The spider gets over-poetic

I feel marvelous.

No, wait. I take that back. I WILL feel marvelous as soon as I get my ass of this computer, go upstairs, order a delicious pizza (half with pepperoni and extra cheese; half with pepperoni and black olives) pop How The Grinch Stole Christmas into the VCR, curl up with my beloved blankie, with the lights turned out, the glow of the television, and everything silent in the house.

Of course its Saturday, and by all normal accounts I should be out. Doing something. Not becoming another one of the nameless fungi in my basement. I watched Frosty the Snowman tonight. We used to always watch it in school, every year. We used to have these assemblies too, where we would all sing christmas songs, like "Up on the Roof Top" and "Jingle Bells".

I have this slight obsession with my childhood. This half-crazy urge to run back to my mom when I think of the leaving that is looming ahead of me. I'm afraid of being stuck at home all my life, living off my parents, clinging to my basement and never being anything. I'm afraid of going out into the world, finding an apartment (painted orange, with a cat) and going to school, thousands of miles away from everybody I've ever known. It's a dilemma.

So I cling to my childhood. When things weren't as complicated, and poofy bangs were popular, and I danced and I sung with the freedom of someone who didn't know how not to be comfortable in her own skin.

Sorry. I've been going through my favourite lyrics for the random page. I'm getting a smidge poetic. I'm just going to shut up and go upstairs.

You're a mean one, Mr Grinch..
Saturday, December 2, 2000 11:59 p.m.

Just an addition.

I've added Sarah's site to my links list. Look yonder; its called "Golden Paradise". We picked the graphics from FullMoonGraphics.com, and I just set it all up for her. Watch out, tho, cos the "Friends" section isn't up yet. :) Anyway, I suggest you go there. And sign her guestbook. And try to accept the pure silliness that is Sarah E.
Friday, December 1, 2000 08:13 p.m.

That is the question...

To go out, or not to go out??

This is my current dilemma. I'm sooooo tired. (Which I always seem to be. Hm.) But, I don't know whether to go out, or order a pizza, curl up with a blanket and watch How the Grinch Stole Christmas. As you might be able to tell, I'm leaning towards the more descriptive one.

Plus EVERYBODY seems to be UNBEARABLY crabby today (including me), and I don't really know WHAT we'd do, except probably go see a movie (Thunder Bay Weekend Choices: Friday / Bowling, Saturday / Movies, Sunday / Hope your in some hellish coma and will wake up soon to find yourself ANYWHERE else exciting.)

Grr... what's with Geocities being so slow?? And my gbook is driving me freaking crazy. Sigh. Brad got punched by some drunk yesterday when he was working at Mike's Mart. This boozehound wanted cigarettes, and Brad couldn't sell them to him because the guy didn't have enough id, so he leaned over the counter and hit brad in the mouth. WHAMMO!!

Actually, I'm feeling a tad violent myself. I just talked to Sarah E, and I think we've collectively decided (after mel's sudden and abrupt hanging up on me, another grr) NOT to go out. But Sarah's gonna come visit me as I sit in my jammies singing along to "You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch."
Friday, December 1, 2000 06:57 p.m.

ARGH!!

GO
TO
BED
!!
Wednesday, November 29, 2000 11:59 p.m.

yawn.

go to bed
go to bed
go to bed

My chant doesn't seem to be working . . .

And I got 14 / 20 on my research paper. . .

Stupid marker-person. . .

I suggest I boycott. . .

After I . . .

go to bed
go to bed
go to bed
. . .
Wednesday, November 29, 2000 11:15 p.m.

In my messy corner...

I want you to picture this. This is part of my life. This is part of my daily existence. This is part of me.

I'm sitting in the farthest corner of my basement, and Sheryl Crow is playing on my winamp. The =largest monitor I have ever seen= sits in front of me, carelessly surrounded by a Smarties box, a white phone, books on writing for children and teenagers, and Sears catalogue clippings from last weeks housing project. My Matthew Good Band CD lays half covered by the mouse cord, and out of the corner of my eye I can see the picture I took in Grade Nine of spring lilacs, mauve and blurry its taped to the wall, and been on there so long its sides are starting to curl upward. One of my weights, purple and girly, lays half out / half under the monitor, and touches =just barely touches= my keyboard. This is my daily experience.

I love =ahem= Brad's computer. (But I should probably clean the desk)

:)
Tuesday, November 28, 2000 04:45 p.m.

There's no place like home.

As I was strutting (walking; no. Getting down with my big bad self? Yes.) home from school, listening to a collective array of tunage (eg, Still D.R.E., Dreams (The Cranberries) I was thinking about : home.

What is home? And where is mine? Do I really live anywhere? I'd kind of like to be a drifter; but then I think about sitting on a big couch that I know is my own, drinking a huge glass of white hot chocolate and watching The Goonies and I realize; I'd like to have one.

