The girls play games with their smiles...

411

Sat, 13 Dec 2003 02:06:56 GMT

elise will be popping in and out on a VERY sketchy basis because elise currently changed addresses to an internetless apartment.

i'm so happy.

next priority: find new job.

(this is where i intended to get into a long rundown of all the creepy people who frequented my shoe store on wednesday- and there were lots- but i must run off to find out about what breaking news there is on my cousin almost losing an eye?)

and when she does she walks on her tippy toes.

Fri, 21 Nov 2003 06:48:58 GMT

what i remember from this week:

"she can't talk or hold anything in her hands, but she can walk surprisingly enough. and when she does she walks on her tippy toes."

"you always smell of vanilla and du maurier cigarettes."

"i don't usually hold conversations like this (awkward pause)."

at her best, she's only run-of-the-mill.

Mon, 17 Nov 2003 04:27:35 GMT

some absolutely random statements that i don't persay expect anyone to read but felt like seeing published just for my personal benefit:

1. i think this is the seventeenth time i've tried to quit. two days, no cigarettes.
2. i'm suffering through another i-want-babies episode. a really violent one.
3. last night i got very obnoxious and decided i'd always been too good for D. then i felt really mean on the way home.
4. i never like the right people at the right time, always opting instead for the ever popular wrong people at the wrong time alternative.
5. i'm never going to have a longterm relationship, i can feel it.
5. i thought about shoplifting for the first time in a very long time about a week ago (the apple of my eye being a four dollar headband no more no less).
6. it was brought to my attention that there may be something wrong with the fact that i'm nineteen and so ready for babies and marriage.
7. i miss my old office, where everyone thought i was an absolute doll.
8. i occasionally waste time creating up really elaborate theoretical situations that i'll never actually take part of.
9. working in a store that sells expensive shoes makes me feel extremely important.
10. i decide i'm going to take off to cali without so much as a goodbye note at an average rate of six times a day
11. i love stripes. if i had enough money i'd fill my whole closet with striped shirts.
12. i had a nice talk with a hungarian man who told me i should become a model today. so flattering even though he had these obviously half blind eyes.
13. i occasionally feel like everything i'm saying sounds really trivial and stupid.
14. i always suspect everyone of having ulterior motives.
15. despite appearances, i'm actually genuinely happy now. i haven't been really in a long time.
16. i put on six pounds since october and i feel really comfy and happy about it.
17. i hate that I can do a little bit of everything but i'm not especially talented at any one given thing.

ps- 18. yes there are two number fives.

shot glasses and other essentials

Sat, 08 Nov 2003 03:03:15 GMT

ohmygod.

me. bee. apartment.
it's happening boys and girls.
excuse me while i go have a heart attack.

twilight-ish.

Tue, 21 Oct 2003 05:50:24 GMT

something odd just happened. when i was brushing my teeth and washing off my make-up in the washroom all my movements seemed sort of static and delayed, rehearsed-like.

like i was playing in a french film, maybe.

and like i was waiting for it all to lead into something. i've only felt this way about things once before. something strange is definitely about to happen.

coffee, shoes and other bedtime stories.

Sun, 19 Oct 2003 19:11:22 GMT

so no more 5 a.m. jobs. and by that i mean ever (EVER in capitals even), not just in reference to the one i finished off with recently. instead i'm back to casual business attire on a 4.30 to 11.30 office shift, and (this is actually sort of exciting) selling extratrendy shoes in bloor west village part-time mornings and sunday.

friday is my day off i think. but maybe not. the more i run over my schedule, the more it seems i've scammed myself right out of free time. it's ok though, cause i'm getting a unexplainable kick and a half out of this exceptionally hectic year off i've bound myself into.

AND. in other news. i got my hair all braided up. this jamaican girl at work did it for me. i'm so but so loving it. even though it's so tight it's more or less preventing me from pulling off any facial expression whatsoever.

oh. and i love you sabrina, when at past twelve you're flying high on twenty seven cups of coffee more adequately than someone who's just done three lines of coke.

so so stellar!

