Friday, December 31, 2010

Meat Pies and A Wish For The Future

Forgive me, blog, for I have sinned. It has been... Fuck, I don't know, a couple days since I last updated. But I have a good reason!

My new house is perfect and wonderful in many ways: there is heat in every room (even the bathrooms!), there is so much SPACE, I have my own room and my own bathroom, and the kitchen is the biggest kitchen I've ever owned. There is one huge, major flaw though. My new house does not yet have any Internet.

It's not as bad as I thought it would be, being without Facebook and my webcomics for so long. But I miss it sometimes. It's weird, not being connected to the whole world. But soon, soon, everything will be back to normal. The Internet man is coming on Sunday and making everything better. I-I think I love him.

Currently I am at my mothers house, awaiting meat pies and coconut cake. And being pestered. Man, it's like every time I come over here, it just reminds me why I left. She was expecting that I was going to stay over here all night, so I could walk Macey in the morning so she wouldn't feel guilty about going to Sean's house for the night. Bitch, what? I fucking hate coming back here. The only good thing about this house is Macey. I was going to stay here as late as possible because you were going to be an asshole and leave that nice little dog tied up all night. Honestly, you are worse than you say we are with her. You and your gay boyfriend COULD stay here, you know? Ah, whatever. Now I'm grappling with whether I should stay here, for poor old Macey. Who's going to give her a walk in the morning? I love Macey, but I regret getting her only to be left with these assholes. I wish I didn't work as much, then I could just take her to live with me.

So, I finally did it. I got my tattoo. It cost $200 and took up way more time than I thought it would, but it is now on my arm. All the people at the tattoo place were impressed that I had designed it myself. It hurt like a bitch, but worth it in the end. Unfortunately, there are already a few things that I see that I want touched up, but that's alright. Predictably, my mum was an asshole about it. But what can you do?

Meat pie time now, and I will have to put up with Sean and Janelle and my mother. I just want to escape with Max and watch 30 Rock, somewhere nice and quiet.

Ah, Happy New Years. 2010 has been a nice year. My first full year off of school. I took a lot of time to rethink what I want to do in life, and I think I'm slowly making my way towards what I (possibly) want. There were a lot of really, really shitty parts, but it was mostly all good times and I am thankful for them. And I have this funny feeling that 2011 will be even better...

Monday, December 20, 2010

Moving On

The first and only other time I've ever moved was when I was in 1993, when my family sold most of our belongings, packed up the essentials (family heirlooms, clothes, my baby sister and I) and drove from Toronto to Vancouver in my dad's old GM van.

A picture of my in the Rockies, 1993

I can't remember any of this, but I've seen pictures and been told some pretty humorous stories. As we drove through Ontario, it was summer, and the mosquito's were thick. We all suffered from bite after bite after bite... except for Rachel. She was only a year old, and she was so fair that you could see her little blue veins right through her skin, like she was translucent. But she didn't get even one bite. My parents joked that she was so white, the mosquito's didn't think she had any blood.

There's a picture of me floating around, of me sitting next to Rachel in the van, all buckled in with boxes and furniture and bags bulging behind us. She's smiling widely, but I'm just hunched over and worried looking, my little forehead furrowed. Rachel was only a baby, so she was even less aware than I was of what was going on. But I think it must have really scared me, because for years and years after, I would have nightmares where we were moving. Not even like, we were moving and there were monsters or bad guys or something typically frightening. We were packing up and moving from my house, and it was just a horrible, horrible dream.

I moved from my mother's house to my father's house, but I'm not counting that as a true moving experience, because they were both places that I considered a house and home of mine. Now, I am actually moving into a brand new place, and it's not the nightmare I always had when I was a kid. I could quite possibly be living in that house by tomorrow evening. Maybe this will be the last night in my old room. I am excited beyond words.

And sad, too. Since I've never moved (or can never remember it), I've never had to leave anything behind. I actually quite like my soon-to-be old room, now that I've seen it empty. It was okay before, but it felt so much smaller with all of my things in it, so much narrower. It's got a funny shape to it, and a curved wall that I loved the first time I saw it. My new room is going to be totally amazing, , but I've grown attached to this one. Honestly, I wish it had been this empty the whole time. I forgot that it's actually decent-sized.

What I'm most excited about with this new place is the potential that it has. I'm going to finally be able to do whatever I want with my own space, and then fun part is that I will never be finished. As long as I live there, I will continue to build upon and improve it. I will collect furniture and paint walls. Already, I want to create a giant frame on one wall, and just fill it with large pieces of white paper, and draw on it, and have anyone who comes over draw something. Hey, maybe I'll just paint one whole wall white, and then make a giant plywood frame around it, to make it look like a framed picture. Wow, I totally like this idea. I would have it in my living room, for sure. I wonder if dad will go along with it. Well, I don't see why not. He's always encouraged me to draw, which makes me feel pretty good inside. My dad is not a man of many words, so when he says "Lisa, you should go into art. You've got the touch, you do", it really means something.

Friday, December 17, 2010

Alone Is Okay

This is probably old news, since the video already has over 2 million views, but it's still amazing:

I will admit, I teared up the first time I watched this. And the second. And the third. Because this video is so... I don't want to say "so me" because that sounds trite and cliched, but it IS so me.

I love just hanging out with myself. I've never really found myself craving human contact, or thought "Oh no, I'm going to be on my own this evening." The first time I ever missed anyone was when I was 17 and I went to Europe for 2 weeks with my school band, and I missed Max so much I ached. I still miss him, when he goes away on trips, but never in a "I hate being without him"way, more like a "sigh, I can't wait until I get to kiss him again" kind of way.

I think part of my love for alone comes from being in a too small house with too many people in it as a kid. There was never any time where I just had myself, except at night when I was falling asleep, and even then I still shared a room with Rachel. I used to wake up every morning, excitedly anticipating bedtime, because every night I would take the time to just lay quietly and let my thoughts roam. Those were the best parts of my day. I kind of miss that those were the best parts of my day.

I've always been more of a thinker than a talker, and the first time I heard the word "introvert", I knew it was something familiar. I read this great article in a psychology magazine, about introverted people, and there was someone that hypothesized that introverts were really just hypersensitive, and took in data more rapidly than other people. So being exposed to too much stimuli (i.e, people) kind of shorts them out and makes them tired. It made so much sense to me. It was like the author wrote an entire article just about me. Whenever I'm trying to describe the sensation to someone, I always use the word "drained", because that's exactly what it feels like. Like all the energy has been sucked out of me and I'm just weary. Being alone recharges my batteries, and the article that said alone time for introverts allows them to sort through all the data they've absorbed.

One of the things that I'm most excited about with this new house is that I'll get to just be alone in my own little space. Whenever I imagine myself there, it's always Spring, and I'm sitting in the kitchen with a cup of tea on my hands, gazing out the window at a sky dotted with perfect white clouds, and everything outside is green and growing and in my house it is quiet.

Man, specific imagination or what?

Haha, the other day when Max was over, he said "Hey, want to go do some gay Christmas stuff sometime? Like walk around downtown or Stanley Park when it's all lit up." So we're going to go to Van Dusen Gardens to see the Festival of Lights, and it's going to be so nice! We're going to bring a big thermos full of hot chocolate, and some nice little snacks. I've been to the Festival of Lights before, when I was a kid, and it's beautiful. I'm excited!

Tomorrow I am going to go to a party. What kind of party, you ask? A cake party, my dears. Months ago, Chiara was asking a bunch of us while we were having a wine and cheese night at her house, what good themes for more parties would be. People were throwing out suggestions, and then I, being kind of silly, said "cake". Chiara laughed and said "Cake? Why cake?" and I said "Because everyone likes cake." There was a murmur of agreement, and she asked what we would do at a cake party. "Everyone brings a cake, and we just hang out and eat cake." She loved the idea, and we talked about it a lot, promising it would happen. And now it's totally happening! I made the cutest cake, seriously. Actually, I'm going to go take a picture of it right now, so I can post it here.

I think the silver balls really make it.

My two favourite lines from the How To Be Alone video:

"Lonely is a freedom that breathes easy and weightless, and lonely is healing if you make it."
"Because if you're happy in your head then solitude is blessed and alone is okay."

Thursday, December 16, 2010

Just Think

New house, new house, new house WHOO!

Fuuuck I just want to move into this place already. It is so perfect. There's just so much space, and so much potential.

The actual moving is going very, very slowly. My mum warned me about this. Apparently my dad is an infamously slow mover. So tonight we only moved all the bags of clothes that we had packed. But this gave me a chance to see everything all cleaned up and painted over. It's the first time I've seen it in almost 3 weeks, and I still love everything about it. My room is smaller than I remembered, and Peter's room is bigger than I remembered it, but it's still great.

Also, I have the nicest shower ever. It's entirely new, and... sigh. I'm just in love with everything about this place. Also, the basement is totally cool, and I'm looking forward to helping my dad get it all fixed up. We're going to make two rooms down there. I just really hope we're moved into this place before Christmas, which is in 9 days.

9 days. Goddamnit, I haven't bought presents for anyone yet! I know what I am getting them though...

MUM: Biotherm perfume set, tool kit, stocking stuff (I make her a stocking every year, because 2 years ago she told me that she hadn't had a stocking since her mum had died, when she was 16. I made her one that year, and the look on her face was priceless).

RACHEL: Matching tattoos, but those probably won't happen until the new year.

PETER: Comics, and some kind of super cool t-shirt. Peter likes to be fashionable.

DAD: A nice wool sweater, AND we're going to buy all the Christmas Eve dinner supplies, and cook everything too.

TONY: Also a nice wool sweater.

MAX: ... Nice try, Max.

That's all I have to buy for. I wanted to make some tarts and such for people, but I'm not sure if I'm going to have time. I kind of want to get Nick something for Christmas too, because he's away from his family and all, but I honestly have no idea what I would get for him. What do you get someone who's essentially a stranger, that's not as typical as a box of chocolates?

