dirty little whirlwind, i'm pinned to the heart of your swirl.
DISCLAIMER: this is a personal blog (i just want to write about my life 😭) and does not necessarily reflect the views, opinions or perspectives of my employer or church.
this is a short story from some book i read. i don’t care what you say. it’s hilarious.
okra winfrey rushed to the hospital.
“your husband’s been creamed,” dr. beets told her.
okra was boiling mad.
“can’t you do any butter?!” she screamed.
“quiet peas! he’s in the operating room now!” said the nurse, who was steamed herself.
“here he comes!”
“well?”
“success! he’ll be a vegetable the rest of his life.”
you can’t honestly be blaming me for feeling how i feel. it’s not my fault my blood runs the way it does. the air i breathe fills my lungs with god knows what, but it’s not good for me if it makes me think of you.
however, this doesn’t mean i’ll just stop breathing; i won’t let you take my breath away.
no worries though. i’m not in love with you; i just like the way you make me laugh. and i think it’s pretty sexy when you drop a beat. and you know what? i think that secretly, deep down, you like the way i jive to your rhythm. and the sparks that fly when we go with the flow.
i can’t look into your eyes without cracking a smile anymore; i can’t decide whether this is good or bad. but it’s okay, i guess.
i like to smile, and i’m brave enough to not avoid your gaze.
so bring it on; stares and laughs and beats and all.
i’m sitting in mary’s science fiction class at the u of t as i type this.
she’s slightly angry that i keep raising my hand and i’ve only answered two questions (although my hand has been up for pretty much all of them). the professor spent three minutes trying to get my name.
i’m that kid who never shuts up and i don’t even go to this school.
my ‘classmates’ are all very quiet (silence seems to be a sign of maturity) and none of them have made an impression on me.
but it’s okay. i’m having fun while i’m here since i’m never going to be in this class again.
well…at least until my actual school year ends.
i’ll take part in the post-june portion of the course. maybe i’ll even join her for her course on ‘literature of our time.’
it’ll be like i’m already in university; a little taste to make me hungry for the meal.
maybe it’ll motivate me?
midnight pancakes made at mary’s.
drizzled in (fail) homemade whipped cram, ‘100% pure maple syrup’ and ‘chocolate fantasy body topping.’
There’s a sort of spinning in my head right now. Nothing is in focus; nothing has meaning for long. But I can see light somewhere; then again, there are also spots of darkness. They intermingle with one another, playing off of the weakness they spot in their opposite.
But you’re focused on something more obscene than that. There’s a little bit of time before you have to explain everything. Let’s make the most of it? Please? A tidal wave of tears will wash us away one day, and it will leave us cold in open air, naked and broken.
In this chill, they will cry for us; they will beg us to relent, but we will not. Strong and absolute, we will approach, our torches held up high, the fire light illuminating the grotesque masks our faces have become.
‘Adorn us with a new hope!’ they will cry.
And we will laugh in their faces.
butter tart + chai latte = best thing ever.
today started off all backwards.
i went to work thinking i had a shift at 9 am when really i didn’t. it was more of a relief than an annoyance, since i live about five minutes away from where i work. it was an easy job to go back home and back to sleep.
a few hours later, i met up with liz and we had coffee at jimmy’s (but only after trekking through howling, merciless winds, liz shielding the fancypants hairdo she had done for a high society event later in the evening). the barista was pretty cool and joined in on our conversation on vegetarianism (he happened to be vegan himself). other topics of conversation included my plans to start an out-and-proud lesbian organization at my all boys school (imagine the humour), eating art (it’s actually called eating art – you study the ways people eat) and general life, complete with love and loss.
i also had a pretty good butter tart.
we left at around 4 p.m. and the first half of my walk home was fine. the rain from earlier in the day had cleared up and florence and the machine’s ‘between two lungs’ was playing in my ears.
then it began storming; torrents of rain came out of nowhere. swift and strong, the drops kept coming until i was completely soaked and angry at the world. i was so close to escaping the storm; i’d be at my house in a couple of minutes.
the light changed to green and as i crossed the street, some tall young man came up to me and said,
‘would you like to share an umbrella?’
he had a french accent and the umbrella was pretty big, so i said yes.
my tragic suffering and pathetic slouch in the rain must’ve pulled at his heartstrings.
he walked me to my house, where i said goodbye and headed for the back door.
i never got his name, but now he knows where i live…
click the link.
reading this article got me thinking about the mysteries of the world.
i’ve always been interested in ancient civilizations and how they function. it’s a curious fascination. i keep hearing about how they had technology far beyond what we previously believed to be impossible for that time period. i once heard that members of a certain ancient civilization (the specifics escape me) were able to perform perfect brain surgery.
how does technology like that get lost as time passes by only to be rediscovered generations later? we dig up ancient artifacts and are forced to wonder: are we really so advanced?
sometimes i believe that these ancient civilizations were far ahead of where we are now. i see news of these inexplicable artifacts and think to myself, ‘they knew something we don’t know.’
they knew what was up.
a friend of mine made this.
i guess it sums up my school life pretty well.
the stars – your ex-lover is dead
it’s an old song, but it still gets me.
i am digging my heels into the ground tonight and telling myself enough is enough.
this has gone too far. everything has become ridiculous. how did i even end up here? five years ago, i wouldn’t have thought it possible. five years ago, i liked who i was.
there is a darkness that wants to claim me, but i will whisk it away with a flick of my hand. i will do the claiming here; and after i have mastered it, i will keep it locked away somewhere deep inside my heart, because it’s not something you can so easily destroy. it is a part of me.
it will linger, but i will tame it; better than pretending it isn’t there. i can admit that i’m hurting now. i can stop saying everything is fine, because it’s not. you have to face the things that hurt you (even when they come from somewhere inside yourself) and show them you won’t take it anymore. hold your head up high, stand firm on your ground and prove them wrong.
these tragedies that i have spun over and over inside my head – i refuse to use them as an excuse any longer. they are not going to be the strings that hold my life together.
i am no puppet; it’s high time i start to take control.
did this in class the other day.
oh how i love taking notes.
Amelia was a thin girl. She was a girl who never ate, not because she wanted to be skinny or because the media was telling her not to, but because she never felt hungry. Ever. Around the middle of the night, she would hear her brother go down for his midnight snack and wonder to herself, ‘what’s so great about food?’
Whenever her family went to a restaurant, she would order a slice of cheese. And as they dug into to their various meals, she would watch without a trace of envy, but with a look of disgusted awe.
‘Sweety, don’t you want anything more to eat?’ her mother would ask, honey dripping from her voice.
It was at that point that she would excuse herself, get up, walk to the bathroom and hide herself away in one of the stalls, where she would read a book that she had hidden in her purse until it was time for dessert.
When she’d come back to the table, she would catch her family rubbing their bellies and laughing hysterically; for some reason, they always found an excuse to laugh. She’d stare at them through half-lidded eyes, take her seat and play with her slice of cheese while the rest of them burped and attacked their cakes and puddings and chocolate mousse.
And as they laughed and enjoyed themselves, she hated them for it. She didn’t understand why they were so happy all the time, and she hated what she could not understand. On the car ride home, she’d stare out the window. If it was raining she’d listen to the pitter-patter of the drops against the car. If it was not, she would fall asleep.
Her dreams were the only place she ever ate.
Her dreams were the only place she ever wanted to.
me: so what did you do with ____ tonight?
friend: we ordered sushi and didn’t have sex.
me: oh wow. food and celibacy. best of both worlds right there.
i get really angry at strangers when they’re being rude.
and then i voice my opinions, which may not always be the best idea…
