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I went and did a nice grocery shop. I know my family brought a lot of food for me, but it was all dried goods. I bought a considerable amount of protein this time. We went to the wholesale seciton in the Loblaws and I got 96 chicken nuggets for about 9 bucks. Huzzah! We also split buying some veggie rolls. I bought juice and milk and other kinds of non-dried items. Should last me a few weeks. (Except milk and bread and stuff. Which I buy pretty much every week.) I may nip down to the market tomorrow or on Tuesday and buy some Orangina. The yummiest drink ever! Anyway, time to do some homework. ta ta.
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Last night I went to Brenna's and her, Jon, Kat and I had a lovely lovely din din! (Well, Kat missed the dindin bit, but ohwell.) I was actually ecstatic when we got there early and found extra place settings and homecooked food. My heart jumped for joy. I was all, YAY FOOD. For 'zerts we had ice cream! Brenna and Jon made fun of me because of my tragic inability to long divide. Then Brenna broke out the snacks. We Jon had bits and bites and then we I had chips... Then we had mini-quiches and Brenna and I set up 13 Dead End Drive, even though we both knew in our hearts, we couldn't play it. We also watched T3 which hurt Jon's head beause of the horrible physics.

I'm going to watch some tv and go to bed.
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The problem with blogging is that when things get interesting, you don't get time to write about it," well said Gaiman.

Office Space is on tv! But in french. No fair. How come when we watch a french movie, it's in french with english subtitles, but when the french watch an english movie, it's dubbed??? WhatEVER!

Okay, I know that the writers want to be realistic and stuff, but I can't help but feel that The Office sort of just jumped the shark. I hope I'm wrong, because it's quite honestly my favourite and my life wouldn't be complete without the characters. (Unless Stanleys and Phylises grew on trees... Show me that tree.) But it just seems like Jim is being a dick. I honestly am so mad at him right now. I'm not so much mad at Karen, because it's not her fault, (though I'm not really a huge Karen fan). I'm just so mad at Jim, especially for him essentially blowing Pam off in the break room. I mean, that's their spot. Also, at the end of the episode in the parking lot, why did he say he was "seeing someone"? Because in the last episode Karen wasn't even sure if Jim liked her. Moving kind of fast isn't it? And if he was lying about seeing anyone, then that makes me more of a dick because he's lying to Pam now. Does he even really love this woman, because he sure as hell isn't acting like it! And if he is indeed seeing someone, and it's not Karen or Pam, then I want to slap him across the face. The nads he'd have to have in order to bring some other chick into the mix! GAH! P.S. Hugs for Pam because I love her. If I were her, I'd march right up to Jim and tell him how she feels. She loves him, Jim loves her. What's the problem!? The only loving relationship in this whole show is Phylis and BobVance (of BobVance Refridgeration). Phylis is my homegirl. I need a hug from Phylis. Ok, moving on...Breast pump? Creed? Perfect... Did he take a picture, or what was happening in that tiny little clip?And that poor fat guy. I was mad at Michael, even though I normally love Michael. GAAAH. Okay, everyone comment with what they think is going on. (For those of you who watch the office....) I'm sorry if my post is ranty, but I just had to let it out. That's how I feel, and it might change later after I mull it over a bit. Damn't JIM! I just got a whole slew of icons of you!Sigh. That's better. Now, I have to go play with my newly stickied sticky hand for a bit, do a wee bit of handwash and go to bed. I'll listen to Harry Potter, but I'm on book five, which, as everyone knows, is the angsty book, so that really won't help my anger. P.S. If someone (i.e. Alysson) want's to make their sticky hand sticky again, they have only to soak it in some soapy water and rub it down a bit... then leave it to dry. Poor Sue, she came home and found it floating in the bathroom sink. "That will haunt me forever." Then later, as I stood in her doorway, flinging the sticky hand in to change the pages of the her text book, she gave me a "I should have destroyed that sticky hand while I had the chance" face. lol... P.P.S. I haven't had a good post in a long time and it feels pretty damn good. *sigh*
Write your own essay on why a particular group of your choice has reasons to be unhappy with its current situation. Your essay could be serious or humorous, as long as it has a thesis and makes effective use of the example technique. (Explaining through example.)

Word count: 5 382
Pages (dbl spaced): 5

P.S. We are allowed to use "I" and "We" etc when we are using a personal example.

Why I Would Never Be A Child Again
Childhood is filled with reasons to be unhappy and frustrated with one’s situation. Everyone remembers his or her childhood differently. Children growing up in small towns will have different experiences than kids raised in the city. Little boys and girls in China will have a childhood that would be alien to boys and girls in Australia. However, there are some basic sources of a child’s unhappiness and frustration that one can not help but feel is universal. Growing up in the countryside of Southern Ontario and belonging to one of the only immigrant families certainly caused a lot of woe for me as a child. However, I was never exposed to the violence and mistrust of living in a big and crowded city. The city kid and I still shared three sources of unhappiness: adults, other children, and ourselves.

Adults are a main source of unhappiness in children’s lives. Kids constantly complain that adults just don’t understand, they don’t take them seriously, and they don’t remember what it’s like to be a kid. For instance, most kids yearned for a pet. (After all, what Disney movie character does not have a creature companion?) If you have never experienced the war between child and parent induced by the want of a pet then consider the following scenario. Early in winter, a boy starts drafting his Christmas list. He has a copious amount of video games and comic books already. What he wants is a fussy, loyal, friend, preferably one who can play fetch. He looks at a book in the library, searching for the right breed of dog for him. The boy decides he wants the classic golden retriever, they are intelligent, playful, and in most movies they are excellent at some kind of sport. He presents his research to his parents, pleading for a nice big golden retriever. Christmas approaches and the child gets more and more excited, he even has a list of possible names ready. Christmas morning comes and there is a big box under the tree with rustling coming from inside it. The boy tears away the wrapping paper to find a startled guinea pig staring back at him. He grimaces and thanks his parents. His parents didn’t mean to disappoint their son, they just didn’t understand that he didn’t want any old pet, he wanted his big, cuddly friend. Later, when he asks for the dog again, his parents contest saying: “You can barely remember to clean your guinea pig’s cage! How will you take care of a dog?”
The parents don’t take the child seriously; they don’t remember what it was like to be a child.

Adults don’t hold a candle to the amount of problems posed by other children. Kids are cruel. They tease each other mercilessly, they form elite cliques and a social hierarchy, and they add drama to every situation. No child has great self-esteem in the first place, and public school is the place where it gets even lower. When she was in grade three, my mother moved from Toronto, where she lived and went to school with other European immigrant children, to southern Ontario. There she went to a country school and lived in a log cabin in the woods. She spoke poor English and her strong Hungarian genes stuck out amongst the very fair skinned English children with light hair. She was held back until her English improved and then she was put into advanced classes. The other children didn’t understand her cultural differences and only saw them as things to be scoffed at. While the other children munched away on their bologna and Wonderbread sandwiches, my mother ate liverwurst and green pepper on homemade potato bread. She felt ostracized at first because she was in the “slow learners” group and later because she was in the “nerd group”. She was experiencing the social hierarchy developed among different cliques in public schools. Any child can tell you who the popular crowd is, who the smart kids are, and which kids one shouldn’t be caught dead with. This “us against them” mentality adds much drama and complication to a child’s life. An origin of much grief comes from the drama generated by wondering how one can avoid the critical eyes of other children, reaching the status of one of the popular kids, or just flying below the radar.