But I only have 9 days to accomplish all these feats, and I have a feeling that this is going to be with little help from Rachel and Peter. Rachel will tell me she doesn't the time or money to help me, and while Peter would probably be willing to help, he won't have the money. Sometimes, being the oldest is a terrible thing. You have to organize everything, and no one ever wants to help. I'm feeling pretty hopeless right now, actually, especially about Rachel. She is my sister and I do love her, but she is so incredibly selfish sometimes, it drives me insane. So, it might possibly be a $300+ Christmas this year. Hooray.

Just think positive! Think about the new house! Think about all the vegetables we're going to plant in our big ol' garden! Lettuce, garlic, rapini, green onions, squash, beans, tomatoes, peppers, zucchini, pumpkins, and brussel sprouts! Think about how you're going to paint your room with misty blue stripes, and how you'll finally have your own kitchen, your own space!

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

I Can Say What I Like

I'm so ANGRY right now.

I found out from my mother that years ago, while my nonna was on her deathbed, she made my dad promise that he would always take care of Tony. Of course, he agreed. What else could you say to your mother as she was dying? Any now he is stuck with this fuck up* of a brother for the rest of his life.

And you know what? It's not right.

It's not RIGHT that he is the only one stuck with this. Uncle Tony is an okay fellow, really. I wrote a previous blog entry about him that was especially negative, mostly because I was mad about him intruding on our happy little life. I will still never forgive him for being a loser and taking all that money from my dad over the years. I still don't want him living with us, but he has never done anything to me personally. Hell, I know him better than the rest of my dad's family.

Boy, do I have a few things to say to them. Did you know that they don't even speak to each other? Siblings man, brothers and sisters, and they can't put aside their fucked up problems and just get along. My dad would always use them as a cautionary tale to tell me and my own siblings. "Never fight."he said. "You're brother and sisters, and you need to stick together and be there for each other. Look at my family; no one talks to each other, and it's bad." Growing up, I learned not to put too much stock in family. From what I'd seen, they were only burdens and inconveniences. I love my own family, I do; My mum, my dad, my brother and my sister. I have two favourite aunts, Sue and Helen, and I would have a favourite uncle if Mike would just fix himself up and stop being such a drunk. My dad's side are strangers that you have to put up with at family gatherings and obligatory visits, like, when you take your first vacation by yourself ever and just want to hang out with Auntie Sue, Julia and Leanne, but have to go visit your father's relations or else he'll be hurt, and they end up leaving a dark stain on the memory of the trip. Strangely enough, Rosa and Tony are the only two I could put up with, excluding my cousins.

This "promise" is BULLSHIT. What, because my dad is the greatest thing to ever come out of that family, he has to be the one to put up with this? No one else would help him, but everyone is perfectly content to remind him of this promise. Life must be pretty dandy when you don't have a promise to a dead mother guilting you into helping a brother you really don't have the resources to help.

Also, how dare you send a message to me, trying to get me to "remind" my lovely father of some bullshit promise. How dare you.

I am tired of censoring my own blog. I know, I know, that this is going to get back to my father, and I know he will be hurt. I know this. I will apologize to him, and explain to him why I said these things (although I have a feeling he would understand), and he can forgive me or not. This is my blog, and I can say what I like. My name is Lisa, and I don't mince words.

*Fun fact: In Australia, instead of saying "fuck up", they say "cock up"

Saturday, December 11, 2010

Morbid Careers and Green Burials

Today, on my way to work, I was thinking that if life doesn't go well for me as a cartoonist or whatever the fuck it is that I want to be, I might be a funeral director.

I know, morbid right? Well, I've always been a pretty morbid person, and the handling of the dead is an important job. I know I'm generally very blasé about this; sometimes I feel that people revere the bodies of the dead more than is necessary. They are, after all, just the husks of what once was. But I suppose that the body of a loved one is the last link that anyone would have with them, so I can see why people are so uptight about it.

The thing I really don't like is the embalming process. When you die, they drain all your blood out of you and replace it with embalming fluid, which is a pretty harmful carcinogenic chemical. Then they place you in coffins lined with cement, and stick you in a hole six feet under, which is a depth that is too deep for bodies to properly break down anyway. The big problem with this is that you never get a chance to decompose naturally, and as a result, sit in your cement-lined casket for ages and ages, turning into toxic sludge. Not cool, you guys.

A year or two ago, I read this great article about Green Burials. Now, I am the last person you should ever call a hippie, but these eco-friendly burials really appealed to me. I read an article (I really wish I could remember where I read it) that explained it all, and it sounded pretty cool.

Basically, instead of the traditional chemical embalming fluid, they use a vegetable-based one. Then you're placed in a biodegradable "container" (okay, I'll admit that the use of the word 'container' weirded me out a little bit) and are placed in a whole 4 feet deep, rather than 6 feet. Instead of a typical cemetery, the picture in the article showed what looked like a forest that is set aside for burials. There are no tombstones, but families can choose to have a rock or a tree placed on top of the final resting spot. I just thought this sounded so much more... I dunno, peaceful. Pleasant. And I really like the idea that you would be able to break down naturally. To become part of the soil and all other living things is how we can actually achieve immortality.

So, in case life does fail me, I think I will become and eco-friendly funeral director. The only thing that actually put me off the job was all the schooling -- 2 to 4 years! And that part of the courses involve boring computer stuff. Yes, I am more put off by that than by the actual handling of dead bodies.

The only reason I was really afraid of dead bodies before was because of zombies, and now I'm kind of a zombie fan, if you will. I remember seeing my first one. I was 15, and my mum had dragged us to the funeral of a friend of my dad's. I hadn't wanted to go, but my mum said that we had to stick together as a family. Pfft, whatever. It was a Saturday and I had better shit to do, like sleeping in.

It was an open casket funeral, unfortunately. He was an old guy, and he looked... Jesus, grey. It was awful. His face was sagging back against the pillow, I suppose because his muscles weren't holding everything in place. He didn't look like he was peaceful or sleeping at all, he just looked dead dead dead. I was frozen in front of his casket, petrified. I felt ill. After, I cried a little bit, and everyone nodded sympathetically to me. But I wasn't crying because it was sad, I was crying because it had shocked me really badly. Then we had to wait outside as the slowly lowered him into the neatly dug grave. It seemed lacking in any real care though, because they just used a machine to lower him in. I dunno, it seems like it would have been more respectful to do that yourself. Anyway, we stayed after all the people had gone, only to see a mini excavator roll over and pack the earth and turf on top of him. I found it really eerie, like they were erasing all proof that he had ever existed.

I am fairly interested in the trade though. The mortician part might take a little getting used to, but it sounds like you could make a pretty decent living off of it. Funeral directors typically make about $50,000 per year. More than I'd make as some kind of cartoonist, that's for sure.

How did I get so sick and twisted, you may be wondering? That's a good question. Let me know when you figure it out.

On Faith

You know what bothers me? If I tell someone that I am an atheist, they ask, without fail, why. "Why are you an atheist?" I don't know, I think it's kind of rude, like they're waiting for you to say something that they think is wrong, so they can correct you. If someone tells me that they are, say, Christian, I don't immediately ask "Why are you Christian?" I do enjoy talking about my own beliefs concerning us and the world, but not in this context. Everyone who asks gets this look on their face, and it's always the same. It's very self-assured, and almost scornful. I'm trying to think of the right word, but it's not coming to mind at the moment. Whatever it is though, I don't like it. I think, though, that next time someone asks me why I believe what I believe, I'm going to ask them the same.

I get the feeling most people wouldn't be able to answer it properly anyway. I'm going to use Christianity as my go-to religious example here, because it's the most common. If I were to ask someone why they were Christian (only ever in response to them asking me why I'm an atheist, because it's rude both ways) I get the feeling that most people would pussy-foot around the real answer. Because for the most part, if you're religious it's because your parents taught you to be that way.

Now, read this. I'm simply stating facts and I have a right to do that, and if you feel I'm being unjust, you can tell me so, nicely, in the comments. Or hey, just stop reading.

For the most part, it is your parents that teach you your faith. Church and other people can reinforce your beliefs, but it is your parents who teach you what to believe in. Now, this obviously doesn't apply to people who "found" God. But if you follow a certain religion, it is because your parents followed it, and their parents, and their parents, and so on.

The same can be said for atheists as well. If your parents were non-religious, chances are that you will be too.

I discovered my own beliefs pretty much on my own. My parents were both raised in devout Catholic families, but never forced me to take part. I went to church up until I was 5 years old, and then my mother became pregnant with my brother and the trip on Sundays became too hard. My father never came to church with us; he had gone to a religious boarding school in Italy when he was very young, and suffered rather cruely at the hands of the monks who ran the schools. I believe he is still spiritual, although he has no great love for the Church.

Age 5 was pretty much the last time I would have said that I believed in God, but even then it was only because that's what I assumed all people did. I didn't really think too much about any of it again until I turned 10. A girl in my class, Ashley, invited me to go to Church with her one Sunday. I politely declined, because I was starting to have my doubts about this God fellow. She argued with me, and I argued back. I said "If there's a God, why are little children starving to death all over the world? Kids our age and babies?" Her response was that they "must have sinned." I was just so... horrified, by this statement. My first thought was that I wanted to part in an organization that brainwashed it's believers into thinking that it was okay that babies starved to death, because they were sinners (I never said I was a normal 10 year old).

Of course, I know that obviously not every devoutly faithful person believes this. I was only 10 at the time of this.

I feel that the main reason people believe in God, or gods, is because they:

1) fear death, and
2) fear purposelessness.

Now, I know I've talked about these two things before, but please bear with me.

I think that one of the reasons people believe in a higher power is so they don't have to be afraid of death, because with most religions, there is no true death. You die, but then you continue living in some kind of ethereal world. While I'll admit that that does sound lovely, I just don't need it. I'm not all that terrified of being dead. Dying, yeah, is a pretty scary thought. Actually, someone once said "I'm not afraid of death, but dying scares the hell out of me." Isaac Asimov said "Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It’s the transition that’s troublesome."

