Inspired by MAMO #23

A long damn comment:

Okay, flame on. Well maybe not flame on. My house and I are the market that Rent was made for so I have some thoughts. I saw the stage production as a thirteen year old girl in 1997 and it had a huge impact on my development into a bohemian twenty-something. This re-release was made for all the tween-teens who saw the production and idealized the anti-establishment hippy-queer culture and have now reached the age of the characters they obsessed over. My entire house could sing you the entire score of RENT and every one of us waxed nostalgic on the drive to the theatre (we had to go to a different damn city, but we were determined!)

The marketing for RENT was smart because I do feel like they were playing to my crowd. The songs and images were strategically chosen to pump up the excitement about having most of the original cast back and pull in the RENTheads. One of the reasons that I think it's failing so badly is because it doesn't deliver what it promises.

I'm assuming that neither of you have seen the film because the trouble is that RENT WASN'T shot like a music video. They tried to put the rock-opera format into what Matti Price calls "the true musical"style. They screwed around with the plot and turned former songs into cheesy dialogue in an attempt to make it more like films such as Moulin Rouge where the songs seem to just naturally flow with the dialogue. The prolem with taking the songs out of RENT is that that's the damn meat of it.

The appeal of RENT is that it IS a rock opera about not selling out to the man, and that didn't come across. This movie tried to follow the format of other high grossing musicals and thus ended up looking like a cheesy pile of sell-out garbage. I'm still shocked that so many original cast members agreed to sign on to do this film when it's so obviously counter to the entire philosophy of the musical. I guess as thirty-somethings they've become disillusioned and the man seems much more warm and friendly.

This film would have been far more successful if it had been shot like a long music video because that's the format where it would have worked. The "bursting into song" seemed disjointed and awkward because the story is meant to be constantly in song. The best scene in the entire move is "La Vie Boheme" which was very music video-y and it gave me goose bumps.

I think that they made a big mistake in not playing to the fan base of RENTheads who consider this musical a huge part of their lives and development at human beings (oh we're out there). The word of mouth among fans is what's hurting this film. I've told at least five people (fans and newbies) not to waste their time seeing this film and it's sad because I think the message of RENT is an important one and had it stuck to a more rock opera type format it could have been retold to a whole new batch of young folk who need to learn that love and art can keep your pulse beating whether there is money in your pocket or not. VIVA LA VIE BOHEME!

When a woman gives birth to a crack baby you don't buy her a puppy.

Man, Tama's blog today made me laugh at my damn self today. Hilarious. Good to know that even when bad shit's going down other folks think I'm funny. Great.

My friend from my creative writing class told me today that the rest of our editing group (two other people) were talking about how they think that she's kind of a freak, which really means that they think I'm a freak too. Which is really funny. We thought we were all on the same wavelength, but yeah I think that that maybe Caitlin and I were just clinging to the moments of them paying attention to us! I think they're just threatened by us because they are poser activists and we're just too real for them. At least I'm a nerd with someone else! I always got a bit of a tag along vibe from them, I'm just glad it didn't end up all elementary school like where I'm all alone. I love Caitlin, if nothing else meeting her was an excellent part of this semester.

taken out of context i must seem so strange

I just finished my paper about the begining of the Right to Life movement. Man those people piss me off. Maybe more blog later, for now some appropriate ani lyrics:

lost woman song

-for lucille clifton

i opened a bank account
when i was nine years old
i closed it when i was eighteen
i gave them every penny that i'd saved
and they gave my blood
and my urine
a number
now i'm sitting in this waiting room
playing with the toys
and i am here to exercise
my freedom of choice
i passed their handheld signs
went through their picket lines
they gathered when they saw me coming
they shouted when they saw me cross
i said why don't you go home
just leave me alone
i'm just another woman lost
you are like fish in the water
who don't know that they are wet
as far as i can tell
the world isn't perfect yet
his bored eyes were obscene
on his denim thighs a magazine
i wish he'd never come here with me
in fact i wish he'd never come near me
i wish his shoulder
wasn't touching mine
i am growing older
waiting in this line
some of life's best lessons
are learned at the worst times
under the fierce fluorescent
she offered her hand for me to hold
she offered stability and calm
and i was crushing her palm
through the pinch pull wincing
my smile unconvincing
on that sterile battlefield that sees
only casualties
never heroes
my heart hit absolute zero
lucille, your voice still sounds in me
mine was a relatively easy tragedy
now the profile of our country
looks a little less hard nosed
but that picket line persisted
and that clinic's since been closed
they keep pounding their fists on reality
hoping it will break
but i don't think there's a one of them
leads a life free of mistakes

