Spent too much time on wikipedia and not enough time doing homework. I found myself looking up the symptoms of a nervous breakdown the other day. My pre-group interview for the self-care without self-injury thing is tomorrow, and I should go read about 'carpe diem' in poetry and then apply it to Spenser's poetry. And write my Crim quiz. and maybe start my Crim film analysis that's worth worth 25% of my mark and is due Thursday.

Should definitely stop staring at the ceiling/at my wall/at my computer. Should stop calling Fin. Should stop wanting to talk to Fin. Should get rid of this feeling that everything is wrong when I realize that logistically it isn't. I don't want to be in my head anymore. I'm so sick of being.

i'm not suicidal, i just can't get out of bed

feel pathetic and useless and weak and way, way, way too emotional. if I could have a time machine that would be super excellent, thanks.

wet/dry at school tonight, danced with a boy I just met in some vain attempt to forget the other one--failed miserably. kept seeing him out of the corner of my eye. Tried to go for a run, sort of fails when it's January and you're in a t-shirt and there's ice coating every flat surface. Broke down crying twice. Really, really want to snap my fingers and have this stop hurting.

I somehow ended up crying all over a girl I haven't talked to since elementary school.

Can't quite adequately get everything down that needs to get down. I just want to curl up in a ball and not wake up for a few weeks. Everything hurts. Everything. Hurts.

All of this breaking down in bathrooms and crying over boys and wanting is way too high-school--except I never did this in high school, so I suppose this is penance.

And just keep in mind for next time, I suppose: don't fuck your friends. jesus christ, future self, do not sleep with your friends.

My appointment went surprisingly well, and I feel really calm and content right now--even if I've got a big mountain of homework to slog through this weekend.

I fell asleep in Soc, I am really learning nothing in that course this semester. Global Politics was lovely, there were horrid group presentations--people reading off the screen, typos, etc. The one bright spot in the presentations:



Philosophy ended early, and was super excellent and humorous.

I just found out that J.D. Salinger died, and all of my Salinger books are back in my hometown. Thus, I am unable to properly commemorate him as I would see fit, so I'll just say this: Salinger's work shaped me. Indelibly. He hadn't published anything since '65, and I was still able to relate to Holden Caulfield, even as a 13-year-old kid in some little suburb in Canada.

Raise high the roof beam, carpenters.

"so pleased with a daydream
that now living's no good
I took off my shoes and walked into the woods
I felt lost and found with every step I took."

Feel like I should talk to a ghost, everyone else is too invested.

Good things about today: somewhat productive. On my way to class this morning, a group of kindergarten kids were touring through (I guess they're fast-tracking the youngsters now?), and they were adorable, all tied up in their leashes. It made me smile, and miss my nieces.

because deterrence is bad, right?

We've been watching Scared Straight in my Criminology class the past two classes. The upshot is that deterrence is bad and yelling at kids doesn't really do much in the way of preventing crime, it's ineffective to have deterrence as a stand-alone crime prevention method. You need some sort of therapy combined with it.

Having lived in a family which has dealt with the repercussions of juvenile crime and substance abuse, I can only say: no, ya think? But maybe I'm just a smart ass like that.

I'm finding the class more difficult to go to--it's much more interesting than it was last semester, because the prof is engaging. But it's a double-edged sword. It's interesting, but it brings up everything I don't want to think about in regards to my family: boot camps and juvenile detention centres and recidivism and substance abuse and alcohol abuse and other things I really don't want to be thinking about in class. I just don't want them to come out and sometimes it just feels too close to the surface to push down. It worries me.

I found Lockpick Pornography online, and it turns out that the entirety of it has been posted since I last encountered it. I feel like destroying the hetero-normative paradigm (not really, actually, I just felt like saying that) and doing something meaningful with my time.

I do actually mean that bit about doing something meaningful with my time.

http://www.lockpickbook.net/lockpick_2nd_ed.pdf There is Lockpick Pornography in its entirety.

I feel like I should have written everything down as it was happening so that I would have some record to ensure it did. actually. happen. Stupid Lisa.

"I need to see what Draco Malfoy is doing inside you"

Highlight: I was discussing the attractive nature of my Philosophy prof before class today, and he came in earlier than usual. I think he heard me talking, most likely knew we were talking about him. I immediately shut my mouth, my mind was just a run-on of ohshitfuck, etc. My friend Meredith said my expression was hilarious, apparently the colour drained from my face and I looked mortified and then turned bright red. She's been teasing me about it all day.

