The Truant Muse

You may be interested to know...

2007-05-03T23:13:00.001-04:00

So I found this site called 'Abstinence Education', a helpful guide from the wholesome Heritage House , a supposedly-secular charity group. It's directed at teens and early 20-somethings, and strives to educate youth about the dangers of pre-marital sex, and the myriad wonderful perks enjoyed by those who wait. Alongside their free information, they also have a store that sells, among other things, a variety of inspirational 'worth the wait'-type bookmarks. The best one I found was an instructional guide to young couples who find it hard to think of things to do that aren't, well, sex. Here are some of the 50 alternatives to nookie they helpfully list:

1) Go on a picnic with friends
2) Bake cookies
3) Play on the monkey bars at the park
4) Go out to eat
5) Slide down a grass hill on a block of ice
6) Go horseback riding [Freud is rolling in his grave]
7) Go roller blading
8) Do something kind for a needy person
9) Go bowling
10) Try making a new recipe
11) Throw an 80s party [always a good erection-killer]
12) Get your friends to go on a video scavenger hunt [?????]
13) Wash each other's car
14) Go people watching at the airport

Others that deserve honorable mention are 23 (ride a carousel), 27 (go to church together), 29 (get friends and play board games), 35 (chop up things in the blender and make food art), and 37 (do homework together) which wins for the most enjoyable sex-alternative.

My goodness, is the religious Right ever creative.

2007-02-09T23:17:00.000-05:00

I sometimes get the feeling that the fairy tales were right. Love is only true for pretty girls. Everyone else gets feverish fantasy, cut short by the brutal reality of it all. Embarassed, defeated, and full of loathing.

the thing about white people...

2007-01-07T12:32:00.000-05:00

Yeah, you know this is gonna be good.
But seriously, here's the thing that bothers me about white people. Not ALL white people, mind you, just many more than one might expect. Seemingly regular, pleasant, middle class white people who certainly would never consider themselves to be racist, and wouldn't dream of saying anything derogatory to a minority. But when in the presence of other white people, something eerie happens. Suddenly it's ok to make racist remarks (whether vague or blatant) because it's done on the assumption that you (the other white person) are somehow with it, somehow privy to some sort of accepted white-people humour. Let me give you an example:

White person 1: "...and then she told Maury 'they'se no way Latisha was sleepin' wit my man, she too uuuugly.'"
White person 2: "Hahahahaha, it's so true, it's always 'Latisha' or something like that, not a normal Canadian name, you know?" *looks at you conspiratorialy*
You: "............" *disbelieving stare*

You cannot imagine how many times things like this happen in everyday conversation with white people. Here's another example.

White person 1: "I went and saw that new Jack Black movie, you know, the Mexican one."
White person 2: "Oh yeah, was it good?"
White person 1: "Well, it wasn't really funny, but everyone laughed anyway, you know? Cause like, be honest, everyone knows it's funny because Mexican people look different than us, and so we laugh at them because they always look silly."
White person 2: "Hahahaha yeah it's true!" *looks at you conspiratorily*
You: "...........don't touch me."

Endless variations of this conversation occur on a daily basis, often peppered with "I'm not racist but..." and other such sentiments designed to comfort and soothe the white people into believing it's ok to participate in the spread of superficial stereotypes about other races. What's worse is these white people assume that all other white people are in the same exclusive, vaguely racist club. And if you respond to their comments with things like "that's still racist" or an incredulous "ummm, racism isn't just lynching minorities, it can be pervasive and subtle too", you either get laughed at, or stared at blankly.

...and that's the thing about white people.

all good things

2007-01-01T22:30:00.000-05:00

1) Not being hungover from New Years.
2) Massaging footbath after the 3-am walk home from club Abstract in my high heels, coupled with champagne swigged from the bottle.
3) Spicy chocolate at last night's fancy dinner. Yes that's right. Spicy.
4) Good friends, good company, no judgement regarding random make-outs and dirty dancing.
5) A certain adorable, wonderful DJ giving me hope, a heart-melting smile, and a goodbye hug (despite the fact that scary ex-fling showed up and kissed me in front of him... ahem)
6) Discovering Mike Patton and falling asleep to 'Retrovertigo'.
7) Lying in my cozy canopy bed with my laptop and some echinacea and licorice tea. *contentment*

