man on the run, i told you to be kind

I’ve decided to re-orient myself into a mood of acceptance.  There’s only so many times you can repeat the same words to yourself before they lose meaning – so after a while I think it’s important to use new words, to stick with your beliefs but on a different side of the box.

Ever since high school, which ended up being pretty defining for me philosophically and mentally (as it tends to be for many people in the Northern Hemisphere), I’ve had a pretty hippy-esque mindset.  Phrases like, “Whatever will come, will come (and we’ll get through it, or we won’t)” and “Do what’s in your power to succeed, and let the rest be filled in by the world” frequent the sketches on my brain.  I strive for things, but I don’t kill myself getting there. Putting effort into things as a natural side-effect of my personality, which also means I like working.  But I’m never, and I don’t believe I ever will be, willing to compromise the things important to me to get more status, power, or money.  For my family I will sacrifice, despite the fact that everyone says this, everything.  To keep them safe and happy.

I like alone time, and I like reading books. I love watching TV shows because it’s like lazy reading for me (especially since I put subtitles on whatever I can!)  I like sitting outside in the sunshine and generally staying indoors when it rains.  I have learned that it’s always better to come see your friends at the hospital. Usually people don’t learn those sorts of things, but I sometimes struggle at being good.  I’m not saying I’m Miss Altruism, because I’m not – especially not by nature.  But I think people should give themselves more credit for attempting goodness.  It’s not easy.  In fact, it’s a much harder route than being bad-ass, despite the novels and blockbusters to the contrary.

I believe I’ve just discovered Bon Iver, and I’m in music-love, story love – something about writing music while having mono and being cooped up in your dad’s cabin all winter long.  I think that’s a pretty good story.  I think the whole, “indie-band-goes-heroin-cocaine-chic-and-then-has-a-family-after-becoming-sober/realizing-the-meaning-of-life” is so overdone.  There’s stories out there that are a lot more genuine than “cocaine cowgirl” (despite that being a wicked-ass song).  Stories that are earthy and strange and self-made.  Also, Bon Iver is pronounced en francais, like “hiver” without the ‘h’ or ‘eever’ because it means ‘good winter’.  See? Story. Bam!

I do a lot of talking about stories with a lot less follow-up in the writing department.  I mean, I don’t write stories, and if I did, I’m afraid they wouldn’t be very good.  But that doesn’t mean I don’t cherish stories.  I’ve realized that my reading skills have been lacking since childhood in the detail-orientation department, so I’ve been testing myself every book now, to see if I remember the characters names like, a year after I’ve read the book (I’ve accepted that my memory will never let me remember endings, and for that I am thankful because reading a book I’ve already read 501 times is only boring until I can’t remember what the fuck happens at the end of it, and therefore is a unique experience every friggin’ time).  I love stories, is what I meant to say in all of that.

Also, if you happen to have ever considered, or have gone to a university, you’ll be with me on this: fuck youuuuu university planning, money-sucking people!  Who requires you to take 6 credits and then only gives you a choice of courses worth 9? Oh, that’s right, York does.  And here I was sitting being all happy in my honeymoon first year here.  Now comes the bad sex.

I bets be prepared!

Yeah, all in all here, I’m a little wacked out since after work last night I went with my BF to the hospital because he was having some kicking abdominal pains.  I proposed that he was getting his period cramps.  He was happier with that comment after they filled his veins with delicious drugs.  We still don’t really know what’s wrong -except, obviously, my planning skills – but it can’t be nothing serious because you couldn’t see anything in his blood or bones or uteru- uh… intestines?  Anyway.  My planning skills leave something to be desired – also, fuck you rain for making my parking ticket all soaking wet so the parking exit machine got mad at me and spit it out like, 4 times before I was able to pay it and leave.

That’s the only time I will ever be pissed off for not being able to pay for something.


Also – have you guys seen the G20 lake? The picture of a body of water on a wall with canoes hung up around a warehouse that’s costing Canadian’s $2 million dollars to put up and $400,000 to take down?

God, my brain is a mess!


P.S. Something, something – earthquake.  I’m so out of touch with news, but in touch at the same time.


Gripe here!

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