Okay, okay, one more because I really like this one: "From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and that is eternity." -Munch Edvard

But my point is, I don't think death is something we should be scared of. Sure, it's a weird thought. It's hard to wrap your head around the idea of just not existing. The reason most people are scared of death is because they think of it as this crushing, blank void. Just you and the darkness. It might just be that, but the reason they're really afraid of it is because it will just be them, stuck there for all eternity, alone. But the thing most people are forgetting is... you'll be dead! You're not going to be conscious, or awake! You won't even be aware of anything, because you'll be dead. So I'm not afraid of death.

The other reason I think most people flock to religion is because it gives them some meaning in life. What I really think is that "it's easier to believe that an almighty God created us, and that he's got a plan for everyone. You may not know what that plan is yet, and hell, you may never know, but just the fact that there IS a plan is comforting. You're not a worthless speck. Someone put you here for a reason." (Yes, I'm quoting myself. You know you're conceited when...) But yes, that is what I think is going on. Humans are constantly obsessed with having a purpose, a reason for being. Most of the time I say "Isn't it enough to just live and be happy?" But no one is ever satisfied with that. It's not grand enough.

While I firmly believe that the only reason we're around is to reproduce and continue our species (there's a Darwinist for you), I don't see why we can't just enjoy living while we're at it.

I know that probably no one is going to read this, or comment on it, but I'm used to it. I enjoy talking to myself anyway.

Yesterday I went shopping, and actually bought myself some nice things. I hadn't intended to, but they were all nice things that I needed. A new coat, 2 long sleeves, a button up, socks, a metal water bottle, and a purse (okay, I didn't really need the purse). Buying things is nice :D
I also (finally) figured out what I'm going to get Max for Christmas, and I'm so excited! I think it's perfect for him.

Nothing else much. Work today. I really got to packing last night, which I'm relieved about. Pretty much all my clothes are packed up, except for some that I'll be needing over the next couple of days. All my knick knacks are in boxes, and now I only have to deal with the junk under my bed, which there isn't much of, and the random stuff in the top shelf of my closet. I'm moving on Wednesday! And apparently my dad found a stove in the basement of the new place that is in perfect working order, and that's going to go up on my floor. Oh wow. I just realized we'll get to have our nice big Christmas Eve dinner at the new house! That'll be a relief. Before we always had to cook everything in the tiny kitchen of our old house, and there was practically no room for us to all sit down and eat. The kitchen in the new place is huuuuge. Now I'm extra excited :)

Alrighty children, I suppose I should be doing something more useful with my time, like... actually, I have no idea what. Getting ready for work, I suppose. Have a nice day, everyone.

Sunday, December 5, 2010

Matching Tattoos and Sweet Revenge

Okay everybody, prepare yourself for the cutest idea ever. EVER.

Instead of getting presents for each other, my sister and I are getting matching tattoos!(!!!)

I got the idea from looking on one of my favourite websites, Oddee, where they had an article for top 10 Coolest Matching Tattoos or something. And the first one was of three sisters, who had matryoshka dolls on their inner arms.

So adorable, right?! Rachel and I had been talking about getting matching tattoos for awhile, but couldn't think of anything great. I saw picture last night on Oddee, and was thought it looked killer, so I posted the picture on her wall. And she is totally down! We're going to get them in the same place as the picture. Before I could even say anything, Rachel said "Yours would be on the left, and mine on the right." You see, when we were growing up, if my mum ever set anything out for us, like dinner or whatever (actually, it was generally food, haha), the order would always go "Lisa Left, Rachel Right". So now Lisa Left, Rachel Right is just ingrained into our heads.
Rachel is drawing the picture as I write this, actually. It's going to be mostly black lines, like the picture, with just a few things in colour. We want to have pink flowers on it somewhere. And I thought of a cute idea, that I haven't told Rachel yet. I want the dolls eye colours to correspond to our own (mine are hazel, Rachel's are blue). I dunno, I just thought that that would be cute.

Mmm, and today I made nachos at Tanis' house, and then we (Tanis, Montserrat, Karl and I) went out for Sweet Revenge! Our waiter was very gay, and very nice! He complimented my nailpolish, and then we all talked about nailpolish for a bit, much to Karl's dismay. And then later he complimented me on my adorable beaded change purse, that was made to look like sheet music. I encouraged him to check out the shops on Main Street, since he said he was never there during the day. Meeting nice people is nice :)
Oh oh oh my god, so for dessert, I got crème brûlée, but it was PEAR crème brûlée. I wanted to cry, it was so delicious. Crème brûlée is amazing anyway, but this had, like, little pieces of pear mixed in with it, and this big, fat raspberry ontop. I fucking love peeeears. Best dessert of my liffffffeeee T AT

A couple weeks ago, I was baking at Tanis' house and we made... Nutella cookies! They were honestly sooo delicious, so I am going to post the recipe for everyone reading. Er, not that there are many of you, haha (sobsob).


  • 1/2 cup Nutella
  • 1/2 cup white sugar
  • 1/2 cup packed brown sugar
  • 1 egg
  • 1 tsp vanilla
  • 2 cup flour
  • 1/2 cup butter, softened
  • 1 tsp baking soda
Combine all ingredients, and then wrap up and chill for 1 hour. Using a teaspoon, drop dough onto un-greased baking sheet. Bake for 15 minutes at 350 degrees.

*NOTE: I changed this recipe quite a bit as I mixed it all up. The original recipe called for 1 1/2 cups flour, but when I was mixing everything together, it was still way too wet and not firm enough to be cookie dough, so I kept adding flour until the consistency seemed right. I'm only guessing that it was 2 cups worth in the end.
We didn't have baking soda when we cooked these, so that was left out, and I can't remember how much the original recipe called for. I've looked at other cookie recipes though, and 1 tsp seemed to be a recurring amount, so it could work. They did, however, taste just fine without any baking soda.

Nothing else new to report from the home front. Max is still in Japan, and I'm just trying to keep myself occupied until he comes home. Packing is going terribly, but thankfully Tanis said she would come over and help me out. I just want to live in my new house already :(

Saturday, December 4, 2010

Packing Up for a Pack Rat

Packing up all your belongings is hard when you own so many knick-knacks and treasures. Wrapping up fish-shaped bottles full of paper stars comes to a grinding halt when tangled chain necklaces beckon. I will now sit here for the next 5 minutes, going in and out and around.

Honestly, where to begin? The jewelry? The books (4 boxes full!)? The jars and jars and jars of who KNOWS what? There's a trombone and a baseball bat beside my bed that need tending to, magazine pictures that need to be un-taped from the walls, scanners and mirrored cupboards that need to be disconnected and taken down. There are cotton dresses, beaded dresses, strapless dresses, summer dresses, glittery dresses, dreamy dresses and daring dresses that need to be unhung and folded into bags. Old diaries, hand-written histories, that need to be stashed at the bottom of boxes, in case prying eyes get a little too curious. SHOES (my god, the shoes). Dressers, two of them, and a beautiful vanity, full of polishes and shadows, that need to somehow be emptied. Under the bed (that needs to be dismantled) are boxes of things that are only valuable to me: Old letters, magazine clippings, photos and drawings, scraps of fabric and, for some reason, a leather pouch full of glitter.

Ribbons and cameras and pencil cases and paint and mobiles and notebooks and candles and music books and... sigh. There's a painting on the back of my door, of a girl and a squid, and I know that soon I will have to paint over it. I agonized over the details of it when I did it, months ago now. The girl is me, with the same wavy hair, the same piercings, the same eyes, the same half-smile. The door itself has a crystal handle that fascinated me when we first moved in.

It's going to be sad to leave this room that I've lived in for so long, and made my own...



Friday, December 3, 2010

Take Five

The best days are the 3:30 days. Those are the days where I don't have to be at work until quite late in the afternoon. I always stay up late the night before, taking time to draw, write and muse. It's that precious time to myself that I so intensely desire.
I set several alarms for times much earlier than I need them. They allow me to wake up, but stay in bed, languishing in that space between consciousness and dreams. Images and thoughts make their way to the surface, warm and strange. It's hard to drag myself away from it.
Whenever I finally force myself away from the comforts of my quilt, I shower, I eat, I get dressed, but all at this slow, careful pace that is my favourite. Then at the last minute, I explode into this frenzy of rushing-out-the-door, and make my way to the bus stop.

These are certainly my favourite days.

Ugh, I never ended up writing anything for Videojug Pages, because I am a loser and the prospect of possible failure frightens me. Because I've convinced myself that I was never actually a writer, just a hack that spun the occasional decent yarn. I really wanted to write something too... But this is what happens when you're an anxiety-riddled nutcase, kidlets. You fuck yourself over time and time again.

So cheery!

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Dishes and Taxes

Fun things! Today, when I was at Max, I paid attention to two boxes that have always been by the entrance of his door. They were boxes of dishes. I asked Max if could inspect them, and found that they are two sets of these adorable dishes! White porcelain with gold stars! Each box has 4 big dinner plates, 4 soup plates, 4 dessert plates, 4 saucers and 4 little coffee cups. So, so cute! Max said I could have them, so now I have a very nice set of matching dishes. I was originally just going to go to Value Village and pick out something eccentric, but I like these much better.

I want to live in this new house now :(

Also, I went to my momma's house and did my taxes today! It was pretty confusing at first, but not actually that hard. And if everything goes smoothly, I might be getting back $1295 from it! Damn, why do people hate doing taxes? They seem pretty awesome, if you get money back.

I want to change my blog settings, so it can only allow certain people access, but I'm not really sure how to do it. I wish there was an option for selecting people from the list of those already following it, because there is one person I need to remove. Ah well, I'll figure it out.

Hopefully there will be something more eventful to update with soon. Until then, peace out.

Sunday, November 28, 2010

New Houses and Old Annoyances

Why has it been so long since I last updated, you ask? Because I am a lazy, good for nothing retard who's only desire is to play Fallout all day. Yup.

My children, I have fabulous news to share with you. The most fabulous news that ever... was... news? Whatever, I'M MOVING! AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!

