good__grief

Attention those seeking a warm, fuzzy feeling

Fri, 09 Dec 2005 18:56:50 GMT

the video for Bright Eye's "First Day of My Life" can be found here

enjoy!

see you all after exams.

when there is no time to waste, do a quiz.

Fri, 18 Nov 2005 19:27:30 GMT

this one's for lana.

You Are Somewhat Machiavellian

You're not going to mow over everyone to get ahead...
But you're also powerful enough to make things happen for yourself.
You understand how the world works, even when it's an ugly place.
You just don't get ugly yourself - unless you have to!

How Machiavellian Are You?

st laurent and ste catherine

Mon, 17 Oct 2005 23:50:18 GMT

the silence doesn't have to be awkward
sometimes there is just no need for words...

thank you

Thu, 22 Sep 2005 02:49:48 GMT

i keep the tv on to create the illusion that someone else is living here, filling this space.
presently, said space is dead, empty.

i am scared of dying alone and being found three weeks later half-eaten by an Alsatian.
i was clearly not made to live alone.

CU report #1

Thu, 08 Sep 2005 02:49:23 GMT

School has been so strange. I haven't felt excited, or scared, or insgnificant and small yet.

However, I have shifted my gaze uncomfortably when people make mediocre to stupid comments in attempts to seem smart.
Or when they laugh at italian words spelt "ho" but pronounced "o".

I walked into Reggie's, the university bar, and it made me sad.

It is dark and rather empty.

People drinking in obscurity on the sunniest, warmest second day of school in history make me sad.

A man advertised loudly for a campus party. He invaded my personal space as I stepped of the escalator. just like at Dawson.

I haven't had a comms class yet. I have my first tomorrow at 8:45am in Montreal West.

I love the Loyola Campus.

It is bright
and quiet
and green
and peaceful
and I could just fall asleep on the lawn wondering about the dome shaped building that reminds me of a breast and Laura of an egg.

If only it wasn't so far.

Sat, 27 Aug 2005 08:10:38 GMT

Where sobriety mixes with the drunk and stoned
Where feet may venture out of their shoes
Where Iron&Wine is blasted out of car windows
Where stickers are a given

I have the most beautiful friends in the world
I can only hope to find others with whom I can be so very me.

Fri, 03 Jun 2005 01:44:57 GMT

List your current five (six) favorite songs, then pick five (six) other people that have to do the same.

------------------

dead disco - metric
girl - beck
land locked blues - bright eyes
simple twist of fate - dylan
seeing other people - belle and sebastian

(the trapeze swinger - iron and wine)

------------------

conform_ist
ratatpat
xanda_k
sexa
my_papertrail

(lucky_jim)

Sat, 28 May 2005 23:52:19 GMT

my dreams are so obvious it pains me. my subconscious self is not nearly as complicated as i would like it to be.
i wake up feeling exposed. and vulnerable.
no crypticism insight. only my cowardice and insecurities.

therefore, I have resolved that I cannot go back to sleep.

instead, i will roam the internet in search of something to pass the time. something other than reading undergraduate calendars, meticulously bookmarking and highlighting. maybe i will become one of those persistent virtual world participants. those ongoing net games where players gather forces, make alliances, embark on quests, kill monsters, etc. (i.e. Warcraft) apparently, addicts have been known to restrict themselves to their basements, rarely wandering away in search of food and sleep. pets and children have died. (i have learned so much at Dawson)
this might have to be plan B.

for now, i will be content with remaining in the company of those i love best. keeping my mind at a safe distance from what i simply cannot dwell on, keeping the chest pain at bay.

anxiety: an abnormal and overwhelming sense of apprehension and fear often marked by physiological signs (as sweating, tension, and increased pulse), by doubt concerning the reality and nature of the threat, and by self-doubt about one's capacity to cope with it

i feel so inadequate.
i know i shouldn't. but i can't help it.

McGillConcordiaMcGillConcordiaMcGillConcordiaMcGillConcordia

Sun, 22 May 2005 06:43:20 GMT

This dilemma may sound familiar to some. If not, feel free to impart any valuable information. The clock is ticking, the next registration date for Concordia is approaching and I am undecided. As usual. The decision making process has never been simple for me.