2006-12-22T16:49:00.000-05:00

Ok, I'm calm.
Still, I'd love to tell those kids exactly what it's like to have a mother who doesn't care about them, never wanted them, and never made an effort. They have no idea how good they have it. But I suppose that's just the way it is. Sandy herself knows, because she experienced it first-hand... we know, her and I.
Anyway, I can't be angry, it takes too much of my energy. I still have one more closing shift to work before I head out of Waterloo. My hangover from last night is finally fading, unlike during my morning shift, which was a graceless staggering performance at best. The teahouse was packed, too, which didn't help, but I muddled through.
It was worth it, though. Even though I said I'd only have a couple of drinks and head out at 1:30. The thing is, when you're at Club Abstract for all-request night with two of your gal friends, and the place is pretty much empty, and the bartender and the DJ are catering only to your needs, it's hard to say no to another drink, and another song. When I went up to thank the DJ for playing us so many wicked songs, he said "I was trying to anticipate what you guys would like, what you would dance to. I wanted to keep you dancing as long as I could." It blew my mind. Then we chatted about our mutual love of Tori Amos, he told me his name was Jason, shook my hand, and told me to come back real soon. Not to mention that the bartender, impressed at our bold consumption of gasoline shots, gave us free polar bears to wash down the taste. Needless to say, we left right before the last song.
Soooo... now I've got to haul ass back to work, then come home, finish some last-minute consumermas gifts, finish packing, and try to sleep. I have a driving lesson at 9 tomorrow morning, after which I will be driving myself (!) to the greyhound station where I'll catch my bus to Toronto.
Oh, and I have decided that there is only one way to avoid a miserable future of futility and sorrow: never have children. I have deduced that all the happy older people I know are childless. Also, I'd be very reluctant to bring a child into this world. Western society is a damaging climate for developing human beings. Now, to find a way to beat the system of autonomic hormonal desires and drives... a way to switch off the biological wrist watch.
...that is all.

the frothy mixture that says 'I love you'

2006-11-10T10:45:00.000-05:00

Some things that have been making me happy lately:

1) Reasonably warm weather

2) Writing a paper on the ethno-historical use of psychotropic plants

3) Having gorgeous, big, weather-proof new windows in my room which actually open

4) The fact that Dan Savage (of the popular sex column 'Savage Love') held a contest encouraging people to come up with a definition for 'Santorum', as in Congressman Rick Santorum, the man who equated homosexuality with incest, adultery, and bestiality. The best part? The winning definition of 'Santorum' was "the frothy mixture of lube and fecal matter that is sometimes the byproduct of anal sex".

...sometimes, it's the simple things that make life worth living.

Who the fuck is Jackson Pollock?

2006-11-08T11:35:00.000-05:00

Well, here I am in single-land again, trying to get my own life figured out. It's not a bad place to be-; presented with endless opportunities, not bound by anyone else's will. All the energy I had previously devoted to keeping a failing relationship afloat can now be directed towards other, loftier projects.
Like ESSAYS!
And staying up to watch the U.S. midterm elections, because I'm a tool like that.
Seriously, though. I'm doing well. But not as well as retired trucker Teri Horton, who just found out that a painting she bought as joke for $5 is most likely a Jackson Pollock original. To quote Ms. Horton: "We were going to go in the trailer and get her darts and throw darts at it, but we sat there and drank beer and never did get around to it."
I must warn you, however, that most painting found at thrift stores aren't worth a pile of cash. Not to knock paintings on velvet.

The tarot

2006-11-05T18:27:00.000-05:00

The cards spelled it all out. Not surpising- I have a lot on my mind.
So there were the things that came before and the things that will come after, and he pointed out the six of cups. I'm sure you know who that represents, he said, and of course I did. And then the ace of swords, which made my eyes widen. I know he didn't want to spell out the pain to me. It's ok, it's already mapped out for me.
The nine of swords next, and he said don't worry about the heartbreak. Well, I said, there is always heartbreak.
The emperor and the magician were there, many-armed and stern and bold. All pointing towards the center, the card that was me.
Pointing to the sun.
Confidence and strength.
They are mine to claim.