The last focus of unhappiness is generated from children themselves, as individuals. Even as adults, we have pieces of ourselves that we dislike, but we generally have the ability to accept the things we cannot change. Children, on the other hand, dwell on small issues like the colour and style of their hair, the brand of running shoes they wear, and even what kind of school supplies they have. This somewhat stems from the expectations of other students, but it seems that the majority of these feelings come from within the child who only wants to fit in and be accepted. This yearning to be accepted is within the individual. As they think of how great life would be with less freckles and a pair of Lucky Star running shoes, they also have to attempt understanding the adult world around them. It’s not the fault of a parent that their child does not understand the reasoning behind a divorce or why one can’t consume a block of baking chocolate. It is within a child to understand in their own time the reason behind such issues. Understanding such complex topic is a misery all to it’s own. As a child I had a large golden retriever named Max. He was my mother’s dog when she was a teenager. He died when I was around ten and I could not accept or understand that my friend was gone forever. As an adult, I understand what death is and that it is a part of life that can’t be changed. As a child, struggling with the concept was a major source of frustration that I believe is less difficult as an adult. Children’s minds buckle under the weight of the adult world they live in.

The culmination of these aspects of childhood result in a child’s general unhappiness and frustration with the situation they are in. Of course, no action taken by adults can lessen the severity of childhood. The problems we face and struggle through as children shape our personalities as adults. A boy wouldn’t develop a strong sense of resolve without the battle with his parents to gain his beloved pet. My mother would not have her signature streak of independence without going through her childhood being a slice of homemade potato bread stuck in a white loaf. I would not have formed such a perception of acceptance without the loss of a childhood friend. Despite the qualities we gain through the hardships of childhood, the difficulties remain unappreciated to children.
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X MAZ LisT '06


  • Duo Student Membership to the Canadian Museum of Civ/War
  • New earbud headphones
  • RAM upgrade
  • Barbie Horse Adventures: Mystery Ride PC (shut up -_-)
  • iTunes Music Card
  • New oil paints
  • New paintbrush
  • Michael's giftcard so I can get new oil paints and new paintbrush
  • Spiral notebooks, pens, pencils, etc
  • Another year of lj membership with 100 userpics (doesn't expire until August, but it can't hurt to pay for another year now)
  • George Forman grill (small one)
  • TS2 Seasons Expansion (pending release date)
  • The Office DVD (Seasons 1 & 2... or just 1 or 2)
  • A new, high quality umbrella. (Really, a super good one, because I've gone through two cheap, crappy ones already.)
  • This Jon Stewart tee
  • Gift card for Montana's
I'll update more later when I think of more stuff.... Time to get back to the damn boring essay....
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Ok. So Sue and I wandered in the rain to the Rideau Centre so I could investigate the sims 2 pets situation. (You know you have a good roommate when...) We discovered that it doesn't ship in Canada until tomorrow! He told me that it should be in by tomorrow afternoon. It kind of works out better that way because I have to write an essay and study tonight. Plus, I am finished at 2:30 tomorrow, so I can go pick it up. I don't have to be in class on Thursday until 1pm so I can stay up late playing it too. Tomorrow is the Ice Cream Social too though. But, as my hot r.a. told me, there's time for both. Sue and I think he's gayer than the day is long, but he is nice to look at and really friendly. *high five*
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Alrighty. I have to finish this essay. It's about half way done, but it's sooo boring. I also have to study for my Latin quiz tomorrow. I wish I could take the pussy way out and drop it. I just dont want to lost the credit. Everyone just drops stuff if it's too hard or too challenging. I wish people could just finish what they started. You know, like soldier through it. I don't really know how this prof marks, but she doesn't seem too hard. I think I'm doing ok though. As long as she doesn't get bored or offended I'm okay.

Effing Maxis. I want the game in Effing Canada now!

EDIT: I should also add that I'm moving all my music files to my external harddrive so I wont be able to listen to iTunes for another 197 minutes. (It's already taken hours... there's a lot of music...) Anyway, it's going to suck trying to put all my music on iTunes again. *sigh* Oh well, I'll have more precious space....
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Okay, so I had a pretty crazy birthday weekend. I really enjoyed myself for the most part. Friday night was a crazy party. And then the next morning my fam came and we went to Ikea and it was good. I got a bedside table, a dresser, a bookshelf, an office chair and a tv stand thing. We went to Rideau on Saturday and I got a new winter coat, hat, boots, gloves, and mittens.

I'm going to see Dr. Sue Johanson tomorrow night! Goodness gratious I love her. I read her book last week and I'm hoping she does a signing. I have a few questions, but because of the papers I did in Sexual Anthropology, I know some stuff... But mostly scientific stuff. Anyway, if anyone has any questions they think I should ask, post them here and I'll submit them and if she answers them, I'll tell you what she said! It'll be awesome. I've got some more studying to do, I've got two midterms on Thursday, but I'm really not too afraid. I know I've got a good grasp on them.

P.S. iTunes users! Don't forget to effing subscribe!

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Click the picture for video!

Okay, I'm rather irritated because I have perfect html for a video embed, but Blogger won't let me publish the post because it's a poopface. In any case, I can give you a link to the video. But still, how poopy.
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Okay,
Firstly, I feel horrible about neglecting this journal. It's very saddd. This is my more formal journal, my regular journal is at livejournal. In any case, it's exclusive and friends only. The juicier stuff goes there. Here I copy posts that aren't as private and most video/audio/picture posts. I will make a note of it to keep it updated. I have a video post that is being uploaded right now, and an audiopost that is reaaady. However, you will have to download it fast because it's at yousendit, and unless the link is kept alive, it will perish! If I can find somewhere to permanently host those kinds of files, I'll switch, but for now... oh well.
I have a very weird feeling right now. I just took a break from my twelve year schoolworkathon to have a snack and update my blogs. I'll keep going after I'm done writing this.

I have a half day tomorrow because my 4th period was cancelled. To be quite honest, I think that lot's of people are going to be taking half days tomorrow due to the Fashion Show buyout that I'm totally NOT going to. My halfday is legitimate, and for that I'm proud. I also won't have to spend money at lunch cause I'm going home at 11. (Man, that's not even a half day.) Then I'm going to come home and hammer out to ISU's which is going to be potentially damaging to my health.

One thing that is completely damaging to my health is never having a day off. I've done this 7 days a week gig for a while now and my mind is so exhausted. My brain keeps looking for a spacer between all the work, but there isn't one, and as a result, it never wants to concentrate on work. (Ergo, I'm writing this post right now.) I guess I'm just having trouble focusing, thought not for lack of motivation. My entire future hangs on my academic performance in the next month. That may sound like a gross exageration, but it really isn't. The percentage weight of these enormous projects on my final are frightening in comparison to the worth of other projects. So essentially, the time when I need to focus on schoolwork the most is when: the warm weather comes, I get a job, my internet wrecks.... Man, I just want to sit on my ass and watch tv or go to the beach for a day. I'm definetely beaching it up this summer, despite my 40hr work week. I will be partying and beachbumming at every chance because my youth is running away from me, and I'm too old to catch up. That's creeping me out, majorly. I feel excited for my life to begin and my career to start and my independence to blossom, but at the same time, I think of how fast 0-18 has gone and in the same span of time I'll be in my mid-thirties... (I might as well be geriatric... Sorry to all the oldies, but man, I don't want to be old.)

I should also add that at random intervals my life flashes before my eyes. It's very odd. My life has been very weird, but good. I'm glad that everything has happened the way it has, but there are a few encounters that I wish I could have left out, for my psychological soundness...

