Verbal Masturbation

2005-08-26T01:40:00.000-04:00

It seems that all my entries in this journal are pessimistic and self deprecating. I hate complaining; it makes me feel like I have such a hard life, when in fact, I don't.

Maybe I am a bad person. Maybe I'm not worthy to have such good friends.

But at least my parents came home: they brought back the laptop with Sigur Ros's new album to lose myself in.

And I think I'm going to give up pot until I'm back in Kingston. And then give it up for a month when frosh week is over and classes start.

I feel so weird now, but that may be due to the pot I've smoked.

X X X

The summer has been, hands down, the best summer I've experienced. I spent so much time with some of the coolest people I know (sadly not all of them), and I loved every minute of it. From the weekend that's been coined 'E Weekend' to dancing like crazy alongside LCD Soundsystem and The Go! Team to drinking in a field to exploring a cemetery to driving with Scissor Sisters, The Killers and Kelly Clarkson to coming up with million dollar story ideas to all-you-can-eat sushi to secret midnight dance parties to 5am street cars to roof top undewear dance parties to cottage parties to smash brothers to "what, you mean in the ass?"--it's been one hell of a ride.

And I can't believe it's almost over.

In the Know

2005-07-28T01:27:00.000-04:00

How do you know someone? How do you know when this is accomplished? Is it simply a matter of knowing what they're like in certain environments and how they react to certain stimuli? Do you have to know minute details like a favourite colour/food/clothing/music/band/hair style/actor/movie/book/website in order to know someone? What can you tell someone to get them to know you better? What do they have to tell you to achieve the same thing?

ANd so on. Maybe I"ll work on this later.

Hi.

2005-06-30T03:57:00.000-04:00

I'm in a really nostalgic mood all of a sudden...which is probably due to the weed I'm currently smoking. Anyways.

I don't know why I've been thinking about my high school friends and how distant I feel from them as of late. When I think back, I remember that there were some friends who were sometimes really good to me and seemed to really like me--and at the same time I remember the feeling of how 'not cool' I was to them. (I must say it's a very confusing thought.)

I don't think I ever told my friends when I did feel wanted and loved. Was that a reason why they sort of drifted away? Who says that to friends? I would feel hella-gay if I actually said that to a friend, and I'm sure the friend on the receiving end (heh) would feel the exact same way...right?

I have given an effort and tried to get together with the people I've drifted away from, but I never really saw a return on that. I also feel intimidated when I'm trying to contact them. I dunno.

Oh, and I hope you're reading this, Claire: I might not be up when you phone. As you can see, this was written pretty late. I'm sure you can put 2 and 2 together.

I Love it when the News is Bad

2005-06-25T15:51:00.000-04:00

When I think of my friends from high school, I realise that not a lot of them really respected me. My name was constantly smeared across insults by some members of my group when I wasn't around. I never really accepted this little factoid until last night whilst talking to Claire. Not a lot of the people I hung out with liked me for who I was. The people who I do talk to after high school are few in numbers, and some of them are people I wasn't really that close with in the first place.

Even now I have some high school friends who I'm not completely comfortable being myself around, or opening up to--and this is the reason why I have two journals. One journal (my Livejournal) is strictly for keeping in touch with some friends, and, well, to post random, inconsequential stuff. This journal is to somewhat express myself; to let some friends get a glimpse of my inner workings. I've only told one high school friend about this trite. I've built up some sort of protective wall to shield myself from some high school friends and their comments. I wouldn't dare post an entry from this journal in my Livejournal.

University has definitely changed me. I wasn't afraid of being me, or what my friends thought. The idea of my friends talking behind my back has never blossomed, and will most likely stay dormant. It's a weird and welcoming feeling.

In other news, I had to drop that creative writing course I was admitted to; it caused too many conflicts with my engineering schedule. Boourns, as they say.

Old Familiar Way

2005-06-21T01:57:00.000-04:00

I tell Scott what really bothers me. He tells me he's sorry. I tell him it's okay. And then the cycle repeats. I don't know whether it's me being naive or me being in love with him that keeps me believing what he says. You can't change someone--I know that. Actions speak louder than words. Etc.

I don't know what it is about love that makes me addicted. Maybe it's the fact that it has fused itself to each living cell in my body. Maybe it's the fact that my brain has opened up new receptors to accept the drug-like emotion. I don't know how his smile fills me with happiness and I don't know how his touch sends me into realms I never knew existed. But I do know it'd be very hard to live with out those small and seemingly menial, yet wonderfully life-affirming, things. He's driven me to a point where I can't imagine a world with out him. When I think of the future, he's filling up most of it. He's making the glass half full. We were talking about the future, and how I want to do some major traveling after I'm done school. He said "I just hope you don't go anywhere I can't follow."

What is it about wanting Someone to see how we've evolved into the person we are today? Wanting Someone to prove our existence is worthy and just?

Maybe it's the familiarity that I don't want to let go of; everyone has some sort of fear of change embedded into them. But I doubt this Sameness causes my heart to skip a beat and my blood cells to glow.

I'm tired.

Smells like Bullshit

2005-06-17T00:38:00.000-04:00

I can't fucking take this anymore.

An Opening

2005-06-10T02:14:00.000-04:00

I think I know what it is:

Actually, I thought I knew what it was, but when I read what I wrote, it sounded retarded. And, thus, I'll swallow this uncomfortable thought and move on.

I WIsh I Had an Evil Twin

2005-06-10T01:49:00.000-04:00

I've just been injected with this incredible urge to write. However, I have no direction or substance to help me out, so whatever's coursing through my veins is making me a tad frustrated.

Just a little while ago I felt like crying. I don't know what triggered such a state of mind--I was just minding my own business when it suddenly struck. One of the great mysteries of life, I suppose.

I don't know what to say. Maybe I'll go play video games to fill this void that's erupting inside of me.

Part Deux

2005-06-06T15:06:00.000-04:00

I have found myself becoming an awkward twat when I'm complimented; I try not to blush and fumble around in the dark for something to say. I find saying "thank you" too traditional and I feel it doesn't really show how much the compliment means.

In high school, the best compliment I got was "you're so smart". I didn't feel out of place when it was said because I could prove it by doing well on tests and helping friends out in subjects like Calculus and Physics. The other day Eric had made a comment to Cindy when it was the three of us walking back from the Lodge: "I'm so glad your friends are cool" (or something to that extent). I didn't know how to respond--I was very rarely considered 'cool' by friends and, well, never considered myself cool. My less than suave response was to stammer and say, "thanks?".

What am I trying to say? I don't know; it was lost in the plot.

I think I feel bad for getting complimented because...sometimes I don't feel it's true. I was called all sorts of things other than cool in elementary school and high school, and I think it's screwed up how I take compliments. Scott's always telling me to take the damn compliment, and maybe I should listen. I don't want to boast or anything, but I never knew how good it felt to be called 'cool'.

How do you take a compliment?

Sleeping in is...giving...in?

2005-06-06T14:46:00.000-04:00

I need more straight boy high school friends who won't flake out on me every chance they get and who won't get over emotional over everything and who will put forth a genuine effort to try and get together. It would seem this summer has been a blast on the occasions I've seen university friends or even friend's friends. (Give or take one or two events). Example: Scott's friends like it when I visit and try to convince me to hang out with them all the time. (I'm so glad I've gotten to know some of Scott's peeps--they're so cool and fun.) I may be on the outside looking in, but I've witnessed so many other groups of friends from high school who seem more tight than the group of friends I'm in. Hell, I don't even think I'm part of a group of friends from high school; I know a few people who I regularly talk to and who I sometimes see. Oh, well--c'est la vie, right? Hopefully I'll land this bakery job so it'll occupy the time when I'm not having a blast with friends who like to get together.

Fuckin'

2005-06-01T02:12:00.000-04:00

There's this creative writing course offered at Queen's, y'see, and I think I'm going to apply. I need to rummage through my old short stories to find a good one to apply with, as well as write some cover letter describing why I want to take the course. This is due today. Wish me luck.

I've been in a weird mood as of late. I find myself wanting to write something with meaning and substance instead of the same old 'blandiocrity' that I continuously spew out. The trouble, however, is found in the fact that I have nothing to say. Or, rather, I have much to say, but I can't figure out how to say it so I don't come off as some armchair philosopher who's smoked himself retarded. Or maybe it's some deadly combination of the two, which just increases my doubt in my writing ability.

One of the main reasons why I want to take the creative writing class is so I'm forced to write. But what will happen if I'm forced to write when I have nothing to talk about? It might not blow over well, that's for sure; but at least I'll be writing /something/, which is a lot more than what I can say now. I hope the prof finds my short story as amusing as my old Writer's Craft teacher did...though I have a sneaking suspicion that she was just crazy and loved anything. I mean, in the middle of one class she splurted out, "my family has a history of mental illness" and giggled to herself before she continued her marking. I'll be sure to keep my hopes low.

I Drink my Liquor from the Pond

2005-05-19T00:02:00.000-04:00

I hate being depressed because I feel guilty--guilty over the fact that I don't really have a good enough reason to feel this way.

Deja Vu

2005-05-18T21:39:00.000-04:00

I thought I kept having little bouts of deja vu until I realised that that's not it; I've actually just been doing the same fucking thing over and over again since I've been back. My life has become so monotonous that it's unbearable. At least give me a fucking rock to push up a hill so I an accept the absurdity of /something/ rather than the absurdity of /nothing/.

I'm bored all the fucking time. My current life is as follows: I wake up around noon; I revamp my resume a tad to suit another job posting and apply; I realise that I'm not even worth the interview from previous applications; I read; I watch the latest episode of whatever I downloaded; I grow increasingly more annoyed at my brothers; I listen to my mother drone on about something (I love her, but she's a little much at times)...It's not even worth me getting of fucking bed. Slitting my wrists might prove to make me feel something other than this compounding bland experience I call summer vacation.

