Monday, August 18, 2008

Woo! I can apply for the SSHRC fellowship this fall for grad school next year!! My GPA had to be at least 3.70 cumulative for the past two years and I (just) made it!!

And no crying at the financial aid office needed! What a Monday!

Come on rest of the week, show me what you got.

Hi ro Shi Madness

I have to go to financial aid now. So my phone is not disconnected. Every other time they have not given me money. Will this time be different? I will give them a poem in return, and if they reject me, I will sit for hours and my boyfriend's security company will have to remove me. And then I will spit. No, spitting is gross. I will sing highly and steadily and without regret or insecurity.

Why is it, oh why, that after difficult relationship personality has been settling in for over two years, there is now a gigantic new amount of indigestion to wade through. Honestly, my rubber boots are worn OUT. And why is it always such bad timing. June would have been perfect to deal with said disaster of new and unacceptable personality explosion. Disaster.

Argh times a million.

Sunday, August 17, 2008

A Bird Flew Into My Heart

is all sorts of noise.

how can it be that school is starting in just two weeks.
In other news, I've discovered fun with metonymy. Apparently the ancients did it lots. Although they didn't necessarily call things by their proper names, like we do now.

Oh, academia. Such losers are made of us.

Still trying to decide on my honours topic. Driving me nuts.

The Olympics. Voyeurism. We need to get out of our living rooms. I dunno.

I won't even discuss the noise.

Tuesday, August 05, 2008

it is later


I continue to think I can become a dancer or actor or opera singer. Just like that. As if a giant God hand will simply make it so, push me gently (or forcefully, grr), into my destined desire.

Wait, can a desire be destined? Aren't we manipulated into believing that us, human things, are plighted to do that which we do not want to do. ie coffee shop jobs and security jobs and waitressing jobs and government jobs and blow jobs?

Ah, but the giant thumb of the One can make it so.

My thumb pales in comparison. Tiny, with the ability to push down upon the smallest of plastic tacks only to indent my skin incredibly red, bruised even, fulfilling not the desired task. Only pain. My thumb at work = useless.

Oh yes, so future. A lot about that recently. Only have so much time before the big age thing. Only so much time to have THIS or do THAT. And then, where to live, to live to live.

It's too much, I tell you, internet.

Meanwhile, I pursue the pudding soft glances of my little orange cat (I apologize for the pudding) (and the soft); the silky blue nightgown I bought recently for $7. Amazing, and equally entirely unfair (for broke me), the shopping in Montreal.

My cat has taken to sleeping in the bathtub. Do I no longer clean? Is is cooler in there? I shall try it.

But not tonight. I need to dream.

Until next time. I suppose.
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