Virus

I think .exe must have had a virus, thus rendering his programmed-self temporarily incapacitated by...feelings! Nothing else could explain yesterday's smileys, kisses and flowers at 4:14pm and then sad faces and sighs at 4:56pm. Come on, stop dicking around. When you want something, when you neeeed it, you get off your ass and get it!
Meanwhile, I am happily dipping my nib in other inkwells (or is it the inverse?!) and realizing that maybe waiting for the impossible for the sake of a few bells and whistles just isn't worth it. Maybe there is something better out there...whatever odd packaging it may happen to come in.

Endless

Surprise Surprise! Mr .exe has just turned into a real-life human with real-life needs and feelings. He has come to the conclusion that his life as a mortal cannot be denied or altered (at least for the time being, he still holds out hope for the future), and that he should just make the best of it. Now, could this be a real change, due to some transcendental or mystical revelation from the Beyond, or am I just being fooled by a temporary state of boredom on his part (TV just ain't doing it for him?)

Knee deep in Keisler, I am once again struck by this image of his Endless House, and how it seems so à propos to my situation...

You have to close one book in order to open another, right? How come I am reading two at the same time?! Because I instigated it, that is why...silly me had to go send .exe a gratuitous 'declarative' email. I was really not expecting anything from this...I just had to let it out, tell him how I felt, confront him with the fact that I was still in love with him, throw my emotions in his face, and test t(his) limit in order to surpass (ie overcome) it. But see, the expected break point (ie him running like the wind or telling me to fuck off) did not happen, and he responded to my provocation with similar 'affections' (if we can call them that in MSN). Totally unconclusive an experiment, further tests are required. Now I will have to go for coffee or 'something' with .exe... Hmm, this could be dangerous...

Outbox

Don't get me wrong. Not many people amaze me, in the sense that not many people surprise me, consistently. And those small moments when you turn around and look at the person next to you in total stupefaction (and not simply blinded love) are quite powerful. Maybe you don't get weak at the knees or feel a shiver, but you don't expect anything of the likes from them anyways. And suddenly, you see right through them. And you usually like what you see.
When will I surrender, I wonder....

Inbox

I woke up to my phone ringing - incoming text message. It said 'Moi en amour!". I of course knew who it was from, what it referred to, and even what it feels like to send such a message. I was jubilant for my friend... And, soon after, I found myself wishing I was in the same predicament, thus realizing that if I felt that need, I was not in the same predicament. Then thoughts of when I was last in love flooded me; I played along, re-enacting how great it felt.

[It does not help that, by chance, last night I cleaned out my text messages, revisiting and carefully keeping my textual love story intact]

So, this morning, I sent an email telling .exe (that is how I shall call him, I like the comparision to an executable file) that I was still in love with him. Probably a mistake, but probably matters can't really get worse. Status quo.

A general nostalgia for that feeling, that being in love has come over me... I want to be twitterpated? Yes, that was the word j e n n so aptly re-hashed... But, have I myself turned into an .exe file, going along with the pre-programmed motions? And I know what being in love is, but is it necessarily a pre-requisite for love?

This type of questioning requires more coffee, and a return to my readings...

Revenge of the Zits

Well, I can't hide it outside when things are stirring inside. I also can't eat crap and think I will get away with it, since I am obviously not part of the 'blessed ones'. True, my body has been getting prime goods for over a year, so it's normal that it reacts VERY badly to any type of trashy food (and by trashy, I mean what is 'normal' to most people!).
Alas, my body has decided to spew all evil in the shape of multiple zits (reminiscent of pre-teen years way back when...). I could call it a rash and maybe come out looking like the poor victim of some bad allergic reaction, but I will own up to my recent trashiness and admit that this is a full-fledged zit attack (and rightfully so!). To make matters worse, of course, my inner-child has the awful reflex to play and poke with these monsters and make my face look even MORE hideous (now THIS is 'grotesque' 21st century-style!). Way to usher in Spring...good work, isa, really, proud of myself here...CRAP!

*Body Update* beep, bee-bee-bee-beeeeeeep
I just finished an emergency splinterectomy...Damn wooden armrest in the Rare books library, grrr!

You know its Spring when...

- The terrasses are bounding with people for the very first time
- You play hooky (I had a very good reason, something important to attend to)
- Mitts and a tuque seem out of place
- Taking a wlak becomes an activity, not a long, hard task to get from point A to B
- You can roll with the car window open a crack
- Life seems to take a different beat and you take things as they come

Shedding her skin

...went to visit my fetish building day before last. She threw a hissy fit, smashed up her windows, threw down the a/c unit that was annoying her, and opened her door wide open...I feel she (oh, yes, definitely a gal, probably her time o' the month) wants me to come in and have a peek. My first urban exploration of abandoned building may soon happen! (Took pics with amazing cam...rather happy, soon to be uploaded)

The burb blues

I'm sort of stuck in between in-betweens right now...not sleeping in my own bed (umm, housesitting!), swaying to and fro with a car filled with books, camera, products, industrial debris, and clothes acting as my ambulant home. My schedule-scratchings seems to change constantly... and I feel totally disconnected because I am, well, often disconnected (no internet access). I just seem to not be able to spend too much time in one place, since I will need to run elsewhere, and when I am finally at my destination, I find myself unable to complete a task since I am utterly destabilized (and should I be elsewhere?)
I love my routine...oh, and I miss it!