I haven't even heard from Scott since Sunday. He'll probably make more promises to keep me happy, but won't follow up on them like so many times in the fucking past.

It hasn't even been three weeks and I've already hit a rut of depression. My family is slowly chipping away at my happiness. The lack of job is slowly burning my once tasty dish of contentment.

That last sentence is retarded. It sounds like it came from VH1's behind the band (The Simpson's version).

End of Year Re-cap

2005-05-08T15:05:00.000-04:00

How do you sum up eight months into a couple of paragraphs? I want to go into detail, describing some of the best moments, but I fear that the words I choose won’t convey the right message—some of the edge and magic of that moment will be lost. Like a copy from a copy from a copy: every time I retell the story it becomes just another barrage of words and sentences with out the intense luster it once had.

There have been so many experiences that I want to write down—not only for making Vanessa happy for completing this somewhat introspective post, but so I have a record of what defined one of the best years of my life. Every month had something of significance attached to it, something I want to remember. Where do I begin? Do I start off with homecoming? Where we cooked and drank? And tell how Vanessa drank some disgusting liquor from a hollowed out sausage? Do I continue with the shows I’ve been to? Like Metric and The Golden Dogs and Death from Above—all of which were amazingly fun! Then there’s Fake Prom, Halloween 2005, the make out party, Bernita’s themed parties, and the list goes on and on. Oh, and the dancing…so much dancing.

In order to complete this introspective-whatever post, I’d have to make special mention to some of the most amazing people I’ve come to know and love up at Queen’s—people who’ve helped me become the person I am today. The nights where a bunch of us would just hang out doing whatever have been so unforgettable—like how we spent our last night in Kingston, with the spaghetti war and honey and syrup in a bottle. Ah, this seems like such a cop-out entry (probably because it is)…

THen there's Scott, who I fall in love with more and more with each passing day. Whether we're dancing together to a band, or snuggling together whilst watching ST:TNG, I feel so (cough cliched cough) complete when we're together. He's unbelievably attractive, intelligent and has the same sense of humour as me--and I'm extremely lucky to be with him.

I think I’ve lost my flair for this thing.

Smells like Happiness

2005-04-19T01:39:00.000-04:00

So you'd think after losing ~$750 worth of stuff (some of which I can't buy again as they were collector's items) I'd be more upset and stuff. But I'm not. My only conclusion is that the stress from exams is dominating all other emotions--so when I come down from this exam-high I'll be more affected, I guess. Though I think it's not the stolen goods that really make my stomach churn; it's the fact that someone violated my personal space. Someone came in with out permission and touched my stuff with their scum-like hands, making a mess in the process--the very thought makes me cringe.

This ordeal could have been much worse: if my computer was stolen I'd probably cry--not over the fact that it was expensive and the like, but because I have thousands of pictures, dozens of stories and other random shit on my hard drive that I'd miss tremendously.

The real kicker is that I'm not insured.

Moving on...

I've turned into my mom's safe wall again. They're declaring bankruptcy, and it's taken quite the toll on my mom. I was looking forward to living at home for the summer (unlike last), but things have drastically changed and it seems like it's going to be a stressful four months. Eric said he'd help me find a job here (he's like amazing when it comes to that stuff), so hopefully I can avoid living at home. We'll see what happens I guess. The upside is that it'll probably be no problem receiving OSAP.

Remember the rule "'i' before e, except after 'c'"? It’s bullshit.

I don't think it's only the anonymity of the internet that evokes random 'drama', so to speak. I think it's also the fact that the person making some rude/crass/whatever comment knows that s/he is safe when it comes to any physical harm. If people knew that their physical safety wasn't threatened, they'd speak up more often than not.

Cindy made a comment awhile back that made me somewhat think. She said that it was weird how I’m one of her best friends, but she knows very little about me. What does being a best friend entail? Does it extend to the point where I’m supposed to know every little detail about her? Or does the title just encompass me being there for her whenever she needs me, and include how we can always have a good time when we’re together? Regardless of this, I’m not one for being overly open for friends--which is weird because I’m not one for caring what other people think. All through out high school, I was always lending an ear/shoulder to any friend who needed it. When a friend had a problem, they’d usually talk to me about it (along with whomever else they saw fit). But when I had a problem, I felt really guilty going to someone and saying “look, I need to talk”. I don’t know where that stems from, but apparently it runs in my family. My mom is like that, along my grandfather--and he died because of it. It’s like we can help others but not ourselves. I didn’t know which was problem worth talking about and which was a douche-like problem.

I was glad I got a journal (albeit a Livejournal) because I could inadvertently say what was on my mind to some friends with out having to go into too much detail or looking emo--but I still lacked the (I guess you could say) courage to say more. Then I started feeling self conscious over my entries. In the back of my mind I thought that my friends would laugh at some emotional post and this would cause me not to post it. I feared for my (what I thought were decent) ideas and content when they were laid out in front of my friends--but not strangers.

So I created another journal, where I was more open on my view of the world and the like with out fear of who read it (because I knew my friends weren’t reading it--aside from a few whom I told). I could stand a stranger’s criticism or even a stranger’s rude remark over how I’m retarded--but if certain friends were to do that, I’d feel more self conscious because…I don’t know why, really. I now have told more friends about this journal because I’m more comfortable with them reading it. Maybe it’s because I know they’d be honest about their remarks over an entry. I don’t know.

What was I trying to say? I don’t remember.

My idea of a best friend in high school was someone who I knew everything about--their favourite colour to their worst fear. My idea of a best friend now is someone who I get along really well with and someone who I know will be there if I need them. I don’t necessary know everything about them, but enough to know what I love about them.

Claire - “Be prepared for Claire.” Ahaha, she rocks my world.

Acid II Revisited and Other Ramblings

2005-04-11T19:21:00.000-04:00

The visuals I saw on Friday night were incredible. For example, when I noticed some sort of marking on a wall or door, it didn't just appear; it drew itself in a la the beginning of 101 Dalmatians. While waiting for Scott to queue up Metropolis, I saw a shower of multi-coloured arrows fall from above, twisting and curving themselves so that they wouldn't touch anything. I saw a row of paper thin, dwarf like wizards hopping along the edge of the bed. I saw Brad Pitt in a very large gun fight on a brick wall. I saw colour in a black and white photograph.

When reflecting on these visuals, I, again, realise the power of this drug. But it is time to leave the drug to rest for quite some time. The next trip isn't planned until late spring for next year--probably around a warmer time (read: closer to summer) so we can spend a longer period of time by the water before the cold wind kicks us out.

* * *

I hate the volatile relationship I have with one of my closest friends. I hate how instead of leaving it at “we’re at an impasse” he takes it one step further and tells me to fuck off. I should be comfortable with him telling me to ‘fuck off’--he’s told me countless times to fuck off or some variation thereof like fuck you--but each time it really takes me aback and creates a sinking feeling in my stomach and leaves me somewhat raped of happiness.

He told me not to tell him about the next acid trip, and so I didn’t. But he found out (I had nothing to do with this) and got really pissed. (As he put it: drugs are pathetic and the people who do them are pathetic). I’ve tried to assure him that this is definitely not habit forming (though it looks bad), but he won’t see it any other way.

I don’t know what to do other than to wait to see what he does. And, like always, the waiting game sucks--so who’s up for some Hungry Hungry Hippos?

* * *

When I reflect on my relationship with Scott, I find myself feeling depressed at times, thinking that he could do much better than me. I do feel lucky, but unworthy at the same time.

* * *

There’s too much to do and not enough time to do it. Time flies when you’re running low on it.

And I think I'm done here.

Acid II

2005-04-09T05:23:00.000-04:00

When I see someone--anyone--at some point in time, I wonder how they got there. I mean, why is a middle aged man in line at a drug store at 10 pm on a Friday? Where was he coming from? Where did he intend to go following his night visit?

Anyways.

This acid trip was very disappointing and it no where came near to the majestic and warm-glowing feel of the first trip. Everything felt surreal--to the point where I got panic-y. The hallucinations got really confusing--like, I was staring at a tree, but it wasn't a tree anymore...more like a conglomerate of thoughts and ideas of what the tree resembled and what the tree could be.

The beginning of the trip was nice--by the water, watching the sun set...I was taking in everything Nature had to offer. But then a course of events played themselves out leaving me highly uncomfortable and weird.

Walking alone from Lauren's house to Scott's with a head full of acid is an experience I won't soon forget. Everything I witnessed slowly drenched itself in a mix of "what the fuck is going on" and "is this actually happening?". Everything I saw had some huge significance attached to it, and for the life of me I couldn't figure out why--it was as if I was experiencing it all for the very first time...all previous memories of what I was feeling/supposed to feel were erased and they were being slowly painted back on.

Watching Hedwig and the Angry Itch was, for the lack of a better word, incredible. I’m afraid I cannot put into words what I felt throughout that movie…the visuals were over stimulating to say the least--to the point where I had a difficult time distinguishing what was what (which happened more often than not).

I feel bad for abandoning Vanessa and them, but I had to get out of that room. The trip started off as how I wanted it to go, but, like previously stated, a course of events made things incredibly overbearing. Until, that is, I got to Scott’s and was able to just relax with him--and enjoy the confusing visuals.

When I first dropped the acid, I didn’t think I’d be handling coke--but lo and behold it happened. (By handling it I mean just looking at it through a small baggy to see what the stuff actually looked like). That in itself was surreal moment…and I’m glad I left before people started cramming the blow into their heads. It was the simple stuff like that that became overbearing and almost tedious to deal with while ‘tripping balls’--under any other circumstance I would have been fine.