fear and loathing in the living room

2006-06-06T18:53:00.000-04:00

Fuck shit cock ass motherfucking cunt whore and various other satisfyingly crude expletives!!!!!!!
I'm in an identity crisis with no apparent end.
And on top of that, today I hear:
"I might not be going back to school next year" he says. "I can't afford it, I've found a steady job I enjoy"
I'm crushed and I tell him so, simultaneously feeling justified and selfish. What about your dream?
"That's all it is," he says, fatalistic as ever. "Just a dream."
My brain screams BULLSHIT. I want to pound the walls with my fists. Tears well up but I banish them. I settle for telling him I'm very upset, but it's none of my damn business and I'll stop making it about me because clearly it isn't.
Fuck. I'm right. It is none of my business. It's his life and it's his decision entirely.

Meanwhile, I'm trying to fight my own fear. Fear that I'll accomplish nothing and never be really good at anything.
Maybe I need to take a page out of Dune, eh Corwin?

2006-05-24T23:10:00.000-04:00

You may be interested to know that I've ruined the internet.

dare

2006-05-17T08:45:00.000-04:00

Saying what I feel is more difficult than it appears, since often my emotions are too busy burying me than making sense of themselves.
Especially here, in this space. Who dares to approach 'feelings' without being branded and belittled by the blog-elitists? Folks whose own clever and derivative posts once exuded a wonderful nonchalance, but now seem sour and overwrought.
Well, I'm in revolt. Not only do I refuse to spend hours, days obsessing over the exact desired effect my post will have on my friends and fellow bloggers, but I won't post about nonsensical bullshit, the only purpose of which is to confound and vaguely impress.

A new era of freedom is upon us! Rise up, ye bloggers! Embrace your deliberations, your sorrows, your joys, your fears! Dare to admit that you are human!

I double dare you.

moving day

2006-03-27T10:56:00.000-05:00

We'll open up the whole house, she says
We'll have everyone over
We'll open the windows and shake out the curtains
Let in the light for the very first time
I say, spring is a time of renewal
She agrees... Thank God it's spring, she says
It's about time...
Yes, I say, it's about time
That we stopped living in fear and discomfort
That we smiled and laughed
And really lived here for the first time.
I tell her that I feel as if
We're all moving in today
She laughs
I can tell she agrees
Everything is in turmoil, of course
He told his friends and family awful lies, she says
Yes I know, I say, it's alright
It will pass over in time
At least we can be happy here.
I can have friends, she says
I can finally have friends.
You always had us, I say, no matter how he tried to get rid of us
Yes, she is crying, she nods her head, she embraces me.

The queen will assume her throne.

who's writing this story?

2006-03-05T22:32:00.000-05:00

I lay
In the blossom of my worry, enfolded
Scarlet thoughts changing to rust.
Possible futures flicker like embers
Possible rationalizations
On how to turn a death
Into a birth...
(or is it the other way around?)

And while the tangled snakes of irony
Tightened around my ankles
In the leavings of their phallic path, they left a message writ-
smeared across my sanity
The rouge of my carnality
Tinted orange with fear.

hold me closer Tony Danza... watch the headlights on the highway... lay me down in sheets of linen...

2006-02-28T23:23:00.000-05:00

The scene opens in a CHAT WINDOW of the MSN MESSENGER persuasion.
Our players, STEPH and EMILY are engaged in a discussion of the meaning of Elton John's song 'Tiny Dancer'.
EMILY has just revealed the purpose of ELTON'S LYRICIST when writing the song...

Emily: Actually the song is about his wife.

Steph: Oh, I always thought it was about a hooker.

Emily: No. She was a roadie.

Steph: Oh, dang, I thought she might have been a *classy* hooker, you know... redeemable. But she's just a groupie...

Emily: No, she's a roadie. There's a tiny difference...

Steph: She's sleeping with a band member, she's a groupie.

Emily: Seamstress for the band, Steph. Seamstress for the band...

Steph: "Hey, anybody here order a seamstress?"

Emily: *laughing*

Steph: "Yeah, I think the band did..."

Emily: *laughing*

Steph: "Oh yeah, baby, you THREAD that needle!!! Darn my socks, baby, oh god yes!"