As you can maybe tell, I am ridiculously excited about this. I've never moved before! Well, I moved to Vancouver from Toronto when I was just about 2 years old, but that hardly counts since I don't remember it at all. And since I was 2, I'm assuming I didn't do any of the packing and whatnot. But this time, I'm going to do everything! Eee, I'm so excited! Also, this will give me a chance to throw out all the useless shit I have laying around.

Okay, let me tell you about the house. It's this big, 60 year old house in North Burnaby, which is where I'm told all the other wops like myself live. It doesn't look like much from the front, but from the back it looks huuuuge! There's a big backyard, and a lovely big garden plot that we are going to grow so many things in! There are also two pear trees on the property. I wonder if you can make pear pie? I guess you'd make it the same as you would apple pie. But anyway. There's a big driveway that has enough room for all three of my dad's vehicles. The house itself has three floors: top, main and basement. At the moment, that basement is exactly what you'd picture a basement to look like: unfinished, no insulation, cold, dark, creepy, etc. But we're going to slowly, slowly fix it up and eventually add one or two bedrooms down there, for Rachel and Peter.

The main floor is where my dad and Nick will be living (in case I haven't mentioned him before, Nick is my dad's friend's son, who came here from Ontario and is staying with us for awhile). Their bedrooms are both pretty decent sized. The living room is nothing special, but it does have a fireplace (as does the basement). The kitchen on the main floor is huge! Just really spacious, with high ceilings. The bathroom is decent sized as well, and there are like a million closets everywhere. Also, the kitchen has one of those fold-down ironing boards that's really characteristic of old houses. I got so excited when I saw it. It has like, a little hinged door over it, and I was looking at it thinking "Oh my god, is this what I think it is?" and when I opened it and saw the ironing board, I was like YESSS.

But enough about those lame places. Let's talk about the top floor. My floor.

It's got this little, closed staircase leading up to it, with a door at the bottom and a door at the top, so it's very private. There's a small landing, and directly in front of you is the bathroom. It's just about the same size as the downstairs one, if not a little smaller. To the left is... the kitchen! Yes, the top floor of this house has a full, decent sized kitchen! There's no fridge or oven yet, but there are counters, cupboards and a sink. A nice big window overlooks the mountains and the rest of Burnaby, and there's a nice big table that I hope they're going to be leaving there for me. There a door in the corner of the kitchen that leads into what is going to be Peter's room. He's going to be living in my suite until the basement gets sorted out. His room is very cool, with sloped ceilings. It's the smallest room in the house, but I don't think he will mind.
Back to the landing, if you go to your right, there's a room that I'm going to turn into the living room. Nothing terribly special about it. Small, square, window on the left. But there's a door immediately on the right that leads into what is going to be my room.

It. Is. So. Cute! More sloped ceilings, and much more space than I've ever had. There's a window that looks out over the street, which will be perfect for my people-watching habits. There's a weird little closet, and an alcove that I'm going to stick a desk in and turn into my work area. The floor, as with the downstairs, is all the original hardwood.

I was so excited about it the other day that I couldn't sleep! I can't wait to pack, and then unpack, and paint everything!

In other less satisfying news, my Uncle Tony seems to be staying with us for awhile. I haven't seen or spoke to him for the last 5 years, and was kind of happy not to. I'm pretty sure he was a homeless drug-addict for awhile. Also, two and a half years ago, he fucked my dad out of $1400. He said he wanted to move back to Vancouver, but needed money to bring himself and all his stuff over. So my dad, being the way-too-nice guy that he is, sent him the money. Tony told him that he'd call him in three days... and then my dad never heard back from him. For two and a half years. Then my dad heard he was back in town, and spent ages searching for him. When he finally found him, he was told that Tony had been sleeping in a storage garage. So now he's staying with us.

You may be able to detect that I'm not Tony's biggest fan. You'd be right, because I really don't like him. Even when we were kids, my siblings and I hated his visits. He's pretty much batshit insane, and ever since I found out about how he took that money from my dad, my opinion of him has gotten worse. I know dad's trying to be a good brother, but it's not my fault that Tony is a washed-up loser. He's a grown man, and if he can't take care of himself, then tough titties. I want to move into my nice new house without having the dark cloud that is Tony hanging around. I just know he's going to end up staying for a few months. He's like this bad smell you can't get rid of.

I have no sympathy for people who are losers, for people who rely on others to get by in life. If you can't make things work out for yourself, what use are you? You're the weakest link, and society doesn't need you. I don't care if you think me harsh and cruel. I KNOW that it's harsh and cruel. But it's true. Dad and I are trying to make a nice little life for ourselves, and I don't want Tony raining on our parade. He's just going to freeload, and then leave again. Hopefully then I won't see him for at least another 5 years. I don't care if it's mean. I don't. My opinion is the same for all of the losers in life. Life is hard, and if you can't deal with it, then fuck off.


Anyway. I better get going. Max is leaving for Japan on the 2nd, and we're trying to hang out as much as possible before he leaves. I also have to nip over to my mum's so she can help me do my income tax return whatever, because apparently I owe MSP about $357, unless I can prove that I'm a broke. If I make less than $20,000 a year, I don't have to pay anything! And I definitely do not make over $20,000. Dope.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Nice Little Life

So I had such a strange, straaaange dream last night. There were a lot of bizarre elements to it, but the main part was about the afterlife.

A group of children and I (I was either one of the little kids, or a teacher) went on a field trip to a science base, somewhere in the woods. They were apparently doing experiments with time travel, and this being my crazy dream world, they were talking groups of school children on tours throughout time. We showed up, and everything was a flurry of activity. The military was there, and scientists were buzzing around in white lab coats. There was a long, dirt road that disappeared into the forest in front of us, and apparently that was the entrance to the portal. There was a large metal gate in front of us. We waited.

And waited.

We were there for a few hours, and everyone was getting pretty restless. The scientists were all ignoring us. Then, two young boys in my group just ducked under the gate and made a dash for it, laughing that they couldn't wait anymore. The scientists didn't seem to care, but I was frantic.

Then some kind of fight broke out behind us, and we all made a run for it. But it wasn't for time traveling. It was a portal to the afterlife. It wasn't really that great. Lot's of white, and things you wanted but couldn't have. There were all these beautiful clothes I wanted, and I figured that this was heaven so I could just take it, right? No, I was told that I would need to get a job so I could pay for anything I wanted. Worst heaven ever, right?

So I left. But on the other side, all hell had broken loose. There were either aliens or zombies stalking around, killing everyone. I had a pole that I was using to beat their heads in. Most of my fighting took place in what appeared to be a thrift store. Having defeated them, I went out to talk to the scientists to get some straight answers. They said that the group I was there with wasn't supposed to be there for a field trip. We were test subjects, meant to be sent through the portal and, if we returned, taken to have tests preformed on us. A few of the kids that went in with me did come back, but they were changed. They were all really wild and manic looking, and they couldn't stop smiling. They were really scary and savage though, and there veins stood out against their skin, electric blue, and their hair stuck up at odd angles, as if they'd been electrocuted.
There was one boy though, who was actually from the afterlife, or whatever it was supposed to be. He was freakishly intelligent, but looked just as manic and blue as the other children. The scientists kept him around to solve all their big problems.

Ah, it was just such a crazy dream.

So today after work, I went to the Vietnamese restaurant next door and ordered two Lemongrass Chicken Subs to take home for dinner. They were pretty busy, so I took as a seat and waited for my order. It took awhile. The lady brought me a cup of warm jasmine tea to drink while I waited. And as I sat there, drinking the warm tea and feeling the warmth spread out inside me, I was surrounded by the delicious smells of the restaurant and let my sore body ease into the chair. The only thought that came to mind was "What a nice little life I have." It is nice, to be able to take so much pleasure from such simple things.

And now, I think I will make some tea, and play some Fallout. Goodnight.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

Mother Mother and Cute Earrings


I fell in your arms tonight.
I fell hard in your arms tonight,
it was nice.
I died in your arms tonight.
I slipped through into the afterlife,
it was nice.
White lies in your arms tonight.
I lost sight in your arms tonight,
it was nice.

And hey, you, don't you think it's kinda cute
that I [I] died [died] right inside your arms tonight
that I'm fine even after I have died
because it was in your arms I died.

I cried in the afterlife
I cry hard because I have died,
and you're alive.
I try to escape afterlife.
I try hard to get back inside
your arms alive.

And hey [hey], you [you], don't you think it's kinda cute
that I [I] try [try] to escape the afterlife
that I [I] try [try] to get back in your arms alive,
that I died in your arms,
that I fell hard in your arms,
I went and died in your arms that night..

I fell in your arms tonight..
suicide in your arms...

And hey, you, don't you think it's kinda cute
that I [I] died [died] right inside your arms tonight
that I'm fine even after I have died
that I [I] try [try] to escape the afterlife
that I [I] try [try] to get back in your arms alive,
that I died in your arms that night.
I fell in your arms tonight.
I died in your arms tonight.
I lie in your arms tonight.
I fell in your arms tonight


I think this song is incredibly sweet, and always reminds me of Max. It makes me sad too though, and kind of speaks to one of my fears: dying before my loved ones. Oh, I know. I am super fucked up. That is an actual fear I have. Well, maybe this is just a general fear of death, because I'm scared of all my loved ones dying before me too, haha. I've decided though that I'm going to live until I'm 110, and I will be the last one left alive of everyone I knew. I don't really want to give that burden to anyone else.


Okay, so you may may already have an inkling of what my feelings for Mother Mother are like, but I'm going to come out and say I'm in love with them. The whole band and all their songs. And, maybe best of all, they're from Vancouver! So that's just adding to the awesome. One of their other songs that is my total favourite is called Heart Heavy, and please oh please follow that link and listen to the song. The lyrics are really great. I just... I don't think I could really describe my feelings for this song.

So I'm making everyone Christmas cards, and it's very fun! I need to get way more supplies than I already have that, but that trip's going to have to wait until I get paid. Right now I just have pretty papers, blank cards and scissors and glue and shit. I think this will be a nice project to keep me occupied, and then everyone gets handmade cards for Christmas.
Hm, kind of sad to think that I'm putting all this effort into nice cards, when they're probably just going to be tossed after Christmas. Unless the person is a shameless hoarder like me, in which case they'll keep it in a forgotten, dusty box for many years to come.