In conclusion the next time I drop acid, I’ll make sure the conditions won’t change to such a degree where I’ll find myself having a difficult time adjusting to the way things are flowing…

And, yeah, I believe I’m spent. I really can’t imagine how disjointed this entry must be.

Wearing Thin

2005-03-30T01:08:00.000-05:00

I'm starting to lose the momentum I had at the beginning of the semester--and I can easily blame this on the nine midterms and asswads of labs and assignments that pummelled me to the ground (not to mention the stress of deciding to change degree programs). I still have some labs and assignments to do, but I'm slow at getting back up; I have no desire to do any work at this point.

I took Monday off because I just needed to sleep. It was quite nice sleeping in until 1pm with Scott. Too bad this can't be done all the frickin' time. Oh well--c'est la vie, right? Right? Thought so. Now if I can work up the strength to keep on truckin', as it were, and finish up three assignments, one lab and two design projects with enough energy to start studying for finals.

In other news, I've e-mailed a bunch of people asking for their advice: should I switch into Engineering Physics or Honours Physics. Hopefully I get a lot of responses...or else.

No Words

2005-03-23T02:47:00.000-05:00

I've never seen such a disgusting display of human behavior. A lot of people have found the livejournal belonging to the boy responsible for the school shooting, and made a mockery of it. Posting comments like "LOLZ, you're cool, add me" is incredibly disrespectful. How can you call yourself a human being after showing the world you're an insensitive prick? I feel like I want to throw up. I feel like I've been violated by human kind after witnessing this vile indecency.

No Words

2005-03-23T02:28:00.000-05:00

I haven't seen a disgusting display of human filth in a long time. A lot of people have found the livejournal belonging to the guy responsible for the school shooting, and they have made a mockery out of the entire thing. It's unbelievably revolting, ill-mannered and vile. How can you call yourself human after posting a comment like "LOLZ you're cool, add me"?

I feel so...violated by human kind after witnessing comments like that.

Writing!

2005-03-06T23:13:00.000-05:00

Both Scott and I want to start writing again, like we both once did back in high school. So, I came up with a plan: each Sunday we will assign each other a topic to write about (anything goes), and we each have until the next Sunday to come up with something, however long. We'll then exchange our stories and give each other feedback. It's exciting, I say!

Gotta Kick at the Darkness Until it Bleeds Daylight

2005-03-06T18:25:00.000-05:00

Scott and I have reached, quite happily, the one year mark of our relationship. To celebrate this I wrote him a three page story about my blossoming interest in seeing him naked--er, interest in seeing him (branching back from where I first noticed him in calculus class). We had a very nice dinner at the Grizzly Grill, where gourmet pizza and a rich flavoured chocolate dessert didn't stand a chance against two empty stomachs and two tongues just waiting to lavish anything they came in contact with. Our discussion was never ending, fuelled by our love of one another and an entire bottle of wine.

One of the topics discussed was death, or the fear of. Scott told me a story where consciousness and body were separated, and consciousness and machine were united--creating an ability to live forever. He also told me that, given the technology standards today and given the exponential growth of the knowledge, this wouldn’t be impossible and that it could probably happen within a couple of centuries. If given the chance, would you want to live forever? Scott would in a second; he does not like the fact that there’s a chance where nothingness will engulf you once you pass on. He also does not like the fact that, because of all the scare mongering religion has bestowed on the masses, hell is a possibility. Hell, if it does exist, is essentially for eternity, and if one does have the opportunity to go, they would not like it in the least. That’s when I got into my spiel of existentialism, and, more specifically, Albert Camus’s take on the Myth of Sisyphus. Long story short, Camus said that Sisyphus, despite his mundane task of rolling a boulder up hill, only for it to roll back again and thus starting over, would eventually find happiness within by facing and accepting the absurdity etc etc. Whilst discussing this, I remembered an episode of Eek! The Cat (remember that show??) which encompassed Camus’s take on this so brilliantly. Basically Eek was sent to hell for one reason or another, where he was faced with the devil himself. The devil, doing what apparent devils do best, tried to give him the most tedious and mundane of tasks imaginable. The only task I remember Eek being sentenced to was the one where he stood afoot from a never ending field of grass, containing an infinite amount of pointy-prickly weeds to which Eek had to pick. The devil went onto other errands involving torture and left Eek to it. Little did the devil know Eek was an optimistic fuck willing to help anyone and everyone (though more often than not he ended up accidentally doing more wrong than good), and went to his task with the greatest smile on his face--thinking he was helping the devil. Anyways, long story short, after completing his task, he finds the devil and /asks/ for another one. Eek knew he was in hell for eternity, and so accepted this absurd fate. Much to the devil’s dislike, Eek was completing more and more mundane tasks and asking for thirds and fourths, not breaking his smile. Eventually, Eek is tossed out of hell. A happy ending resulted, despite the stigma of an eternal hell. Brilliant cartoon, though I didn’t appreciate the episode 12 or so years ago.

For some reason it’s in the human condition to think the grass is greener on the other side. Scott wanted to live forever because, for some reason, he thought the future would make him a hellovalot happier than what the present holds. What’s wrong with the present? Accept the absurdity of it now, hope for the best, and find your happiness. Find the beauty of being alive today instead of the beauty of living one hundred years from now. God knows that, say, in one hundred years (if you’re able to live for eternity) you’ll be in the same boat (well, high-tech rocket spaceship…you are, after all, one hundred years into the future) as you are now: Continuing to think that happiness is held in the hands of the future.

Besides, every good book has a good ending.

However, let’s play the devil’s advocate: you are able to live forever, and all of your friends are able to too (assuming they want to), and you had the legal ability of euthanasia (which should be legal anyways, but that’s a different topic). This way, you could take your own life (with out it being frowned upon) whenever you wanted--you could die at your happiest. Now it would become a game of chance--are you really the happiest you could be? What about the future? Shit, a war? I should have killed myself years ago. Etc. No one would kill themselves because they would constantly think that future is greener than the present.

Let’s take this a step further and say you could live forever, and be happy forever. If everything is as we think it should be, who says we need to change it? Life needs contrast--you need to be sad and unhappy in order to truly feel what happiness encompasses. You know what love and hate feels like because you’re able to contrast the two. If you were able to take one emotion (happiness) with out the other (sadness), happiness wouldn’t be as special as it once was; it would be some bland, mediocre emotion torn to pieces with the boredom of it all. It would be a constant state of limbo, which, in a sense, would be worse than hell. Life is all about contrast and change--it’s how we’re able to say we’re really happy. I believe it was said best with “you gotta kick at the darkness until it bleeds daylight.”

So it all boils down to being afraid of change. Instead of fearing change, embrace it--accept its absurdity, if you will.

Wow, and I have babbled for far too long.

Trippin' Balls

2005-03-01T17:00:00.000-05:00

"When I consider the short duration of my life, swallowed up in the eternity before and after, the little space which I fill, and even can see -- engulfed in an infinite immensity of spaces of which I am ignorant and which know me not, I am frightened, and am astonished at being here rather than there, for there is no reason why here rather than there, why now rather than then. The eternal silence of these infinite spaces frightens me..."

That about sums it up.

The acid trip was amazing. After the year and a half of research on the drug, and after years of major soul searching, I decided I wanted to try it--try something that has defined the 'free, peace-loving' 60s for oh-so-long. For about 10 hours I handed over my reality to acid on a small, single piece of green blotter paper. The setting made the trip extremely enjoyable; I was surrounded by some of my closest friends, and the love felt in the room was astonishing. Scott being there just helped that much more.

Vanessa and Eric munched on shrooms, whilst Cindy and I each took a hit of LSD. Anxiety rose and my stomach rolled over within 30 minutes--I could feel the drug taking hold. Ordinary objects took on new dimensions; what was once a white ceiling turned into a window which allowed me to view a whole new world expanding as far as the imagination could see.

Cindy took her anxiety out on various things, like breaking things ("I'm sorry, I just broke your pencil into four pieces"), and much pacing was done by her in the halls. Paper was put into my mouth by another form of me; I needed it in my mouth. Random words and phrases and a conglomerate of thoughts flowed (disjointedly) from my mouth.

Vanessa, Cindy and I decided to go play out in the snow--barefoot. I've never felt anything like it; it was like I was one with the snow (as clichéd as that sounds). In our altered states of reality, we found out many things hidden from us about our house: there was the Forty Licks tongue that was vaguely painted on our common room closet; we found a gecko on the ceiling of our bathroom; the floor felt like there were hundreds of "dead babies" crawling underneath.

The carpets and walls all showed their true selves. Friends in old photographs moved as if that moment in history was happening right now. Stars, on the ceiling, danced. Invisible frogs showed themselves on trees. The road had coloured arrows pointing to and fro. Colourful snakes intertwined between fractals. The list goes on.

Whilst on the drug, I did much reflecting. I'm not going to bore you with all my pseudo-, drug induced epiphanies--but I will say this: to be part of the counter-culture in the 60s must have been an amazing feeling. Contrasting my current experience with that of those researched was an incredible feeling.

Though, on the drug, I could see how bad trips might arise. I respect acid so much, thanks to the research, and this caused me to just let the drug flow through me--not controlling it in the least.

Since the trip said its goodbyes, I've continued to reflect. I almost don't want to do the drug again because it seems impossible to achieve the almost-perfect affect that I experienced on Saturday. I do know that I will do LSD again, but not for awhile. I really can't see myself becoming one of those acid heads who drop every week to every month. Hell, I decided two days ago that I'm giving up pot for at least a month, and when that month is up, I'm going to strongly limit my pot usage to at least once a week.

