Cuddle Up with Your Week/(Weak?)

I know,

I know.

I suck.

Okay?

I’ve self-sufficiently established that.  I mean, it’s not like I have millions of readers or anything, but even the you’s that DO read, I have let down (kind of).  I myself thrive on my reader’s updates.  In fact, chances are that I never would have even known a lot about the sexiest type of sexy (Canadian, obviously), Adam Giambrone’s way-too-young sexyness and then epic fail at running for mayor, or the death of Alexander McQueen had it not been for my newsfeed.  And yet, and yet.

Life does often get in the way of me being constructive, you know? I mean, god! It’s hard to be good at doing stuff.  Who ever mentioned that shit like this takes work? No one.  That’s who.  We are all shang-hai-d (?) into this without knowing that we need to put in effort to be good at something.  Not like breathing, because that is more or less like a reflex sort of thing, but like, you know, walking.  At first anyway.  Walking’s easy now.  Unless I’m drunk.  Or doped on painkillers.  Or just feeling clumsy that day.  But mostly walking is pretty easy.

ANYWHOOZER.  So, there’s been several things this week that’ve been keeping me away from my keyboard, none of which I assure you are very exciting (this is a lie) and all of which are tedious and boring (also a lie, in part).

Firstly, I’ve been writing a crapload of essays (two) that were due 2 days apart.  That’s the boring part.  BUT ALSO, I have been going to 2 poetry readings in 2 nights.  THAT’S RIGHT! YOU HEARD ME.  2 in 2! THAT’S LIKE, 100% attendance.  Yeah.  I’m an attendance MACHINE.

No but seriously, I also read my poem both nights.  The first night, I knew I had to. So I did it.  I was very obviously nervous (not as obviously as before when I’ve read – note : one swell time I even burst into tears at the end of a poem), but I got through it and people told me they loved the poem itself, so that was good. This event was called the Love Lounge and it was held as a part of the Art Bar Poetry series at Clinton’s on Bloor West.

The second night, which was BAM! Youth Slam, I proposed to an editor at Excalibur that I would review for that paper, so I’m not going to talk much about it here until it’s published and then I’ll put it up in the Published section.  All I can say is – it was ROCKING.  I went up there and the poem (Bed Stand? … I need to put it up, and I will. Eventually. Maybe I will put up a video of me doing it one day. That would be cool!) came out so much better than the night before.  It was surprising even to me.  But maybe the glass of wine helped (ie without it I would have got heart palpitations again?).  🙂

Overall it was a wonderful, wonderful night, even going outside in the snow afterwards was refreshing.  I also met one of Aamir’s friends from his cooking program.  She’s pretty wicked.  Hopefully will be seeing some more of her later! 🙂

Basically I just ruined the hype for the Excalibur thing because really, okay, I am like the least patient person ever (ESPECIALLY with surprises about good things) and I suck at building mystery.  Only if I put in like creepy music or something will I be able to do that, and even then… eeeeeh.

BUT OKAY, it’s important because I feel like I’m actually playing a part in the paper.  There’s going to be like a poetry section in it now because the response to the Creative Writing Supplement was so good, and I’m hoping to get some more of my stuff published! HOW exciting is that?!  It’s such a big newspaper too!  (At York, obvi).

Anyway, I’m pretty stoked about it, I’m not going to lie to you, faithful reader (s?).  I feel very published.  What a thrill, let me tell you.  Not quite like getting drunk, but if I’m using the metaphor anyway, it’s kind of like getting drunk on your own ego.  I’m sure that’ll last till about when I get my marks for my essays back.  Have no fear, life is always there to fuck things up.

I still want a puppy.

Tomorrow I am summer job hunting?  I know, it’s February.  I’m eager like that.  Like a beaver! ZING!

Not. I know I’m not funny sometimes, but I still enjoy the trying.

As for other things: life is pretty good, mostly.  A little rocky here and there but stabilizing somewhat. I’ve got lots of reading for reading week, lots of writing, and lots more poetry! Which I can’t say I’m not STOKED about.  I need to stop saying stoked.  Who am I? God, it’s embarrassing to be me sometimes.  Hopefully also a haircut?! I will take before and after pictures if I don’t forget.  I know you’re all just hanging out on the edges of your seats here:

“Will she cut it? Will she not cut it? Will she dye it?  WHAT COLOUR?! OH GOD FOR HEAVENS SAKE WHAT COLOUR WILL SHE DYE IT AND WILL THERE BE LAYERS?! DOES NO ONE THINK ABOUT THE LAYERS?!”

But I’m just you know, too exciting for my well being sometimes.  What can I do?

Okay well I hope this is enough rambling to cover you for a few days, until I get some new thrilling material?

No?

…… wow.  I think my stomach just made transformer-like sounds.  Seriously.  Like ROBOTS. INSIDE MY STOMACH.

What?

I should get to bed or something – lots to do tomorrow (if my father leaves me the car. If not, sucks to be meeeee).

-Arina.

PS.  Frozen over lakes at night freak me the fuck out – I mean really, either aliens are going to like FLY in through our atmosphere and crash there, causing me to be the only spectator and then interacting with extraterrestrials (which they SO did not teach in public schools…. private Catholic schools, maybe) as the first human being (of which I would most certainly be not the best specimen) OR there is going to be a massive breakout from under the ice by some weird ancient earth monster that’s been slumbering underneath Stouffville for millions of years and has now come back in all it’s slimy glory to eat me.

Really, now.

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