McGill Undergraduate Arts

Pros

-in close proximity to home
-Broad, can explore before picking a major
-"McGill is your ticket to the world" -that nagging parental voice in the back of my head

Cons

-No opportunities to be creative in class
-Potentially/probably, regretting my decision to play it safe when I hear of all the fun to be had at Concordia from my friends in Comms
-Remaining at McGill because it's a safe bet

Concordia Communication Studies

Pros

-Not having regrets (and switching to McGill if I prove to be uncreative)
-An opportunity to face my fear of attempting creativity
-Potentially finding something I love

Cons
-Loyola campus is much farther from my humble apartment
-An opportunity to face my fear of attempting creativity
-Having profs and peers witness possible failed attempts at creativity

If this were Oz, I would be the cowardly lion.

I will now return to my late night readings of course descriptions.

Fri, 20 May 2005 23:48:14 GMT

yeah

you bet I liked it.

big french chicks are like pretty much my favorite animal.

Mon, 09 May 2005 05:44:18 GMT

So I got into a bitch fight tonight.
At the uncut/controller.controller/death from above show.

um.

yeah.

Surprinsingly, I found strength I never knew I had, though truth be told my 5' frame withstood enough abuse. After a few pats on the back from surrounding eye witnesses and a miniature standing ovation, a thank you speech is in order.

I would like to thank (in no particular order)...

1) two large french canadians for procreating approximately twenty years ago
2) the not-so-trivial decision to put contacts on in the car, prior to the concert
3) my skin for bruising so easily thus leaving me with war wounds and evidence to prove my story
4) the strong legs and often inexplicable stubborn will which run in my family
5) Sebastien, in all his sweat-drenched glory, for inspiring me to fight for my right to stare at him in utter disbelief (from the front center spot I held by waiting through two opening bands, you fucking cunt)
6) finally, and most importantly, Alex W for offering to switch spots so as to personally dig her considerably stronger elbow into said cunt

until next time.
all of you mannerless concertgoers...watch your backs.

It's so cold in this house.

Thu, 28 Apr 2005 04:04:19 GMT

Had a good talk...
I am still loved

by half of my household.

I need it all.
(Fucking only child syndrome)

The happiest show I have ever attended.

Wed, 20 Apr 2005 23:17:41 GMT

The Brunettes: the cutest seven people ever to leave New Zealand.

Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen: muses, among other things.

The Shins: the most modest indie foursome I have seen in concert.

The Brunettes.

Mary Kate or Ashley

The Shins

Thu, 14 Apr 2005 00:58:51 GMT

The Beatles – I’m Looking Through You

I walk home along fleet
Late afternoon sun warms my back
Slipping between houses
I look to my right
I am sad
But I am happy it wasn’t me

Dave Matthews Band – Crash Into Me

My bedroom floor at 76
I am lying on my back
The stereo is on repeat
For hours
I only think of him
The old proverb hits home
I know he is not mine to have

Broken Social Scene – Capture the Flag

Christmas Eve morning right before dawn
I leave the apartment in the stealth of night
Narrowing eyes adapting quickly
Bus is crowded with quiet, weary faces
The morning takes its time

Jeff Buckley – Hallelujah

I am fourteen years old
Beside the pool
Spilling frantic tears
Heaving sighs
All childish and vulnerable
He had never raised his voice at me before

R.E.M. – Nightswimming

In the basement
Stale, wintry air to breathe
I sit beside Martine
We know some songs are not meant to be heard under fluorescent lights
But in complete darkness

Iron and Wine – Sodom, South Georgia

I am driving a car full of strangers and acquaintances to a funeral
The volume is on low
Only I hear the words

Iron and Wine – Upward Over the Mountain

We sit up against opposite walls of his bedroom
We take turns breaking thick silences
And stumble awkwardly and cautiously through our fight
We are harsh and civil
I would give anything to know what he is writing in his notebook

Sarah McLachlan – Full of Grace

I am twelve years old
Reading S.E. Hinton’s The Outsiders
In a strange city dwelling
I try ignoring the streetcar’s clamor
I cry when Johnny dies

Van Morrison – Sweet Thing

It’s morning
It’s summer
He is beside me
He is still where he laid last night

Radiohead – Fake Plastic Trees

Two minutes and thirty-six seconds into the song
The climax persuades me to sprint down the street
Through sleepy suburbia
Volume at hazardous heights
Lungs aching
Feet smacking the pavement
The satisfaction is unmatched

Damien Rice – The Blower’s Daughter

On a plane
With just
a CD player
a novel
a pack of gum
and the knowledge that I had lost a part of me
I hope he will be there when I return

Attempting new posting methods.