Emily: You are my hero.

Steph: I wonder if she sewed the sheets of linen herself...?

an evil evening drinking blood by the gallon

2006-02-24T10:35:00.000-05:00

So, last night wins for roughest night of the semester. Hands down.

But Nicky talked me down, thank god, and I felt a little better. Then Klarisa and Corwin came home and gave me much-needed cuddles and candy, and jokes about my Jewish heritage.

Alexandra arrived like my guardian angel bearing wine and fondue. We proceeded to get smashingly drunk off her granddad's home-made wine and danced in the kitchen while consuming copious amounts of fruit dipped in melted chocolate chips.
We came to the following conclusions:

a) Boys are dumb, and

b) We need to try out for Canadian Idol as a duo, our gimmick being that we're like the spice girls, except there's two of us and we're fat. The tagline: We weigh as much as all five spice girls. I thought it was absolute genius!

So here I am, waiting to go to rehearsal, figuring out how to finish this post that I started this morning. And wondering how many more times I'll listen to 'Lady Venom' before I get really sick of it.
I have decided I shall dance, until I have to call my cab, and be fabulous, in fine fat spice girl fashion.
*dances*

I am not surprised

2006-02-17T11:40:00.000-05:00

I'm not at all in shock that I would choose to further complicate my life by getting involved with an old flame.
I am not surprised that it's turned out to be a rollercoaster ride of emotion, that I can range from glowing happiness to stark despair in the span of a few hours.
It doesn't surprise me that I've thrown my soul into a relationship that didn't work the first time around, considering my reflection on the act and also my stubborn mindset.

What surprises me is how glaringly I miss him, after 11 months of barely speaking.

I read over some of our conversations last night. I thought it would be nice, but instead it just made me vaguely uneasy. Seeing myself, in earnest, aching to speak with him and holding it back.
"I like being your friend," I told him many times. For how could I tell him the whole truth? And now, fast-forward to February 2006, and we're back to being blisteringly in love and too far apart. Our whirlwind weekend in Toronto and his visit to Waterloo have just left me frustrated because I've seen him and been with him again and I remember my obsession. It's re-kindled old fires that have the potential to run wild.

We were always too far apart, even when we lived in neighbouring towns.
I know I felt smothered because he used to call me all the time, but now he doesn't call me at all and I miss it.
Am I just being selfish? Clearly I cannot make the relationship conform to some ideal that I make up.

What used to strangle me, I now yearn for.

2006-02-14T18:37:00.000-05:00

I'm not even going to make a Venereal Disease joke because I am so above that.
:p

oh well

2006-02-12T10:21:00.000-05:00

I'm ok.
I'm just getting tired of riding the emotional rollercoaster. But that's what my life is, and it will always be.
Yesterday was ok, really it was.
I'm just sick and tired, and tired of being sick.
Don't worry about me.

and then I accidentally negated existence as we know it

2006-02-11T17:24:00.000-05:00

Emily Anson --

[noun]:

A poltergeist sent back in time to change the course of history forever

'How will you be defined in the dictionary?' at QuizGalaxy.com

2006-02-07T05:10:00.000-05:00

Jody bought Emily dark chocolate ganache. Emily was happy and went to bed satisfied.

birthday thoughts

2006-02-06T14:51:00.000-05:00

What does it feel like to be 20?
Well actually it hasn't really hit me yet.
The sinus infection isn't helping, either.

But seriously... I can't believe I've lived for 20 years.

Here's a review of some things I've done in 20 years.

__

- Was born

- Had a lot of experiences I didn't remember

- Created a thousand fantasy worlds

- Learned to paddle a canoe and use chopsticks

- Learned simple algebra

- Read, sang, spoke and wrote

- Went to Greece

- Petted many cats

- Found out my mom was sick

- Starred in a musical

- Learned ballet, quit ballet

- Disliked myself

- Fell in love

- Flew a plane

- Met my best friends

- Forgot simple algebra

- Delivered a litter of kittens

- Tried psychadelic drugs

- Got my nose pierced

- Continued to dislike myself

- Rode an emotional rollercoaster

- Was tattooed

- Fell in love again

- Went to university

- Met a multitude of wonderful people

- Finally saw my father meet a woman who made him happy

- Moved to Waterloo

- Walked on a frozen lake

- Learned to love myself

___

These 20 years have been long and complex. I went through a lot, and came out happier and more well-adjusted. Maybe these things I have listed seem trivial, but they stand out in my memory and formative moments. Moments that made me more aware of myself and my surroundings. Moments that caused me to ask questions and actively seek answers.
The last year in particular has been filled with joy. Because of it, I go into my 20th year full of hope, and more importantly, full of confidence and spunk.