Wow, if I put this much effort into my essay, I'll be done in ten minutes. WOOO.
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My grandfather built a house for my grandma. The house is large and tastefully decorated. He wanted the house to be lovely for Her to grow old in because he assumed that She would live longer than he would. The house used to be beautiful and big and full, and now it is cold, enormous and empty because he lives in it all alone.
The house always smelled like fresh bread or muffins and in the morning, you wanted to wake up early to catch the bacon and biscuits. The smell of bacon was an alarm clock unto itself. There was always something in the oven, on the stove, or cooling in the fridge. Fresh lavender and basil from the gardens was hidden in all the rooms that seemed to make the house more like a benevolent deity than a structure of mortar and stone and wood. Now the house smells like cleansing solution and air conditioning. The windows never get opened anymore, and this became clearly evident when grandfather’s burnt eggs splattered against the ceiling. There are no more pleasant or awakening smells.
The gardens around the house provided fresh fruit and vegetables. There were always raspberries to be picked, sweet peas to be shucked, or potatoes to be peeled. In the non-edible gardens different flowers and trees and shrubs were blooming and growing at different seasons. Even in the early spring and late fall, something seemed to be just emerging for you to see. At the end of the growing cycle, the herbs were dried, the flowers were pressed between the pages of a large volume, and the fruit turned into preserves. Now a professional gardener does rounds of watering, picking, and storing. The gardener doesn’t make paprika from dried paprika peppers. He does not leave raspberries for us to pick, or sweet peas for us to shuck.
The house used to be filled with the sound of cooking shows, or Her voice gibbering in Hungarian. She would speak to the dogs and squirrels outside, and often to the plants in her greenhouse, or on the window ledge of the kitchen. Now all that you can hear in the house are echoes- of footsteps and doors closing and car alarms beeping and Pavarotti’s pretentious tenor blasting at full volume. You cannot hear your own thoughts, and neither can the plants, because a large Italian bellows about lost love.
The house if for sale now, and I hope that whoever moves in can make bacon and bread. I hope they know how to dry herbs to make spices. I hope they know what flowers bloom in what season and I hope they know that wide-open windows make the best air conditioning. I hope the house once again becomes a benevolent deity that welcomes and warms another little girl.
BOOK LIST: Canadian History

LOOK FOR PRIMARY SOURCES
Canada Decade by Decade (older, book, rich in primary sources)
Giant books about certain year


Canadian History for Dummies, 2nd Edition
Will Ferguson
Format: Trade Paperback · Published: June 2005
Dimensions : 544 Pages, 7.42 x 9.27 x 1.05 in
ISBN: 0470836563 · Published By: Wiley

Not All of Us Were Brave
Stanley Scislowski
Format: Trade Paperback · Published: November 1997
Dimensions : 0 Pages, 6 x 9 x 0 in
ISBN: 1550022989

The Oxford Companion to Canadian History
Format: Trade Paperback · Published: March 2006
Dimensions : 800 Pages, 8 x 10 in
ISBN: 0195424387 · Published By: Oxford University Press

A Country Nourished on Self-Doubt: Documents in Post-Confederation Canadian History
Thomas Thorner
Format: Trade Paperback · Published: November 2005
Dimensions : 290 Pages, 6.5 x 9 IN
ISBN: 1551115484 · Published By: Broadview Press
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Here are some photos that I'm uploading for my Nana.


Nana,
Click on the little picture to get the larger one in a new window. Here is the url for this page:

http://tinyurl.com/s4e5v























Have a nice day!
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Well,
I start work this weekend. How awful/great. I'm happy that I've got a job that pays well, is perfectly located and has a nice boss, but I feel some what reserved about working again. I've had nothing but bad experiences in professional environments. Oh well, it's just cashiering. Scan. Take moolah. Give change. DING. Scan. Take moolah. Give change. DING. Oooh. I should also add that I'm most likely going to pick up 8 hour shifts, not 6 hours, which sucks because then my early morning/free afternoon idea is down the drain.

Well, I'm off to do stuff.
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Am I just an object?
What am I to you? An object?



Well, I'm downright fed up with most of the male half of our species (except those which are, for the most part, my intellectual equals or superiors). I know that sounds a little pretentious, but only because for the past year or so, most guys around here seem to think that breasts and blonde hair make you an easy target, and I'm fed up with it! I'm a person too! People with breasts are PEOPLE! Every single guy I've started to be friends with hits this point in our "relationship", no matter how platonic it is, where he wants in my pants. I understand that every guy has wants, needs, urges even, but really! They turn into such dicks! A few of my guy friends recently have been major assholes and it just makes me ANGRY! (*like the hulk!) There only three men in this world that I 100% trust with my heart... Those men are: my daddy, Leonard Cohen, and Robert Rodriguez (recently divorced!) Sometimes I'm thinking about going full blown lesbo just to get rid of complications, but then I think to myself... If I want to become a lesbian just to DEAL with my problems, maybe I should actually just face them. I'm going to have to interact with the nasty version of men eventually, so I might as well get used to it, even though I know that they will never truly respect me, care about me, or even want to know what my favourite colour is. It's frustrating to think that any man will ever TRULY respect me. How can they respect someone they believe is not as smart or as strong as them? How can they respect someone that they see as an object- a toy, good for nothing but sex or being arm candy or a beer deliverer? They probably won't! That's the answer.

Now, I'm not saying all men are like this, but I'm starting to think that because abuot 95% of the men I know are like that!

Sigh> I need sleep.
my thighs are so bruised and purple i'm tempted to post a picture.

Amanda's bits are best described as her "sheltered cathedral".

What's yours? Enter your name:
Privates Eye

Last night I went to a friend's place for some beer and hockey. Very Canadian. Goodtimes. I came home this morning smelling like beer and cigarettes. It was disgusting. oh! I know that this might be tmi, but I got a bikini wax this morning, and now I'm all purple and bruised down there. It ached like hell, way more than normal! I think perhaps it was all in my head because my teeth were aching (they ache when it rains) and I had a wee hangover. Then again, maybe it was because it was a different girl than my normal waxer. She took her sweet ass time. With my normal girls, it's in and out in 2 minutes. Hardly any pain and suffering.

I had a soak in the bath for a good hour today, I had to refill with more hot water twice. It was so nice, I added salts and oils and the air and steam were so strong smelling that it hurt my head, but my skin is softer than ever now. I had to have a good soak to get the beer/cigarette smell off of me. It made the bruised region feel a bit better too, but it's still purple and sooore. Maybe I'll put some ice on it. Won't that be attractive- Sitting on the couch, legs spread with ice on my crotchal region?
( so damn cute )

So, my plans for the summer were originally to stay with Nana in town so I could work, but then my mum and I got to talking, and we came to the sick realization that Nana still thinks I'm 13, so there would be no beer and hockey with friends. Nana's place will be a last resort, but maybe I can stay with some friends or something in town.

Oh! Marie comes home tomorrow night! I'm making her a huge ass card! It's going to be so cute. Man, I miss her so much. Can't wait for her to be back in town. I'm sad that things didn't work out for her in Calgary though. I was really hoping she'd find a niche there. I'm proud of her for getting out there and trying it though. I hope she doesn't feel defeated in any way. I'm going to see her tomorrow night probably. She said she'd probably get in around 6 or 7, which is perfect because Annie has soccer from 6:30 to 8pm. She doesn't know who her coach is yet, but 2 fer' 2 told me that he was coaching her age group. God, wouldn't that be akward. I'm praying that doesn't happen.

Well, I'm going to make Marie's card! Maybe I also need an ibprofen or something for my aching head and teeth.

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Here are some posts that for some reason (ahem, laziness) didn't get updated on blogger, just livejournal. Sorrry!

Friday, April 21st 2006]
What does pure of heart mean?

Thursday, April 20th 2006]
I hate Jaques Cartier! He is a bastard! I wish I could bring him back to life just to berate him!

"Cartier then captured Donnacona, his two sons, three other leaders, and four children who had been living with the French for some time. With ten captives, Cartier left for France, despite the pleading of grieving relatives who followed in canoes, clutching beaver pelts that they offered as ransom for the hostages. None of the captured St. Lawrence Iroquois people ever saw Canada again; they all perished in France."
(Defining Canada- Nick Brune, pg 80-81)

My heart has just been broken! That is so upsetting and angering!