Low: I Hurt. ow, my heart.

On the plus side, here's some Draco/Harry love to make the world a little shinier. It turns out my scanner is way easier to use than I thought it would be.

reason 352 why I love the internet

eye candy

Because Matthew Gray Gubler is a beautiful, beautiful man and eye candy makes the world go round.

all the small defeats the day demands

I don’t like being in my head these days—I’ve been going in circles for 5 hours and that is definitely not a good thing. I just end up curled on a chair rocking back and forth a bit and trying to slow my head down even though it’s not quieting. I just want to fall asleep next to someone and I can’t and everything hurts. And I don’t want everything to hurt, because I hurt enough as is that I feel like I’m breaking underneath everything else sometimes. I just can’t hold it all. And that’s when I really break, and I collapse, and I relapse and it’s bad for everyone involved. It’s bad for me because I’m left with the scars...I think it’s bad for them. Well. I don’t know why, ask them.

I hear periodic thumps of snow falling off the roof outside my window. I think that’s a good thing because it reminds me of the world around me. Snow falling off roofs happens every winter in countless cities and it’s always the same thump upon impact. I think keeping this in mind is a very, very important thing right now: it’s happened this winter and the winter before that and the winter before that, and it’ll happen next winter and the winter after and the winter after ad infinitum.

There’s a boy in one of my classes who I think has an interest in me. Probably just wants to be friends, but I still get all panicky about it—I don’t want him interested in me. I’m not looking, I want the one I can’t have (oh my mother fuck I just quoted The Smiths, shoot me now) and I really, really, really don’t feel in any position to be looking anywhere else at the moment. But I feel like everyone wants me looking elsewhere and moving past this and ohmyfuckIcan’tIloveyouandI’msorry.

Snow thumping outside my window. This winter, the winter before that, the winter before that, next winter, the winter after that, the winter after that ad infinitum.

Hopefully winters without scars, if Friday goes well and I can get out of my head and just ignore this hurt in my chest. There’s hurt in my neck from last night and hurt in my head because I’m a defective child like that with headaches and such, but this heart hurt is a persistent dull ache that just keeps growing and twisting a little deeper each time.

I hurt. A lot. makeitstopplease? I think I need to do that on my own.

Classes were uneventful. I fell asleep in Sociology, sat with my arms around myself in Global Politics to keep everything contained, and contemplated the existence of God in philosophy--still an atheist.

I've been combing message histories and old facebook e-mails for some kind of indication that it did actually happen and it wasn't all just in my head. Logically I realize it did, and that still doesn't make this hole in my chest any smaller. Makes it worse, actually. There's nothing more attractive than that one thing you just can't have.

I feel melancholy, so I've been saving archives of A Softer World to make things better. It helps, but I need to go read Chaucer and write character synposes and be a productive university student and push everything else out for a few hours.

It is constantly on the peripheries my mind and I'm a little terrified.

danse danse resolution

I went to go see Ruby Jean & The Thoughtful Bees tonight. I've been a fan for about a year, but this was my first time seeing them--oh my goodness gracious it was beautiful and sweaty and full of moving bodies and ohdearme I do love music.

The opening acts were Jenocide and A/V. It was really interesting because at first, everyone except for my little group of friends were acting like quintessential wall-huggers: while my group of friends and I danced near the front of the stage, the rest sort of remained on the outskirts and gave us a rather wide berth. That changed fairly quickly, though, as things got more intense. I danced with Jenocide at one point, and then another girl danced with her and was being a little bit overt sexually--attempting to kiss her, gyrating against her, following her when she moved away, etc. But it was wonderful.

The set for A/V was fantastic--I was in a bit of a state by then, so I spent most of that set with my eyes closed. Also, A/V was set up in such a way that he wasn't on stage, so everyone in the front (i.e., friends and I) were now essentially in the back. I remember closed eyes and moving bodies and being really warm and looking at the ceiling and feeling a bass beat in my chestbone. Also, he repeated the phrase 'one day,' which culminated in "One day, a group of teenagers helped carry my grandmothers groceries. And do you know why they did it? Out of RESPECT!"

Ruby Jean and the Thoughtful Bees. Loud, hypnotic, somewhat drunk (apparently she'd been drinking since noon), leather short shorts and a leather vest--on a man, crowd surfing, ringing ears and my own experience with crowd surfing.