If I Should Die Before I Wake

I don't know what it is about death makes sleep impossible. I also don't know if it's just me or if this is a kind of universal response. My first major experience with death was when I was seven and my great aunt died. I remember sitting up late with my mom, past one in the morning at least, talking about death and being kind of afraid to sleep. I suppose having my sense of mortality shaken makes it harder to sleep. Ever since then, everytime someone important to me has died I haven't slept. In the past two cases there was lots of baking done. It's just a sense of helplessness, and a kind of denial where I feel as though if I stay in this kind of shocked state maybe it's not really real. And then there's the kind of creepy layer of the spirit of that loved one looming and desperately wanting to hold on to them, but also being afraid they might appear. I'm not good at this. I try to cope and deal with death but it takes me a long time to mourn and I don't know how to fix it. I much prefer being wrapped up in the trappings of school then to have to let life happen so harshly. When my Zaida died my English Lit. teacher told me "life happens" and re-weighted the course for me so I wouldn't have to write the essay that was due that week. Funny how the expression "life happens" only seems to apply for me in instances of death. He was also the teacher that when I explained sitting shivah he told me that his Jamaican traditions around dealing with death were to drink rum and suggested I get myself some. I wish there were more people out there who had such a good sense of reality.

So now I'm all alone on my bed with my bear waiting for sleep. I wish I had a warm body next to me to get me through this night. Tomorrow I have to deal with writing the paper I negelected to finish tonight because life got in the way.

Lucky Waterman ????-2005

aka Baby von Chi, Chihua, Old man chihua, bald tummied baby, toothless wonder, the chi, KFC, the chicken dog, wrinkly skin dog, chi love...

Tiny Bald-Tummy Chest-Tufty Love

I'm having a weird day. I have about a million things that I logically need to accomplish, and yet I'm sitting here blogging. That's not true I have accomplished a number of things already today, I'm just nervous about completing everything.

It's odd when your day starts off with a phone call telling you your dog is going to the vet and may or may not be coming back. I feel like I always did when my parents left me alone with Ben to be with my grandparents in the hospital. That feeling of waiting for the inevitable and just being powerless. That, but smaller. Which is fitting because he's a tiny dog. I don't know. I cried a little on the bus. I just think it's going to knock me on my ass if this actually happens today. Right now things are going okay. I'm still relatively optimistic that I'll get through my three papers, two text books, four articles, and three novels by next week. I just don't need to be shaken right now because I'm not going to be able to finish the semester. I guess I just have to keep taking pleasure in checking things off, and hope that Chihua hangs on until Friday so I can at least see him one more time.

Shoot that Wad on 35mm

I'm all alone and I don't know where anyone is. I called the Box just after six and there were no Box girls, and now it's eleven and there's still no Box ladies. It's okay being all alone. I'm just sleepy and I kind of want to wait for them and find out what's up. Maybe a little nap on the floor bed is necessary.

After a brilliantly amazing futon, chinese food, sugglefest at Steve's last night I had to be forced out of bed this morning and into the studio to finish my beadwork. Luckily Tama could come in and help me. She took a good four hours off of what I would have had to do today. It was wonderful. I forgot to bring the Beatles though, so that was missing. I was fully ready to pay TJ out of my own pocket for her services, but Jan ended up writing her a cheque. I really didn't expect that at all! I love Jan!

So it's done. I may be hired again for a couple of days over the break, it may or may not be a good idea, but we'll see. So now I'm all alone watching Clone High and trying to mentally prepare myself for my craft show tomorrow. Yay! Oh I hope I can stay awake.

the coffee is just water dressed in brown

I woke up today feeling like nobody better piss me off. But then I found out about hippy sexism and drugged out gangbangs that kind of shattered my image of the free and happy hippy lady I always wanted to go back and time to be. Then we all went to our Womyn's Study seminar where someone did a presentation on abortion where she presented herself as prochoice (to get our trust and attention) and then like a true prolifer went on to talk about how terrible and horrific abortion is. I was mad and I said so. I almost got up and smacked the one guy in our class who had the guts to tell me I was wrong for being offended. It's fine to have an opinion, but don't be misleading.