The perfect setting for dropping acid would be in a beautiful park, surrounded by water and trees and where the green grass flows all around you--which we're going to find. (Kingston in the summer was beautiful, by the water). We'll drop the drug late enough so we can experience the sunset as well as the stars. Oh, that would be beautiful.

Grr.

2005-02-08T02:47:00.000-05:00

I might as well have stayed at fucking home instead of coming here to just have him fall asleep instead tending to his laundry which was the original purpose of me visiting him late at night. I could be watching Star Trek: TNG right now.

Damnit

2005-02-02T18:51:00.000-05:00

Welp, it doesn't look like I'll have much luck this year in terms of housing. I mean, we had a nice, seven person house all lined up which was uber-close to the university, but that turned out to be too good to be true--as per usual. FUCK. ASS.

There's too much work to wade through. Fuck. Ass. The never-ending bombardment of midterms starts tomorrow, and doesn't look like it'll end until the 22nd of March. That means I'll have about one or two midterms a week--save reading week--to look forward to until that unholy date. On top of that I have the regular lab write-ups and assignments to complete. I swear to fucking god if I don't land a well paying job with some up-and-coming company willing to fork over everthing to have me on their team as soon as I reach my degree like I was promised as a naive first-year engineer, there will be hell to pay.

I don't wanna wake up

2005-01-25T20:18:00.000-05:00

Stressed doesn't do this feeling enough justice.

Anyways, talked to Scott about how I feel like I'm always been taken for granted. He agreed, which made me cry, and made him cry too, for that matter. I told him that I'm afraid of getting fed up with everything, forcing me to stop caring about our relationship--which will then in turn make me stop trying in our relationship. I really hope it doesn't boil down to that, because I'm in love with that boy.

My computer is fucked beyond recognition. I'm really tempted to spend money I don't have/should'nt spend to upgrade it--thus fixing whatever problem has wedged itself in my harddrive/operating system/video card/etc.

Labs suck.

This past weekend was hella fun though. And hopefully I'll have this weekend to look forward to.

Come and Stay With Me

2005-01-08T01:27:00.000-05:00

I just saw Hotel Rwanda and I'm absolutely speechless. As I type this I still feel like crying. I really had no idea the extent of that massacre; really, I was only in grade four when it happened. Through out this movie my stomach was in knots, and the fact that what was on screen was more or less accurate kept eating away at me--I still feel kind of sick.

I went to Brian's to see some of the movies he made at Ryerson. More and more doubt arose in me over my decision to go into engineering over film and television. I don't think this is a good sign. But c'est la vie...or something fucking similar.

Therapy Session!

2005-01-05T14:19:00.000-05:00

Fight with parents, stress with family, disappointment over some marks that are in and anticipation and anxiety over the rest that aren't. Finding out a best friend is still in love with me. Earthquakes and tsunamis killing tens of thousands. Fearing the worst for my boyfriend's godparent's. Not exactly feeling wanted. Etc. Etc. Etc. It's been one fucking relaxing vacation. I'm such in a pissy mood right now. Aside from the amazing times I've had with friends, I'm feeling pretty shitty right now.

Also: is it a bad thing realising that you' might be in the wrong program? My parents always said "what can you do with a radio and television/film degree? Engineering would much better suit you--and you could do so much more with it." I really don't think they took into account that I had written, directed and produced to films and entered both of them in a film festival--both the films won. Bah. I don't know.

Like Spinning Plates

2005-01-03T19:40:00.000-05:00

The past few days with Scott and friends have been amazing. I have officially experienced the best New Year's ever--even though we missed the count down by a few minutes. There was lots of parading around in nothing but boxers/lingerie by many people attending the party; and I think everyone would agree that Hollie knows how to throw a wonderful party.

Scott's return to good ol' Mississauga made me a very happy boy. As a horny motherfucker I was able to take out my sexual frustration on him--which we both enjoyed, I'm sure. Due to the lack of privacy in my room, the fornication had to take place in a bathroom, which we both agreed made the experience that much more intense. (Two boys lustfully wanting each other to the point that they would fuck like rabbits anywhere--including a bathroom-like environment.) Also: mirrors are fucking amazing. I've never had sex in front of a mirror before, but I want to all the freakin' time ever since our first sexual act in front of one. I consider myself a very visual person, and in front of a mirror I'm able to see more of the sexual deeds than from my own limited perspective. We also experimented with a camera, and the outcome was sexy as expected. I'm sure the pictures will hold me over until the next time I can see him.

Now Scott has returned to his respectful home; friends will soon drop off from my phone-call away reach--and I'll be alone with family. I find this a sickeningly lonely situation. I find that whenever I'm with my family my stomach likes to tie itself into some pretty tight knots; my blood likes to run cold; my inner-soul feels a void that sucks every last good-feeling away from me...I think I'm allergic to my family--or at least scared of them. I don't know--I mean, I do love them, but I find myself liking them less and less the more I'm around them. There's always a fight going on. I just want out.

Luckily I'll be going off to Hamilton come Thursday to visit Duncan and Danielle with Hollie, and I'm sure I'll be seeing Vanessa while we sex-store hop, and seeing Katy in the gayborhood--so this week stretch of being alone won't be /that/ bad. I just don't like these nervous feelings that engulf me whenever I'm alone with family. It's like my entire inner-peace is broken right down to its foundation.

I don't have time to edit what I've written as my friend is picking me up, so whatever I've written will have to do until I have time to clean it all up.

2004-12-28T17:15:00.000-05:00

This has been a week for some heavy news with tsunamis and an earthquake killing tens of thousands of people, and NASA releasing information of an asteroid that has a chance of colliding with earth in 2029.

First of all, my thoughts are with everyone affected by the Indian Ocean earthquake...such a terrible tragedy. Reading everything that the BBC is pumping is quite depressing, and, yeah...I'm so sorry to hear all of that.

Second: why the hell would NASA spread this kind of infection? This story went from "there's a chance" to "it's more likely to hit than not" to "not at all". Of course they're going to end this story with "there's no chance that this asteroid will collide with earth" when the asteroid is not even due to arrive for another 25 years. Bah, I say. I couldn't imagine the mass media getting a hold of this story...my god I don't think I could handle 25 years of CNN's "Asteroids: The New Terrorists" and etc.

On a happier note, Good Bye, Lenin is fantastic. The writing, the directing, the acting--everything worked brilliantly. (David Bruhn is hella hott as well).

On Boxing Day I was able to see almost all of my friends for my friend's birthday. Found out someone I know is now serving 25 years for drug charges--apparently being caught with 2 blocks of coke, over a hundred pills of ecstasy, kilos of weed and all sorts of illegal guns is frowned upon. As the story goes he tried to pin it on his 16 year-old brother; the brother would only get a maximum of 2-years and a clean slate come his 18th birthday. Ah, the people I knew.

(Where else can I take this entry to add to the degree of disjointedness of it all?)

I like this "doing nothing" bit; I've grown quite accustom to it and I fear how I will have to adjust when I go back to school. Ah, okay, I'm done.

Welcome to Dial-a-View

2004-12-26T15:14:00.000-05:00

Christmas was interesting, to say the least. My brother has no control over his drinking, and, because of this, became the drunk at the family shindigs. Yes, ‘shindigs’ is plural because it happened more than once. It's embarrassing, really. I mean, last night we were all telling him to be careful about his choice drinking because of my father being the alcoholic that he was. But, as always, he shrugged it all off. My mom wants him to phone my aunts house to apologise for acting like an ass.

My brother's obnoxious behaviour aside, it hasn't been that bad. My cousin broke out the sambuca and wanted us all to take small shots from it. Man, I don't remember sambuca tasting that good, but I digress. On Christmas Eve my uncle could not stop staring at me, and it was making me extremely uncomfortable. My mom said it's probably because he doesn't understand my faggy-status. This is what irks me: people don't accept homosexuality because they don't understand it. The gay community doesn't care if anyone understands it; the fact of the matter is they just want people to accept it. Society has been accepting things with out fully understanding it (read: religion, science) and yet people won't accept homosexuality because they don't understand. Bah, I say. I want to know who in their right mind decided that homosexuality was a bad thing. It's been around for ever, and yet someone took it upon themselves to preach that it's wrong. That person probably didn't comprehend it.

What else… I had a pseudo-nightmare that turned into a really hott sex dream. The nightmare portion consisted of me studying through my exam and me panicking. The sexy part was as follows: I was running to the exam and bumped into an old friend who was ridiculously sexy. (Think Patrick Fugit sexy...I'm not even exaggerating). Anyways, somehow the conversation of underwear came up, and he wanted to show me his...and to do this, he thought it'd be nice to take off his shirt. Yeah, needless to say sexiness ensued. *drools*

Scott was awesome to phone me yesterday to wish me a Merry Christmas--and then we ended up talking for just over an hour. Ah, I miss that boy so much.

I've also had some really heart-to-heart talks with my mom...I've always been able to get along with her, despite how she tends to drive me up the wall. Ah, I love her.

Now this is just becoming a disjointed entry, chalk full of rambling...so I shall bid you good day, and hope your holidays are going swimmingly.

Yup

2004-12-21T03:59:00.000-05:00

I'm in such a weird mood right now...methinks I have a lot of pondering/thinking/drinking to do in the next couple of weeks. I just can't wait for exams to finish. I want some me time...lots of me time.

I don't know what else to say. I'm trying to keep this as cryptic and vague as possible. Yup...

I had something else I wanted to say--I just don't know how to say it. I want to write so much more than what I have right now. I keep typing sentences out, and then deleting them. Yeah--weird mood.