Tue, 07 Oct 2003 23:20:27 GMT

some things i've uncovered.

i don't care what others think of me, but only because i essentially know no one thinks really badly of me.

i don't care for boys right now, but i keep making eyes at them every once in a while just to know i could have one if i really wanted.

i don't care about money but prolly only cause i'm so well provided for right now.

these stellar thoughts brought to you by four consecutive hours of canvassing toronto alone for jobs on a straight diet of fruit juice and cigarettes. including one joint where i basically signed them my life in exchange for some hours, and by that i mean i fucked myself right into the 5 a.m. shift. my previous brilliant excuse for a job saw me home at a prompt quarter to twelve. why do i so insist on destroying myself?

call to arms

Tue, 07 Oct 2003 04:42:11 GMT

so. i quit my job. which makes me feel oh so assertive right about now but which i know i'll be so positively regretting when i wake up tomorrow dreaming of apartments which will never be mine. and the set of dishes me and sabrina spent a small fortune on last weekend anticipating said apartment will serve as a sort of really depressing piece of memorabilia.

the only thing i regret really really most of all is that that job was really the only piece of stability in my life right now. i've been trying to pull through sort of haphazardly for the last month or so. one of those sometimes-in-life-you-have-to-push-your-limits just for, well, kicks i suppose clichés. but at least i had this 5 to 10 sort of scheduled routine.

oh i miss school.

no i don't. but i do miss some sort of stability. i'm so not made for this come what may spontaneity i so so crave.

s'il te plaît... apprivoise-moi!

Fri, 03 Oct 2003 17:39:35 GMT

i don't usually post quizzes. (though i have a debatably unsane obsession with taking them and taking the results too seriously) but this one was oh so sweet.

You are the fox.

Saint Exupery's 'The Little Prince' Quiz.
brought to you by Quizilla

a mathematical equation.

Fri, 03 Oct 2003 04:56:35 GMT

the worst thing that can happen to you is having someone suddenly regrade you from a relatively good impression to somewhere in the abiguous to unfavorable category. i couldn't be less unimpressed if someone has an immediate aversion to me, but if i start out well initially then suddenly, something falls through i find i'm almost desperate for explanations.

that, by the way, is a good piece of information for all you garçons. if you're very much taken with a girl but for whatever reason are running into *complications*, force her to go through a week of unrequited attentions, then, this is the crucial part, suddenly and without explanation whatsoever turn on her. odds are six to one she'll suddenly take due notice of you.

la putaine (just for kicks)

Tue, 23 Sep 2003 05:56:32 GMT

Ma vie, c’est une ligne écrite en cigarettes éteintes. Deux le matin envers l’autobus, une en chemin vers mon travail, deux à la pause de sept heures et demi, cinq discutant avec un garçon dans un café-bar, trois quittant son appartement me demandant s’il me rapellera, et une devant chez moi décidant avec une certitude incertaine que moi, au moins, je ne le rapellerai pas. Un sourire, un soupire et je me suis couchée.

a scientific test.

Sun, 14 Sep 2003 22:11:48 GMT

this is of no interest value... but... of 100% scientific value. i saw this in someone else's journal, apparently they (the men behind this conspiracy) can analyze the word choice in your lj to decipher your gender.

i'd like to point out that the differential point value between being either one gender or the other was a very very thin almost inconsequential slip for my case in particular.

why i wanted to point that out so urgently is... beyond me. so is why i'm taking this as such a literal scientific procedure.

craving milk.

Wed, 10 Sep 2003 18:33:40 GMT

Two hours left before I leave to work, and in the absence of activity I'm left with the vague thought that something went horribly wrong. With my plans and expectations et all. How on earth did I go from flipping through university psychology textbooks in my spare time to feeling like I've scored big time when I land a twelve dollars an hour telephone job?

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about expectations. Mostly since I found myself explaining in a haphazard in-car conversation to my ma that really all I wanted from life, in no particular order or at any particular time were an apartment and eventually some kids. Mostly since then, because when I sort of backtracked to look over what I'd just said I found I was being a touch too honest for my taste.

I suspect I've disjointed myself psychologically in some sort of manner at some obscure significant key moment or another since more and more I'm finding I can't care about things I know I should care about. I can't seem to grasp the meaning of responsibility and consequence. But perhaps it's only because I haven't had to face either in very serious measure yet.

What I do know is that I can no longer take myself quite so seriously (and I've been known for taking myself quite seriously in-deed) and more often than not I no longer really expect others to take me seriously either. I've lowered my standards. Yes. And I'm having trouble seeing it as a truly bad thing. Which may in itself be a bad thing. Or I may just be playing up my Joan of Ark complex.

I've fallen into a lull really. I spend my mornings snacking on cashews and marshmallow cereal sans milk surveying such pertinent topics as: why there are so many wasps in my backyard, whether I still want to work at an office where everyone runs some decidedly sketchy side business or another, and, how I could scam my way into California welfare. Early afternoons I progress to a more active state, and by that I mean leaving the house briefly to harass the customers at Central Parkway mall for a cigarette since by this point I more than likely don't have any. As for the maraschino cherry on the cake; the rest of the day, I spend it making sales/genuinely conversing with out of country clients while twirling myself into full catatonia on my swivel chair.