Then I went on to my Creative Writing class where I mimed smacking someone in the belly with a/my penis. Then I quickly realized what I was doing and where I was and kind of shocked myself to cover my face all embarassed while the rest of the class laughed really hard. It was awesome, but definitely one of those moments where I was like "Wait, shit, I'm in a classroom! Who am I again?" It was the best entire room laugh I've had in a longtime though! And my Prof said "Becca, you're still stuck in your story aren't you!" Yes in one week I submitted a story about BDSM that included the line "purify this you motherfucking cocksuckers" (yelled at a church group), and I mimed smacking someone with a wang. My life is ridiculous in wonderful ways some times.

Too late to think or revise, but had to get it down.

This week has been generally good and satisfying. The mood in the box is good, I got an 85% on my all-nighter paper, and I don't feel like I want to cry all the time.

This week has been interesting too because I'm starting to see the changes in my body from going off the pill. I knew there were going to be changes, but I didn't really expect them to affect me too much. The wierdest part for me is that my skin has gone back to the way it was three years ago. I had kind of hoped that I had grown out of the bad skin, but apparently not. It's all kind of wild. As it's been pointed out I have looked the same since grade five, so it really is like looking in the mirror at my old self. A lot has happened in the past three years and looking at this old skin of mine resurfacing is making me feel really strange and vulnerable. Maybe it's exposing that I haven't come as far as I think I have. But then I think of how much I've developed in the past three years and maybe I need to look at this change as the positive removal of synthetic business from my body in order to let myself learn to love these flawed physical traits that the pill covered up. I don't know if I can do that.

I feel like I've changed a lot. Tonight Jess and I attended the Annual General Meeting of the Central Student's Association on campus. The CSA recently decided to allow groups that represent marginalized peoples like the Aboriginal Student Centre, Women's Resource Centre, C.J. Munford Centre (for people of colour), Guelph Queer Equality, and the Centre for Students with Disabilities, have a CSA board seat with a vote. The first motion that was put forth was to remove these seats from the CSA board. This motion was largely supported by about 75 huge white male agricultural students who just don't make sense to me. It seems incredibly logical to me that marginalized people need to be represented on a board that is supposed to represent the interests of the student body. I don't see how this is even a question as these people are basically trying to silence oppressed people. This motion was so blatantly sexist, homophobic and racist, and yet their stance was that if we let some people have a vote on the board, where do we draw the line? Right now as it stands, the five members in question were all elected/appointed by their own groups. The opposition really wanted to present a compromise by either having the members be a part of the board but not have a vote, or to run in elections and have the entire student body vote. This poses a problem when trying to decide who exactly is queer enough to represent the queer organization, etc. The whole debate became really opressive and really frustrating. It was literally like watching privileged white men yell into the faces of those that have been historically oppressed by them that they've had enough of a voice, and now it's time to shut up.

Apparently there was some corruption where the Aggies were tipped off that this issue was on the table, so there were way more of them then there were of us. I just felt so frustrated, powerless and incredulous. It was unbelievable. So as we were moving closer to voting time I asked Leah if I was right to think that if we lost quarum there couldn't be a vote. And then things got interesting. We found out that only 18 people had to leave in order to lose quarum, so we waited a little while longer as a few more people left, and then we got up and walked out. The women taking numbers at the door saw us standing in the hall and told the chair of the meeting. He announced that we were seven people away from losing quarum in a "please don't leave" kind of way, so of course all of those in favour of keeping marginalized people on the board walked out. Boy were they pissed.

It really just got to the point where we had been robbed of our voices so much that the only thing left to do was to walk out in silent protest. As the room emptied the big Aggie men started harassing us and yelling really derrogatory oppressive comments. Of course we yelled back, but it was scary. I felt like I was in physical danger.

It just horrifies me that no matter how much I've changed and developed, I'm going to have to keep fighting these battles and feeling this anger at the fact that the world does not see the logic in working for human rights. I have been fighting that feeling of oppression all my life and being in this Guelph community can be misleading because we're all so aware and we are very commited to maintaining safe anti-oppressive spaces. That's why events like tonight just blow my mind where I get shocked back into that feeling of danger and fear of having my voice silenced.

I just don't want to be back in that space and tonight I looked it and I felt it.

Is that... is that an ass?

