, right?

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280

Day Two Hundred and Eighty:  Mid-Afternoon Wine.

  Relaxing.  It is easy, people tell me, and yet I am still writing things and organising.  I could probably clean, wash some dishes, start packing maybe knit a little, but what I should be doing is having a lay-down, closing my over-tired, over-extended eyes and not thinking about the work that is piling up around me, locking me in my self-induced cage of stress.  My doors cannot always be locked, can they?  There is something to my relaxation that I am missing, and I am missing it real good.

I need to take a course in it or something.

Maybe it is because every single person around me is completely frazzled, over-tired, over-extended, grouchy and sit with me on the edge of complete nonsensical thinking because we are all dealing with this term together, and we’re all busy and all can’t sleep and all have midterms and family thanksgiving’s this weekend and it is all coming to a head at this precise moment for us all and we are all in it together.  Then how can I feel so isolated?

In the meantime as we all curb our social lives for mid-terms I will pull up my skirts, grab my coffee (skim milk) and press on.  It will all be worth it, right?

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279

Day Two Hundred and Seventy-Nine:  Decisions are hard. 

In the midst of figuring out online graduate school applications, one of the heaviest course-terms I’ve ever experienced, a head cold and memorising a script I have found myself turning to complex sci-fi television to get me through.  At this moment I am perched on the precarious edge of the third season of Dr. Who (post-reboot) after seven episodes flew by me this week alone.  I wouldn’t say I am using Dr. Who to avoid things, but in my eyes it’s a little more productive than reblogging nonsense on tumblr.

But what I should be doing is focusing on these decisions.  Focusing on the problem at hand, and the problem remains until decisions are made, and so the stress continues.  At least my applications are due after Christmas so I can prepare them a little further on, but I suppose I am going to need to contact my references soon, and this poses more decisions to be made.  This whole thing just worries me, is all.

It’s a new challenge for sure, but just the application process is turning out to be a full on challenge.  Trying to find the places where it lists the requirements for the APPLICATION alone is so frustrating, let alone into the course.  I think my course selection for winter term opens tomorrow too, so I guess I’ll be making more decisions this evening.  Do these decisions ever end?

I suppose since the moment your mother allows you to independently dress yourself those skorts, striped tights and bowed shoes define you as a decision-making individual, and yet I sometimes miss the days where my outfits were laid out for me, on the edge of my bed, and I could watch Sailor Moon and eat my shreddies quicker.  Morning, afternoons, evenings, sleep-times, class times, and everything inbetween have become  infinitely more complicated.  And so I turn to the Doctor.

Although these decisions are inevitable I wish life were as easy as joining David Tennant in the Tardis and thrusting off (because what else is it, really?) into the universe to get into more difficult trouble to distract me, but for now I guess I’ll have to thrust on in my own life.

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278

Day Two Hundred and Seventy-EIGHT:  Quality.

I’ve spent the day with just quality people. 

I really enjoy the days spent adventuring.  Even if it’s just to a new restaurant, or with new people, and today was perfect.  Not only did we venture downtown Toronto, but we visited the top of the CN Tower, and the shopping, and the food and the laughs, I mean, it’s irreplaceable really, the moments from today, and impossible to justly explain most, so I will just say what a quality day I have had.

Toronto is an hour and a half away and it still is an adventure to me.  I plan on taking a little dip down there myself sometime in the future, just to spend some time recollecting on myself, and I think it would be perfect.  That city is just… I mean, it’s not Europe, it really isn’t as many bars and theatres and shops and coffee nooks and crannies it spouts out it stil will not be any city in Europe, but it is the closest we’ve got here, the closest I can get without spending outrageous amounts of money, and it is enough for now.

Sitting high in the sky watching out over the city drinking a crap “white” coffee from the over-priced shop at the top of the CN Tower I was reminded how lucky and proud I am to be Canadian after all.  I think I take these cities for granted, and with that I vowed to make sure that Steph (my Australian exchange student, tehe) got to Waterloo to see my family and my city, because as much as I get frustrated with it’s normalcy and stability it is a part of my Canada.  I find that substantial and important at this point in my life, and I’d like to share it with her.

Today I embarrassingly forgot the line in our national anthem that says “Glorious and Free,” which as horrifying as the experience of forgetting a song that was sung to you/you sung for literally twelve plus years of your life was, that sentence seems to be the most significant of the entire anthem.  Glorious and Free is so true. We may not be “free” in all senses of the word, and by no means would I classify “glory” to Canada in a nationalist sense, but I do think that Canada, the polite, clean, beautiful country, deserves to be “Glorious and Free,” if only because the people who live here are relatively welcoming and believe in this country.  How lucky and proud am I?

So thanks Sarah and Steph for making today hilariously entertaining and worth the bus ride and the trodding around the Eaton centre with large bags, I hope that you enjoy your stay in this beauty of a country.

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276

Day Two Hundred and Seventy-SEVEN:  Let’s Just Move to London..

I have been working on a piece of writing and enjoying it, because writing is so hard to enjoy sometimes.  Sometimes it comes easily, effortlessly, sitting down for a five hour stint is perfectly fine and good, beautiful words, phrases, sentences, they all come out like craftwork.  Then there are those days, and you know them, when you sit down to write a poem or even a journal, a note, a Hallmark card and it all just comes out completely wrong.  How frustrating it is when things don’t come out right.  So when I get that creative inspiration, that motivation that drive to write and write for a long time on something personal, a project and such I want to nurture that feeling.

Lately it has been harder to write prose and easier to write fiction.  How do I change this?  Do I personify the fiction so that it is in turn me speaking? Do I write effortless poetics and hope that it comes out raw enough for the blog?  I don’t know.  Should I try a different tactic?  Probably.

So Sunday (not tomorrow) I am going to start writing my blogs in the morning and not at the end of the day when I know I get to the end of my ability to be creative or fun, and try to get some quality work in for next week.  Maybe some musings, maybe a little bit of advice, I’m not sure yet, but it will be better than this, at any rate.

But I guess this is better than nothing.  Sometimes I feel like I write a post just for the sake of posts, but I want to rediscover my love for blogging in my next few projects to come and take away the joy-sucking “resolution” bit out.  The pressure to write every single day becomes knowing, like I feel bad when I haven’t writtena  post and yet when it comes out jumbled or boring It furthers my frustration.

What can I pull out of this for you all?  What promising gem could I possibly find for you?  To take away, to learn from?  Take what you will.  Think hard about your resolutions and why you made them.  Think respectfully about the projects you plan on starting, and respect yourself.  It is more important to honour you than push yourself past your own limitations.  Gosh, boundaries are so important these days.

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