A few of my favorite things...

- The song 'Favorite things' , preferably the Julie Andrews version (I know, I know...)
- Waking up slowly, lazing around in bed, getting a massage with a heat pack
- Starbucks' latte with 2 sweet n' lows (caramel muffin optional)
- Not looking more than 5 minutes for parking right smack downtown
- A master plan (schedule for day) that actually works
- Driving a car like a madwoman on a sunshiny day, blasting music and singing so loud that if the window was open, I might actually sound like an ambulant one-woman Canadian Idol show.
- Having a digital camera, taking pics of windows and decrepit old things
- Feeling the creative juices flowing
- Being the carefree master of my domain (or not feeling, for once, overwhelmed)
- Picking up neat pieces of industrial debris
- Having a car to schlep and store industrial debris in (and basically anything else heavy/cumbersome/annoying that we will never know when we may need)
- Wearing sunglasses
- Wearing shoes out for the first time after a long winter
- Road trips
- Doing laundry
- Blogging silly thoughts...

Well, I have experienced all of these today (except dear Julie Andrews) and its only 2:30. Kickass!

I got da fever for the flavour of a Kinder

Eating my typical 'lazy' breakfast in front of comp and a neat thought comes to mind: Spring is almost here! Now, of course, this means warm weather (yeah!), light clothes (Yeah! Note to self, stop binging!), and a general thawing of the city as a whole...it also means tons of new people (and who am I kidding, by people I mean men) coming out of hibernation! Honestly, have you ever noticed that in the Spring, a slew (love that word) of people just seem to pop out of nowhere, as if bussed or flown in from the lands of the Beautiful and Interesting, or even, as if they were planted in the Fall and harvested in secret nurseries in the country (to not name some lame place like Alma, or something), all for the benefit of a Spring extravaganza! Spring after Spring, I walk along the more popular streets in town, now crowded, and just wonder:"Where do these people come from? Where were they this winter?"
This is a totally evil thought considering my present situation, and me stalling a something* with the somebody who wants to start a something. Utterly misplaced, shame on me! ~slaps hand~ But, I can't ignore that this is a pretty good indicator of my state of mind (bounce, bounce, bounce).
LET THERE BE SPRING!
[*Note: According to Kiesler, love can be defined by a single word: Surrender. He then qualifies it unnecessarily as unconditional surrender. Been there, done that, now what?]

*clearing throat*

All I have to say, since I should really return to my readings, is that this afternoon, my mind was as tousled as my bed, that my appetite these days is immense, I somehow always forget to put deo recently, and despite alot of craziness, and the fact that I have not even set foot out-of-doors today (I love spelling that this way) since I am so swamped with school and running behind schedule, I am living. Ok, maybe not the life of a jet-set socialite or volatile funny-girl. And I still am at home on a Saturday night in jogging pants inhaling reversed decadent cookies and herbal tea, incessantly checking MSN for a heartbeat (when will I learn that this is an evil dwelling?). In a rebound/'tween situation men-wise (which, for me, is 'jamais-vu'), I may decide to spew juicy details of this at some point... but for now, no more cookies, so I will bid you adieu!

The story of me

I have arrived at a smashing conclusion. Here I am, force-reading the 573-page journal of a Austrio-American Surrealist architect, taking mini-breaks from his intensive jaunts among the New York socialites in order to hunch in front of my computer and read snippets of the company bitch's blog (see previous entry). And now, I realize that my blog basically sucks.

So, then, what is the purpose of my blog? Because so far, it seems to have been a few cute or inane facts, pretty pics, and wayyyy too many cryptic/abstract/sentimento-babble blurbs. Now I wonder, who gives a crap about that? Who even, aside from me, understands it? Obviously not my great audience (all what, 3 of you? 4 maybe?), which usually ends up asking me: "Are you ok? I read your blog...what was that about?"

So, I'm thinking about this in a new manner. I think I will embrace my audience (group hug!) and look at the weaving of a story, the story of me, as shared with you (my bored friends). I'm also thinking that, if I am good enough at this, I may succeed in being the blog version of 90210 in Turks& Caïcos...you know, conquer the world one tiny island at a time! (visions of blue men gossiping about my latest PMS outbursts dance through my head: "Mais sé qwa ça? El-lai foooole ce-tuh mah-dah-muh! Dis-mwa qwa d'ote ella fait?"