I was walking up a crowded stairwell today and my face was only a backpack away from the girl in front of me, and I looked up and saw a good five inches of bare girl ass. So bare! She was wearing black stretchy pants and I can only imagine no underwear. It was a bit of shock, but I suppose a nice change from the regular back pocket view.

The Gary Busey Centre for Gary Busey Children

Today started off nicely with a class where we got to watch a clip from Hair. Oh man I miss that musical. That movie makes me long for the crazy hippy queer days of grade eight where we'd listen to that song Sodomy and try to figure out if we knew what all the words meant. Oh yeah.

That class was followed by the most comedically satisfying greasy Sex and the City-esque lunch at LA Pit. We argued about whether or not Christians were a sect of Judaism back in the day, how Jesus would have been a great catch, and what the world would be like if Jesus hadn't been crucified. We mused about the origins of the word "handicap" and how I always thought it sounded so much more cheerful than it is (and then mimed the cheerful tipping of my handy cap). We talked about the unfairness of boys getting to have orgasmic dreams, and then I made them jealous because I have orgasmic dreams. I composed a rap song about fornicating at the grad lounge that got stuck in Tama's head. Then Jess and I riffed extensively about her theory that there would be no discrimination in the world if everyone was just referred to as Gary Busey. I feel like it would cause more confusion then it would good. Can you imagine trying to find out medical test results if all the files were labled Gary Busey at Doctor Gary Busey's office? We laughed so damn hard, we definitely disrupted some reading. Awesome.

Other brilliant thoughts of the day include a remix to the Chariot's of Fire theme, and the fact that it's not a surprise that "Barney was black, his woman's name was Baby Bop!".

On the walk back from the Pit the question came to mind, what part of the woman is the milk? And how would she put it in that guys cocoa puff? Is the cocoa puff the nose? Perhaps that Lump song would be clearer if instead of: "Put your milk in my cocoa puff, milky milky cocoa puff, put your milk in my cocoa puff, milky milky, riiiiiiiight" it was: "Put your boobs up my nose, booby booby nose, put your boobs up my nose, booby booby, riiiiiight".

There's speculation that the "milk" in fact refers to vaginal fluids, but I strongly disagree as the milk clearly comes from the breast of the woman and not the vagina. That would make public baby feeding a lot more strange and controversial.

I love my Box girls. I think we all really needed that kind of a lunch where we didn't talk about the horrors of our lives. The world needs more Box lovin'. Imagine what would happen if Matt spent a week here! He'd be cured!

Dear Chris MacLean,

We have the same birthday. So now we can do it.... Just kidding. I don't even know you! Oh my God... SEND!

-Macelod

Fizzle

What a strange day. I went to the mall and bought some materials for present making, then came home and went on a cleaning spree of the kitchen, living room and dining room. The Box was in some sore need of the scrubbing. I'm also starting to think about putting up the old Christmas tree and decorating. Yeah I said it! We're trying to organize an early Chanukah party before exams and it's proving difficult. But we will decorate nonetheless.

So I'm sleepy, and I'm desperately trying to hold on to that feeling to see if maybe I can get myself to bed at a reasonable hour. I've been tearing up at emotional tv moments tonight and that's a sure sign that I need more sleep.

No no drama. no no no no drama.

So I was up until four yet again for very little reason since I finished my paper at two thirty. My mom called last night to tell me I should start taking gravol to make me sleep. I'm not exactly satisfied with what I've written and that scares me because it's worth 40% of my final mark. But the outline for this paper is a little ridiculous: "Develop a personal critique of one of our course texts. This could involve an examination of how the text connects to aspects of your personal experience..." I got to word 1000 as I was writing about celebrating Canada day in the Zellers at Thorncliffe Mall and being the only white kid there. It's relevant, but kind of random. We'll see what happens.

Right now I'm just struggling to stay awake to finish everything up for this afternoon. My stupid bed is so tempting.

I've got multiple holes and I'm not choosey

Oh waking up at twenty after two. My body hates me, and yet being destructive seems to be so logical. I went to the studio yesterday and strung sixteen rows. I have 29 rows to go, so I have like seven and a half hours straight of non-stop beading. the most I've ever done in one day is 18 rows, so it's going to be a bit of a long haul, but I have no choice. My poor Friday class is not getting a lot of me lately.

So H-pot was something. I was a little more disappointed than I wanted to be. And the drive to Gooloph was sleepy and ridiculous. Good moon though. Now I'm wasting some excellent time watching the Guelph Santa Clause Parade, and Friends, and just plain not writing my essay. I think it's about time for some tea.