Random news: I'm dropping acid next term. I've done enough research on it and I think I'm ready--especially since I'll be with people I really trust. Acid has been on my "drugs to experiment with" list for quite sometime--and I think it's finally time to put a check-mark beside it ever so slightly. Another drug I want to try is mescaline. The drugs I'm stearing clear of are the following:

Opium or any opium derivative (morphine, heroin, etc) for obvious reasons.

Ecstacy. Every time you use this drug it makes you stupider...though you don't notice it because it happens extremly subtly. Even the first time you try it, it changes you irreversibly--not something I want to put my mind through.

Coke. I've been hesitant over this one for quite some time. A part of me wants to, and a part of me doesn't. I truly respect the power this drug holds, and I do not care to mess with it.

Other ones that I don't even think about expermenting with include (but not limited to) GHB, PCP, DMX, ice, crack and etc.

Yeah, you get the picture.

ALSO

2004-12-01T20:26:00.000-05:00

This creationism bullshit is getting out of hand. I mean, I can't believe this is a big an issue as it is...

And, please, if you consider creationism a science, then go fuck yourself you.

Ah, there's just so much to be said about it! I don't know where to start! Why are people trying to debunk EVOLUTION with creationism? God damn Christians. If you believe it, fine--but don't go shoving it down everyone's throat (i.e trying to teach it in PUBLIC schools). Calling creationism "intelligent design" doesn't make it any more right to teach it in a PUBLIC school. How can you teach creationism? There's nothing really to teach.

I'm stopping now.

Out of Time

2004-12-01T20:12:00.000-05:00

So, last night was highly enjoyable. A ham dinner with all the fixings was consumed. Sitting at the dinner table was Scott, Vanessa, Antonio, Teresa and myself. All of us seemingly had a good time. Short and concise sentences are lame.

But, yeah, I enjoyed the time spent with everyone, though I don't know how often it will happen. I mean, I'd love for it to happen more often, but I have a sinking feeling that it won't. If they do, however, huzzah!

Following last night Scott and I talked for hours--it was awesome. Though last night I realised I didn't even come close to finishing the 50K story on the deadline, which kind of put me in a bad mood. Funnily enough Scott has this way of making things better--and he did just that.

So...what did we learn? Fun times were had with Vanessa and co. and Scott rocks my world.

And this is why I've stopped updating.

I hate exams. And labs. And assignments. Sometimes I wonder what the fuck I'm doing here... I want to be learning about what Scott and I talked about last night, but sadly enough you have to start with the very boring basics. I just want to skip Canada and spends years travelling to the ends of the earth.

Oh, and kissing with your eyes open: hott at times. Never realised it--probably due to always being told it's rude and shit--but it is very intense.

BEAT CONNECTION

2004-11-30T14:08:00.000-05:00

Okay, so apparently I don't update this thing enough, according to one Claire FUCKO. Haha, like that? I altered her last name ever so slightly to a more amusing outcome.

Anyways, this is new as of late:
Baths are fucking sexy and intimate as hell with your significant other. Meghan was gracious enough to allow Scott and I to squat in her house, and so we took full advantage of this--including using her bath. I feel terrible, however, due to the black singe marks left in her bathroom ("we're engineer's for god's sake!"), and for leaving lube marks on her bed. Hey, you try having sex with another penis and watch how messy it gets Ms. "I Don't Care Much for Cock!".

THe Sci Semi was pretty fun. Lots of dancing. Scott took me out to fantabulous dinner beforehand, where we decided we're going to save our money to splurge at some fancy restaurant--buying the most expensive wine et al.

Have been playing an obscene amount of Wheel of Fortune with Claire. Stupid motherfucking bankrupts...

Umm... nothing much else to talk about. Exams soon. I hate exams.

Barely seeing Antonio, Vanessa, Teresa, Caron and Al, which is quite contrasted to last year. Fuck, Vanessa and I ate breakfast almost every fucking day. She was even cool enough to eat with me even though she didn't have an 8:30 class. Those were the days. And then Weekend Brunches after a night of drinking with the gang was always fun too--though I still don't understand why waiting about an hour for an omlette was worth it. Plus spiking Caron's drink/food and making an atrocious mess of our trays were how we occupied the time. And then Vanessa and I working out 4-times a week last year so we could be sexy as hell. 'Tis a shame. Y'know, if I didn't make an effort to invite Vanessa places, I don't think I'd ever get to see her. Our conversation have dwindled to the state of "Oh, you're home". Makes you feel good--real good. Same with Antonio for that matter--though I'm not living with him.

FUck, I'm late for a lab. I hate labs too.

Blah blah blah

2004-11-25T03:26:00.000-05:00

I love how books like Catcher in the Rye use rain to symbolise a new beginning, a new hope--cleansed from all wrong-doings as the rain pours down, so to speak. Why do books use this literary device? Rain doesn't make /anyone/ feel like that; it just tramples on all good spirits and dampens any high hopes of a good day. Mud emerges from its dormant state, ready to jump out and attack any passer-by; droplets of water containing sorrow and self-pity drown dozens--neither of which are welcome in the least.

Snow, on the other hand, is magical; it has this ability to cover all that is ugly and transforms what was once bleak and unappealing into a place where everyone wants to go. Magic, they say, hand-crafts each and every snowflake, which falls perfectly into place with its neighbour's, creating a pure and intriguing blanket. Looking out and seeing a shimmering majestic layer fills the heart with hope--something out there is perfect...and all it uses is a form of precipitation that causes depression and grief. Everything is so much brighter with a fresh layer of snow on the ground; everything is so much more appealing. "All will be okay," the snow sings from the top of its crystallised shine. The sounds that flow through the air as feet walk across the innocent blanket are welcomed--the 'crunch, crunch, crunch' bring smiles to bleak and weathered faces as it celebrates news of a winter wonderland...

So, my friends, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.

UPDATING

2004-11-13T02:58:00.000-05:00

I was told I should update this more often, so I guess I'll try to.

The pseudo-novel I'm writing is coming along slowly. Very, slowly. I'm up to 5000 words...only 45,000 to go! Yeah. Not happening. But I'll be sure to continue the story anyways, even after the deadline.

I wish I had the ability to freeze things the way I want them to stay. Like, today Scott, Antonio and I joined Claire and two of her friends for brunch as they passed by the city. It was super-good times, and it made me miss all the fun times I've had with Claire (Pussy-man et. al.). It made me wish I could see Claire more often...though we made plans to visit her on our way to Quebec City over reading week, so I guess that'll have to suffice. (This entry is going to be disjointed--so bare with me). And then tonight Antonio, Scott and I were looking at pictures from last year...and I so miss hanging out with Vanessa, Antonio, Al, Caron, Teresa...I spent so much time with them last year, and I had a blast, but this year...not so much. It sucks. And then at Ritual I spent time with Jason, and we reminisced about the fun times last year. And then last night Scott and I hung out with Meghan for a bit at the Goat...and more good times ensued. And then this year times spent with Eric, Lauren, Cindy, Katy, Gabrielle--

I just wish I could freeze different parts from different times, and then mash them all together to create my "super-life". Woudln't it be awesome? I think so. I'm going to try to do that.

fuck

2004-11-12T18:29:00.000-05:00

I hate this--so much. I hate holding people back and I hate making them feel guilty. There's nothing I want more to be able to stop this--sadly I can't. Just...FUCK. I FUCKING HATE THIS AND WANT TO CRAWL INTO A HOLE AND HIDE FROM EVERYONE FOREVER.

Losing momentum, damnit

2004-11-08T01:13:00.000-05:00

My story is getting worse by the minute, damnit. Oh, well.

It's funny how Hotmail gave everyone 250megs of more space, and their junkfilter seems to have decreased in quality.

OMFG

2004-11-02T13:55:00.000-05:00

900 words into my story and I finally have a plot idea.

900 words down, 49,100 words to go in 29 days.

GIGGITY GIGGITY GIGGITY.

Laugh Out Loud

2004-11-01T16:50:00.000-05:00

I was just thinking about how we were treated like as little kids (adults treating us like we're...well, children), and then BOASAS covers it quite nicely.

Also, today starts National Novel Writing Month--at least I think that's what it was called--and I have now 30 days to write a 50,000 word story. What the hell did I get myself into?

OMG

2004-10-31T10:42:00.000-05:00

So, what did I dress up as? My costume consisted of a suit jacket, tie, dress shirt, dress shoes, black socks and really flashy boxers--yes, I was the guy who forgot his pants. A lot of people liked it.

The party I went to was pretty friggin' sweet. They had three live bands--one of which had a guitar player I lusted for heavily. I mean, we're talking Patrick Fugit hotttttttt. I tried to get his autograph, but no luck. I was going to get him to sign my ass, but I don't konw how that would have worked out. I mean, yeah. Shut up.

Purple, beer, alumni, party, etc

2004-10-24T17:56:00.000-04:00

This was the weekend of all weekend's: Homecoming. No amount of words can sum up the fun that was had by all...so instead I'm just going to type out random words. Observe:

Pancake keggers; purpling; thousands celebrating on a tiny street; cops turning a blind-eye to public drinking; alumni from '74 and '79 drinking 'til they puke; 24-drunk fest--and I'm sure you get the picture.

Yeah, nothing is quite like homecoming, and my god am I thankful for not being sick through out this unique celebration. If I get any pictures, I'll be sure to post and tell the world.

The only thing that is wrong with homecoming is the fact that it's not an actual holiday--you really don't get any time off to rest after all the partying. Oh, well. Hella worth it though.

Scott's friend came down for the homecoming weekend, and he said that he's never seen anything like what we have.

Today Scott, Meghan and I watched Preaching to the Perverted. It was a pretty decent movie at best, aside from the somewhat shitty acting that took place. I personally enjoyed the parallelisms the director drew between the S&M scene and the ignorant religious wing-nuts that were trying to shut them down. The prosecutors were arguing how the S&M scene was inflicting pain with out consent (and this was not true, as pointed out in the film), yet the prosecutors were inflicting pain to the S&M scene by being ignorant and shutting out what they don't understand.

