Sunday, April 17, 2005

Flop Around

OOOOOOoooooooooooooooowiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii. I just feel like making a bunch of noises and its just as well to type a bunch of jibberish because I haven't got a voice at the moment. uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhcccccccccccccccccccccccc.

I have a cold, and a take home exam to do, and a random train of thoughts about jobs and dresses and coked out losers to follow.

My friend put his arm out the other day, and I realized he was pitying me, but I'm not sure what for - being sick or being mentally unpresent or standing alone in a crown pressing my nails into my lip.

Wednesday, April 13, 2005

Renting Movies Until Infitinity

I'll be spending a lot of time around kids this summer at work, but right now I have very little contact with any. My friend's daughter is seven, looks maybe four, and is as smart in many ways as 40 and in most ways as 10. She played me some really adorable piano music, and sang as she played. But then, she got really tired, really fast, and yelled and cried during dinner. I don't know if my emotions could be that intense ever again. She started off explaining that she always loved her mother even when they fought and that she would always love her mother more than I could. By the end of dinner, she asked if we wanted her to cut off her hand because people keep holding it. She cried because her mother wanted her to eat dinner. Then, she said she was tired of seeing her mother's face. My most intense emotions lately happened watching Margret Cho's Revolution DVD. It was a pretty quick switch from laughing to crying.

I've become a person who cries. I never liked them, they always seemed to think the fact they cried made their pain more real. Now, I keep crying for t.v. shows and bad dreams, but I can't cry for any of the things that are actually hurting me.

I predict I will spend the rest of my life renting movies.

Friday, April 08, 2005

Some Girls Are Islands

I thought I could avoid writing diary like accounts of my life in here, but less personal prose is for people with larger social circles to share their happenings with. Incidently the majority of bloggers are teenage girls. I still feel teenage until I find myself in either very teenage situations or very adult situations, like tonight at a lawyer coctail party with the Canadian Justice Minister.

I was at the lawyer coctail party because my more upwardly mobile roommate invited me. Well, truthfully I was there because my friend hurt my feelings a month ago, but thats another story. I realized I ought not write people off as quickly as I`m prone to do. Which is probably true, but terrible reasoning for accepting this particular invitation to go with my roommate, her boyfriend, our neighbour, his girlfriend, his friend with a girlfriend and a wandering eye and his single friend who came by my appartment drunk to hit on me in the middle of the night once, to a law firm cocktail party in the atrium of an art gallery. A french party too.

Outside on the sidewalk I insulted my neighbour's new girlfriend by congradulating her on her fake baby. Our neighbour had told us she was pregnant, then my roommate had told me it was just a practical joke. But apparently its not, and this girl, his girlfriend of three weeks who now refers to "their appartment" and "their car" is pretty sure she's pregnant, but won't do a doctors test here in Canada since it would "cost a lot of money" and she can wait until she returns to Beleruse. Ever so helpful I told her at the clinic it only costs $8. I should have just said congradulations, or nothing, but its not like I said, "liar! you're either not pregnant or stupid!" It was the death kiss though. She stopped speaking with me and spent the night glaring at me. I apologized to her boyfriend for the bad joke, and he said I should apologize to her, but she was in hearing distance and told him it was over she had told him already not to talk about that subject!

He's happy, she's whatever, not someone who I need to like me. But I did have to remind myself of this 10 times in an hour. I could have paid attention to the talk at the party but I was comprehending a good 10 percent of what was being said, feeling very out of place despite having managed to dress the part, while keeping my own look. The Justice Minister came over and introduced himself to my roommate, her boyfriend, and me, in french and not mentioning his position. I worried if I just said my name he would follow with a question in french and I might confuse, "are you enjoying the party?" with "are you a law student?" or "what is your opinion on the statute of human rights?" so I said both my name and the answer to the last question he asked. Its okay though, I may have seemed nervous or eager, and he may have thought I knew who he was. Besides, my roommate proceeded to ask him which school he was with (since that had been his question to us) so he politely informed us he'd finished school years ago and was now the Federal Justice Minister. We had a good laugh then he went away and my roommate had a painfully long laugh. He later gave a speach in french about the importance of listening to students and how justice is good and terrorism and killing children is bad, of course this is what I gathered from it.

Shortly thereafter I left the land of fake-smiling, proper dressing adulthood, and walked down Ste Catherines Street to the bookstore to buy some magazines and a sandwich. At the sandwich shop a hockey team of 40 year old Torontonians chatted me up, suprised I was alone and sympathetic to the half the story I told them. I knew better than to sit around a deli drinking with hockey players but they were a somewhat better fit than my earlier company, polite because they had children my age, and I left when they began insisting I drink.

I don't know why the feeling of floating is thought of as good. I wish I'd never watched Sex and the City so that when I walk around alone I wouldn't start thinking of narrative crap such as, "and then I realized sometimes you .....".

Sunday, April 03, 2005

Dear Brendan

I joined an internet cult again, so that I could reply to your posts. I mean to develop my written thoughts, yeah.