Suck that Wand

It's 10:35 am and I haven't left for the studio yet. I was up until four last night. Two nights, no sleep. I only made fifty bucks and I sat there for a long damn time. Ow. I repeat: failing at life.

Gas. Break. Honk. Plan. Panic. Cry.

This is my first post from stolen internet. So yay me. I'm currently on Steve's couch. Not at the studio where I should be. Again, I woke up and panicked. I'm REALLY failing at this. I feel terrible because Jan is in the studio right now probably wondering where the hell I am, but I panicked and cried and couldn't breathe, and I thought, maybe I don't want to ride the subway to the studio right now because maybe I won't be able to get any work done. FREAKING OUT!!!!! What the fuck is wrong with me. So instead I'm working on my short story that was due three hours ago, but my prof extended it for me until Sunday at 5pm. I'm going to try to finish it today anyway, but yeah I couldn't have written it last night because it would have ended up way darker than I intended.

So yeah, I feel like I'm failing at life. I hope the craft show tomorrow is okay and not horribly depressing. I just don't want to feel like this when I get to Potter. I have a feeling it's going to cause a bit of crying and hyperventilating and I'm not in the mood for Matt to beat the crap out of me. And then all the fun of an awkward party! Mother of crap. Oh well. This means I have to go to the studio at like 7am on Saturday. Anyone feel like driving me?

Turn it up to Eleven

Well, I don't know why I'm not surprised. It's just all so ridiculous. So yeah, I waited three months to go and do exactly what the Neurologist in Guelph did last April, and then have them tell me that they want me to do two more MRIs, plus a sensory evoked potential test. That's going to take another two months. And then if there's nerve problems that show up on the MRI I have to go do an neural impulse test where they stick electrode needles in my muscles and make them jump, and after that a spinal tap. They told me the pill has nothing to do with it. I don't know what to believe anymore, or whether or not I should just stay off it for three months and see if the side effects go away. I wish that my family doctor hadn't presented this appointment to me as an interpretation of my test results. Then I wouldn't have gotten my hopes up that this would all be over. It's really wearing on my brain. The whole anxiety depression thing is getting to me. Maybe if I start numbing my brain more this whole thing will just go away.

If I have to go for a Spinal Tap I'm requesting right now that there be a screening of the movie the night before I go. Who's in?

Gee whiz I'd Love to Date Her!

The saga of my sleeplessness continues. I stayed up until four last night studying for my exam, thus rendering myself unable to wake up in time for a shower this morning. So I feel gross. I'm looking at another 8 hours before I can get home to my sweet sweet couch and that seems like way too much. I have to buy a gigantic tea before my next class to ensure that I don't fall asleep in the quiet disability writng room during my exam. I don't know if I'm going to make it. I've decided that instead of all the work I have to do in the next three weeks I'd rather just watch educational videos from the 1940s. Logical?

My Creepy Head

Today I picked up my MRI cd of my brain. Of course they fucked up and forgot to give me the spine copy, but at least I have a brain. So here are some pictures that creeped me out the most. I'm particularly fond of the eyeball popping one. And there are a lot of faces in my head!

Exam, or Anal Beads

Only box girls end up buying sex toys and lube when it's studyin' time. We fail at life but man do we have fun doin' it!

Everybody Loves Macelod

OOOh she's gonna hate that title! Man I love Macelod. There's nothing like doing dishes to the sound of her laughing wholeheartedly out loud at America's Funniest Home Videos and hearing her proclaim it over and over as the best show in the world. I also have very few friends who meet me in door way to lift and squish my boobs and decide that hers are less fun because they don't have the range of motion that mine do. I can just picture her running up during my wedding to smush my boobs. I think it would be hilarious. She said she wanted that in writing, so here it is.

In Eric's Basement

Based on the assumption that I will spend my four hour break in the library tomorrow, I will now sit on the couch and knit while watching an old episode of That 70s Show. The 11:30 show makes me miss high school. Steve and I used to watch it together over the phone. Now that my tv is in the middle of a public space we don't particularly have the chance to watch show together. I miss that. I miss a lot of things. I've been having severe moments of crisis about my life and my parents getting old, and what the fuck I'm doing and why I am the way I am. Everything seems so trivial, but it makes me panic so freakin' badly. So yeah. Wasting my life is hilarious.