I'm on BOD!

2006-02-03T01:54:00.000-05:00

...and then PIRG passed, and all was right in the jungle.

if nothing else, it proves that google image search is not an accurate tool. (search: good man)

2006-01-27T11:48:00.000-05:00

She told me she was looking for one good man.
I told her he existed, somewhere.
Then I decided perhaps he existed on the internet.
Well, she is looking for a good man too, preferably a live one but she's pretty flexible.
This man clearly knows how to treat a girl (if you're into that Dr. Seuss type lovin'), while this one, though i'm sure he is sensitive and loving most days, looks like he could get mean if you got a few drinks in him.
The moral of the story? If you're looking for a good man, you could always just pick up some kids dressed as Charlie Brown.

6 days following the aftermath of hurricane Emily

2006-01-21T13:00:00.000-05:00

There's a bitter taste in my mouth.
I've hurt somebody, it seems.
And yet...
I cannot convince myself it was the wrong thing to do.
The wrong way to feel.
I wanted to be disappointed in myself, to scold myself, to have some sort of epiphany in which I realized that what I was doing was wrong.
But it never came. Because, as heartless as it seems to be, I am making the right decision for myself.
I don't know exactly how to feel about that.
I guess maybe it should be taken as a blessing, that I can finally understand what I really want and stick by it.
Ugh.
Nothing is ever as simple as it should be.

Merry Yuletide, Everyone!

2005-12-25T18:59:00.000-05:00

What helps boost Emily's christmas spirit?
Well, a Wacom Intuos 3 graphics tablet, for one.
But seriously folks, it's been great. Good food, warm bed, fuzzy pajamas, a 'first christmas' for everyone in this new family of ours. I'm also looking forward to watching Victor/Victoria which I now own, thanks to my l'il bro.
Also took a nice long walk along the lakeshore today with dad and Sandy, and discovered the spot where the Keswick Polar Bear club meets. Oh crazy nude men splashing playfully in cold water, what would we do without you.

melencholy

2005-12-23T23:26:00.000-05:00

I'm sitting on the pull-out couch in the room made of glass, makeshift curtains casting shadows on the keyboard. Hunching over the computer is doing nothing for my posture/back problems, but so be it. I can see unexplained bruises on my bare legs, and the scent of the shower still clings to them, and suddenly I'm witness to a barrage of scent-induced memories.
And here's my first blog post from sunny Keswick.
Actually, it rained today, and I took a walk out on the lake despite my fear of cracking ice and cold water. The rain had washed away the snow in some places, and the dark ice showed through, creating a strange effect- it almost looked as if the lake were liquid, but thick and slow-moving. Creepiness was compounded by the fact that when I stepped off the dock, I looked down and could see the rocky lake bottom, aquatic plants and all.
The ice was piled up on the shore in great billows, apparently the result of the water freezing as the wind blew it against the rocks. Some distance down the lake, I could see a little village of fishing huts clustered together, and the figures of those hardy enough to stay out in the cold and wet.
Maybe I'll venture out further when the temperature drops below -5.

I've been struggling with myself. I feel the compulsion to be sullen and abrasive, like the old days. I've had to apologize several times for my mood.
"I don't know what's wrong with me," I said to my father yesterday, exasperated. He shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you," he said. And of course I shouldn't expect him to know.
Maybe it's just the winter blues. Also, I miss my friends. I miss the regular swing of Waterloo life.
But I am glad to be here. Sandy is a wonderful tonic for my father's moods. And I like being a big-sister figure for Jenny. She's a great girl, and she has so much potential. It's a great set-up, here in the lakeside house.
So maybe I'm a little bit blue. My dad says sometimes when we're very busy, we just don't have time to deal with our problems, so when we finally have a moment to relax, it all comes crashing down on us. That sounds about right to me.