A home.

I'm getting really tired of these weekend commutes. Who wants to go to Schreiber? Beer-drinkers & truckers; yes. Me? No. I'd rather stay home. But this; here; this ugly grey duplex with the brown interior and dusty paintings on the wall, is not home. It's a place. It's a shelter. It's a place where I can look around and see the entire decade of the seventie's reflected on the walls.

I want to live in a penthouse. With large windows, and an artist studio. With a little iMac in the corner, and giant fluffy bed in the other. A huge television with my entire video collection; complete with my secret eightie's tunage; and a nice large cat, who's fur never makes me sneeze, who's meows never wake me, but who's body cuddles up next to mine when I'm sitting, or sleeping, and curls around my legs when I'm painting.

I can't paint in a place like this. I can't sing. I can't dance, or sleep or live.

I'd just like to live, in a home. With orange walls, and a cat.

I'm getting really sick of this commute.
Tuesday, November 28, 2000 03:50 p.m.

Joey McIntyre

Yesterday I found myself watching "Lady Hawke". Ugh. I found it quite cheesy. I think the guy that played the head vampire in "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" was the hero. And Matthew Broderick?? I'm sure he looks back at this movie with pride. Eck.

Which reminds me, of course, of Ferris Bueller's Day Off, one of my favourite movies of all friggin' time. I had the hugest crush on him in that movie. Me and Mel both did I think -- we both had huge crushes on Joey McIntyre from New Kids On the Block at the same time, too. I remember us collecting the New Kids dolls; then mixing them with our Barbies in place of Ken (who's head had been taken off so many times he had no neck) -- the basic Barbie plotline was thus:

Barbie (usually renamed Kelly or some other such name) was kidnapped by Joey (our most fought over New Kid doll.. I got *ugh* Danny for Christmas) and taken to his secret castle high atop some foreign mountain, where she was forced to be his bride.

It seemed really romantic to me when I was a kid. Blah. Now, I'd hope that Barbie could improvise on her keen tae-bo skills and kick some Joey ass.

Afterall, someone has to pay for his comeback album.
Monday, November 27, 2000 10:04 p.m.

This week's fabulous menu

Monday - Chicken
Tuesday - Chicken
Wednesday - Chicken
Thursday - Chicken
Friday - Stir Fry (with Chicken)
Saturday - Pork Chop
Sunday - Chicken

eck.

Sunday, November 26, 2000 09:18 p.m.

Damn. No ice cube trays.

So, Sarah and I "partied" in Schreiber.

Whew. I'm still exhausted. (Please note the extreme sarcasm.) Actually, I am tired. But its kind of that tired that you get from being bored; from having nothing to do except watch your muscles melt into unrecognizable piles of goo; blubbered by the ongoing beating of blatant inactivity.

Perhaps I'm making it sound more boring than it was. Afterall, there was the penny auction; on which I, as a promising young gambler, spent seven of my much-needed college dollars on, buying more and more tickets, fevered and shaking and whispering through cracked lips: "Just one more ticket.. there's still time.. just one more ticket.. I need that tupperware.. I NEED THAT TUPPERWARE!!"

I won a candle. And a cd. I am now the owner of "Bryan Adams; On a Day Like Today". I'm thrilled. Ecstatic. In the words of el shorto:

Oh bliss. Oh joy.

Anyway, I'm going to go crawl into bed and watch a movie. I helped Sarah make a website this weekend and I'm not sure if I'm quite up to doing anything on mine for the moment. I might put the address of Sarah's site up soon, probably when its more presentable. Or at least when I'm sure she hasn't snuck any terrible, mind-bending, frightening pictures of me on there. adios.
Sunday, November 26, 2000 08:44 p.m.

Blah Blah Blah

La la la .. so what did I do today??

Well, as of recent, I went to Roger's Video and rented some movies (yay!!) We walked in, and after my ritual quick passing glance at the new releases I walked to the coveted 7-day rentals. For some reason Brad found this quite embarrasing. He kept glancing around as I poked through the Fantasy/Horror section, perhaps hoping he didn't see anyone he knew; perhaps making sure no one was looking so he could hit me over the head with his chosen rental (The Gladiator) and drag me out of the store, and away from those pesky movies; such as; Conan the Barbarian, Red Sonja, Night of the Living Dead; and my personal favourite: Ewoks: Return to Endor.

A masterpiece.

Anyway, so tomorrow me and Sarah are going to Schreiber. There's this big bizaar/penny auction. Last year I won some ice cube trays.

Brad is such a maniacal driver. I have the feeling I almost died on the way home. Maybe I'm already dead. Maybe I'm writing this in my comatose mind; while my body lies bandaged and nearly unresponding in some stark white hospital bed.

Hm. Or not.

Thursday, November 23, 2000 07:45 p.m.