Where's Polly to put my damn kettle on?

I woke up at 1:45pm today only because I forgot to turn off my watch alarm. I probably would have been upset though if I had slept any later. It's dark and horrible and menacing out today. I was having some pretty horrible nightmares though about Mark and Tama, about getting trapped by a sand bar in Sauble, and about being forced to eat decapitated snakes to avoid being molested, killed or raped. I didn't feel amazing when I woke up. So I've already cleaned my room and started the laundry process. I've arranged the Christmas gift exchange for my cousins, and sent out e-mails about my upcoming craft shows, and had some food. By the end of today I have to organize my papers in my room, finish my Fairy Tales Reading, outline my Canadian Lit paper, brainstorm my history paper, and put a little writing time into my short story.

Wow, that must have been the least entertaining thing you've read all day. Yowza. Anyway, the weather and the dreaming has put me in a really wierd mood. I'm just going to try to breath through the rest of the day. Maybe take a shower or bath later to calm me down prior to bed. Right now I think I need tea and lots of it. I don't know what this week is going to be like and I think tea is the only variable I can control. I love tea. And now that those crazy contraceptives won't get in the way I can drink as much good mood tea as I like! Wow. Okay, I'm going to go put the kettle on.

Croch-hat

I crocheted my first hat last night, so get your colour requests in now because I'm gonna be into this for the next few hours. It took me almost eight hours. Yowza. I was dragged out of bed this morning to go to the market, which I suppose was a good thing. But now I have no money. I have so much to do right now that I'm finding it really hard to prioritize. It's all important and coming up fast which makes me a little anxious. So instead of doing work I'm watching Much More Music Listed. Stupid tv. I have nothing brilliant to say. This weekend isn't particularly thrilling, I'm not particularly depressed, It's really weird not seeing Steve though. Last night we watched Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and Halloween, both of which made me miss him a whole lot.

So yeah. Scary amounts of work and feeling generally anti-social. We'll see how this party works out tonight. I don't really know how much I can handle trying to talk to folk thta I don't really know.

Wait. Is sleep deprivation an actual disorder... like something you can do to yourself? I guess that's it.

Trump Up the Jam

Long day. I can't imagine this post will be coherent at all, but have fun. Since I stayed up all night on Tuesday I've been existing in a weird state. I suppose that's to be expected. Since I woke up on Tuesday morning I've slept for a total of seven hours, all broken up. It's twenty to one now and I just don't want to sleep. Is there a such thing as sleep bulimia? I'm definitely not awake because I have to be, I'm awake because I don't want to let myself sleep. That's gotta be a disorder. I'm moving in and out of crying and hysterical sadness and sheer giddy giggling right now, but I've definitely been getting things done.

Since satying up all night I've built a coat rack/shelf, done dishes, made a stirfry, wrote a handout about anal sex, prepared a presentation on anal sex, read two stories and commented on them, went to class, did a presentation on anal sex, belly danced, and had a WRC meeting. That's not too shabby. No time to write off time.

So I'm mentally preparing myself for next week's MS consultation. I don't think I have it. I don't know. I've been thinking about those long lists of birth control side effects and wondering whether maybe those hormones have something to do with it. Dizziness and numbness are both on the list, but they are in relation to a stroke and I don't think I'm having a stroke. But it's the only medication I'm taking. It doesn't explain all the brain legions though. Tomorrow there will be calls to pharmacists.

I'm spending the weekend in Guelph to hopefully get some work done and to relax a little. I don't know if it will work, but I'll try. That's a lie I might not try at all. I might just continue to deprive myself of sleep by watching hours of mind-numbing television. It's feeling sadistically good at the moment. It didn't feel so good this morning, but I don't have to worry about that until tomorrow morning.

24 Useable Hours in Every Day, Thank you.

In the past 43 hours I have only slept for two. I'm heading into five hours of sleep now. Tomorrow is going to be interesting and caffeinated.

"I ran out of time for Masturbation"- Prof. Smith

No sleep=funny. I conciously decided last night not to sleep. I think it's kind of good for me to do that every once in a while. I get all zen-like and calm. The paper is done. I'm considering posting it as Matt requested, but it's really not that good. It's kind of boring surface level stuff about social controls working to maintain the taboo around anal sex for women. Maybe I'll post it with the caveat that it's not my best, and there are a number of yoda sentences in it that I couldn't bother fixing. Meh.