"The Man. Oh, you don't know The Man? The Man's everywhere: in the White House, down the hall, Miss Mullins; she's The Man! And The Man ruined the ozone, and he's burning down the Amazon and he kidnapped Shamu and put her in a chlorine tank! Okay! And there used to be a way to stick it to The Man, it was called rock 'n roll. But guess what? Oh no! The Man had to ruin that too with a little thing called MTV! So don't waste your time trying to make anything cool or pure or awesome 'cause The Man's just gonna call you a fat washed up loser and crush your soul. So do yourself a favor and just give up!"

marry me jack black


Just now, on The Ellen Degeneres show in a segment called "Best Photos Ever", a picture of Kate Vader and her giant bunny was featured. And Ellen Degeneres said "Picton, Ontario"... I guess we know what the headline will be.

Oh goD! The phone just rang!


Wednesday, April 19th 2006]
Okay, seriously! How does Google know what's going on in my life! I'm very frightened! Even if I've never mentioned it on the computer, in an email, search, lj, chat, ANYTHING, Google knows and will advertise to me! How strange and wacko! I can't handle it! GOOGLE IS BIG BROTHA!!!! OH GOD!@!!!!

Maybe I shouldn't have had celery and canned pineapple for dinner. I need sleep, and sex, and fun... So badly.

Amanda

CRAZY GOOGLE VOODOO!!!



Sex is a very important part of tribal lifestyle in West Africa. This picture shows a tribal dance depicting various aspects of their sexual lifestyle, ranging from the erotic to the medical. (They formally advocate the use of condoms, although in actual practice, it's unclear how much people actually do use them.) The penis shown here is not real; it's a wooden replica used for demonstration purposes only. Click here for more information on West African culture. [http://www.danheller.com/images/Africa/Togo/Dances/img2.html]



Wednesday, April 19th 2006]
Hm?
You scored as Old School Punk. Old School Punk as a genre formed simultaneously on both sides of the pond with Detroit and New York giving birth to bands like The Stooges, Ramones, and the MC5 while, on the British side punk bands popped up with such regularity and mayfly-esque lifespans that there doesn't exist a definitive audio record of most of them. Although some, such as the Sex Pistols, have made such an impression on popular culture that there have been movies about them.

Old School Punk

70%

Synthpop DevoteƩ

60%

Kindergoth

50%

Bondage Freak

45%

Industrialist

40%

Neo Goth

35%

Mope Rocker

25%

New School Punk

10%

Elder Goth

5%

Emo Kid

5%

Which musical counterculture do you fit in with?
created with QuizFarm.com

How did they know about the bondage?


[Wednesday, April 19th 2006]
I feel like dancing! Gonna dance the night away!

Today's walk made up for yesterday's walk. It was sunny, and birds were chirping (except the dead one on the side of the road), and Sandy didn't drag me around. He's snoring on the floor right now. His cheek flaps remind me of cartoons when someone is snoring in a tent. I met a neighbour. I thought she was a man at first, and I feel really bad about that. No worries though, she had a really girly name when I met her, so yeah...

Well, my fingers are numb and I need some tea desperately. Lot's of bikers around today. So strange. Need to take some pictures. Tra lalala.

[Tuesday, April 18th 2006]
I almost killed my dog today. We just went for our evening walk, which we have done practically everyday for a month now, and every step was a fight. He almost dragged me the whole way. We had to turn back early because my hands were almost raw from the lead. (He hasn't done this once in a month.) He barked at other dogs, and normally they bark at him but he ignores them. He tried to chase every car that passed us, pouring every ounce of muscle into his harness. (He has a harness, not a collar, because he'd strangle himself with anything else.) To add insult to injury, the air was thick with these little black bugs and I could barely take in a breath without spitting out those damn bugs. They tried to get in my nose, my ears, my eyes.. It was disgusting. In addition to Sandy being completely psycho and bugs trying to infiltrate my body, a small robin's egg that I had found in perfect condition on the side of the road coming back broke open in my pocket when Sandy tried to haul me into the path of a moving vehicle, (he attempted several times). The yoke went everywhere. It was disgusting. Luckily, I was pretty close to home, but did that ever make me mad, (more mad I guess). As I stooped to pick up the egg through the cloud of black flies and Sandy making my hands bleed, I thought, aw, this egg makes the nasty trip worthwhile. Little did I know, it was just another ploy to ruin my walk. GAH!

I'm glad I could have that little rant. I'm going to scream now.

P.S. I think I'm going through menopause.
P.S.S. Have you ever noticed that you forget about all the great things in your life when the only thing lacking is the only thing you have ever wanted? Does that makes sense? No probably not. Let's just say, I can get anything besides the one thing I want, and it sucks. If I had it right now, I probably wouldn't want it as much, but even with that realization, I can't let go of the wanting. POO ON YOU heart. poo on you...
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This morning I woke up and heard on the radio that there was going to be a thunderstorm around noon. I was angry because that meant I wouldn't be able to go for a walk in the afternoon. So I just woke up and went in the morning. I had a baaad headache, but the walk seemed to have gotten rid of it. Coincidentally, it didn't rain until darkness fell. Just another reason to not trust a meteorologist. Then I started packing for Nana's and eventually Ottawa. I'm gutting my room essentially. Taking everything off the walls, putting all my stuff in boxes. Only my clothes and furniture is staying in there. I have a box marked "Creepy sculptures". I'm very excited to decorate my dorm room. I have some really great pieces that will add a sense of, hm, me to the place. I should go on Antique's Roadshow with some of the suff. I'm sure it's worth thousands! Speaking of which, my family is having a big yardsale and we each get our own table/section deal. All the money I get from selling my stuff I'm keeping for school, so I'll probably sell a lot of stuff I don't need. If you have items you wish to donate to the "feed Amanda" association, they can go to the yardsale. WOo. Or, just send me money. Or a none perishable food item. Or buy something from the yardsale and then give it back to me to resell. Ha. I think I'm going to have a sign that says: "Sorry if you gave this to me as a gift." That would be no good at all. Anyways, so after I spent most of the day packing, Annie and I decorated eggs. A few of them cracked, but it just added a cool grunge-egg effect. Here are some of our eggy creations:



Poor unsuspecting eggies. All white, boring, and hard-boiled.


There are the eggies in their colourful little pods. Reminds me of The Matrix. Just remember, that's what we truly look like right now.


Look at all the little bubbles coming off this egg. It looks a bit like cellulite, but have no fear. We have very fit eggs.


Annie's creepy egg person.


"Is this the train to Spadina?" "No, Finch. Can't you see we're all coloured." (Don't get mad. It's funny.)




Egg orgies- no legislation against them can stand!


Take that Martha Stewart. I got her mag today, learned a lot of neat stuff about bulbs.

Anyways, that's all the pictures I have for now, egg-wise.

We also used crayons to add some design factor and those eggs turned out nicely, but I wish we could have decorated more eggs. I love decorating them. I do run out of ideas after a while though. We used margarita glasses because the bottom area of the glasses were perfect for holding an egg. Also, while cleaning out her own room, Annie found a ton of my clothes. I was ecstatic! I have a lot of laundry to do tomorrow. Oh! And today, while cleaning out my desk, I found some papers from grade nine and before. Written diaries about boys and popularity and being fat. It was interesting to read how I tricked myself into thinking things by putting them in my diary. ("Oo, I think I may be falling for him." Come on girl, you're obsessed.) I just want to tell the girl writing the diaries that she's being silly and to just leave those boys alone. Especially one's who deal coke. I was so dumb, but I'm sure that in five years, I'll read back in my lj (should they still exist) and bitch about how dumb I was. Hell, I can look back only a few entires ago and think about how stupid I was/is/will be. I also found these little stories that I would start, and then never finish. I really wanted to grow up to be a writer. That never happened I guess. They were so stupid, but the writing was okay. I guess I had the technical writing ability, but not the time to think out a plot and organization, etc. I'm going to put them away in storage so I can look back on them in a few decades and have a good laugh with my partner (should I have one) who is old, and we will both laugh so hard we fart, but won't know it. (Old people do that constantly, or at least in my experience.)