Bollocks! I must continue to remind myself of my good fortune. I refuse to lose the happiness that took such a long time to arrive.

"We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at pictures of breakfast foods"

2005-12-11T21:39:00.000-05:00

"Your blog is boring," he said, a faint slur in his speech the only indicator that he had consumed a tad too much wine.
"I know," I replied, realizing the truth in his words. "But what can I possibly write about?"
What, I asked, could possibly liven up this blog?
"Well", he said, "There's always waffles."
...and there were.

Waffles! How divinely your fluffy cavities hold Aunt Jemima's 30%-real-maple breakfast syrup, how perfectly your peaks and whorls give way to the probings of knife and fork...
Did I mention that they taste damn fine re-heated in the toaster? Not to be confused with those store-bought imposter waffles, with their slick advertising and their perfect cut-out shapes. No, I'm talking about the real deal, people. Home-made, and not afraid to be a bit asymmetrical at times, a bit rough around the edges. Everyman's waffles. Every woman, too. Hell, even math students can appreciate a good batch of waffles.
As the steamy dreamy scent of the waffles cooking wafted past my nostrils, I was reminded of better times, times when sidewalks were slush-free and final exams were just a gleam in the eye of professors. Times that blurred the lines between breakfast and lunch.
Hopeful times.

Such is the power of the waffle.

I call it a poem for Martina

2005-12-06T23:39:00.000-05:00

We'll hit you
Like a hurricane
As you stare out over the curves of the sea.
We'll batter you,
Enfold you
-Hold you-
And for a few short days
We'll be all that
Your senses perceive.
We'll fill your eyes
Your nose, your ears
Your mouth-
We'll be the only surface
Under your hands.
But soon, like a hurricane
We slow,
Lose momentum
And dissipate
Until all that remains
Is a dry shell of a memory
And the taste
Of the sea
On your tongue.

2005-12-05T17:06:00.000-05:00

Destructive
Like the old days
But she's hanging on, like
An intimate moment with herself
In the golden light of afternoon, or
Cold fingers wrapped around a steaming mug.
Waiting for warmth.

I'm plagued with a feeling of unrest. Where did it come from? What's it trying to tell me? Could it just be unease brought on by procrastination? Argh, I just don't know. I'm constantly worrying. I feel like I haven't been keeping up with my commitments. For example, I missed the choir singathon on saturday, and now I've just discovered I will have to miss a dress rehearsal for the Messiah because of my tools/techniques final exam. I had to cancel on Wayne at Tora Tattoo as well, because I just didn't have enough money.
Yes, all this is my fault. I tell myself I have to earn my liesure time, and then end up enjoying myself far too much regardless of the minimal schoolwork I've accomplished. Just like the last time I went home... I did a half-ass job on my prehistory paper, didn't hand in a bibliography, and just went home and had fun anyway.
For shame, Emily. I have a feeling I won't be pulling off the straight-A's of first year.
I'm concerned about how my extracurricular activities will affect my marks, but I just can't see myself backing out of the clubs (or the election, for that matter). They've become such an integral part of my life in such a short time. I've met so many good people through club events (especially PIRG).
*le sigh*
Guess I just have to suck it up... I got myself into it, and now I'll have to find new ways of managing my time.

a day in the life

2005-12-03T01:27:00.000-05:00

We were talking about blogs at our impromtu PIRG social tonight, and Nicole remarked that people tend to lose their drive to produce meaningful entries.
I agree wholeheartedly.
So I have to apologize for this, because it's... yes... a report of my day.
Why?
Because, despite the minimal amount of sleep I've had in the last while, I cannot seem to quiet my mind.

So... today:

- Wicked witch hair (everywhere)
- Shift at the teahouse, where a beautiful woman with a knit hat and heavy-lidded eyes gave me smiles and compliments
- Found Max's sock and wore it to work
- Tore out more of my hair in the shower
- Literally ran to the PIRG meeting (and was only 2 minutes late)
- PIRG planning... very excited about interesting workshop possibilities/campaign for BOD
- Wilf's with the PIRG, planned a stoner social/Phil's and dancing
- Got home, was offered special brownie
- Plans of relaxing and brownie-eating foiled by Kirk's intolerable sisters coming to visit
- Took off for tea and scrabble/sketch chinese food
- Max still wearing my black and red argyle kneesock
- Freezing cold walk, passed many drunken people
- Home
- Blog/wonder why anyone reads this... real entry soon, I promise!!! *looks around shiftily*
- ....sleep? (that's all, folks)

Talk about filler...