But yes, not sleeping was so good. It's nice to sort of experience time in a different way. It's a wierd feeling to watch the clouds get lighter and still be dealing with the stresses and thought processes of the day before. There's just no closure. It was definitely nice not to have to deal with the dreams though. They've been rather upsetting lately. I took my magic time and I wrote for an hour straight. I feel like all I do is write at the moment, but it was so comforting to take a moment and write something for myself. I haven't done that since the last week of September. I think I should make a point of staying up all night every six months or so, just to clear my head. Everyone keeps telling me to breath and relax and do something for myself, but I just can't. There's too much other stuff going on all the time. By staying up all night last night I ended up in this quiet physical space and I was so emotionally and mentally drained that though I couldn't sleep, I wasn't capable of much else. This debilitation was sort of liberating. I like the way I feel when I don't sleep. I like the way I think and the way that my inhibitions are lowered.

I took a two hour nap today, but that's it. I don't know how late I'll push through tonight. It's strange. Not sleeping for one night makes me want to push it. It makes me feel like maybe I don't know how to sleep anymore. Thank God my chihua visited me today or I wouldn't have napped at all.

6:27am

Done and done.

Blems Blems Blems Blems Blems

To follow up on TJs earlier post, it's now 2:40am and none of us are done our paper. We just had a tea and chocolate break in the hallway, which got me really excited. Man I get off on late night paper writing. It's kind of sick how much I'm enjoying this. I mean, I'd like to be done soon, but I really don't mind it. Especially since tomorrow I have the sweetest day possible involving one single class, Creelman EZ rock breakfast, and then a snuggly bed-sharing nap with Macelod. Mmmmm. I'm pretty astounded by how many times I've written "anally penetrated" in an essay for a first year course. It's probably more appropriate than when I try to throw it into my English essays.

Bend over Becca

Finally home. Oh home. Home where the essay is. I've got six pages hand written and single spaced. I imagine that will type out nice. Now I just have to get myself through the last two sections and play the proper referencing game. I hate that game. I feel like I could be done writing at one, but it always takes an annoyingly long time to edit and reference. I just plan to keep my head together.

I have to come up with some brilliant title. I'm thinking "Doin' it Greek Style", or maybe "Anal Sex: Not just for Fags Anymore", "Dirty Whores Who Love the Bum Sex", "Women and Anal Sex: Puttin' in in the Wrong Hole"... any thoughts? Any ideas?

My anus just contracted

Oh nothing like accidental porn. Jess and Nomi accidentally downloaded some big hairy gay porn under the title of "Queer as Folk, Season Five, Episode One". This was a lie. So naturally they watched it this weekend, and then tricked Tama and I into watching it with them tonight. It took place in a locker room. There was no dialogue, just violent nipple tweaks to innitiate the doin' it. There was lots of gagging and slobery honking noises. It was not attractive. The wangs were scary. There was nothing wrong with the men doing it, more so the frighteningness of their lack of enjoyment. They seemed totally unhappy and uncomfortable, they had no connection with each other and they just seemed desperate for cash and incredibly vacant. It was really creepy. I was heard to exclaim: "You're not MONSTERS!"

Anal Masturbation and Object Loss

I gotta say, when you sign a film out of the library called "Anal Masturbation and Object Loss" you get some looks. Especially when you ask the guy who's signing it out for you whether or not the library has copies of the bible that can be signed out or if they are only in reference. My life is something else right now.

The film turned out to be a semi-humourous wordy art film about about Freudian theories. The best line in reference to a paper entitled 'Anal Masturbation and Object Loss' (about a girl who became constipated after the loss of a parent) was "Now this paper could have been called 'Constipation and the loss of a paternal figure'. I'd like to reserve the term anal masturbation to refer to anal masturbation." Good one. I love film people.

I currently have no idea where my roommates are. All I know is the car is gone. Freaky. Nomi and Jess both have stuff to do tonight, but I have no idea where TJ is. Ah well. I'm just cold and alone. I've done a bunch of work tonight all ready, so I'm having a cup of tea, which I will follow with some dinner, and then more work. I'm pretty dizzy and spacey tonight. I got my B12 shot today which took like 45 minutes. Sort of ridiculous.