Gah, I have a long weekend ahead of me. Packing, cleaning, doing laundry, wall-patching, Easter dinner at Nana's (have to face unfathomable amounts of chocolate that I can't eat). I'll just bring a book or some celery. "Take that Annie! I have celery!" Annie hates celery because of the noise it makes. She cringes because she associates the crunch with braces pain. Too bad for her, celery has lately become my snack of choice. Sometimes with peanut butter if I'm really craving extra protein. I better get to sleep. I had no idea what time it was. I feel a bit ashamed because I've been trying to keep to a decent sleep schedule. I guess that's not happening tonight/this morning, which is poopy. Oh well, it's not the end of the world.
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Alright, so I wrote my history test today. It wasn't as bad as I thought. I was freaking out a little beforehand, but now I see that I was just being over critical of my intelligence. (I spent my third period spare watching Flying Circus w. a cute guy btw.) Anyway, I stayed a few minutes late to finish up the test and missed my bus, so I got my Nana to pick me up. Then I napped at her house. I'm kind of angry because I've just gone on a super strict diet that doesn't include ice cream or Girl Guide Cookies.

I've been so good, not eating any of it. I want to soo bad, it's like heroin, (chocolate). Oh! My dad and I went grocery shopping, and he buys all this really awesome stuff, that is ridiculously bad for me, like TWO TUBS of ice cream! My favourite kinds too. But I looked at the nutritional label, and it said if I have 125ml, it's only 150 calories. Which is a lot, but I can cut something else out if I'm desperate. And it doesn't have much fat either, like, 5g I think. Anyways, so I carefully measure it and it this tiny little bit of ice cream and savour every bloody drop. I guess it makes up for my three missed yogurts today (which add up to that tiny bit of icecream). I was still within my calorie limit too. I can't believe that I've become a calorie counter, but I just imagine what it'll be like to walk into a store and be able to try on whatever I want and not worry about sizing.

I went for a walk with Sandy today. We jogged a bit, but I'm so out of shape, that speed walking was my best bet. Whenever I feel a bit of pain or discomfort, I know that I'm getting healthier. Weird, but true I think. I know that I seem like I'm a bit obsessed about this whole exercise/eat healthy thing, but it's the only way that I can be healthy.
Gah, so I came in and had a shower and made a mental note to wear bug spray next time. And I always forget the sports bra, so I'm speedwalking along, bouncing at the speed of breast, and I curse the day my breasts grew. (I made an lj entry about it. Had pictures.)

Also, I'm packing this weekend. Sorting through my immeasurable amount of crap. What goes with me? What goes to storage? What goes to Annie? What do I still need to buy? What goes in the trash? I'm so confused by it all, looking at the next little while on my calendar, trying to fit stuff in. I'm afriad of stuff going sour, but I guess that's life man. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. When I saw I'm afraid of stuff going sour, I guess I just mean, I'm afraid of everything going sour- life in general. I see my life as a chain reaction, events caused by events, caused by events, caused by events (determinism if you will). So sometimes in my mind, I get a thought process like this:

Don't study enough -> Fail test -> Low average -> university acceptance retracted -> don't go to uni -> trapped in the County ->become bum -> waste life -> die a nothing


I can't help it, that's just the way I think. So that's why I study hardy. lol. Well, I'm sleepy and Marie just said she was moving back to the County at the end of April and I'm ecstatic because she is a wonderful gal whom I adddorrre!
Wow, my school thinks I'm some kind of sexpert (I guess I am tho), but still. Weird. Also, why is it that I, let's just say, "warm up" to people just as soon as it becomes impossible for a true relationship to blossom? Tis my curse evidently. Relationships are so strange, platonic/romantic/sexual... human social interaction really. So complicated and delicate, always hanging in some odd balance. Which reminds me, I'm currently majorly crushing, in a very highschool-sexually-frustrated way, on three people. One of them already has a boyfriend, I think. I'm not sure. Oh well, I guess that's the nature of love. Revealing this rather mysterious thing lead me to think about why I keep an online journal. It's rather contradictory, an online diary. A diary is supposedly for private thoughts, and yet, blogging is a HUGE thing right now? Who doesn't blog? Really? But then I remembered something brilliant: "Talking much about oneself can also be a means to conceal oneself." (Special prize to whomever guesses who said that. Alysson, you can't just google it.) Anyways, that is so amazingly true. Is not love an irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired? (Frost, a'thank you.)Is that why we confide in online diaries and blogs? To know if we are worth reading about? To know that people care enough about your life and existence to read through your thoughts? To understand through comments, that they sympathize, or have some input, into how your life is going, as if they truly care, (which I'm sure they actually do for the most part), but I get the feeling that many of us desire that input.

Anyways, so my armpits hurt (how can armpits hurt??) from doing pushups boy-style today. When I told my dad this, he was like >see! girl's can't do boy's exercises<. Then I was like, a) i'm just a wimpy girl and b) what do you know about working out, man-who-looks-pregnant-because-of-beer? Also, I turned a Naaaasty pair of old torn jeans into cute short shorts today. No correlation to the armpit issue, but I just thought I'd announce it and see if people cared. (Kidding, I don't care if you care. Well, I do care, I should hope you care, but not care so carefully about the care I put into making new short shorts. I'm dumb.)

I have to go to sleep. I studied my history notes for almost 7 hours. I'm a psycho. Sooo psycho. I need a good lovin I think. (Btw, a gooood good lovin will burn a substantial amount of calories, like, a whole meal, gone.)
"But you see, here in America the attitude that is fed to us is that outside of America there live lesser people. "Fuck them, let them fend for themselves." No, Fuck you, they are you. No matter how much you want to dye your hair blonde and put fake eyes in, or follow an anorexic standard of beauty, or no matter how many diamonds you buy from people who exploit your own brutally to get them, no matter what kind of car you drive or what kind of fancy clothes you put on, you will never be them. They're always gonna look at you as nothing but a little monkey. I'd rather be proud of what I am, rather than desperately trying to be something I'm really not, just to fit in. And whether we want to accept it or not, that's what this culture or lack of culture is feeding us." - The Poverty of Philosophy Lyrics (Immortal Technique)


I'm wearing glasses and a huge sweater. My hair is hardly brushed and my eyes are falling asleep. I can't remember the last time I truly wore makeup?According to the current media female ideal, I am a savage. Barely a woman, more of a homeless street crack ho. I'm named after Venus, born after Venus and modeled after Venus. I wonder if she is disapointed?


Do you ever here music and it just makes you feel euphoric. Just makes you want to move your body, touch your body, hear, see, feel, smell your body? Makes you want to run your own fingers through your hair and just love the pattern of the sounds and feel the beat of the music. Your blood starts to pump in sync. The music resets your heart. Gives you a kick start. It's like a massage for my soul. Turn up the bass, the fingers press harder. Like a brilliant massage, if it hurts, it's probably better. And music can definetely hurt you. It can definetely influence you and change you. Violin makes me cry. Trombone makes me strong. The beat gives me grace. When the music stops the blood stops pumping and flowing.