Fri, 18 Mar 2005 06:17:26 GMT

The first half of this semester has been increasingly frustrating. Classes are uninspiring, teachers are old and repetitive and gym homework serves no real purpose on this earth, it is just a waste of paper, ink and time!

I tallied up the stats...

the fun stuff:

1 digitally rendered movie poster
1 viewing of the O.C. (in English class)
1 how-to-beautify-your-live-journal workshop, complete with class assignment
(15 extra hours at my disposal since I stuck it to the man)

the stuff which makes me want to break mamie's crystal vase:

2000 words on social welfare in different political doctrines
100 dollars or 4 hours of tuturing for a Calculus II test
also 1 especially challenging math course I do not need the credits from
15 hours and 15 pages of lies in a neat stapled pile outlining a fictitious gym program
1 viewing of Michael Jackson's video for "Man in the Mirror"
1 viewing of Madonna's uncensored video for "American Life"
7 articles contemplating what art is
1 cruel and hideous woman with a mustache from the registrar's desk

...3 university applications (hope?)

I just don't know what school is coming to.
I have not a shred of motivation.
I want to make sure I don't feel this way next year.
I need Concordia to call...

I think.

(Lana, we may need to think bigger than pros and cons lists)

10 days of March break
1 day of striking

a welcome remedy

self absorption: a consequence of only-childhood.

Mon, 14 Mar 2005 23:59:19 GMT

At school, she kept the treats to herself, though she was told to share. Huddled in a corner of the yard, she crammed the cookies down her throat, careful to shake off the guilty crumbs decorating the front of her peach spring coat. At home, she hid all the prettiest dolls before her playmate's arrival. After picking them out of their neat formation on her toy chest, she lugged them to her parents' bedroom and stowed them in the back of her mother's closet. That night, she insisted on watching her favorite film instead of letting her guest choose; compromise was a foreign concept. She refused to share her bed when it was time to sleep, consistently indifferent to anyone's wants but her own. With the famialiar, rising loud opening riff of a tantrum, she governed her household.

She is young.
She has yet to grow.

To the fancy lady who turns nineteen today.

Fri, 11 Mar 2005 06:00:35 GMT

Pamela Takefman and I met at Camp B'nai Brith the summer of 2001
(if we discount a brief meeting at the Royal Vale fashion show).
I recall laughing, eating, crying,
rolling out of tents, sharing secrets, crying,
Stephanie, Alicia, Jonah, crying.
It was memorable, yeah.

Needless to say, my life was never quite the same.

Upon our return to the city, Pam's first impression curse was wearing off
and I became somewhat of an addict.

Pamela, Pam, Pam Taks, Tam Paks, P Taks, PT, Takefman, Teem, and most recently deadPam,
is why I meticulously plan my route at Dawson College around Liberal Arts classes
and constantly frequent the DSU office.

Reasons why I go to great lengths just to catch a glimpse of Pamela:

She makes me laugh. Incessantly.
And she brings out the funny in me. Something I never knew possible.
She makes insufferable baby noises with me, much to others' disgust.
She is a talented impersonator of old jewish women.
She dances like Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction when we go out.
She wears her pearls all the wrong ways.
She is wonderfully and hopelessly extroverted.
She befriends only the best looking strangers.
She gives me lunch money when I am broke.
She enjoys giving me the lunch money.
She is beautifully concise.
She is her own woman.
She is charming and witty at once.
She is my all purpose cure.

I can't imagine my life without you,
but I promise I won't start missing you yet.

Happy Birthday my love and God bless.

Tue, 01 Mar 2005 04:16:02 GMT

I love words.