Yes, and I must triple underline my recognition here. Something has positively gone wrong.

twenny-two.

Wed, 03 Sep 2003 07:24:59 GMT

Tonight, tonight, I'd like to ask you over so we can sit on the balcony throwing dice and drink warm cinnamon wine with 17 reasons to cry. I've been looking at old photographs too long, their sepia overtones burning into the back of my mind like an intangible childhood fear. A ballerina dress, flowers pleated into uncombed hair, a smile without ulterior motives. The mirror across from my bed spurs a nauseating wave of deja-vu . I like to forgive myself thinking that if they'd seen you that night, your face slightly concealed in lamplight shade and your smile softly askew, they'd understand why I could cry over a forget-me-not memory. I like to forgive myself by dreaming on four aspirins and a cigarette ingested on an empty stomach.

Two boys I remember. Consciously. You, and another. Another who lived only down the street whose name I think I never knew. Perhaps I'd never taken the pains to memorize it. I spoke to him twice, the first time he was a trace tipsy, and the second with no clear recollection of me as a result of his inebriated affliction. But the first time, on the side of the unpaved road, leaning slightly into the open field. He had a bottle of Heineken in one hand and two folded papers in the other. And he said vulgarly, "love, is just the taste of salt." That's all he said. The second time he was waving goodbye to a pretty girl with soft folding legs. I think when I told you, you laughed and called him an imbecile, only in harder words. I'm entirely disposed to admit you're right. Because I've always had a tendency to see the prolific and symbolic in ordinary, even exhausted, happenstances. Even as I'd criticize myself for it, I'd still feel the weight of my delusive perspectives. After a few tequilas on your terrace I would even gather the nerve to begin imposing my standpoint, while you'd calmly try to ground me.

You told me once when you were too drunk to keep in mind that you were pretending not to notice the schoolgirl intentions I came to see you with that I should stop thinking you were my fucking salvation. And that's the thing I remember best about you because I'd laughed stupidly and uninhibitedly, deciding not to tell you that in some archaic way I'd hoped to be yours.

lovely.

Mon, 25 Aug 2003 06:47:48 GMT

can't quite close my eyes. maybe it's that creepy dream from two nights ago. maybe it's the really sad way my mamita just looked at me with sleepy eyes asking why i was outside smoking at 2 am. nevertheless. here's... a revised thought... compiled a relatively long time ago, but tonight it's somehow melancholy.

Lovely girl, what a lovely girl who goes running along the sand with skin the colour of sweetmilk and honey. I think she drives all the boys wild. Come swim with us, they call, from amnesia-green waves. But she won't even listen to them, she only listens to the sound she makes when she steps on the sand. She throws off her sandals and her blue dress so she can feel the wind on her stomach. And the boys with tears in their blue, blue eyes, ask her to come out and play. But she won't let them take her out in their summer cars to run her fingers through their August blond hair. She only cares for lemonade in cafes where she sits alone at a table for two. What a lovely girl who runs along the shore with stars in her eyes and pearls in her hair, who loves only the colour of wheat fields in September.

a most unfortunate mishap

Fri, 08 Aug 2003 02:36:31 GMT

This journal hasn't seen the light of day in something like a month. (I thought i'd point out, since it's just occurred to me)

Anyhow, totally random. but so very strange and embarrassing. I was at my friend's house early this afternoon, flipping through old fotos. (I was going to say we were doing this in the absence of any other exciting possibilities, but that's not true at all, I get a kick and a half out of ancient photographs).

So I was checking out this picture of his ma when she was four or five or something for like five minutes before I prolifically commented quite suddenly "She looks exactly the same in life as in death." He checked me out sort of creepily for half a minute before I suddenly got a grasp on what I had said. See what I had meant to say... is... she looks exactly the same then as she does now...

Sort of creepy, non? So basically I was totally but TOTALLY at a loss of where that mysteriously tragic slip of words had intruded from. What I do know is that it made me look morbidly depressed (which I'm not at all). So for the rest of the day he kept transforming everything that was happening into really cryptic fatal happenstances.

The point is I'm positively in the dark to how I even phrased up that confusion. Well. very strange.

Word on the street.

Sat, 12 Jul 2003 22:15:39 GMT

I've been feeling really artistic all day. Which by no means implies that I have any honest to God (god? God? What are the politics on capitalizing that nowadays) talent, but I really felt like doing something creative. So first thing this morning, I tried on seventeen different outfits while listening to this radio station I didn't even know existed that plays exclusively experimental music and some sort of cuban jazz? After fixing myself up with what I thought was my best distressed artist look I had a cigarette in the back yard and made such a chalk masterpiece on the concrete that I'm sort of wondering if I should have applied to the Art College.