I'm completely mad. I can't think normally anymore. My hands hurt and my head hurts (generally in the brow region). Why is it that? Oh well. I don't mind. Now my elbow hurts but only because I hit it off the desk. Is everyone on the edge of madness, and only those who are "truly mad" express it. I'm not mad like Plath-sticking-her-head-in-the-oven mad. I don't want to hurt myself. I love my mind and body and whatever components add up to me, but am I mad because I express my every thought. Articulated in colour or word or behaviour? God I need to paint something. So bad, I have the itch in my fingers. Something has to come of them quickly. I've got to make something. I've got to create something with them. I've got to be a mother to beauty, at least in my own eyes and fast.

mercy. unless you love me and are interested in the unfiltered thoughts in my brain, ignore this post. completely useless to say this at the end though.

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I feel so inadequate lately when it comes to expressing how I feel. I haven't been able to write anything, paint anything, say anything good. I feel blocked from expression, like a clog or something. Also, I have this pit in my stomache like I'm missing something vital. Everyone knows the feeling. It's the same when you forget something on your desk when you are half way to your destination and it's too late to turn back and you'll just have to start thinking up excuses.

Today on Much's "Story of" is artists talking about their drug use. Don't get me wrong, I love a little narcotics now and then, but I've never felt completely addicted to them. I feel cravings right afterwards, buts thats more mental than physical I think. When something is just so good of course you're going to want more of it, but I've always "just said no" after a small embellishment. Anyways, I guess that is a different story for a different time.

I'm reading the book Sybil right now that is based on the Shirley Mason case wherein Mason suffors from dissociative identity disorder brought on by her mother's horrendous acts of childhood abuse. This book is disturbing me to the core and often makes me wonder about the nature of reality, memory and identity. I could, for all I know, be a dissociated identity of another person! I really want to see the movie now and I'm going to beg Gavin to order it. The book also discusses depression, anxiety and schizophrenia (which should not be confused with dissociative identity disorder). I'm thinking about taking out a book on abnormal psyche that I saw in the library today.

On another note, I'm really sorry to people who I've normally had constant email interaction with. I'm really trying to get away from the computer as much as I can. I'm trying to read more and get outside and have a little more exercise in my day. It's hard to break from normal patterns, but I've got to.

This post has been really disjointed and hard to follow, I'm sure, but it's more for my benefit than yours. Sometimes I've just got to get ideas out of my head someway and I don't really have anyone to genuinely talk to (who doesn't think I'm crazy half the time), so here is some of my brain. Right here. Gbye.
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Things like this remind me I'm straight.

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Why does everyone love Ewan McGregor's penis? I admit, I wouldn't mind Ewan McGregor..... But is it the man attached to the penis, or the penis itself that has caused such a frenzy. (I say, that's what he gets for whipping out the wang for practically every movie but Moulin Rouge and Star Wars. ... Okay, who didn't want to see Obi Wan whip it out?)

In evidence of the McGregor Penis movement:

http://mp-shoot.com/elsewhere/164.html
http://www.canoe.ca/NewsStand/WinnipegSun/Spotlight/2004/09/03/614166.html
http://www.rottentomatoes.com/vine/showthread.php?t=121549&page=2
http://washingtontimes.com/entertainment/20040412-091630-5961r.htm
http://www.mrcranky.com/movies/pillowbook.html
http://efilmcritic.com/review.php?movie=2277&reviewer=283

(You may have to scroll a bit for the penis area on some pages, but if you just search "penis" or "mcgregor" you'll find it.)


And also... because I can't contain myself.


Well, that's quite enough penis for one day.
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Well, I have some good news.

Two tiny feet,
Waving in the air.


















Two tiny hands,
Tug at my hair.

















Cute bottom for patting,
Adorable face.














A bundle of love,
For joy and embrace.











Mum, I have some big news!
CLICK ME!



april fools by the way
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These are the runes I have narrowed down for my tattoo. I don't know how to choose between them. (Btw, these is just the bare bones meanings.) I would like to get the rune on a stone, not just the symbol itself. I think I should just get them all, they are small and relatively inexpensive, so maybe I should just scatter them over my body. Obviously, Pertro would go somewear below the beltline, kenaz behind the ear or back of the neck, but I'm not sure about uruz and algiz. Maybe one on each shoulder... I know that's cliched, but that's where I think of when I think of power and stuff. I still have tons of time to think about it and stuff.

Uruz: (U: Auroch, a wild ox.) Physical strength and speed, untamed potential. A time of great energy and health. Freedom, energy, action, courage, strength, tenacity, understanding, wisdom. Sudden or unexpected changes (usually for the better). Sexual desire, masculine potency. The shaping of power and pattern, formulation of the self. Uruz Reversed or Merkstave: Weakness, obsession, misdirected force, domination by others. Sickness, inconsistency, ignorance. Lust, brutality, rashness, callousness, violence.

Kenaz: (K: Beacon or torch.) Vision, revelation, knowledge, creativity, inspiration, technical ability. Vital fire of life, harnessed power, fire of transformation and regeneration. Power to create your own reality, the power of light. Open to new strength, energy, and power now. Passion, sexual love. Kenaz Reversed or Merkstave: Disease, breakup, instability, lack of creativity. Nakedness, exposure, loss of illusion and false hope.

Perthro: (P: Lot cup, vagina.) Uncertain meaning, a secret matter, a mystery, hidden things and occult abilities. Initiation, knowledge of one's destiny, knowledge of future matters, determining the future or your path. Pertaining to things feminine, feminine mysteries including female fertility, and vagina. Good lot, fellowship and joy. Evolutionary change. Perthro Reversed or Merkstave: Addiction, stagnation, loneliness, malaise.

Algiz: (Z or -R: Elk, protection.) Protection, a shield. The protective urge to shelter oneself or others. Defense, warding off of evil, shield, guardian. Connection with the gods, awakening, higher life. It can be used to channel energies appropriately. Follow your instincts. Keep hold of success or maintain a position won or earned. Algiz Reversed: or Merkstave: Hidden danger, consumption by divine forces, loss of divine link. Taboo, warning, turning away, that which repels.
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Well, I haven't updated in a while (for me anyways) and it's making me feel guilty. Especially because I've sent my confirmation letters to Ottawa University today. So, unless I don't graduate, I'm going to Ottawa next fall! Alison and I are already thinking about the pets we want to get, and what we will use our hotplates for, and other random stuff. I was reading about life at the University and stuff and I'm just really shocked that life has gone by so fast. I was thinking to myself, maybe I should start getting fit again so I don't waste away my youth being sluggish and fat... but then I realized that my youth was going to be over soon! Then I watched this show called The 750lb Man (who died, btw) and there was this guy who was only 26 and he was HUGGGE! And I just want to be able tto do anything I want to with out being impeded physically or emotionally or anything. I just want to be able to do whatever. (Luckily, I'm not huge... I'm pretty good.) But I'm afraid of coming like that. Honestly, watching that documentary made me want to stop eating forever. Plus, I'm switching to my "save for prom" diet... so for lunch I'm bring oatmeal-to-go and juice/water instead of buying lunch. I can save three dollars a day. So I'll have practically 200 dollars!!! (I have a lot to cover, btw.)

* train fare
* admission
* limo
* hotel room
* booze
* food
* police bribe. (giggle)

I don't have to pay for this, but I think the limit on my dress is 150-200 dollars cnd. So poopy. But I'll find a nice one! I know I can do it. Plus, it's not the dress, it's the time you have! Plus, Alysson, I think we are going May 13 to New York, but we're staying over night and stuff. More info later.... That is all for tonight.
People think that I'm rich and spoiled, but they'd be surprised if they switched places with me. Very very surprised. I guess no grass is truly green and we are all doomed to graze the dying, sandy coloured grass of disappointment for our entire lives, dreaming of green grass that doesn't exist. I don't know if that's just a random melancholy thought or something I truly believe in. I don't want to believe it. I'd like to believe that we all deserve contentment, but I'm not completely certain and this worries me. I will only know on my death bed whether or not I worked away my entire life for a happy existence that would never be possible. Maybe I will be content in my last year, month, hour, minute of life and I wonder: will it be worth it? I hope that these things aren't true and that happiness does exist in some permanent form. I want to believe that. After all, why would the phrase "happily ever after" be used so countlessly if it hadn't happened at least once?
Worst Analogies Ever Written in a High School Essay
'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth.