Also, I bought these the other day:

So cute! I love them, and apparently so does everybody else.

Now, the gravest question of all: Take a nap, or play Fallout? Hm I think I'll just have a shower to wake myself up, and then play Fallout. And then drink limeade! Yesssss. These are all good things.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Adventures With Boiling Water and Butter

A few days ago, when I was on my way to Futureshop so I could resurrect Fallout: New Vegas, I noticed I had a missed call from Peter. He was just asking if I was going to deal with the game problem, and then said "Oh, I saw Heather on the bus today. She said something about baking." I was like "Oh dope! I haven't seen Heather in ages!" So I texted her, saying that Peter had seen her on the bus and she'd mentioned baking. She replied with "Uhhh, I don't remember seeing your brother on the bus ever, but I love baking, so I'm down." Turns out Peter was referring to my cousin Heather, and she was talking about the Christmas baking that we were planning for December.

It all worked out though. Made plans for today with Heather to do some good, old-fashioned baking. I told her to text me the ingredients we needed while I was at work. She replied and told me that we needed "16 eggs, 4 cups icing sugar, 1lb of cream cheese, a lemon and chocolate chips. 4 glorious cakes. Stoked." My face was basically like Whaaaaa? and I texted back "Holy shit, 4 cakes?? You're a madwoman, but it's why I love you." to which SHE replied "Lmfao. Two each homie!"

So I bought 16 eggs, and 1lb of cream cheese, etc, and headed over to my good friend Heather's. Heather and I have been friends since pretty much the first day we met, in grade 4. She was the new kid from Newfoundland, and I invited her to play Grounders (if you don't know what Grounders is, you pretty much had no childhood). She doesn't actually remember this day. To her, the first time we met is when she moved into the townhouses that I grew up in, just three houses down from mine. I was shy, but my mom made me go over and say hello. I am so, so glad I did. I haven't been friends with anyone else for as long. It's been 11 years so far. We're not constantly in touch; sometimes we go for months without speaking to each other. But when we do get reunited, it's like we saw each other just the day before.

Anyway, I was talking about cake.

So we made an insane amount of batter, complete with 4 cups of butter and 4 cups of sugar. It was... an abomination. A delicious abomination. When they were cooking in the oven, however, it looked like they were baking in pans full of bubbling butter. They tasted like we'd deep-fried them. Actually, they kind of tasted like cornbread, which I love. We also made lemon cream cheese icing to go with them, and topped all that off with pure milk chocolate chips. Heart attack cake!

In more devastating news, I had a pot of boiling water spilled on my left foot. Heather's lovely friend, Molly, who is really very nice despite maiming me, was trying to drain the gargantuan pot of potatoes that had been boiling quite merrily on the stove. Her hand must have slipped, because I heard her yelp. I didn't actually feel anything for the first 1, 2, 3 seconds, and then OOOOHHHHHHMYYYYFFFUUUCCCKKKIINNNGGGGGOOOODDDDDDDDD. What an unholy pain. I've had burns before, but never on a large scale like this. I was kind of caught between flailing and being frozen in pain, when Heather shouted to take my sock off, which was keeping the boiling water against my raw skin. Then I shakily laughed it off and hobbled upstairs to put it under cold water. Honestly, that's the worst part of the burn, the cold water afterward. I never keep it under for as long as I should. Heather and her mum tried to convince me to put some stuff on it, but I'm too tough for that shit, so I sucked it up and politely declined. Because if I'm anything, it's all man, baby.

If you have never listened to Mother Mother, I strongly suggest you do so. Right now. They remind me a lot of The New Pornographers, actually, which is another great Vancouver-based band that my high school English teacher told me about. So all you guys better listen to them, because music is cool, and Vancouver is cool, so bands from Vancouver are obviously double cool.

Anywho, it's pretty late for someone who has to be getting up at 6:30, so I suppose I should get going now. However, here are two Things That Suck:

-I'm suddenly hungry, but I already brushed my teeth, and have to go to bed.
-Wearing socks and shoes with my burned foot tomorrow is going to be suuuuuch a bitch.

Hm. I think I might make that a regular thing.

Saturday, November 6, 2010

Nothing, Nothing, and I Need Some New Material

Still haven't tried writing anything for that website. I think I'm scared. Wait, I don't think I'm scared, I KNOW I'm scared. I just wish I could think of something to write that fits their criteria of being informative. I really don't think I know anything worth knowing. I know webcomics, I know writing, I know books and cooking. To quote Charlie Brown: "AUUUGH"

I have a feeling I'm going to end up not signing up for those Italian classes at VCC. Why? Because I'm a huge pussy. Whine whine bitch bitch.

I'm going to go and get the New Vegas problem sorted out tomorrow, so hopefully I'll have that back by the end of the day so I don't have to think about anything other than killing ghouls, raiders and Deathclaws.

On my way to work, I saw a house on fire! Well, I didn't really see the flames or anything, because the house must have been like 5 minutes away from me, but I could see this huge pillar of black smoke reaching up into the sky. I wanted to go and see so bad! That made me feel guilty though. Someone was losing their home and maybe all their possessions, or worse, their life, and I wanted to go oggle at their misfortune.

...I still wish I'd gone and looked though.

So I got these new boots the other day, and ohhhhhh my god, I am in love with them. They're made for -20 weather, and they are sooo warm, and sooo cool looking. They're water-proof, and they make me half an inch taller! It really doesn't get much better than that. So BRING IT, winter! I was worried when I heard about how terrible winter was going to be this year, but not anymore. I've got a warm jacket and the fucking sweetest boots ever, so I don't even care.
Haha, do you want to know what size my boots are? 11w. Yes. I have huge feet. It's pretty unfortunate actually, because they don't make very many stylish shoes for women with big feet, and I love shoes. So I have to buy the gigantic ones.

Why are my feet so big? It's a bit of a mystery, really. I was in for a routine checkup one day at my doctor's, and she commented that neck looked a little swollen. I felt slightly miffed at this, because I've always been sensitive about the fatness of my neck. Then she asked what size my feet were, and when I told her how big they were, she said that was odd, considering I'm only 5'5". So she thinks that since my feet are so big, I was actually supposed to be much taller than I am, but a possible defective thyroid squashed all hope of Giant Lisa from ever becoming a reality. Wow, riveting stuff here! What will I think of next? Maybe I'll talk about how small my hands are (you know what they say about people who have small hands... They make terrible piano players), or the last time I got my hair cut! Whoooowhee, fuckin' party up in here.

Also, as I was googling exactly what a thyroid is, I came upon the word 'goiter', which I'd heard before but never really knew that much about it, so I looked at a picture. I warn you, don't do it. Now I'm terrified of goiters.

ALSO, as I wrote 'googling' up there, a read line appeared under it, indicating that it is not a word. Why haven't they just made it a word yet?

In My Wildest Dreams

I was reading in the newspaper that something like 51% or 57% of Canadian women prefer catching up on their sleep on the weekends than sex. Honestly, I can totally believe that. Not that sex isn't swell, but I LOVE sleeping. I know some people have trouble getting to sleep and then staying asleep, but not me. Once I'm out, I'm out, and then it's off to my insane dreams.

Now, I know I talk about my dreams a lot, but that's only because they are the best. I know people like my sister who have the most boring dreams. She told me that once she had an entire dream where all she did was tie her shoes.

My dreams tie in to previous dreams. I can have dreams on different nights, hell, from different years, and somehow that first dream will have some meaning in the second one. Like, in Dream A, someone will mention something, like a phrase, or tell a story, and then months later, in Dream B, I'll remember it. It's kind of like I'm two different people: Dream Me, and Real Me.

Recently, I've been experiencing this really cool thing that used to happen to me a lot when I was a kid. I would be sleeping, and then just wake up for some reason. Not wanting the dream to be over, I would lay back down and let myself fall asleep again, and then pop right back into the dream, pretty much from the exact spot that I left off at. It's so great. Today I did it about 3 times.

My dreams are mostly always borderline-nightmares. We were in this strange warehouse, and Max was there, and a few other people, and we were... planning something. But something didn't want us to carry out our plans, so every time we started talking about it, this fog would come pressing in, and these... standing corpses would appear. I didn't think of them as zombies, but they were aware of us, and would stare. They were rotting and had worms and bugs crawling out of them, and they were covered in dirt. They didn't walk, but kind of floated, and would get way too close to you, like right in your face and just stare. Everyone else would just ignore them, but I was terrified. I would cling to Max,close my eyes and feel sick. I just wanted to run, and to wake up actually. It was awful.

There was also something about running around on a mountain I'd been to in my dreams before. And... damn, I really can't remember anymore.

Anywho, it's time I be getting ready for work. Peace.

One More Thing...

New Vegas is dead.

If I Were An Animal

If I was an animal, what kind of animal would I be? I always want to pick something beautiful and different, something bold. I always wanted to be a bird, for the freedom that they symbolize and the patterns of their feathers.

I would generally say that if I was an animal, I would be a dog. But dogs run in packs and desire the company of others, when I really do not. Then I would say I was a cat, but cats are too aloof, and I never really considered myself a cat-person. My Chinese horoscope tells me that I am a Horse, but I don't feel like I would be a horse if someone waved a wand and turned me into an animal. I want to be something smaller than a horse.

I would want to be a parrot. I want to be colourful and talkative and exotic.

Man, I don't know where I'm going with this. I think I'm just trying to get my creative juices flowing again.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

New Vegas and The Walking Dead

Hahaha, just listening to come Linkin Park and remembering what an angsty little r-tard I was.

Doing a lot of thinking lately, about what I really want to do. I want to be able to make a decision and then start moving forward in the right direction. I'm leaning towards something, but I don't want to say anything about it in case I jinx it. You think I'm being silly, but I need all the luck I can get. This is something that deeply bothers me. But I do plan on going to VCC in January for Italian classes, so that will at least give me something to do. I'm excited to learn Italian! Then I can converse with my father in the mother-tongue.