This whole weekend was sort of ridiculous. Panic and paranoia were pretty much all consuming. I've decided to take the weekend off from going to Toronto. I'm just too tired. I strung two rows of beads on Saturday and then I burst into tears. I think I cried about six times this weekend. Bah. I'm surprisingly calm at the moment considering I have a huge essay to write for Wednesday. I'm just trying to remember how fun it is to breath. Next comes sleeping. I have to figure out how to sleep again.

In Memory of Kona Nunu

You will be sorely missed in front of the yoga shope bike friend. I hope you wipe out who ever stole you and find your way back to 3QF.

The Fashion of the Christ, or, I'm Too Sexy for my Lord

As some of you know one of my favourite hobbies since first year is debating with Campus Crusade for Christ around their various ridiculous events. I love it. It's such a friggin rush to challenge people who are so set in their beliefs. I get so much pleasure when I get them to say "I never thought of that" and I have been able to do it every time. Today the conversation was about the anti-pornography event they are staging in a few weeks where they are having a man come and speak about how porn ruined his life, split up his marriage, and how he's putting his life back together by finding Jesus. They have a ton of posters up all over the University with facts about evil porn facts, one of which is "1 in 3 people who look at porn are women". Oh those ridiculously evil women.

We were approached in the UC by Graydon himself (of last years "Do You Agree With Graydon" conversion campaign) to fill out a survey about our porn intake in return for a chance to win a free ipod. Those private funders are pretty sweet. So we talked about the posters and the intention of the event. It's actually sounding like they are becoming more aware of how to make people more comfortable by giving them a false sense that they are not being preached to. This speaker aparently talks about the evils of porn and then gives the audience the option to leave before he starts talking about his personal salvation. Those bible thumpers are getting smart.

The survey they gave us was loaded. The first question was "What's your gender male or female". Bad. Then there was questions along the lines of "how often do you watch porn", "how much does porn affect your life", and "where do you see porn: magazines, internet, tv/movies or strip clubs". I told Graydon that a strip club isn't pornography, he said he didn't actually know the definition of porn. Ouch. I asked Graydon what he qualified as porn, is it any material that turns me on? Here's the conversation that followed:

Me: So you're saying that porn could be both hardcore porn and a makeout scene on Dawson's Creek if they both turn me on?

Graydon: Well in that situation I'd just say 'What Would Jesus Do?'

Me: Well I think Jesus likes to have a good time!

Hilarious. It was the best thing I've said all day. He laughed REALLY awkwardly. Jess and Leah busted out too. Jess had been stiffling her giggles anyway since he said he was saving himself for marriage so he could "truly celebrate his wife's body". Is it wrong that my first reaction was to try to seduce him?

Recant eh? Fitting Title

I'm in a bad situation here. One that affects my everyday life and two very important realtionships to me. It's a situation that I have no right to have any say in or that can be fixed. It's something I will get over, it just isn't happening yet. I'm frustrated that it's taking me so long to stop being a jerk, and yet my frustration is coming out. I have had real conversations and expressed my real fears and it's not secret that this is how I feel. As much as I try not to be an alienating bitch, I slipped up with my vomit comment last night. So to all those who are aware of what that was referring to, I apologize. It was mean... and I knew it. Like I said, bottled frustration coming out. I guess it's a difficult line of how expressive one should be in a sort of public forum.

Recant

I just got home from a menorah making session at a Goldie Sherman's pottery studio which was really funny. I had a whole picture of what I wanted to do and it's all totally different, but that's okay. The group consisted of me, Leah, three middle aged women, and two young masters students. Strange groups. I got a little of the Jewish guilt about the fact that I don't go to synagogue, and a little more that I'm not attending the Hebrew lessons tomorrow night. Ah well.

I'm so ridiculously imperfect right now. I'm also really frustrated with the fact that I don't want to go to Toronto this weekend just because I'm so exhausted. I have to do bead work and I don't want to. Originally I was going to stay here this weekend for Jess' birthday party and then do the next two weekends beading in Toronto. But now Jess' party is moved to the 19th which means I have to go in this weekend, bead my ass off, again next weekend, and then go in on the 18th for a craft show and Harry Potter, and then come back here on the 19th. Bah.

Though I think it will be good for me to get the hell away from Guelph this weekend as I think it would be way more stressful to be here vomitting. Now I'm trying to figure out where I'm going to go because Steve is a busy fellow and my family makes me want to explode my brain and heart all at once. I have nowhere at the moment. Perhaps it's time for a 3QF Chris' Birthday slumber party?