He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.

She caught your eye like one of those pointy hook latches that used to dangle from screen doors and would fly up whenever you banged the door open again.

The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't.

McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty Bag filled with vegetable soup.

From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and "Jeopardy" comes on at 7pm instead of 7:30.

Her hair glistened in the rain like nose hair after a sneeze.

Her eyes were like two brown circles with big black dots in the center.

He was as tall as a six-foot three-inch tree.

The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.

Her date was pleasant enough, but she knew that if her life was a movie this guy would be burried in the credits as something like "Second Tall Man."

Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36pm traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19pm at a speed of 35 mph.

The politician was gone but unnoticed, like the period after the Dr. on a Dr. Pepper can.

John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.

The thunder was ominous-sounding, much like the sound of a thin sheet of metal being shaken backstage during the storm scene in a play.

His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a drier without "Cling-Free."

The red brick wall was the color of a brick-red crayola crayon.
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Hello my dearests,

Well, I had my brows down today. And I had a chat with dad about next summer and this summer. He has this strange illusion that I will be coming back in the summer to work in Picton. Very unlikely. Why drop my job, my place, my friends, my life, just to come back here to work. He says it will be cheaper in the long run. Cheaper when I have less hours, get paid less, have to spend money for gas to get to work, pay psychiatrist because I go crazy staying with him and mom.... Besides, I can get a 12 month contract from the dorms and stay there for around 6 to 7 grand a year. (Sounds like a lot, but rent for a crap 'roach infested apartment is like, $1000 a month if I'm lucky.)

Today I went to Nana's at lunch and fell asleep. I'm really looking forward to when Moon goes to Newfoundland. Half days for a week. Vin Diesel was on Ellen, much to my dismay. I really don't like Vin. But then I fell in love with him in the first five minutes. His mum is an astrologist and he started talking about it and I was like: Yeah!!! Moon! (oo tides). Then Ellen revealed that he used to be a telemarketer and then they called a random person and made him pretend to sell something for as long as he could. It was soo hilarious. I love him so much and I want to marry him and his sexy bald head. Should bald heads be buttered? Of course, like everything I'm curious about,

Diesel is a long time fan and player of Dungeons & Dragons and other role playing games, including Warhammer 40,000, a fact that he proudly states in various interviews.He occasionally makes reference to D&D in his films, such as in XXX where one of the tattoos on Xander Cage (Diesel's character) reads "Melkor," the name of one of Diesel's old player characters. (Melkor is also the original name of the Satan-like character in The Silmarillion and other Tolkien stories.) It has been said that his portrayal of Richard Riddick in the Pitch Black series of movies and games is based somewhat on this favorite character, a Drow "witch-hunter" who was a loner, and that Diesel has the character's image tattooed on his leg. He has also written the foreword to the commemorative book 30 Years of Adventure: A Celebration of D&D, a collection of stories and essays which chronicles the history of D&D. It is also rumored (though never confirmed) that Diesel plays the popular game World of Warcraft under the alias Dish. However such rumors are held highly suspected as being created by Vin Diesel impersonators.

I also learned that his company did the short flick Rockfish that I loved so much when I saw it a few years ago.l (Before the whole inVINsion hahaha... like invasion.)

So, I made a cake today. A chocolate cake. So good. I haven't really accomplished much today. Finished some homework. Nothing else.... Well, I got a little bored and this happened....

Sometimes, it just gets weird. I have a confession, I have a twin brother.... an evil twin named Mackavelli. It seems he has infiltrated my computer, and because he is my twin, he knows everything about me and he can read my brain. I'm reading his brain right now. He's blogging a recipe for chicken paprikash. Sometimes I channel him. I channelled hin today and he was like: "Dear, this is rather like Shakespeare isn't it? Twins and visions and whatnot? Sister, I'm glad that we have connected again. If you want to know what I look like, take photos of yourself, and I'll channel my image to you, so the pictures will come out as me." (Damn him! So goddamned evil. He's blasting Spice Girls in my brain! Get out! Get out!)

So that's exactly what I did, here are the frightening results. (Btw, remember the creepy autopic a week or so back? Perhaps that was Mackavelli.)




(Annie was like: Mackavelli! I thought you killed him in a duel a few years back!)


I'm certifiably insane now. Oh my god. I knew this day would come.
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How to Prepare for Going to College
How to Furnish a Dorm Room
How to Get Familiar with Your New College Town
How to Eat Well, Spend Less at College
How to Beat the Freshman Blues
How to Avoid the Freshman 15

I know that you guys are all probably sick of me freaking out about going to university. But I can't help it. Also, a lot of my friends are getting ready to go to, and this info is probably helpful for them too. I got it all from eHow.com. A lovely help site.
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My philosophy cartoon. It's quite lovely. I hope you laugh.
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Annie and I stayed up until 2am watching tv last night. We also played the sims a bit. I bought a robot from Annie's lvl 8 store. OH! We must of downloaded something unclean and our game was glitching so bad that we had to uninstall and reinstall everything! It took forever, especially because I forgot that we had holiday within a base and not as a seperate pack. That was a pain. And I had already installed university too. I had to reinstall both. So I finally made it to the end and I installed Annie's family and store that she had been working on because she couldn't handle saying goodbye to them. We unfortunately realised that she had lost her business and rank. It was horrible, but when she bought her old store, all the stock was still in there. She just had to rehire staff.

You might not understand if you don't sim.

Amanda moved into one of the small city houses in Bluewater Village (Annie and I are debating changing the name to Bluewater Hamlet cause it's so small). She opened a little hair salon in her front room and did people's hair for a living. Unfortunately, she has a wealth aspiration, so that didn't work out. She wanted to marry someone rich, so she married the extremely wealthy (but horrendously ugly) Malcolm Langraab IV. She moved in with him and he bought her two new cars as a wedding gift. After recieving a ridiculous amount of money and having a fling with an old client (and the housekeeper and gardener) she decided that she wanted a divorce. Unfortunately, the next day she found out she was pregos. I'm terrified that her baby will be as ugly as Malcolm, (who was pushed to plastic surgery). At first he was just going to get a brow reduction and a nose job, but then the first surgery went really really bad, so he ended up getting a whole new face. There's still a little Malcolm there though. And it's really good surgery.

If the baby is ugly, then she is going to leave it with him when they divorce. If it's goodlooking, then she's taking it with her either to another house in Bluewater Village, an apartment in Pleasantview or a townhouse in the city. I haven't decided yet. She may move in with another family, but I'm not sure yet. I guess it all depends. She's still young anyways.

Wow. I'm a nerd. What makes me even nerdier, is that I can't wait to go to University. (Hopefully my roommate: Alli) Thedorm I want to stay in is called 90 University. (It's apartment style.) It's a tad more expensive then the conventional style, but the cheapest of the apartment style. So it's kind of inbetween. Plus, I haven't shared a room with anybody for almost a decade, I'd go nuts. lol. Annie is going to come for a weekend out of every month and hang out and I'll take her to do stuff around town. It will be awesome.

I'm so tired and exhausted. I want to go to sleep and get all cozy under my comfy blankies. Get toasty and snuggle with Sandy. Fall asleep amongst my 80 billion pillows. But I can't go to sleep. This happens every night, for some reason, I postpone going to sleep every night, until I'm falling over from exhaustion. I get a few hours of sleep every night and I feel fine throughout the day. Maybe I have really really bad nightmares that I don't remember, so I subconsciously don't want to sleep. Or perhaps when I sleep, I go to another world where I am battling creatures of such horror I can barely fathom? Either way, my mind is always saying: Just stay up another half hour... Just do it.