Now I must do work. Or something... I'm tired.

Go fuck yourself with that

2004-10-21T21:52:00.000-04:00

Apparently the lymph nodes swell up to protect your body from 'invaders'. That's fantastic and I salute thee. BUT WHY THE FUCK DO YOU HAVE TO MAKE EVERYTHING SO GOD DAMN UNCOMFORTABLE IN THE PROCESS! AND WHY DO I HAVE TO BE SICK FOR HOMECOMING--THE MOST ENJOYABLE EVENT OF THE YEAR!

I'm sorry, but this cold is kicking the shit out of me. I've never been so down and out and depressed as I have been this week.

FUCK

2004-10-21T11:37:00.000-04:00

This horrible sickness has done the following:
made me miss a lot of fucking sex;
assisted me in failing a midterm--probably two midterms by the week's end;
given me many sleepless nights;
makes eating similar to swallowing rusty tacks;
helped my temperature reach 104 and beyond...

You get the idea. My ears are acting funny as well; sounds are not what they used to be. Every frequency is being reverberated off of some invisible thing. Oh, no, the invisible thing is the FUCKING SICKNESS I HAVE.

GOD DAMNIT.

We didn't recognise the music, but we danced anyway

2004-10-20T01:16:00.000-04:00

Gah. For the past two days, right up until a couple of hours ago, I was horribly sick, with a fever et. al. Oh, fun times that was. Especially since I couldn't be bothered to study--even when I have a midterm on THURSDAY. Correction: two midterms on Thursday.

Scott took care of me. He even made me chicken soup! Ah, I just hope I don't pass the cold to him...

Patrick Fugit is Hott.

2004-10-17T23:24:00.000-04:00

What's new in my realm? Well, I got an off-centred lip piercing. It kind of hurt. And I think I'm done with piercings for now; I have no desire to get another piercing in any other part of my body.

Scott and Vanessa think the piercing is hott, so I'm happy with that.

Midterms suck--almost as bad as this journal.

Patrick Fugit is fucking hott. I watched Saved! for the second time today, and ended up doing a screen caption--actually, make that multiple screen captions--during the part where Patrick Fugit is in nothing but a loin cloth. Jesus fuck, I'd jump into a threesome with him anytime.

I see

2004-10-10T03:15:00.000-04:00

Had a fabulous time with friends. I miss them. Aside from the same old antics of backing out of plans that some of them pull. Then completed the night with some ol' fashioned weed. Both Eric and I wanted to smoke, but we both had no one to smoke with...seeing as he's all the way in Ottawa and I here. He decided we should phone each other and smoke at the same time, and we did just that. Now I sit here really high, and kind of hungry.

BOND? JAMES BOND! I'LL DO IT

Planning post-Thanksgiving

2004-10-07T01:52:00.000-04:00

Scott and I were lying in each other's arms discussing how we didn't want to go home. We decided that it would be pretty fun to spend Thanksgiving together...then something hit us! Like a headache--but with pictures! We came to the conclusion that we should have a post-Thanksgiving dinner together! With wine! And stuffing! And we should, like, invite people! We should get a bunch of people together, order a big turkey--the turkey will be cheap since it's after the holiday--and have some sort of Thanksgiving with friends that matter. So most of you who read this are invited. I think...

Nothing says 'I Love You' quite like Pizza

2004-10-05T17:04:00.000-04:00

Scott and I celebrated our seven month anniversary last night. How? Well, I had pictured a nice, romantic dinner at a beautiful restaurant, where we would consume mouth-watering food and drink exquisite red wine. Following this, drunk on each other's love (and the wine), we'd take a stroll down by the water, where we would sit on a public bench and let ourselves become amourous with each other whilst the stars danced over our heads. Once we became good and horny, we'd go back to Scott's house and have a powerful love-making session.

Sounds romantic, eh? I even spent time gussying myself up for this envisioned event. However, this is not how it turned out. Scott was running late with a lab he had to write up (the fact he had procrastinated by playing a video game notwithstanding). Mind you, this didn't ruin our candle light dinner. Oh, no, far from it. But instead of wine and a delicious meal, it was Pizza Hut pizza with milk. Though I'm not being fair: the meal was delicious in itself. I laughed afterwards because I realised that I had dressed up to order out. Funny, that.

UP WITH EMO

2004-10-03T15:33:00.000-04:00

Meghan once said all straight men should have a 9:00pm curfew. I cannot agree with her more.

Scott, Vanessa and I went to a birthday kegger which turned out to be a lot of fun. Beer was consumed and much laughs were had. Afterwards we met up with Eric to venture onwards to Bubba's. For some reason Bubba's was extraordinarily popular, and they needed a bouncer. There was some douche ahead of us who got all his girl friends to come in front of him. Of course this upset me; we were all hungry and waiting in line isn't any fun. The douche asked me why I had such a problem with it because these are "hot" girls (he should have used the term slutty, but hey). I voiced my anger, and he became really pissy and, well, immature. He kept trying to slap me in the face and calling me all sorts of names. If Antonio was there he would have had his ass kicked, but unfortunately Antonio was behind us at the time and din't know what was going on. But I digress. This went on and on and I became more and more frustrated. I hated having to take that because of my stature. God, I would have done anything to be able to fucking level this walking abortion but, alas, I was not able to. Both Scott and Eric told me to keep my voice down, but I'm sick of doing that. On the way home I had to hold back tears and anger and frustration. When Eric said good bye and when I was alone with Scott in the middle of the street he asked me what was wrong...and I broke down. I just couldn't stop crying. I hid myself in the bathroom...I felt like such a fool. Everything just came crashing down around me. Scott was just...awesome and comforted me like he always does. Ugh. I think the fact that I have barely any money left helped bring-front the tears.

On a happier note, our sex life is better than ever--even when I didn't think it could get any better. To Scott's surprise I pseudo-acted out one of his fantasies--which turned out to be a pretty hott experience for both him and I. Fun times, says I. I never realised how much I'd love this role playing, but I do, so everyone wins!

Oh my god! She's dead!

2004-10-02T13:59:00.000-04:00

Scott and I failed to see Arcade Fire due to an atrociously long line. Cindy tried her best to get us in, but it didn't go as planned. Oh, well. Scott and I managed to have a really good time regardless.

Where we didn't get to see Arcade Fire, we did get to see The Constantines--and my god did they put on such an electric performance. Everyone who went was blown away, especially me because I've never seen them live before so I didn't know what to expect. I ended up running on stage to grab the set-list before they came back for an encore. Fun times.

Saw Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow. Very entertaining...the entire movie was shot on a blue screen. The dialogue, plot and characters jumped right out of a 1930s flick. I liked it. Two thumbs up.

Gagging Order

2004-09-28T01:35:00.000-04:00

I'm so fucking happy right now I could cry. I have such a wonderful boyfriend and wicked-ass friends--though I'd like to see me wicked-ass friends more often than not.

Also, Harry Potter rules.

Threesome

2004-09-26T18:10:00.000-04:00

The topic of having a threesome came up between Scott and I. It's something we'd both really like to try, but we both agreed there would have to be a lot of talking about it--before and after the deed. And we have to talk about it when we're both not extremely horny. I think we could do it, I just need some time 'cause there's no way I could jump into a threesome right now with out getting a little jealous of what goes on. But, yeah.

And chemistry is the gayest of the gay subjects. Don't believe me? Well the prof taught us something that was called the "backside attack". That's right: molecules will attack each other from behind when creating/breaking bonds. The entire auditorium of 250+ people all tensed up when the term came into play. The prof was nice to break the tension by saying "yeah, I get that all the time". Heh...backside attack.

Bah

2004-09-26T03:12:00.000-04:00

I so wish my parents were able to afford to put me through some sort of music class.

Sex and Radiohead

2004-09-25T13:02:00.000-04:00

Listening to Radiohead while getting 'it' on is a lot of fun, let me tell you. Also, looking at pr0n with your boyfriend is very fucking hottt. Yes, that's hot with two extra 't's. That must tell you something...

Grah! And so on...

2004-09-24T18:22:00.000-04:00

I'm really frusterated at this point. Gay Pride, to me, is about not caring who knows. If you love another of the same-sex, you shouldn't have to worry about who knows. And if someone does care, fuck'em. I could care less. ;laikjf;haskgjhasldfjk
I hate having to always guess.

I'm drunk, and I'm going to lay in the horizontlal position 'cause it's cool.

School Life and Me: An Objective Analysis

2004-09-20T19:26:00.000-04:00

Yeah, I haven't posted here much. And the last entry that I did do was chalk full of drunken rambling. Oh, how I've long lost the fire to blog.

Anyways. As of late:

7:30AM came and kicked the fuck out of me. I thought I was ready for her, but I was dead wrong. The only casualties were two missed classes, but I can make them up in the tutorial today. I was a fool for thinking I stood much of a chance over an 8:30AM class.

Anyways...I'm liking 3 out of the 6 classes I'm taking.

CHEM 211 - Main group chemistry. Boring as hell. He reads his lecture notes word for word. And I'm failing to see the importance of molecular symmetry. I mean, who the fuck cares if I can rotate acetone several different ways over the principle axis? I cannot for the life of me see how this will be useful later on. Unless you incorporate this into the symmetry of sexual positions? Ah, fuck it.

CHEM 212 - Kinetics and Reactions. One of the classes I'm going to enjoy. The prof makes the lectures interesting. But I'm a little wary over this class after the prof made it clear that this was not a 'weeder' class, even though it may seem like it. That aside I'm actually liking what we're learning so far, even if it seems pretty basic and mundane.