I can't help it.

saturday night: tee dee dee da dee da da da

Sat, 26 Feb 2005 17:43:24 GMT

Please come and help me and patrick celebrate our 19th and 20th birthdays respectively:
february 26th
10pm
le pistol
3 booths at the back
1230am
jupiter room
blacklit dancefloor

And now, for My Weekly Restaurant Review:

Sat, 26 Feb 2005 17:23:36 GMT

CHEZ LAPH(t),
everything is so quaint and homey.
The food is positively delectable:
cheese,
spinach,
chocolate fondue,
berries, bananas, mangoes, grapes
on french crepes.
The chef is smiling.
The hostesses are friendly, warm.
It's as though they know you're coming.
You wander in alone off the street,
attracted by the soft glow in the window.
You are ushered in by kindly grins,
sat amongst the most wonderful people
and swept into conversation
without a trace of awkwardness.
They are skilled conversanists CHEZ LAPH(t).
They have even thought to make you a cheerful sign
to designate your spot at the head of the table.
You are their guest of honour
and you never want to leave.
CHEZ LAPH(t), they know how to make a girl feel special.

PS The staff is fuckin hot.

I am such a motherfucking dumb ass, motherfucker.

Wed, 23 Feb 2005 22:04:50 GMT

This morning,
I spent twenty minutes tearing apart my apartment for keys that were in my bag

and inadvertently blaming my boyfriend for it.

Due to my sheer stupidity/inferior intelligence, I deem myself a
BLOCKHEAD.

To Michael: I am so very sorry that your girlfriend is such a fucking moron.

surprise! happy birthday to you...

Sun, 20 Feb 2005 22:35:22 GMT

newspaper faces...confusion...is that surprise?...no, no. it's confusion.

the origin of swear words,
the plight of internet daters (women that is),
obscene amounts of chocolate,
britney's encouraging the use of bad grammar/syntax,
lucy's tuba,
fashion statements from the nineties,
cupcakes, donkey hearts and awkwardness,
alanis' inability to distinguish between ironic and unfortunate,
the ivy leagues penchant for the witty and disdain for the charming,
home-owning, bmw-driving beggars,
walter joseph ling,
fascist regis,
a heart warming plateau home perched at the top of two staircases,
four of my favorite people EVER.

(i haven't forgotten the fifth...prior engagements kept her but i love her just the same!)

merci.
really and truly thank you.
the best friends ever.

For James Andrew Doyle,

Tue, 15 Feb 2005 23:24:01 GMT

Who must share his birthday with St-Valentine, Hallmark, and all the lovers.
Who never fails to make me smile.
Whose energy and enthusiasm cannot be matched.
Whom I love despite his terrible spoken french.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!

Please forgive this terrible friend for not sending this wish yesterday.

Dear Daddy, I write you in spite of years of silence.

Mon, 14 Feb 2005 01:04:38 GMT

It was a phone call. It was forty five minutes of foreign nostalgia.

I wanted to recognize
the gruffness in his voice,
his constant reiterations,
his fiercely canadian french.

I was only familiar with his apologetic tone.

We stumbled clumsily through formalities.
Age. Location. School. Profession. Significant other. Aspirations. Interests. Hobbies.

After our mutual efforts to scrape away at the surface in the hopes of discovering common ground, we found a shared passion for activism. He told me about a painting he did of the BC forest fires that was auctioned off for tsunami relief funds. I told him of the benefit concert for Sierra Leone. How fitting.

He guided his way through our conversation with caution and courtesy, so as not to alienate his daughter again, so that she may call a second time. He left me with the ball in my court and an awkward yet warm goodbye. He sent me another painting, this time an auto portrait. He sent me a photograph of himself. He sent me a letter. He sent me proof of life. Evidence that I have a father, despite my claims that I did not need one. A biological one at least. Chael helped me realized the magnitude of the second chance: the opportunity to explain oneself, to bring closure, to begin anew.

I am ready to offer it.

my boyfriend is:

Thu, 10 Feb 2005 07:27:20 GMT

thoughtful,
adorable,
caring,
listening,
comforting,
pretty,
hot,
hell yes,
talented,
green-eyed,
warm,
huggable,
loveable,
and oh so kind
sigh*
c'est pas tout les jours qu'on trouve un chum comme ca.