I know a couple of people who are bilingual, but when I say "Ooh, say something!" they won't! Carol knows Mandarin, and Amina knows some Arabic, but they won't indulge my curiosity! "Nooo it sounds so weird when I say it! My accent isn't good/I can't speak it that well" Dude, like I'm going to know the difference? Man, when I know Italian, I'm never going to shut the fuck up. But maybe that's more me being a show-off douchebag than trying to culturally expose those around me.

In other news, I bought Fallout: New Vegas, and it is consuming me. All day I think about it. At night, I dream about it. I just want to stay home and play. Sometimes, I honestly forget that the game and I are seperate things; I get so caught up in playing that I feel like my character is me, and it's me out there fighting Deathclaws and Cazadors and Raiders.
Also, this is the first game that I've ever started playing immediately after it was released. It's kind of interesting. Like, with games like Fable II, Left 4 Dead and Fallout 3, I got into them long after they'd been released. It was easier, because when I was stuck, or had a question, I could turn to the multitude of forums, Wiki pages and GameFAQS available from those who had already mastered my recent obsession. But with New Vegas, I'm part of the first wave of people discovering new territory, features, hacks and glitches. It's very exciting!

All in all, they haven't changed much from Fallout 3. The graphics look the same, and all the basics are the same. The only thing that bothers me is that items like food and water don't restore health the same way. In the older games, if you were low on health you could drink some water (Dirty or Purified) or eat some food (Iguana-on-a-stick, Mole Rat Meat or Mirelurk Cakes) and you would gain more health. In New Vegas, you can still eat food and gain health... but only for a couple of seconds. Kind of lame, but it does make you more diligent in keeping out of harm's way.

I'm sure I will talk much, much more about New Vegas.

So, on Halloween, I stayed and watched The Walking Dead premier. I only have one thing to say:

REALLY not impressed.

...Okay, I have a few more things to say.

What the FUCK, guys. The Walking Dead is a fantastic comic series, and I should have known that it was too good to be true that they were going to make it into a good TV show. For one thing, they changed just about everything except the basic storyline. Rick gets shot in gunfight, Rick wakes up in hospital, Rick helps dude and his kid, Rick finds horse and goes to Atlanta, Rick's horse get's disembowled. That stuff was the same. But they changed the way he went about all of those things. Instead, Morgan has a gun before Rick takes him to the police station. Morgan had a wife who was zombified and it still hanging around, traumatizing him and his son Duane. Rick walks what seems like half a mile into a park to put a zombie out of it's misery, which was supposed to be immobile. Rick's wife, Laurie, and the other survivors happen to hear Rick talking on his police radio before he meets up with them, and are unaware that it is him. Rick hides from the hordes of zombies in Atlanta in an abandoned (well, almost abandoned) tank.


The story was FINE the way it was. Much, much better, in fact. Now, if you haven't read the comics, it's a decent show. But it's hard to read something so great and then be exposed to something that is so, so shitty in contrast. Also, they made Rick into a total pussy in the show. Comic Rick is so much more of a pimp than TV Rick. TV Rick curled up in the fetal position and cried disconcertingly on the floor when he came home to find his family gone. Comic Rick came, saw, and then went to fucking do something about it.

TV Rick better buck the fuck up, because he has a lot of messed up shit he's going to have to deal with.

Well, that's the end of my nerd rant, and now it's time for sleeps. I'm going to go buy winter clothes with Max tomorrow (today?) and then he's going to help me sort out my room. It has become a bit of an unholy mess.

Monday, November 1, 2010


I'm self-medicating with memes,
letting trollface take my thoughts away.
"Log in, tune out" is my motto,
shooting raiders in Fallout and shooting the breeze in my blog,
letting less important things occupy my mind,
while a mound of to-do's and responsibilities rack up.
But I'd rather not pay attention to those,
because Bioshock is more beautiful to me than a BA.
Webcomics everyday keep my woes far away,
oggling Oglaf and grinning with Gunnerkrigg Court.
My 360 offers an obsessive salvation;
Even now I can feel the controller come to life in my hands,
as my crosshairs find their target and... BOOM! Headshot!

Saturday, October 30, 2010


Can't talk. Got Fallout: New Vegas. Consuming all my time.
Need to draw. Need to write. Need to eat.

Only New Vegas.

Sunday, October 24, 2010

Reflections Of A Skyline

I don't have too much to say. I don't feel well today. Lady troubles are plaguing me.

I'm starting a project, where I'm going to make Christmas cards for people. I entered The Sketchbook Project, and received my moleskin sketchbook in the mail on the 22nd. My laptop was dead for 2 days, and is suddenly fixed. It's nevertheless going to go see the laptop doctor tomorrow. I've figured out that I'm an atheistic fundamentalist, and I'm okay with that. Max is getting his school life all sorted out, and it's making me anxious about mine. I've sent Peter and his girlfriend Janelle on a pizza run, and will have baked pasta and bbq chicken pizza soon.

Now, all of you have to watch this video. Just do it, please. And please, please oh please, if you do watch it, please comment. Comments are my lifeblood.

Sunday, October 17, 2010

Pull Me Out Alive


Hobbies and Polysics

I know this is going to sound sick, but I like pushing myself to my limits.

Today, the only thing I ate was at 7:30pm. I went to Bau Chau's with Tanis and got my usual: #53 (2 deep fried rolls... I think they're spring rolls?) and #48 (a bowl of rice vermicelli, pork hash and a salad consisting of lettuce, bean sprouts, cucumber and carrot). They are my absolute favourites now. I daydream about them while I'm out and about.

But as I was saying.

I kind of enjoy the feeling. Same with being tired. I stay up late so I can feel like I'm... okay, I don't want to say "in control" because I KNOW how fucked up that sounds. I know, don't worry. I know this is screwed up. But I like it. It makes me feel stronger than everyone else. When you're tired, and you can feel your whole body weighing down on you, and the bags under your eyes. It makes finally going to bed so much sweeter. Same like that first bite after nothing all day. It makes everything just that much more delicious.

Also, Maria from work asked me if I'd lost weight yesterday :D (Read: No, I am not starving myself. I love food just as much as the next person. I'm just picky, and if there's nothing I like around, I don't eat).

Going to Long and McQuade later on to try and hunt down a music book from my high school Jazz Band days. I miss it so much sometimes. I still have dreams about playing. They're always weird. The slide is all stiff, the notes come out mangled, and I'm anxious and upset, but then I start freestyling a solo and everything is okay. I want to play again. Maybe I'll join a community band?

What I really need is a hobby. I've never been into anything the way you would be with a hobby. I mean, I love reading, and I write and doodle and fool around on the Internet a lot, but I wouldn't really call any of those 'hobbies'. Max has Magic, and Tanis has dancing, and Heather has sewing, and Rum has movies, but I have... nothing, really. It's kind of annoying. I've found journal entries and comic doodles from various years done by yours truly, all lamenting the absence of a definitive hobby.

Well, it's time for sleeps now, but before I go, I'm going to say that all of you have to listen to this Japanese band, Polysics. Start out with their song "I My Me Mine" and then "Electric Surfin' Go Go". Also, listen to "Rocket". That is all, and goodnight.

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Calmer and Keener

Okay, so I'll admit I was a little panicked yesterday. It happens to the best of us, but mostly to me. I just got a little overwhelmed with the prospect of writing things that people might actually read. Writing for yourself is fine and dandy, but all of that changes when you're writing for other people. Suddenly, the pressure is on. It's the same with pretty much anything. Art, dancing, singing, speaking... As soon as you start to do these things for other people, everything is a little scarier.

I did some good, old fashioned thinking today, and actually managed to think of a few things I could write about. I came up with:

- a how-to guide to making a Pikachu costume.
- various recipes
- how to strike up conversations with a stranger.

Meager, but there.

I also wanted to talk about how it bothers me that people fear the idea of us being a comic accident, but I feel that might be a little heavy for one of my first writings.

I'm reading again! I just finished Fool, by Christopher Moore tonight, which was obviously fantastic, and started on A Dog's Purpose, by W. Bruce Cameron. It's pretty good, but kind of sad. It's the story of a dog that keeps being reincarnated into other dogs, constantly searching for a purpose. I like it. It reminds me of Macey.

Hey, maybe I could write about books? I know an awful lot about books.

Listening to Passion Pit now, and getting sleepy. I sleep a lot these days, and it's always the same deep, dream-filled sleep. I keep having the most amazing, detailed, complex dreams. And I'm doing this thing that used to happen to me a lot when I was younger. I would be dreaming, and then wake up from it slightly. Feeling that I didn't yet want to be finished with the dream, I would just shut my eyes and either immediately or gradually pop back into it. I like the sensation. It's very warm and comforting, kind of like somethings gently pulling me back under.

Also, I am a pro reader. I've only been at this book for 1 hour, and I am on page 127 of 319.

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Self Worth, Doubt, Esteem and Hate

So. The editor for emailed me back, answering some of my questions and giving me a few very helpful links. I learned some stuff about the website, and now all I have to do is sign up and get the ball rolling.

Hm, I feel like I'm forgetting something... Oh, yeah.


In her reply, she said:
"What would you be writing about --- I think you’d be glad to know that
you can write about anything you want. It could be about your expertise,
skills, hobbies, sports, work, or anything that interest you at the
moment. Just make it simple, informative, and useful for our knowledge-hungry
users—your soon-to-be followers. Our main aim is to answer some of our
users' burning questions from cooking to sports to charity work, etc.
So if you can provide some answers/insights on your article, you're
gonna have a good number of followers in no time."

While that is a little helpful, it still begs the question: What is my expertise? Hobby? And skills? Oh dear. I don't really have any of those, do I? I blab on about random things that bother/interest me. I make a lot of jokes, crass and otherwise. I know about anxiety, and zombies. Video games and Internet inside-humour. The only things I know about that I could actually write about are things like writing, drawing and cooking, and I'm not an expert at any of those things. I'm fairly competent at all three, but I don't think I could write about them with any kind of authority. I can scribble a story, doodle a comic and read a recipe, but I wouldn't say that I have a true talent for any of these things. Any moron could do that shit.