Tomorrow I'm waking up at 8am. Finishing my english and a bit of law, then going out for a lobster lunch. (Great, just what my waning appetite needs.) Then I need to pick up some notes from Andrea's house (the dear) and whisk them to my house where I shall finish my law and polish it until I can see my ass in it. Afterwards I will study for history. And that's my tentative plan.

I think the one thing that will get me healthier is sex. I need much more sex in order to stay healthy. Don't believe me? Sex is one of the best things you can do for your body. Just google it, I swear it's sooo good for you. It increases your oxytocin production (makes it easier to deal w/pain), reduces depression (endorphins, duh), helps you slep better, makes you heal faster (those oxytocins again), boosts your immune system, good for your heart (c'mon, it's like aerobics), and for us women, it gives us better skin, protects us from Alzheimers and osteoporosis and heart disease (on account of higher levels of estrogen produced... a result of good sex). Plus, it'll make you pretty damn happy having good sex! Don't be grossed out by my sex knowledge, I've written like, three huge papers on it. lol

Damn, I think I will get to sleep now. I have to face lobster tomorrow... shudder. I think I may just faint. Fainting sounds good... *thunk*.
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Should I become pregnant (ever), please remind me to do this:
http://www.miabellamama.com/site/1349965/product/811-5827234
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Finally, my whole life... I'll I've ever wanted was acceptance.... And now I have it...

Big news today! I got my acceptance letter to my dream university!!! University of Ottawa!! If all goes well, in the fall I will go into the Honours Bachelor of Social Sciences program with my Major being in Anthropology. I've also got a few scholarships from the school to help me out. Now I have to choose my residence and write letters and do all sorts of fun university related things.

P.S. Those things have recently included imitating the sound a kettle makes.

Today was pretty good, pretty lazy, besides the hour or so I was ready to kill my computer because of my online course. I'm a bit frustrated with it, but I decided to take a fresh perspective tomorrow, try to release my bitterness while I sleep. Annie and I played chess, and she won. But there wasn't really a surprise there. We had delicious perogies for supper and sour cream. I loved them. They were so yummy. I'm thinking of having some greatfruit soon as well because I've only eaten perogies today and I think I need a little fruit. I haven't been eating much of anything lately, but just because I'm not really hungry lately.

I read through some of the ersatz-Quentin Tarantino blog that was making such a fuss. Everyone believed it, even big whigs... That was brilliant. Then I started looking at celebrity blogs. If I ever become a celebrity, I'm just keeping this one. It will be cool. And I'll have "priority" comments so my real friends responses are kept and everyone else gets deleted or whatever. It will be so grande. But of course the suckiest part will be that whatever is put in the blog will be an equivalent of a press release or something, so whatever random shit I blurb out will become headline news or evidence in a court case. ("In your blog, Miss Stanley, you mentioned that you 'could just kill Tom Cruise', is that true?") It would be very frustrating giving everyone codenames, and even with the codenames, everyone would know the truth... But then it couldn't be used as evidence. lol.

Today I drew on my thigh with eyeliner out of boredom. I should be doing more homework. Annie and I are playing sims tonight. In fact, I think I will go do that now.
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I made this for Annie. It's kind of an inside thing, making fun of countless things, but I thought I'd post it for good measure.

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I just had a horrifying dream. What made it so horrifying is how real it seemed. It didn't have the conventions of normal nightmares. Sound, colour, physics were all normal (more or less). It was like I had been transported to another place, not like a dream. I could feel and hear and smell everything. I can remember strange details... which is strange.

It started out when I was shopping for a prom dress with a friend. (It might have been Marie actually) and I called my dad to come pick me up at the mall. My cell phone was dying though (in real life it was dying because I didn't charge it yesterday... very weird)and I didn't know if my dad was picking me up at 5 or 7 in front of a certain store. So we drove around in circles around this store waiting for my dad to pick me up. We joked around and stuff, and then for some reason, we were all parallel parking. And when it was my turn, I couldn't drive worth a damn (that always happens in my dreams. very werid also). And my mom and her friends were laughing at me. So I got mad and stormed off into this big department store type thing. I was surprised that it was open because it was dark outside. I wandered around the store looking for a bathroom I ended up in the chocolate section and there were piles of chocolate boxes stacked so high, I felt trapped for a minute, but then I saw an escape and did so. lol. Then I asked someone where the bathrooms were, and they pointed in a direction, towards the back of the store where there were those big industrial doors you see in grocery stores and stuff. So I went back there and found a set of stairs, I went up them and there were several doors. I opened one and it was like a hotel room. When I went back out I realized that all the employees lived up there. It was really freaky for some reason. Then when I was going back down the stairs (and there were way more stairs then when I went up) I looked out a window and saw a plane boarding or deplanning, (not sure which), and on every landing there was a young girl trying to get on tight pants. (The same girl on every landing). Then when I finally got to the first level, I asked one of the girls where the bathroom was, and she told me it was in the music section and pointed me in the right direction. When I had crossed over the aisle in the store, headed towards the music section, the store disappeared and I was standing on one side of a road. Behind me was a huge chain link fence and all around me was dust. The music section was now a small shack (hopefully a bathroom) on the other side of a dusty field with dead grass. There were soldiers standing all around cleaning their weapons and joking around and stuff. They didn't notice me. I went across the field to the shack where there was only one soldier, kind of standing watch on the other soldiers 100 or so feet away. I asked him where the bathroom was and gestured to the shack with his gun. I thanked him and started about finding an entrance. But just then all I heard was gun fire and huge explosions (granades maybe?) and I was terrifyed. I ducked behind a small dilapadated doghouse leaned up against the shack. I started crying because I was so scared. I was afraid someone was going to come shoot me, or throw a grenade in my direction. I covered my face with my arms and tried to be small. I was wearing a white tshirt and shorts, and they were covered with dust. I was so scared. The soldier came over to me and sat next to me. He smiled and put his headphones on me and blasted the music. I can't remember what song it was, but I could hear the blasts faintly behind the music. He had his hands over my ears and the headphones trying to block out a little bit more of the noise. After a few songs he took of the headphones and the explosions and gunfire was over. He banged on the shack and there were some soldiers in there saying stuff like: we're all clear and other soldiery type stuff. Then he told me I could go and to go across the street and turn left and run down the street until I came to his army's base. They'd get me home. But I had to run the whole way. So I ran and he stayed there. I ran as fast as I could across the field and the soldiers raised their guns at me, pointed them at my face and then they said: She can go, she's not one of them. But then one of the soldiers fired a bullet right past my face and started laughing. All the other soldiers laughed too. I started running along the road I ran and ran and ran but the fence was always on my right and the field was always on my left, like I was running on a treadmill. But then I came to a big white house (covered in dirt and dust of course) and there were a few soldiers standing outside it. They ran out to the road with their guns pointed in my face, they inspected me for a moment, and then lowered their guns. I guess it was the base, but I woke up just then, severely freaked out. It seemed so real. And when I think about it now, it seems like a memory of a real event. That's what is frightening me the most. I swear I could feel the wind when the bullet passed by my face, and I could feel the ground shaking when the explosions were happening and I could taste the dust coated in my mouth, the pressure from the nice soldier's hands pressing on my ears. It was very very terrifying. There weren't any monsters in it, but it was still so scary.

I woke up and went to the bathroom.

P.S. Someone told me that if someone describes to you a dream in detail, they are making it up, but this dream is definetly not made up. I just remember every second of it and wrote it down right when I woke up.