2005-12-01T16:06:00.000-05:00

{last day of classes is fast approaching}
School business is drawing to a close. The 9-11 discussion panel went very well (though I had to leave an hour in so I could go to class and get my essay proposal)...
Speaking of which... Haxell took a petulant and argumentative tone when marking my proposal, gave me a 70, and wagged his proverbial finger at me for thesis-neglect which has not yet occurred. I hate this man.
On the plus side, this semester's last PIRG meeting is tomorrow and I have muscled my way into only working until 3:15, so I will be able to attend. Huzzah!
Also, crazy party next monday night, and then lunch and drinks with Alexandra and Theresa on tuesday (and some others from the women's center, I believe).
wOOt.

?monologue/dialogue?

2005-11-28T17:41:00.000-05:00

Confession:
My engrained example of a 'loving' relationship is that of my mother and father. A tumultous union that should have ended long before now. This is why I can never be satisfied in a relationship unless there is conflict. If everything is grand, my subconcious figures out a way to create conflict where there was none before.

Emily:
Try talking to me for a change. Tell me something you haven't wanted to say before now.

Confession:
I used to say to this boy I thought I loved, "I know I'm not supposed to, but I need you." That's the trap.

Emily:
So what does that have to do with what we're talking about?

Confession:
Sometimes I'm so afraid to be alone, I will talk to anybody just to feel safe. Even my mother (but only in extreme cases). I just sometimes can't handle my thoughts, I can't be alone with them.

Emily:
That's understandable, I guess...

Confession:
I look for you everywhere I go.

Emily:
Now we're getting down to it... don't be ashamed to tell me this.

Confession:
I am confused by your nonchalance.

Emily:
Me too.

2005-11-28T15:30:00.000-05:00

Corwin, when you live here, are you going to make those videos in our basement?
Because that would be rad.

2005-11-27T01:02:00.000-05:00

First meeting of the gin drinking society: Success.
Much amusement, sexy photography, madness, and of course gin.
...so many bottles of gin.

letters unsent

2005-11-24T12:58:00.000-05:00

Dear town of Waterloo,

I know it's the first real snow of the season, but that doesn't mean you don't have to plow the sidewalks. Perhaps nobody has informed you of the snowfall yet, in which case I would like to say that the real joy of snow may be in snowball fights and fort-building, but in all practicality I would like to be able to walk rather than wade to school.

Sincerely,

Emily Anson

***

Dear kitten sitting on my printer,

I get the feeling that you don't want me to write my essay. The reason I think this is the calculated way you are staring at me with those grey-green eyes, and also the fact that when I tried to remove you from your perch, you put a paw on my face and began to groom my nose.
While such attentions would usually be welcomed, I simply must finish this paper before 5:30, and your adorable orangeness is just too distracting.

With respect,

Emily Anson

***

Dear overheard MSN conversation,

I have decided not to be offended by the 'fancy boots are not the boots of justice' comment. I am comfortable with the fanciness of my boots, and although some kimmies may find them fashionable, I still feel that overall they serve the purpose of keeping me warm from toe to mid-calf. I also must add that if I wished, I could stomp up some riotous hell.

With love,

Emily Anson

memories

2005-11-19T23:26:00.000-05:00

If you are reading this, if your eyes are passing over this right now, please post a comment with a memory of me, or us - even if we don't speak very often. It can be anything you want, good or bad.
When you're finished, post this little paragraph on your blog and be surprised (or mortified) about what people remember about you.

