and how does it feel? to be on your own, with no direction home.

i hate that panicky feeling.

when it sets in, it's almost like you're powerless to the feelings it washes over you,

you try to resist, but pity is such a comfortable warm place to be,

self loathing is like an electric blanket,

sadness, fear, hatred; they're pillows.

so you sit in your nest of poetic disgrace,

and you like it.

and it's sucking the life out of you,

but you're powerless, without control.

did you know, that during early childhood developement, extreme emotional trauma can lead to brain malfunction later on in life? specifically, the brain of a healthy emotionally adjusted child is able to release it's own biodiazepanes, which regulate anxiety.

but the unlucky child, the child who starves for the parental attunement so necessary for healthy developement? she is left with a brain unable to regulate it's own anxiety. not only emotionally, is she in a million peices, but biologically she is at a great disadvantage. did you also know, that said unlucky children, are also 200% more likely to become addicted to drugs and or alcohol?

lucky lucky lucky

it is weird, that birth, life, it's all an accident. you end up who you are, by some chance of fate. or, for the skeptics of this universe, just because. it's weird. everything decided, just like that.

children are the most innocent of all, it is true. i do not say this with a lovely ribbon wrapped around the ideal of puppies and kittens and a softly easter-coloured nursery with melodic lullabies floating through the air, emanating the true serenity that is our children.

i say it with bitterness.
i say it because, when  things happen to a child, when they experience negative things in their young lives, they don't understand. they can't comprehend what is happening to them. they can't fathom the weight of situations far beyond their comprehension. they don't understand. and it isn't fair, for any parent to put the weight of their burden on to a child like that.

they don't get it.

and then nineteen years later they're a wreck and cursing their very existence. for things they didn't deserve, didn't ask for, didn't want, and certainly would not have chosen. and then that child, has it's own burden. and they take a long fucking time to get rid of.

'Cause I fell in love with the girl at the rock show

When friendships die, it is sad. It is like mourning a person, but it's harder because the person you're mourning is still alive. It is even harder, when you don't have any control over the situation; when you didn't do anything wrong.

I am really, really upset. I put on the facade of anger, and everything thinks i'm coping fine and accepting that she is a bitch, an idiot, whatever. But I am upset. Because she was my best friend.

And now, she has a man. I don't know if he deserves the title of man, but at twenty it's his legal status. I loooooooooooooooooooooooooved him at first. Absolutely adored him. We got along great, we share the same sense of humour, the same ideals about no bounds on the conversation, the same straightforward attitude about dealing with people, and the same hatred of the intellectually challenged. We got along swimmingly to say the very least.

But he is an excellent actor. He is a master of manipulation. He had me fooled, for months. January until June? And I am not easily fooled: I pride myself on being a good judge of character, and I honestly thought he was an excellent guy, and a great person for her.

She goes to a different university than I do, but he goes to mine too. We never hung out all that much but we were amiable, we liked each other, we knew it would become a better friendship. She came to my university probably more than I even know, since she never really called.

The first weekend she came, it was intended for it to be her and I weekend, planned before she knew him. It basically turned into her weekend with him. I wasn't angry; I had my own life going on, and I was happy for her after being screwed around by so many guys. I wanted to see their relationship grow so I went with it, gave it my blessing and let the weekend become about them: they were a new couple, in that lusty stage and I completely understood it.

There were more weekends, I should've seen it then, when I, going through some major major stuff, needed her, told her I needed her, even if for one meal, and didn't get her. Didn't get her when she travelled to the mainland, to the university where I was, to ONE BUILDING away, and she couldn't find the time to see me. I was angry, but ready to forgive. We talked about it, it was over. I won't lie and say that that didn't still bother me: it should've been my wake-up call that to her boyfriend, however much he liked me and this and that, he did not see me as a permanent fixture in her life. I wasn't of priority to him, and she acts to this day on his priorities.