It was warm and hot and sweaty and my hair was soaked and my clothes were soaked and the walls had condensation on them by the end of it and oh my god I want to do it all again. Nevermind that I was squished between strangers half the night, or that I spent a good portion falling down or trying to not fall down--I want to do it all again.

It was also amusing, because my friends and I were originally under the impression the show started at 8--so we showed up then and it turns out the doors don't open until 9:30. So we end up in a second-hand bookstore drinking various beverages and perusing magazines respective of our interests--I read a literary publication with collections of essays and stories (I need to find it again, I wanted to buy it. It was beautiful and my heart was kind of leaping in my throat in a way that usually only happens around a boy I like so I think that's a good thing. I love words. I really, really love words. Words don't leave, and they're cathartic and I need to use them far more often than I do.

Regardless! Respective interests. We know mine. Fin had a tattooing magazine, Zara had an art magazine, Mark had a science magazine--Dom was severely put out by the lack of magic magazines, so he just played with his cards.

My day has been wonderful, I was even productive and got work done--not as much as technically necessary, but it's a start. And that is what is currently on my mind right now--there could be far worse things, definitely, so I'm good with sounding like an excited teenage girl for now.


I have class in a few hours. I think that means sleep. Goodnight, world.

let's do the fork in the garbage disposal

Last night was lovely. My friend Fin's sister Zara was in town, so I went down to his place with my best friend Mer to visit for a few hours. We played Dutch Blitz (a magnificently vonderful goot game if there ever was one) and they proceeded to beat me mercilessly at it--Fin and Zara were both home-schooled, and apparently Dutch Blitz is a quintessential home-schooling game. Just my luck.

Then they exposed me to this video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IJqYc0Q6uOM&feature=related

And Fin, Dominic (my friend and his friend and his roommate) and I proceeded to do said dance. It was wonderful.

I do love my friends oodles and oodles, because we're able to sing songs from Mulan and discuss the finer points of Thomas Aquinas in the same conversation. This would also be why I love university.

I feel like I've had a growth spurt over the past few months in terms of maturity and understanding my place in the world. I've got friends, actual friends who I can just hang out with for a few hours on a random Saturday evening, for the first time in...ever, really. The only other time I've had this level of comfort has been in relationships, but that wasn't healthy in and of itself because it was verging on co-dependent and only having that one person to have that comfort with, so when the relationship ended things were sort of messy for a bit.

They got better fairly quickly, though. Being in a different city surrounded by new and interesting people tends to do that, particularly when it was a relationship that I knew needed to end long before I actually ended it.

I should be doing homework, most definitely should be doing homework. I need to read the Prologue to Canterbury Tales and write character descriptions and it will be lovely but somewhat time-consuming which is unfortunate because it's Sunday and this weekend has flown by far too quickly for my liking.

I saw a poster up today advertising a self-care without self-injury six-week program thing at my university. I considered going to it, then realized that the number to call it was the same number used for counseling services on campus--a service which I already intend to use, so I feel like it would just be a pointless double-whammy of self-improvement.

"You're in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won't tell you that he loves you, but he loves you. And you feel like you've done something terrible, like robbed a liquor store, or swallowed pills, or shoveled yourself a grave in the dirt, and you're tired. You're in a car with a beautiful boy, and you're trying not to tell him that you love him, and you're trying to choke down the feeling, and you're trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you've discovered something you don't even have a name for." -- Richard Siken

I have blogs scattered across the internet, and I can never keep them up. The dying (dead) Myspace, an LJ...barely maintained, usually forgotten about.

I need somewhere to put everything in my head, otherwise it will just stay there and that doesn't bode well for me.

On the tangibles, I'm a first-year university student in Atlantic Canada. My mental state can be precarious, which seems to be my defining characteristic at present--at least, that's how I see it. I'm probably wrong on that count, but let's not delve into that just yet.


Words make me happy, and language stills my heart sometimes in a way that only words placed just. so. can do. I think this means I'm going to be an English major.

I'll probably just use this as some sort of record. I suppose a diary would be an apt term, except this is alarmingly public--in the interest of privacy, I think this is about the worst way to go about things. Yet here I am, so I'll make the best of it.

I kept diaries as a child, but they're illegible now, and far too angry for me to read with any sense of detachment at present. I was such a snot-nosed kid, I think.

My Philosophy class today involved a discussion of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. It made me happy.