(stolen from Nicole's blog)

Allegretto, Symphony 7

2005-11-16T20:05:00.000-05:00

Dread and anticipation
Are settling in my stomach
Like swallowed stones.
But I am no Cronus
And this is not the Greek Isles
And there will be
No mythical purging.
Instead, I feed these stones
On milk and honey
With Amaltheic stoicism
Hoping one day, one might
Become a god.

rather than doing actual schoolwork... a list of my top 20 simple pleasures (in no particular order)

2005-11-14T22:02:00.000-05:00

1. Tea

2. Waking up after a good night's sleep

3. Singing while doing the dishes

4. Wearing fuzzy slippers

5. Curling up next to somebody

6. A good book

7. Hugs

8. Coconut body butter

9. Black turtlenecks

10. The feeling of walking in moccasins on pine needles

11. Brown paper packages tied up with strings (I'm not shitting you, seriously)

12. Fine cotton sheets

13. A good conversation

14. Swimming in a lake

15. Kisses

16. Bare feet on smooth rocks

17. Noodle soup

18. Sketching

19. Sunny winter days

20. The way it smells in spring when the snow is melting

putting my foot in it for posterity

2005-11-12T11:05:00.000-05:00

Last night I went out for coffee with Dave, Sherry and Amy, and the topic of conversation returned again and again to WLUSU. Dave, a little bit drunk, insisted on defending his 5-year plan to get the PIRG referendum passed, inlcuding the bit about getting a large number of progressive candidates to run in february for Board of Directors.
Sherry and Amy were not so hopeful. Sherry herself ran one year, and lost. Dave insists it's easy to get elected, but I'm not so sure. And Dave's example of a WLUSU success (the bus pass) was met by scepticism in the group- even I agree, though I was glad it passed, I've heard nothing but bitching about it this year. So naturally, I have some misgivings about the success of the PIRG referendum.
I was told not to run. That it would make me bitter because I would have every progressive motion shot down, and that I would end up "resigning rather than sitting back and watching it happen." That it would eat up my time and commitment.
I appreciate what they were trying to tell me, and I know that everything they said to me (in all likelihood) will eventually come to fruition.
But last night I made the decision, and I'm going to run.
Maybe I'm just being stubborn. To risk sounding like a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed idealist... even if I fail spectacularly at making some positive difference at this school, at least I fucking tried.

why is a raven...

2005-11-07T18:51:00.000-05:00

Today I realized how much I want a writing desk.
I mean an ancient, dark-stained wooden antique. Maybe roll-top, with a hundred little drawers each requiring a little silver key. A tall behemoth of a desk, with a high-backed chair, in which I could perch myself regally, pen gracefully clasped.
No computer, either. Just crisp paper... perhaps a variety of stationary, and a smooth-writing pen. Black ink. A drawer for envelopes, stamps, a drawer for sealing wax, staples, filing folders.
Oh the dreams of this romantic obsessive-compulsive. Will they ever come to fruition?

I just want a writing desk. And a dark house to put it in, cloaked with mildew and insence, heavy draperies, echoing softly the footfalls of a cat.

Make Poverty History... finally

2005-11-07T01:19:00.000-05:00

So my pictures from MPH day are finally scanned and uploaded... for those who saw them here yesterday, don't fear... they're here at flickr now. Clicky clicky!

nothing to kick off a new blog like some drunken sentimentality

2005-11-06T04:20:00.000-05:00

I'm here in Kristy and Nicole's apartment, slightly drunk, and I'm thinking about how lucky I am.
Lucky that I have so many wonderful people surrounding me, who I love, and who love me back.
This morning I was constricted by loneliness. But I should never feel alone, because it would be a false conviction.

...The party at Nicole Barker's was a success in so many ways. Last night, despite my ridiculous drunkenness, was gorgeous. Maybe I give my love too easily, but I spoke with so many people I know I could love... I am confident they knew how much I appreciated their company. All of them.
It was not what I'd expected. It was so much better. Looking back, it wouldn't have been right any other way.
Forgive my drunken ambiguity. I mean what I say, I say what I mean.

And tonight, we made an impromptu trip to the Renaissance. Again, I am left speechless.
I love my friends. That's all I can really say... and I love the possibility of new ones.

2005-11-05T17:21:00.000-05:00

Step 2: Tweaking the template.
I'm liking the blog format better than livejournal, though.
Time to go to work... after that I can tweak to my heart's content.

...did that sound a little bit wrong?

hello

2005-11-05T12:16:00.000-05:00

testing, testing...
i've joined the blog train.