I could write about what it's like to struggle with your own self worth, I suppose. Boy, has it been a long struggle, with no end in sight. I could write about self doubt, or hey, why not self hate while I'm at it? These are all things I am well versed in.

The other thing is that even if I do write something good, there's no guarantee that people are going to like it, or even read it. I'm so tired of writing things that nobody reads.

I want to do this. I do, I really do. The only problem is that I know I'm going to fuck it up by being a retarded chickenshit. Oh, I do these kinds of these all the time. Something good comes my way, and I don't know how to handle it, so I immediately hit the eject button, and am jettisoned back into oblivion. I have to stay, it's starting to get pretty comfy here.

Okay, so I saw someone writing something about atheism. Not a how-to, just an article discussing it. Hey, I can do that. Oh yeah, but someone's already done that. This website's been around for almost 5 years. What am I supposed to write about that hasn't already been done? I suppose I could write about similar things, only better, but that sounds like I'd need some serious self esteem and balls to try that, because, you know. The chickenshit thing.

See, this is why I'm always telling myself to get a hobby. For years I've been looking for something, but I've got nothing. I can't keep hobbies because I get too easily bored and move on to something else. Nothing is constant, except for this nice, comfy oblivion I am currently inhabiting.

I think I'm just going to go to sleep now, and possibly something will come to my in my dreams. You never know, it's happened before. Then I am going to go to work for 8 hours and feel all creativity drained from me, plop myself down in front of the computer and stare at a glowing screen for a couple more hours, all passion for life slowly ebbing away.

So, same time tomorrow?

Friday, October 8, 2010

To Do, To Do, Tout Doucement


1) Go to Button Button

Button Button is a store that sells, predictably, buttons. I have a ton of jackets that are missing buttons, and it drives me insane. So I plan to take pictures of the missing buttons siblings, and then head on down to Button Button and find the closest matches I can.

2) Go to Fabricland

I've decided that instead of being a 1940s singer/actress/prostitute/whatever for Halloween, I am going to be Pikachu.

I'm going to use this dress that I already have as the pattern for the Pikachu dress. Also, that dress is amazing. It is so comfortable and has magical transforming patterns. I looked preeeetty good in it, if I don't say so myself.
Anyway, I'm going to sew the whole thing myself. I'll make the ears, and then wear yellow tights and find yellow gloves. Or sew yellow gloves if I can't find any. I sewed a pair of socks for a Halloween costume one year. I can do anything >D

3) Write, you fool!

Even though the editor from Videojug Pages hasn't emailed me back yet, her words really inspired me. I AM a good writer. I CAN do this. I just lost myself for awhile somewhere back there. But last night, I wrote a short story. Yeah! I know! I didn't forget how to do it! I could feel how rusty I was though. It was harder to get the words out than it used to be. But I am going to do this. I am going to start writing again, about whatever pops into my head. Prepare yourself.

4) Write a letter to Maya

Since Maya went to Germany, I have definitely noticed her absence. Now, I am not one to miss people. I know she's coming back, and it's all a matter of sitting back and being patient. Time can go by surprisingly fast when you're not paying attention. But it has been weird not seeing her around. Ever since she started living with us during the summer, it was like she became my second sister. And I know she misses being here, so I am going to write her some letters. I bought a booklet of stamps today, which I am going to split with Rachel when I see her on Monday for Thanksgiving.

5) Get Max's birthday present

No dice, Max. You can't catch me that easily.

6) Get Tanis' birthday present

You too, Tanis.

There. Those are the pressing matters in my life right now. I just have to be sure that I buckle down and actually do them. Motivation is the key! I can accomplish all these things if I just put my mind to it.

Also, the title for this blog is a reference to a lovely little cover of a song from 1957 by Feist.

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Work Late, Work Early

The lady still hasn't emailed me back, and I'm all sad and worried.

I want this to be a real thing so bad! I just have to keep telling myself to think positive. For one thing, she said she was "really impressed" with my writing, so I don't think she would email me and just forget me. And I only emailed her on Sunday night, and it's now only Tuesday night. So I just need to chill and give it some time.

I'm working on colouring a new picture right now. I'll post it when it's done, which should be soon. I'm really starting to like this whole colouring on the computer thing.

Late night shift, early morning shift tomorrow. A customer night asked what time I got off work, and I said at 9:30. He said "Got anything crazy planned for the night?" to which I replied "Nnnnope. Going home and then going to bed. Early shift tomorrow at 8 am." He said "8? For this place?" I wearily told him yes. He just said "Wow. That sucks."

Yes, sir. Yes it does.

Goodnight kidlets.

After Thoughts and It Gets Better

I want to add a story to my previous entry, "Amazing Accidents". You see, I myself was an accident.

I was a broken condom.

It's nothing worthy of a soap opera. My parent's had already been married for 3 years, and knew they wanted kids. They hadn't decided when, but they knew that one day they wanted some. Well, let's make an awkward story short and get to the point: I, their first child, was an accident. The condom broke, and 9 months later I showed up. I am an accident.

But am I any less significant because of that? Does my life have to have any less meaning? Nope.

I also want to take a moment here to talk about Dan Savage's It Gets Better Project. There was a 15 year-old boy named Billy Lucas, and he killed himself because kids in his school bullied him for being gay. So Dan Savage launched this project. He's asked any LGBT folk out there (and straight people) to make videos on post them on Youtube, telling all the hopeless queer kids out there that life gets better. They talk about how they were bullied, how leaving high school made everything better, how awesome their lives are now and how GLAD they are that they didn't kill themselves. I think it's such a beautiful and refreshing idea.

And not to draw attention away from the horrible treatment the gay people of the world are receiving from the shitheads and the biggots, but high school is hard for everyone. I myself hated high school. I experienced all my bullying at a much younger age, so I was tougher than most when I started high school, but it was still hard. There was this one girl, when I was in grade 11, who hated me for some reason. I had honestly never said more than 2 words to her. She was in my Sociology class and my PE class, and didn't stop herself from letting me know that she did not like me at all. That was the only tough time I'd directly recieved from another person during my teenage years. I knew there were other people, though, who said things.

I was an unabashedly weird kid. I dressed differently, I spoke differently, I didn't like the same things that everybody else liked. I loved English and books, and wrote in my spare time and didn't drink or do any drugs or go to parties. And there were people who didn't appreciate that. I was fortunate that no one except that one girl ever said those things to my face, but I could feel it. I felt very alienated from everyone, including my friends. I felt very powerless.

I would daydream about being older. All I wanted in life was to graduate, to go to college, to get a job and have a boyfriend. I know. How much more boring could I be. But it was the experiences I would dream about. The freedom of learning whatever I wanted in college. How awesome it would be to have my own money, to furnish my life with my own pretty things, and things that I thought were valuable. To experience love!

I know it sounds silly, but the first time I deposited my paycheque into my bank account from my first job, I was ecstatic. Since then I have paid for a trip to Toronto for 2 weeks, helped pay for college, and by myself the prettiest clothes, like omg. But more importantly, I've started to feel comfortable with myself. And that started pretty much immediately after I graduated high school.

One of the most important things that happened to me in high school was at the end of grade 10. Suddenly, I was like "Wait. Who gives a fuck what other people think about me? FUCK other people!" And that was so incredibly freeing. And I've carried that attitude with me, and it has helped IMMENSELY.

I feel like I've strayed from the topic a bit, but what I'm trying to say is IT GETS BETTER. Gay, lesbian, bi, trans, straight, whatever. Life will get so much better if you just give it a chance to.

Monday, October 4, 2010

Amazing Accidents

I was reading a hilarious article on Cracked, called 15 Things Christine O'Donnell Will Probably Say Before She's Not Elected. It's obviously a joke article, and a very funny one at that. But there was one thing written that bothered me...

"Science is a way of scaring us and our youth into believing that we are an accident."
Can I ask a question?

Why is that so scary?

Now, I do know that this was a joke article, and she has not actually said this. But there are tons of people out there that probably believe that statement, or something similar to it. But why? Really, what about us being accidents is frightening?

I think that it's mostly because people have a fear of the unknown. Things we don't understand scare us. So the prospect of being randomly brought into existence for no great purpose that we can see can be a little unsettling. There are lot's of people out there that agonize over the meaning of their being. So most of the time, it's easier to believe that an almighty God created us, and that he's got a plan for everyone. You may not know what that plan is yet, and hell, you may never know, but just the fact that there IS a plan is comforting. You're not a worthless speck. Someone put you here for a reason.

Personally, I believe none of that, and my life is no less rich and interesting for it.

I LOVE the idea that we're accidents. I think it's beautiful. Look around you: look at what we have come to. All this art, structure, language, culture... I think it's amazing that this could have all been one monumental accident. If one fragment hadn't collided with another, if element had stayed the wallflower and not mingled with the party, none of this would be here. But it did, and look. We were nothing, and now we have music! Dance! Love! Literature! All these things, by accident.

People say, "But what if those fragments HADN'T collided? What if that one element was shy? Then we would have never existed." Well, we do, so honestly... who cares? There's no point in worrying about what-if's.

As for purposes, well, I think our purpose is to live. Some people think that's bland. Some people think that's not enough. But why? Why is it not enough to just live and enjoy your life? Sure, you can sprinkle some volunteer work and world travel in there. You can do whatever you think makes your life more meaningful and memorable. If that's what you want your purpose to be, then do it.

I think that our ultimate purpose is much more simple (and less romantic) than that. Let's not forget that we are animals. Our base purpose is to continue. To grow, to meet, to mate, to give way to new life, and et cetera. Yes, that seems a little lame, to think that we're only here to breed and then die. But we've grown to the part where we can make our own purposes.

The idea of being accidental is incredible. Nobody wanted us here, or needed us here, but damnit all, we showed up anyway. We came, we dreamed, we grew.