CHEM 213 - Analytical Chemistry. Also known as Anal Chemistry, or so I'm told. Very interesting. The prof is totally into this. I think I'm going to be focusing on this branch of chemistry later on. It's like CSI, but, like, how CSI would actually work if it wasn't such a retarded show. After this course I should be able to tell everything that is wrong with the show, thus making me look smart because people will be all "hey, he's awesome. He can tell us how stupid this show is. Etc.".

CHEE 221 - I don't remember the name of this course. ALl I remember is that this class sucks so much ass, and it makes me so glad I went into Engineering Chemistry instead of Chemical Engineering (yes, there is a difference). What we're learning is boring. So boring, in fact, that it puts me to sleep and makes me forget anything I would have learned in this class had I been interested. Almost as fun as watching paint dry.

MATH 226 - Differential Equations. It seems like it'll be an easy class, but the teacher and the course content sucks. The teacher grew out some Amish-looking beard, and I can no longer take him seriously. I used to love math (yes, I said love!), but ever since I came to university, this love has turned into a very bitter poison that makes people with-in a 10km radius hate math as well.

MUSC 171 - Social History of Popular Music. A great class when not getting in the way of scheduled midterms. The prof is truly awesome, and it's so apparent she loves what she does. I'm so lucky I got into this class, because it filled up within 5 minutes. I kept trying to apply, hoping someone had dropped out. And, well, someone did, and now I is happy. Extremely happy. Yeah, after this class I'll appreciate music oh-so-much more. I can't wait. I had my first 3-hour lecture and fell in love with it. I want to have its babies--if that were possible, that is.

And that's all the courses I'm taking for this semester. Most of them carry over to next semester...and I fear the classes that do suck now, will suck just as hard next semester as well. Oh, well. Third year I'll be able to focus more on what I want--that being BioChem.

That takes care of the classes. In other news Scott is still as awesome as he ever was--even if he can only make KD for dinner. Hrm...I have nothing else to say, so I shall cut this like I cut your mother...I really don't know what that's supposed to mean, so don't ask.

AH

2004-09-15T03:56:00.000-04:00

SO happy now. a little high, and drunk, and just got an e-mail from someone! someone i haven't talked to in 8 or 9 years. we've been chatting. and .. holy crap. i thought she was gay...and i was right. go me. gah, i can't stop msiling! this e-mail brings a big fucking smile to my face!

SO HIGH

huzzah

2004-09-15T02:41:00.000-04:00

huzzah for prorn when you don't get sex

Break me GNETLY

2004-09-15T02:06:00.000-04:00

Go go gadget pr0n sites when i need them.

i Can't believe the second day of classes drove me to drink.
i need water. annd stuff.

Quick Update

2004-09-11T15:42:00.000-04:00

1) Received an e-mail out of the blue from a friend who I haven't spoken to in about...8 or 9 years. Obviously we have a lot of catching up to do.
2) The days spent with Scott have been awesome. He's opening up to me a lot more now, and it makes me feel special. In two nights we've shared things together that I never thought I would be able to ,well, share, and it brought me to tears--it's just that special.
3) Go and see Shaun of the Dead.
4) Gave Scott's christmas gift really, really early. He loved it, and in one day received two compliments on it. Go me.
5) Claire, Meghan's girlfriend, is a super-cool person. I'm really happy for Meghan. And, like I said earlier, she should always listen to me.
6) I can't stop listening to Street Spirit.

So I Lied

2004-09-06T10:59:00.000-04:00

1) Who knew you could make out to the Weakerthans. Certainly not I.
2) Star Trek: Nemises is too long of a movie.
3) A can of Coke, a cheese burger and a large poutine doesn't make for a healthy dinner.
4) Watching porn with Cindy and Eric whilst high is surprisingly a lot of fun. Well, not surprisingly, but y'know.

BAH

2004-09-05T14:26:00.000-04:00

I have no fucking clue as to how I'm going to sum up the days events. I guess I can start with today.

TODAY:
Woke up early, purpled ourselves, tried to intimidate frosh. Lots of yelling, and lots of fun. And it only took about an hour in the shower with some bleach to remove the gentian from me skin.

LAST NIGHT:
Had a party, which was wicked-fun.

NIGHT BEFORE THAT:
Did stuff.

I honestly could care less about updating this thing, really. A week with out updating has made me partial to this whole blogger fad. I dunno. Maybe I'm saying that because I'm excrutiatingly tired. But I have a sinking feeling that that's not it. We'll see where this goes, I guess.

Ta ta for now.

Oh, Meghan. You're girlfriend is absolutely stunning. But I actually want to get to know this girl. So that's your job. Okay. Go.

Let the good times roll

2004-09-04T23:33:00.000-04:00

I have so much to update about, but right now all I want to say is that everything is wicked=cool. I mean, really. My awesome good friends are all in my room, drinking, listening to music, and life couldn'ty be better.

I don't care about th4e 'y' that Scott pointed out. He can go fuck himself.

nmthgg

That was Antoniowy. he rules.
hythen end
i love everyone here.

Last stop: Kingston

2004-08-30T00:44:00.000-04:00

Yes, that's right. After two disgusting cleaning days, I'm kind of moved into my new place in Kingston. I would go further into detail, but I'm at Lauren's using her computer. SO what I'm going to do instead is do a really compact re-cap of the past couple of days.

Blue Rodeo:
Scott had a wicked-ass time, and I was SO incredibly to make him that way. He was even singing along, which put the biggest smile on my face. Also, so many old people smoke up. I was sitting beside this one 50-year old couple, and they kept smoking and smoking and smoking through out the show. Crazy, I know.

Send Off:
I had one of the best nights of the summer, thanks to my good friends. Everyone who was there was on their best behaviour (including Veronica and Danielle) and they made a great night to end the summer back in good ol' Mississauga. Even after failing to get a Kareoke (?) bar that never existed.

(As I type this I'm smoking up with "A"wesome Lauren and Cindy, so mind this post.)

After the night Scott and I smoked up with my brother. Following this Scott and become really, really horny, and fucked like rabbits. Err...I'm high.

The Move Out:
It was a puzzle to pack all of my shit into the truck, but somehow Don did it. Dropped Scott off at Peterborough, and did a lot of cleaning of the new house. It was so gross. Eric was so nice to come over and help with us. We then all went out to East Side Mario's. Good food. Then I crashed at Eric's after smoking up and walking along the lake--and consuming a full litre of Gellato. I never had Gellato, but A%P now carries it, and Eric coaxed me into sharing it. Yeah. Haha, funny thing: My parents /love/ him.

More Cleanging
Finished cleaning my house. And my parents are awesome. They payed for a duvet cover, duvet, sheet and more bed stuff. And some groceries. I was so surprised how much they spent for me...and all of the free restaurant trips. and all their cleaning that they did, and heavy lifting. it was so awesome; it really meant a lot to me.

They eventually left after the cleaning and some of the organising was done. I still have so much to do. Anyways, after I cooked meghan dinner, and it took forever for the chicken to cok. we kept having to throw the stuff ack in the oven.

After Eric Lauren and Cindy came over, and we christened my room with pot. we then went to lauren's and had more. well, still going actually. I'm really tired and i'm possibly crashing here. yeah, shut up. i'm not scared of my other house...

PS -I won't have th enet for at least a week. i'm just using laurne'ts computer.

You're Too Cool

2004-08-26T00:33:00.000-04:00

Let's play a game! The titles for the majority of my posts--if not all--come from song titles or song lyrics. See if you can name who sings these songs. Okay. Go.

Had a fun time at Aldelphia's with some good friends. Made plans to do a pub crawl through Port Credit on Friday night--the first and last pub crawl of this summer. I'm looking forward to it, as should all of you...you will get to hear about it and all.

Apparently my cousin is going to the Blue Rodeo concert tomorrow, and my mom is absolutely paranoid that she will see Scott and I together doing something other than standing close to one another (you know, holding hands or kissing--something scandalous like that). My mom fears that my cousin will then tell my aunt, who is one of the biggest gossipers in my family.

Kingston is approaching quickly. It's going to be sad not seeing everyone for copious amounts of time. I think the fact that I'm actually never coming home for a length of time as long as the summer again is kind of hitting me. I mean, I'm going to miss certain peeps. Yes, I said 'peeps'. The point is that despite my readiness for moving off, I'm still going to miss the times spent with the people I <3 dearly back in good old M to the I to the--ah, fuck it--ssissauga.

OH! You wanna hear (read?) something cool? Well, apparently anyone with someone in their ancient family tree who survived the black plague (y'know, that vicious disease that wiped out a lot of people a long time ago) is immune to the HIV/AIDS virus. This one guy from San Francisco was living it up in the gay community (having unprotected sex with HIV-positive partners) and did not contract the virus, unlike so many of his friends who all passed away. Curious over why this was, he whored himself out to research, and this one doctor took him in. After much research and blah, blah, blah, it turned out that this thing he had in his blood, I think it was called delta-32, protected him from the virus. Apparently only about 3-million people carry this delta-32 in all of North America and Europe, so, obviously, it's hard to find other people who are immune to HIV/AIDS.

They took this one step further and dug up mass burial sites in Europe, where all of the black plague victims would be currently residing. After much DNA testing, all of these bodies didn't have the delta-32, providing more evidence in favour of this AIDS immunity. Crazy, no? Too bad AIDS is indeed a virus, and will only mutate itself out of our grasp to cure it yet again.

Food goes in here

2004-08-25T19:14:00.000-04:00

I'm able to see Scott in less than 12 hours. I'm able to kiss and hug Scott in less than 12 hours. Jesus tap-dancing Christ it's been a long 3-weeks since I've seen him last.