And then, summer. They move in together. At this point they've been dating.. Four months maybe? At first it's great. I go over a lot, we have really fun times. I notice though, the way he talks to her. The way she is HIS woman. The way there is an incredibly misogynistic sexist power-relationship existing between the two. I ignore it, think that it is me reading too much into things, and let it go. I love the boyfriend, he is hilarious to me, we get along so well, and so I go on thinking everything is fine, that the comments he makes to her are maybe justified, or that he is simply kidding[he uses this one a lot].

And then he comes to work with me. And we have a BLAST. But I notice some things. I notice that his favourite topic to discuss is his girlfriend. I notice it's always negative. He discusses how he and I have a good thing going, a good trust relationship. He bashes her. Sometimes I join in, when I think it's true, sometimes I say nothing, sometimes I try to explain.
"She is not good at picking friends"
"She is not good at dealing with anything"
"She has never lived in the real world"
"Everything has always been handed to her"
"She's not the smaaartest person out there"
"It takes her awhile to understand things"
Etc.
You get the point. At first I thought it funny. And then it becomes about what fight they've had this day, and that day, and how irritated he is with her about this and that and the next thing. And then it seems like he is always irritated with her about something. And then it becomes about her and I's group of friends, and how each one of them is incredibly flawed, about how she probably doesn't care about any of them anyway, about how they're all a memory to her. And slowly everything became about how He, was just so much better than Her.

And this is when I began to see him slowly assert control over her.

He discussed how he talks to her parents about her, how they organize "interventions" to talk to her about being over-emotional, or this, or that. He discusses with a tinge of pride mixed with arrogance about how he can talk to her mother about her and they can actually fix things.

But above all, what bothered me the most, was what he said about a girl who had bashed her into the ground and purposely tried to sabotage their relationship in the beginning: A slut named Starla. Starla loooved the boyfriend, but did not admit it until he was already with the girlfriend(my former best friend). He told me, all in confidence, about how Starla had bashed the girlfriend into the ground. Called her fat, stupid, ugly, and unworthy. He gloated, and told me that it made him feel good to have someone as goodlooking as Starla like him, and try to pursue him. He also told me that he'd wished he met the Girlfriend just a month later, so that he could've banged Starla a couple of times. Apparently, the girlfriends legs did not compare to those of Starla's.

And then he and I had a fight. A big fight. And I called him out on everything I believed him to be. Self involved, Narcissistic, Mildly Misogynistic and an Asshole. And that is when everything changed. We made up, apologized, but I didn't mean it. I think he thinks we're good, but I don't, because I haven't seen the girlfriend basically since the fight. She doesn't return my calls, I rarely talk to the boyfriend at work, and I know that it is done.

It is so sad to me, because I don't know what is going on. He is such an incredibly negative person: he is his own worst enemy. My biggest fear, and I think it to be true, is that he is bringing her down with him. It breaks my heart to think it, but it doesn't matter. Anything I could ever say to her would fall on deaf ears. He would pronounce me a liar, a bitch, jealous, ugly, whatever he could come up with. Like I said before, he is a master of manipulation, and she is under his thumb.

There is nothing I can do. It is not a very nice feeling.

Goodbye LMB. I love you so much, I really hope you see before it's too late.

i don't want to be no man's woman

Everything sucks. Still.

Except now I have a date, that I am actually excited about, with someone who is charming and sweet and intelligent and makes me laugh. He's kinda nerdy, on the quieter side before you get to know him. He's a darling, i'm glad I got to know him.

It's difficult to be home though. My mother is great; we get along. But my seventeen year old sister has become intensely self-involved, and all she does is take the car and abuse my mother until she gets what she wants. My fifteen year old sister is just immature; she hasn't changed, and it makes it difficult to relate to her when her thinking is so.... juvenile, I guess.

Call me pretentious, but I find it hard to relate to people who aren't at the same level of intelligence as I am.

The X is a prick. He hasn't called. He should've three days ago. I'm over it.