Sunday, October 3, 2010

Stupid Things on Facebook and Oh My God I Am So Excited

Let's see how powerful women really are.

Woman have had to overcome some tough stuff to be at the point where we are today. I would consider myself a feminist in the sense that I am a woman, and am particularly fond of having rights. So when I see a line like "Let's see how powerful we women really are" I think "Fuck yeah! Nobody's going to hold me down! I'm going to walk on the moon and be the goddamn Prime Minister of Canada!"

But don't get too excited, because that line comes from this:

"Ok ladies here's another game, like the bra color game which was a total success and we had men wondering for days what was with the colors and it made it to the News. Well this game has to do with your handbag, where we put our handbag the moment we get home for example "I like it on the couch", "I like it on the kitchen counter", "I like it on the dresser" well u get the idea. Just put your answer as your Status with nothing more than that and cut n paste this message and forward to all your FB female friends to their inbox. The bra game made it to the news. Let's see how powerful we women really are!!"
(I got it in 'girls only' pages from the net)
and remind guys not to give a damn on their status... or we loose."
This... I don't even know what this is. For one thing, there are so many grammatical errors in this that I am going to punch the next baby I see from the rage this has caused in me. But really, I'm just curious as to how sounding like a slut is empowering anybody. Now, I have nothing against sex. Sex is awesome. But when you're trying to prove how "powerful" women are, making yourself sound like a lady who just wants to be fucked is maybe not the best way to go about it.

Just saying.

In other TERRIFIC news, I got an incredibly interesting email. It was from a woman who said she had come across this blog and was "really impressed." She is the editor for a website called Videojug Pages, which I hadn't heard of before. It's like, a collection of how-to's and articles on whatever you're knowledgeable about. So basically, I could write about whatever I felt like for a bunch of people who are there to read what I write. And I said yes!(!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

I-I am so freaking excited I don't know what to do with myself. I've wanted to do something like this for so long, and here it is! My big chance! I do have some worries though...

1) I'm worried that... I don't know, that this isn't real. Or like, that I'm not going to be able to do it. She emailed me on the 28th, and I didn't check until today! Bad, bad Lisa! Nobody ever emails me these days, so I just stopped checking. What if it's too late, or she's like "Man, I don't want dumb people who never check their emails." Ahhh! No, I'm not dumb, I swear! I'm just vastly unpopular so there's never a need to check my email!

2) What the heck am I going to write about?! The point of the website is to write about things that you know and have some expertise on... What's my area of expertise?! I mean, from the looks of it, I could write about literally anything. But... what if I'm not as knowledgeable as I think I am? I mean, I only know books, doodling, webcomics and... man, I don't know. I like to ramble a lot.

But I really, really, really want to do this. I just feel like I've been stuck in such a funk lately, and I've been searching for something to do that will just give me something else to think about and work towards.

Here's hoping this works out.

And now, I must feed! Seriously, all I've had to eat today was two slices of pizza at about 4pm, and I'm starting to feel really funny. Like, I feel like I'm moving, or being sloooowly squished down into my chair, but I am obviously not moving. Huh. I guess it's time for eats then.

Goodnight, my children. May your dreams be wild and strange.

Mountain Tops, Ganesh and Tearful Goodbyes

Such a strange, sad dream.

It started with Christina staying in Vancouver for longer than she really did. She rolled some dice, or possibly got a fortune cookie that told her to take advantage of sudden chances. So she decided to stay for a little while longer. While we were all at a video store, Max showed up and he and I were kissing. I paused to say to her "By the way, this is my boyfriend." and she laughed and said "Yeah, I guessed."

I have to interrupt for a second here to say that my identity in my dreams is always very fluid. Sometimes I am myself, but there was a brief amount of time where I was Christina. I never seem to stay the same person. Anyway, carrying on...

We all slept over (Max included) at a swanky apartment that Tanis had come to own. It was, indeed, very swanky. There was an upstairs and a downstairs (we were in a high-rise building) and a huge balcony with a swimming pool. Max and I slept on the couch while Tanis and Christina were upstairs. The next morning, Max kept trying to coerce me into having sex with him, but Tanis was in the kitchen and I told him that would be kind of weird.

Max went off, and Tanis and I told Christina that we would take her to Whistler for some sightseeing. We got there, but Christina was mysteriously not with us anymore, although Tanis and I didn't seem to mind. We were on the very peak of the mountain, and it was horrible. The edge was very thin, and it was like we were in the middle of a terrible blizzard. It was dark and freezing, and the wind was just howling. It was so dark that we couldn't see the other mountain peaks around us. We were right on the edge of the peak, and lying on our bellies. To my right was an abyss, and full of this dark swirling stuff. I thought it was mist, but when I put my hand out to touch it, I found it was water. The ocean was right up against the side of the mountain.

We were trying to make our way to the far edge of the peak, which was behind me, which had a tiny tunnel that we were going to use to get down the mountain. A memory (that wasn't actually a real memory) came to me, that Tanis and I had used this tunnel as children. Anyway, we got there, and it was too tiny for us to fit down. So I stood up and smashed the top of it in (which conveniently smashed to top off the rest of the tunnel) and we slid down the old tunnel, zig-zagging our way down the sheer face of the mountain.

At the bottom, there were all these slush puddles, and they were in the shapes of the continents of the world. We walked across them, joking about how we were on top of the world, which is kind of funny, considering that we already were, since we were on top of a mountain. Also, I believe William Shatner was there for some reason. Oh, the dreams of a Canadian.

Then we were suddenly giants, actually standing on top of the world. I could cross entire countries in a footstep. We raced across the continents. We ran over the oceans, which were only an inch deep to our giant-ness. We started off on Canada, and ran over the Arctic. At this point, I realized that this was not our planet, but a larger look-alike. If it had been our planet, we would have crossed it 5 times by now.

But I digress.

We were running across the oceans, whooping and yelling to hear our voices echo across the world. By this time we were somewhere in Asia. There was a moment where I wondered if the people were were running past could even see us, because we were so fast.

Well, turns out they could, and they weren't our biggest fans. They got together a whole bunch of warships together to come and kill us. We were in India now, and could see the weird red and blue cliffs ahead of us. There were children on the beach who told us that it would be too hard to climb the cliffs, but we were goddamn giants, so we could do whatever we wanted. It was admittedly harder than I expected it to be. The kids somehow managed to get up as well.

As soon as we stepped foot on the plateau on top of the cliffs, Tanis and I turned into elephants, and the children turned into ducklings. I heard a man talking, as if he was the narrator of this dream, and he told us that all the animals had been turned against us too. I heard rattle snakes, and they rose up from the grass and killed all the ducklings. Specifically, we were being hunted kangaroos, pelicans, tigers, and the duckling-murdering rattle snakes.

We ran to what looked like an ancient temple that was being held up by scaffolding, as if they were trying to restore it. I was informed by the narrator that entering this temple would change someone's life forever, but also end someone else's life. Even though I knew that one of us would die, it was like I couldn't control myself, like I couldn't escape fate.

We quietly entered the temple just as night was falling, and all hell broke lose. They toppeled columns on us, rock slabs, and threw nets. In the confusion, I found a baby elephant who was good and joined us. The baby and I escaped the melee, but Tanis was the one who's death the narrator had predicted.

Er, sorry Tanis.

The baby elephant and I changed into (normal-sized) humans, and the baby elephant was actually a little... boy? Girl? Honestly, I don't think it had a discernible gender. We found an abandoned high school on a cliff overlooking the ocean, and ran inside to take refuge. We were searching for some sort of dirigible that would take me back to my own world. We were joined by a young man (who was sometimes Max) and a 77 year old woman who had a strange Norwegian name that began with a T and had a whole bunch of letter S' in it. Now, instead of animals, there was a horde of screaming teenagers chasing us down. We found the blimp in an old closet in the school, and then climbed staircase after staircase so we could launch it from the top of the school. On the way up, I found an ancient gold chain, with an equally ancient pendant of Ganesh hanging off it. I picked it up and put it on, hoping it would give me luck. The young man (who was Max at this point) found a long dagger with a burnished gold hilt. I told him to take it with us, because we were most likely going to need it.

The teenagers were racing up the stairs, screaming and jeering. I had superhuman strength, which I think was due to the Ganesh necklace, and I was throwing benches, garbage bins and even a wooden barrel at them. All the while I was laughing maniacally and calling them awful names, shouting things like "Eat this, cum-brains!" and making jerk-off motions in their direction.

It was very fun.

I shut myself in a room, which was really well furnished, with all dark wood furniture, a fireplace and ceiling high bookshelves. I locked the door, and was dressed in a beautiful vintage 1940's summer dress. The young man was there, sitting at a desk, and I told him to draw a picture of me. He started, but kept getting interrupted by the old woman, who was bothering him to try and find her telephone number on this very cool steampunk themed computer, so I could call her when I got back home. With the rabid teenagers beating on the door, I finally yelled at him to hurry up, and he yelled back "Why do you want me to draw this picture so bad?!" Then I got all teary and I shouted "Because I just want you to have something to remember me by!" His face got really sad and we hugged each other tightly. He motioned to a navy blue dress lying on the ground (which was actually a dress I'd contemplated buying in Forever 21 the day before) and smiled sadly, saying "I'll always have something to remember you by." I'm not entirely sure what he was implying with that dress, but it was very sweet.

The room was huge now, like half early 1900s office and half exotic garden. We crossed a small bridge over a shallow pond, holding each other and kissing tearfully. I heard the kid shout out the the dirigible was ready...

And then I woke up. Typical dream ending.

I'm going to have to rate that dream as one of my top 10 strangest/coolest dreams of all time. I don't know what it was all about, but the ending was very bittersweet. Uh, again, sorry you got killed in my dream, Tanis.

WHOA that took a long time to type, and I am sick at the moment, so that took a lot out of me. Also, Max just caught the biggest fucking spider in a cup like, oh my god, so fucking big. It's been a big day for me, I better be heading off to bed now, old lady that I am. Hope you enjoyed reading the contents of my brain!