yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away. today, they seem much closer.

I wrote a great post yesterday, about my geog exam, which was great, and lunch with my mom, and poetry, but it was eaten in a random server error, you instead y'all get today's groggy and minimalist commentary. I love stuff. I went to the marine club last night to the benefit for waxing poetic, and stayed out much later than I should have, given my exam scheduel and the fact that my reason for not attending a giant party last night was not wanting to be out late, but it's poetry, what can I say?

I'm goingto read crappy school poetry now, and muse over how dead it seems limply sprawled across the page, and my inability to care why it was so important for margart atwood to take on an alternate persona and attempt to plant her son like a flag. soul is one of those things that just belongs in poetry, despite that fact that this shit has none.

okay, public service announcement

because obviously one is needed. this blog is officially declared read at your own risk. content herein could be construed as offensive, should you chose to view it in such a way.

not another standard "yay canucks" blog

in fact, I won't lie, I'm hoping they get swept in round 2. That's right, swept. Why? Mostly to piss off all those people who really actually don't give the flyingist of fucks about hockey but have all of the sudden found a nice bandwagon they can hop effortlessly onto. I mean really, how many of these instant brand-new fuckface nucks fans actually watched before they heared they were on fire and virtually unbeatable? I'm not saying none, I'm just saying none of the ones who spent all night the night before last banging on shit on the corner of broadway and commercial, where I was forced to suffer though their pathetic and primative display amidst the anguish of a fresh post-insanely-long-polisci-final headache.

Screw the bandwagon. My chant for the next week (or weeks, should it *shudder* prove neccesary) is "choke clutier, choke clutier, choke clutier, choke" or alternatively "smash naslund, crush naslund, make naslund cry. check naslund, trip naslund, canucks go bye-bye". Yeah, okay, you can all jump on me abou thow evil Ireally am, but at least I haven't all of the sudden started identifying myself with something that I'd never before given a fuck about. I never said you had to like me.

In other news, despite the fact that no one will read this bit, having all been chased away and now wishing I was dead, I now only have three final exams remaining, and they are schedueled in such a way that I literally do not have a single spare second until Tuesday at 2 when I finish my last one. Oh well, there was nothing else I wanted to do other than studying, right? Oh wait, except moving and finding a job so I can continue to eat. shit. oh well. and as far as the move goes, if all continues on plan, it will occur on Saturday the 3rd of May.

emotional tourism

you know what I really don't need any more of in my life? emotional tourist relatives. those are the ones that are very happy to see you every year or so and coo with delight over how wonderful you are, and how beautiful and brilliant their family is without ever actually being willing to make any sort of contribution to their well being. out of sight, out of mind.news flash: if we are that wonderful, it is inspite of you, not because of you.

both my father and grandfather fall into this group. my grandfather has just been here for a visit, and he is a very interesting and loving person, and his current wife is certainly my favorite of his most recent few, but I do feel a bit dirty when forced to consider being related to someone who completely lacks a conscience. How many meals do you have to eat in your daughter's tiny basement suite around a coffee table (because a proper table won't fit) before you start to feel a bit sick going back to your big posh house on the lake, complete with your sailboat, shiny new suv, 40+ foot long rv, several atvs, and etc??

and then, we get to lister to YOU whine about being broke. yeah, I might break you... I mean jesus fuck, it's nice to see you and all, but to have you come here and take credit for a few days for how great we all turned out, but constantly refuse to make any sort of financial contribution to any aspect of their well being, even including sending your 16 year old granddaughter to a fantastic educational summer camp, or, as your wife suggested, buying me a microwave or something for a house warming present.

now, at this point, I do have to make the point that I don't especially care about money, and in fact I never have, but I do resent people taking credit for who I am without making any contribution towards my life, not even any sort of emotional commitment. you aren't interested in hearing about our problems or trials, let alone helping, so please realize that who I am is not something you should congratulate yourself on. on the contrary. I feel just a little exploited.

buh bye

another good reason to move out: so I will never again be abandoned by my mother to prepare our chaosville for the arrival of relatives. My grandpa is due to arrive anytime now. Thankfully, I have managed to wrangle the house into some semblance of order. now I'm just sleepy.

Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.

buy me

Job hunting is really quite a mind fuck. Hi, I'm inexplicably cheerful and really interested in doing all the crap you don't want to do for a meagre wage. Would you like boobs with that? Because yes, as you can see on my resume I have several years of customer service experience, but face it, we can both tell you think those are my biggest qualification for being allowed to serve food and booze to the classless morons who dump themselves into your pre-fab, psudo-cool, but utlimately generic 'bistro' every Friday night.

But on the other hand, I do need a job, to facilitate rent paying and all of the other wonderful bills life tends to accumulate. And one where I make tips would be good, right? I mean, kind of evil, given that how cute some dork thinks I am=how much money I get. Whoring, of a sort. But that's not ALL there is to it, right? Mostly people tips for good service, right? sigh. Well, I do need a job.

I have a new place to live come may 1st. It's beautiful. Given that it is a house, in due time it will be warmed, and now you've been warned.

On the other hand, I'm about to be on my way to write my political philosophy exam. Not quite so awsome. Hobbes is an asshole, Locke's insane, Bentham's a madman and Mill's a huge pain. sigh. If I had a fairy god mother, this'd be her time to shine. She could bibbity-bobbity bring me someone who actually understands retardedly convoluted 17th and 18th century english philosopherese on the first try. I mean seriously, do you have to put all the clauses before the subject?? oh why??

with a cat's body and my resources, I'd have no problem getting food

some conversations produce the best lines. I love people who can be silly with me. I have been crazy busy doing nothing and tons of crap at the same time. I spent a day or so hanging out with C after having spent an afternoon calling potential places to live, the activity which has also dominated my morning.

Spending time with C is what keeps me sane a lot of the time. We just hang out and it's very relaxing, playing games and eating, and going for sunshiney walks around the lake. Also, last night was dinner with the complete family posse at Artistico's -- yummy greek food. I realized my family talks about fictional characters as though they are people though.

A and I called about a zillion places on Thursday, and I phoned a half zillion more this morning. So far we are going to look at one tonight at 6 up by Elliot's place, and three tomorrow, plus whatever A has set up, so probably four or five, including one on Pender by the Drive, one on 8th by the Drive, on on Victoria around 25th, and maybe one up on Fraser near 25th. A good spread. And coming up next week, job hunting. After my big, nasty, evil political philosophy final that is. Not very exciting.

All in all, a lot is going on at once. I'm just trying to stay cool and not freak out and go 'whatthefuckamIdoing???!!!' and believe everything will work out fine.

I like drinking tequila in the woods

so long as I'm not the one who gets caught in the barbed wire (well really, there was a way around). My new roomate fell asleep on me on the bus ride home. I did not go out again later. I did show several people where the actual bouncy bushes are. Now, I'm going to find me a roof.

oh, there is an easy way!

so all these people keep telling me how infamously hard my english prof is supposed to be (shhhh don't tell him, he might stop giving me As) and I'm like, "He's not hard, he's letting me write a paper about POETRY!!! I mean really, poetry? That's nice". Oh, hey, wait, you mean as a poetry prof that's what he's SUPPOSED to do?? Oh my god! WHat have I been doing all this time??? Peotry papers are fun. I should have remembered this from my other English class last term -- ENGLISH PAPERS ARE FUN! They are like a picnic on a sunny day, at least compared to the other piles of grueling crap they make me do in poli sci and geog. All I have to do for ENglish (essentially) is interpret things, and I AM GOOD AT THAT! (see how enthusiastic i am today!) I don't have to do research (trust me, looking up a few critical views etc. is not research compared to trying to find out just what type of international sysytem we have) and, well in general, it's just more fun. Literature is just not depressing like reality is. This is my easiest paper since my last English paper!

Dude, there is an easy way!

but maybe one little problem, and maybe that's why I won't major in the fun-paper department: because then if I want to do my masters or something later, I'd have to do it there too, and that'd make my remove my eyeballs with matchsticks.

I am not dead, just busy and tired

I am still writing my last paper, which due to class-wide extensions handed out my most merciful poetry teacher, is due tomorrow. and it's already well under way and going along nicely. But it has been keeping me busy, along with all the other crap there is to do around end of term. But it's all almost done.

I am still preparing to move and find a job, starting later this week as soon as classes end. Must seek gainful employment... and home furnishings. yeah, good stuff.

I have to admit that as usual when I'm intensely busy, the only one who's really been seeing my is C who was been my rockthrough the storm. You know, the usje. And I'll be back from the brink of madness soon.