I'm over this life!

what ravages of spirit, conjured this temptuous hate?

i am home.
for the summer.
also, miserable.

not in love now, not anything now.
cold with disappointment, cold with my own inability to feel.

at least, we have a place to live in september.

even if, in september, everything is different.

i have three dates this week. with three different men. i am hoping this will help my cause.

even though i could give a damn if i saw any of these three again. i will try.

it's time for me to grow up.
and blow away?
i would certainly like to be far, far away from here.

You move me, With your buildings and your eyes, Autumn woods and winter skies, You move me

You know what? I am in a bad fucking mood.
I am so incredibly tired of childish antics, it's unbelievable.
I am tired of people who can't communicate.
I am tired of people who use me.
I am tired of people who are literally stupid.
I am tired of people who can't tell their face from their ass.



Most of all, I am very tired of being in love.
I just can't stand it, even for another second, I will scream.



I'm tired of all these thoughts inside my head.

how i wish you were here, we're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year

I always get this overwhelming feeling that I wasn't meant to be living in the era that I am.

Why is it that everything I love so much, that I hold such in high regard, is all so in the past?

I have my weird attachment/admiration for Trudeau. He's dead.
And there's William Butler Yeats, my absolute favourite poet. Dead too.
Jesus Christ, He was someone I wish I had of known in my lifetime[although spiritually I absolutely do know him, so I don't know if this is a fair example, but it furthers my argument.]
Annnd of course, the inspiration for writing this post:
I am absolutely for my entire lifetime in love with Pink Floyd. They are amazing, stunning, incredible, mind-blowing. I have never in my entire life been so musically fulfilled.

And they will likely NEVER tour again together. And even if they did, Roger Waters is old, and his voice is not what it once was. I saw his Dark Side of the Moon tour, and although a spiritual experience it truly was, he is old.

David Gilmour is still amazing live though, and he IS the by far the more talented of the two[you can see which side of the Pink Floyd "wall" I sit on.

Anyways, to end my tangent, I will never see them live. I will never get to experience it.

It's just another one of those things that was before me and not meant for me, I guess.

There just isn't that much out there that I take alot away from these days.
I am so dissatisfied.

And I don't want the world to see me, Cause I don't think that they'd understand.

A new year.
A new major.
Things are going really well.
Except that spiritually, I am dwindling.
I need fulfillment[from God.]
I do not know how to seek it; my previous means are unavailable to me now.

I live in such a constrictive secular world. Everyone looks at the architecture of Simon Fraser and comments on it's likeness to a prison. I fight the comments, I like the "Brutalism", it is unique, and it is art. The irony of my arguing about how much it isn't a prison, is that to me, it is. It is a secular prison, full of people who do not believe anything and are inspired by nothing except for a means to in the future make money.

I think most disturbing in recent days, was a conversation that I had with a very close friend. He and I will be living together next year with a couple of our mutual friends, and we are very close; I enjoy his friendship and company immensely and we get along really well, we have great chemistry. But I was very deeply shaken when he told me that in his entire life, he has never prayed. Ever.

Now, this is not a Christianity plug. He is Jewish, I accept this fully of course, I am not a zealot for my religion, and I believe there are many different ways to get close to God...sortof the "many faces of God" belief. But regardless, he has never, ever prayed to "his" God. He has never ever surrendered himself to the idea that their is a someone above us, above everything, who cares about us, who wants us to succeed, who wants to be the one we tell things. I think it really gave me some clarity as to the real truth of the situation I am in. I am surrounded by non-believers. I do not judge them because of this--although secretly I do worry a little for them--but it is truly a depressing state of affairs. I do not think I am weak to need to believe in God, to need to be close to God. I think I am strong, in that I can surrender myself to something so much bigger than I am, and admit my weaknesses and pray for further strength.

I do not understand those who do not have this same need.
Right now, my need is very great.
And I have no one, I feel so distanced from God.
I feel very alone.

and i know what i must do tomorrow

So I got my lip pierced.
To me, it symbolizes my transition from Highschool to University.
The whole new experience thing.
I have an entire life outside of my proverbial fishbowl.
Not only that, but this life is such a marked improvement.
Most of what I hated about things in Highschool no longer exists here.