There you are, you can thank Kiesler and a random bitch for blogs to come... Just give me a bit of time to get used to this new power!

The Company Bitch

I am now totally addicted to this woman's blog, which I found by pure chance. She is like the Bridget Jones of the internet, and a great read.
Although I COULD write blogs of a similar nature, I'm afraid the funny (good) ones would end up incriminating a slew of people in my immediate surroundings, whether they be good friends or just 'acquaintances'... I have not yet surpassed my internet shyness to the point of blogging, umm, let's say for example, my 'pyjama party' at a guy's place and coming home the next morn with a green face. For example. I have some inner debating to do. It seems my blogging persona would greatly benefit from such boldness... Until then, I will stick to the musings of my new blogging mentor...

and I haven't changed either, really

Now, I find myself in your shoes, understanding more than ever that imbalance, and how it must have felt. The person who can dive in with reckless abandon is the lucky one, everything is magical to them and they need not ask questions.

Some things never change...

...like that string. Il sort d'un rebord éffilloché. Ohhhh, c'est tellement tentant de le tirer! Le plus que je joue avec, que je l'entortille lentement autour de mon index, le plus que le fil danse le long du rebord, zigzag et se faufile; il se fait un plaisir exquis de se défaire de son emprise et de venir se tourner autour de mon doigt. Mesmerised by this playful dance, I did not see that I was being unweaved, qu'un tout est lentement démantibulé en torchon. Le fil sourit, le mesquin.

Vaut mieux ne plus toucher au fil, ne pas le tirer. Je fais un noeud au rebord, un autre, encore un autre noeud, et je coupe le surplus. Encore une autre portion de plus décousue. Bientôt, plus rien ne tiendra ensemble. Fini. I'm moving on. That selfish string is content with unravelling, and has no will to mend.

[I'm reading a rather poignant text by F. Kiesler (Inside the Endless House), about correlation and the infinite links of the universe, and how being a one-man world is to revolt against cosmic laws and fate...too long to discuss here, I would paraphrase 3 entire pages of his poem on St.-Francis of Assisi if I could, but it seems perfectly situated in my present context]

Standby

No one deserves to be put on standby... we all deserve more. Often, we put ourselves in that position, grasping to some tiny string and hoping we will feel a tug. But then, I guess you realize you look pretty lame, just standing there, holding a piece of limp string. And either you can pull some of the slack string and make noose for yourself (oh no, and what if the tug were to come at this moment!), or you can just set the string down, and walk away for a bit. The free string probably won't slip away, unless its pulled in from the other end. And maybe the tugger will even be surprised to see that it is slack, that there is no one at the other end holding it patiently. I don't know what would happen then. Guess it depends on what the tugger wants. He might have to cast a string of his own, and hope that now I tug back. I probably would. I might not. All I know is that I have put my end of the string down for a bit, because I looked ridiculous holding a limp piece of string.

Chercher trop loin ou trop proche

Between looking too far for qualities or too close for faults, what is the happy medium? Faults that can be overlooked, you say? Well, I am often willing to overlook quite a bit, for the sake of a feeling. But what if that feeling still isn't enough? I'm so confused...

We will be closer than we appear

[Since I am part of your daily routine now]

I wish you the very best, will miss you immensly. Travel light, dear friend.

"Thought is bodiless"

A nice idea, a great motto. We should not let thoughts poison our health, nor should our health contaminate our thoughts. These are two very different things, like chicken and peas...
I feel better already.

Ne pas plier

I received a diploma by the mail yesterday. Another one. I don't quite know what to do with all these fancy pieces of paper. They tend to just stay against a cardboard, squeezed into a large envelope that has the words 'Ne pas plier' printed on it. This is the third one. I need to either think of a solution other than the envelope, or stop receiving fancy pieces of paper...

slow, an overused word

Things are just going so fast these days, and my body is pleading me to stop. Confused, not knowing what is day, what is night, what is right or wrong, what is pain or soothing, I hear it screech and complain, grind and force. And for some reason, some days, I don't want to listen, I block my ears with my hands and sing 'la lala lala'. At the same time, the constant high-pitched noise it emits seems to provide the company I need, the excuse I can furnish to explain why...why some days, I have to put everything aside to just to lie there and hear it scream, because that is all I can do.

sick n' tired of ebing sick n' tired

Well, an odd sickness has taken over my body. and seems to be lingering. But am I just sick, exhausted, overwraught? Or is it laziness? Depression? Fed up with school? A postponed Spring Break (since my Spring Break was far from a break)? Well, whatever it is, it is taking its time to rear its ugly head, and I think I would rather it just hit me than play hide and seek... I just had an obscene amount of Jell-O (my insides must be rasberry-red), so that should help.