Mami wanted me to come down to some art exhibit with her on lakefront, and she got upset when I didn't because she says I don't do anything with the family anymore. She's very distraught because she thinks I'm embarrassed to be seen in public with her. Four years ago, when I'd similarly refused, she'd devised a theory that I was afraid of running into a number of particular individuals while she was with me. Like shady connections who apparently hooked me up with drugs, I guess? I found out from Sabrina, who'd secretly overheard her mama because word on the street has it that it was quite the discussion topic for both our respective parents.

I would have gone really, if it was something more exciting. But when I passed it by this morning on the bus, it was all these retired women with aquarelle paintings of their grandchildren posing with various cats and flower arrangements.

So instead I stayed home and made mango pudding, from a recipe I encourage anyone and everyone to try. You mix two ripe mangoes with a can of condensed milk, 1 cup of ricotta cheese and two spoons of lime juice in a blender, then leave it in the refrigerator for three hours. Sort of delish.

endnote.

Sat, 12 Jul 2003 01:53:00 GMT

Friday everyone at school was talking about Trainspotting as if it was the masterwork of the century. So on Tuesday I borrowed it from a boy in my class and it turned out to be relatively brilliant. I can't remember precise names and exact lines, but something near the end about the future moving towards a sort of general androgeny struck me as sort of an exceptional thing to say.

Nearly all foreign movies always make you wish you could write something half as witty and prolific. Not like american movies which just make you feel stupid if you haven't been spontaneously swept off your feet in l-o-v-e before.

Hairs/Pelitos

Mon, 07 Jul 2003 01:21:37 GMT

I was downtown today for that totally lame street festival. On the way, on the tram, I saw this girl with really crazy long hair. Below her waist long. I miss my long hair.

Before I left to Romania I had long hair. It was pretty exciting long hair, I think. Anyhow I got really fancy about getting a haircut at that really fancy hairstyling place Donnato's. I was going to layer it in some sort of very extravagant style but when I got there I told the girl to just cut it all off. So I had really short *I just might be a boy? a girl? It's anyone's guess* sort of hair for a while. Now I'm forcing a really small ponytail, forcing it as in it's really painful to gather enough hair to form it. But I'm wearing it to school tomorrow.

On another distressing note, I tried to stop smoking, and much to my alarm I discovered I can't go a day without a cigarette. Well theoretically I could really. Only that if anyone got in my bad graces (suffice for them to not hear what I was saying and asking me to repeat it again) I'd be ready to throw china plates. I never thought I'd be one of those people who get frustrated when they can't lay their hands on a cigarette. Depressing.

Mangoes

Sat, 05 Jul 2003 02:08:43 GMT

Wednesday I went to sign up for summer school. What I'm doing in summer school is anyone's guess (save for mine) since I absolutely but absolutely have no use for an english OAC credit. I at last laid down my plans for a future, impulsively but decisively precisely two weeks ago to finally answer that so-you're-19-I-guess-you know-what-you're-doing-with-your-life-now comments (which seem to pop up every five minutes) with dignity. And they involve a two year stint at college for early childhood education. A program which requires the precise quantity of... zero OAC credits to enter. But it keeps my mamita happy.

When I was signing up, the woman behind me who'd come to accompany her daughter took liberties to inquire on what plans I had for post secondary education. Feeling inexplicably excited about finally being quizzed on the matter when I had an answer up my sleeve, I took the pains to explain in intense detail where I was heading. After a brief pause (while moi, with an extravagantly winning smile, waited for a response) she basically sums up her ennui in "so... I guess... you don't want a professional university degree..." quickly followed by "well I guess it is considerably expensive" in this emphasized tone like there was no way I could afford it unless I sold a limb. Pues. I guess I just look like I'm from the slums? The point is I should have had a really clever comeback. You know. Like. "Actually. I'm rich." Or. "I could buy the whole university if I wanted to." Yah, that would have done the trick. She couldn't even speak english.

On an even sadder note, Sabrina left on Thursday. I spoke to her on the phone the second I got out of my first day of summer school. Anyhow, she told me her papa had purchased all these mangoes they had no use for and asked me if I wanted them, so I graciously accepted and she told me to pick them up from her backyard. So after I finished tutoring the kids Sabrina usually tutors I slipped into her yard. On her cherry tree, she'd left me a bag with three mangoes and one cucumber. For no particular reason at all that random cucumber cracked me up for hours. In this really misty nostalgic sort of way. I miss, miss, miss you Sa.