Instead, i've learned a load of things to hate about university.

I truly thought(and with my idiotically idealogical mind, how could I not of) that University was this magical place of intellectual growth and coffee houses and professors who are passionate about their subjects and dedicated to filling our minds with worldly knowledge.

It's a mess. It's a big massive brainwashing machine. It's a beaurocracy. It's a corporation. It cares about my GPA and nothing else. I am a number, one of 24,000 to be exact.

The worst sting, though, I think comes from the fact that SFU when it opened, was this socialist-rioters haven, it was considered a dangerous lefty school with progressive profs and students who had zeal for something.

SFU still wants people to believe it exists in such a liberal fashion. It doesn't. It contracts it's cafeteria services out to Chartwells, an evil american cafeteria-service corporation. They serve overpriced extremely low quality food. SFU barely has recycling, as well as ZERO organic recycling. The workers in the Chartwell's facilities are inept. All of the cleaning staff who take care of Residence are immigrants, and I note this not because of them, but because it glaringly represents to me the inequality we still live with. The coloured folk are still cleaning up after the rich and disrespectful white schoolchildren.

Jesus Christ.
If indeed he does exist, would not appreciate what SFU is.
It's a hypocritical piece of shit, and although I am so, so grateful for the friends I have met, I am just as dissatisfied as I ever have been in terms of my place in society, as well as the institution I serve.

Such is life.
I have so much faith in everything, by default.
And everything is so fucked. By default.

her profession is her religion, her sin is her lifelessness

Well it's been a quite a bit of time since i've written on this thing. I doubt anyone even reads it anymore; not that anyone ever did. Haha.

I live on the mountain now at SFU. Rarely do I have a moment alone except at night time now, but I really am enjoying it. I've met some great people, with similar priorities to myself(like "FSU"). I missed the island dreadfully at first but i've gotten into the swing of things now, and as long as i'm on the mountain it's really quite peaceful.

Classes will be amazing. I love my professors. Finally, really and truly intelligent people teaching.

Other than that, not really much to report on. Weekends start Thursday night. Alcohol, Mary-Jane and Debauchery go hand in hand in Residence on weekends, and I am soaking it up like a sponge. It is a nice life to have. I feel comfortable to be eighteen now, where atleast in the drunken stupor people still use words like hedonistic and pretentious and cumbersome and unfathomable. It is a lovely change from the word Fuck, let me tell you.

xo
Sinead

i've seen your flag on the marble arch, but love is not a victory march, and it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah.

You know that feeling when there was just someone you just NEEDED to know, but now you can't know them because they're dead?

This is how I feel about Trudeau.

It's this like sick emotional longing feeling like I really needed to know him. Which ofcourse is impossible and even would have been-- I was only 11 years old when he died. I cried, I already knew who he was, i'd already read a biography. And thus the obsession began, my own little Trudeau-mania. But sometimes obsessivity can make you feel sick.

And now I feel sick.

I hate feeling helpless, it's the most frustrating feeling, and yet here I am, feeling it, lamenting as to why I couldn't have been Margaret Sinclaire! I think I should've been her. A flower child married to a much older man in a position of liberal political power? It's what should be the story of MY life damnit!

But there is one conclusion I draw from this as well as from all my likes and dislikes. I should've been born long before I was. I am an old soul. I would rather stay home and discuss Yeats, listen to Bob Dylan and contemplate the differences between Nietszche and Sartre's views of existentialism than go to a party to try a new drug and listen to some new music which honestly sounds alot more like an electric mixing board than true creative genius to my ears.

I think I would've been alot happier to have been born in the 50's, to have grown up into adulthood throughout the 60's, to have experienced real activism, to have worn paisley and smoked more pot than my mind can comprehend at this moment. To have no internet, no technology, to have to read a real newspaper and send letters in the mail.

Even thoughI have never lived in it, I long for the world before the one we live in today. The world where people FELT and CARED and CREATED because it was in their blood to. Not to get paid.