Life is but a memory

2004-08-24T15:19:00.000-04:00

I just finished going through all of my pictures which caused a flood of memories from high school to invade my head. (I'm packing, I swear). There were so many good times and so many good friends. Too bad a lot of them turned out to be dirty cunts who I would never want to associate myself with--it's a shame, really. Oh well, c'est la vie, as they say.

But man. Those were some damn good times. Especially 3AL and 4AL, the exchange trip to England, birthdays, cafeteria lunches, and random late nights in someone's basement. Change, they say, is one of your greatest friends and worst enemies, all rolled into one nice, neat little package.

God...so much shit to organise and pack. Ugh.

Cellular Modular Interactive-odular

2004-08-24T01:34:00.000-04:00

I now have a ~~banana~~ cell phone for Kingston! After much research, I went with Telus as they offered what I wanted for a really good price. The deal I went with gives me 100 day time minutes, as well as unlimited local calling during the evenings and weekends. I spend 5 extra bucks to get the extended hours, so the unlimited calling starts at 6pm instead of 8 or 9 pm. It also comes with voicemail, caller ID and call waiting. Go me. The deal is nice, considering I'm using this as my home phone. One of the greatest things about my plan, too, is that the local calling can be altered depending wherever I am. For example, if I'm in Toronto, and I make a call to a Toronto-based number, the call is considered local. It's great I tells ya.

When I wasn't engrossed with my cell phone, I was having dinner with Katlynd (who took my cell phone's virginity--when we were 2-inches from each other in the back seat of the car), Patricia and Jason. After this they all wanted to do their separate biddings, so I ended up home with Claire and we watched City of God. Man, that is a well done movie. I thought the cinematography was superbly looked after. I highly recommend it.

And now to go back to fiddle with my fancy-shmancy cell phone. *cool*

It's in his kiss

2004-08-23T15:33:00.000-04:00

There's nothing like being drunk in the afternoon after having a delicious lunch. My neighbor, Albert, invited my mom and myself over for lunch, and what a splendid lunch it was. He made sure our wine glasses were never empty--which is always a plus in my books. I'm not a fan of white wine--this may be because I have failed to find a white wine to my liking--but the wine Albert presented was perfect.

Yeah. So here I am, sitting here with a small percentage of alcohol flowing through my veins. Albert is, like, the perfect guy for anyone. I might be just saying this because I'm tipsy, but a man who can cook is a godsend.

Seemingly stuffed, I shall lay down to sleep.

Fucksticks

2004-08-23T01:54:00.000-04:00

Ugh. I'm back in a bad mood. I was floating on cloud 9 after getting myself out of another funk mood, and then *poof*--bad mood. Well, actually, the *poof* was more like things I was thinking about. Yeah.

I had such a shitty night at the concert tonight. People are fuckwits. I hate them. So much. And the stand-lead was kind of bitchy. She's super nice; but bitchy tonight. At the end of the night I find out that my till is short over $100. A lot of investigations go on, and I ended up missing the fucking train.

Get this. For a long time I thought I was stranded at Ontario Place--I thought I had missed the last train going to PC or even Toronto. I give my folks a ring, and they said that they wont' pick me up. Frustrated, I get lost at the Ex. Getting lost at the Ex, especially at night, is not cool. From the corner of my ear I hear a train. I run to the sound to find a train going to Toronto. Excellent, I thought! When I arrive at Toronto I could take the street car back to Longbranch, and home is just a 50-minute trek away from there!

Once I reached Union Station I found a train heading back home at 12:44am. Lucky me. So, long story short, I get home.

I smoked a joint on the way home to relax--stressful night. Now you know why this entry doesn't make sense.

END COMMUNICATION!

Inspired by Caron...

2004-08-22T14:12:00.000-04:00

Four days until I can see Scott...and Blue Rodeo.
Six days until I move up to Kingston.
Nine or ten days until Naked Weekend.

God damn Ex. I hate walking through it alone; it's a pretty sketchy environment late at night. Like, to the max. For some reason all the weirdos and fuck-ups and hicks all congregate in this red-neck friendly area where ridiculously fat children (and adults, for that matter) run around causing huge delays to get to and from work. These characters also wear tight-fitting clothing and have really thick glasses. I'm sure it'd be better if you were with friends; that way you could make fun of everyone who disgusts you.

It tastes like burning

2004-08-22T02:18:00.000-04:00

There's a new Petro Canada going in on Hurontario. The funny thing is that there's a fourth window to place an extra digit for the price.

Work wasn't bad. Some obviously drunk gay dude tipped me $7 for beer. He ended up standing over to the side between Deep Purple songs to talk to me. Flattering, really.

Katlynd is giving up pot on Sunday, so after work we honoured that--with weed.

I hate the stupid CNE. It's tacking on another 15-minutes to the other 20-minutes it takes already to get from the train station to Molson Amphitheater. This is only added to the 20-minute train ride, and the 20- to 25-minutues to walk from my house to the PC station. Fun times I swear. But tomrrow I'm buying 5 chocolate bars for only $3. Huzzah.

And now I sleep.

Sarah McLacklan part Deux

2004-08-21T01:24:00.000-04:00

At the last minute I decided to ~~volunteer~~ whore myself out to the Molson Amphitheater for the second Sarah McLachlan show. I was lucky to be put on a bar-esque place which only dealt with booze and pizza; this provided better tips. After the show a bunch of us wanted to check out the beer tent that the Ex has, and waited for our train which turned out to be a fucking bajillion hours late. No, wait, it was 20 minutes late. But whatever--same thing.

Heh, I would try to make this sound more interesting by adding a metaphor or simile, but I'm really tired and I have a bit of a headache.

I have so much packing to do. My room is in the exact same state as when I dumped everything from Kingston into the middle of the floor when I first came home for the summer. It's going to be fun. But it's now exactly one week before I'll be in Kingston. Can't. Fucking. Wait. (Yes, the extra periods are necessary).

Not much else to say. Scott really enjoyed the risqué pictures I took of myself. Trainspotting is continuing to prove itself to be really good book. The end.

Attention all Tip Thieves!

2004-08-20T00:58:00.000-04:00

Fuck you! You don't go around stealing tips! That's the lowest of the low and your mother wouldn't be proud of a filthy cunt like yourself! The next time you even think of stealing tips, ram that fist up into your crotch and then play in traffic.

Bastards.

2004-08-18T19:29:00.000-04:00

I have no one to talk to right now so I'm just going to ramble incessantly to myself.

Question: Why is it necessary to state the population of a city/town/whatever when entering its borders? Why have that bit of superfluous information on the "Welcome to" or "Now Entering" signs? Why?! I don't really care how many people live in a city when I enter it. Why should anybody else?

She likes to sit in silence

2004-08-18T16:36:00.000-04:00

I've kept my self occupied these past couple of days. Monday I mixed some of my favourite things together: pot and video games. Erik and I would have beaten Mario 3 if the Nintendo didn't crap out on me. Claire and Julia joined us sometime after. We smoked some more and went to Adelphia's, where we ate and watched synchronised diving, which is by far one of the coolest events; anything which involves sexy looking guys in nothing but a Speedo is considered to be a cool, nay, sexy-cool event. But I digress. Following the stuffing of our faces at the restaurant, we went back to my house where Claire became a little huffy over video games--and then tried to hog playing Tetris. It was amusing to say the least.

The next day Dan picked me up and we headed of to Toronto where much wondering took place as we had no idea what to do. I invested in a new tongue stud, which feels incredibly different…I didn't realise how heavy the steel tongue stud was. Also, Dan was nice enough to treat me to lunch--very appreciated on this end.

Following this was a dinner at my grandmother's, which was then followed by a trip to Hamilton to visit Duncan. We did a small pub-crawl, where somewhat heated discussions took place at each pub. I set things straight, and Duncan didn't like the fact that I was right on more than one issue--or that I made any kind of logical sense.

That night I was getting ready to sleep on his floor. Picture this: a wooden floor with three couch cushions resting lazily together. This is what I slept on. Duncan invited me to sleep in his bed, where the reasoning behind this offer could be one of two things: to pretend to be two lovers sleeping in close proximity of each other; or he was being nice because the floor was pretty uncomfortable. Seeing as I could sleep standing on my head, I put the floor in its place and fell asleep on it. Duncan also told me that he loved me before drifting off into a somewhat sombre, drunk-induced sleep. This put me in a cave where I had to carefully tip-toe out of. I treated the "I love you" as something someone would say to a really good friend--and I think it was the right way to go about it.

The next morning I awoke with a hammer doing its thing in my head. Nothing two Advils couldn't fix though. Anyways. Kicked it around his room before heading back home. On my walk home from the train station I noticed the following: trees turning colour; and a dog that walked an inch from the ground. THe former scared me--I'm still waiting for fucking summer--and the latter amused me.

On the way home I came up with some sort of story idea--I promised Duncan that I would join him in his quest to write a 50 thousand word story for that thingymado in November, and coming up with an idea seemed like a good place to start.

On another note, I've been smoking too much pot lately. I'm up to once or even twice a day. It's not that I smoke a lot; the amount smoked each time is pretty small. But still. I blame the extreme boredom I've been drowning in.

I've found the lack of sex has made me eat and masturbate more frequently--sometimes I'm touching myself three-times a day. True story. Probably too much information, but I don't care.

And now I'm just rambling so I'll just cut this entry he-

Verbal Masturbation: I like to touch myself

2004-08-16T12:46:00.000-04:00

I cannot accurately tell you the exact date my dad passed away. All I remember is it happened in the 10th grade. I received a phone call sometime after school, and a young-sounding police officer asked for a James Rollo. After I told them that I was, in fact, James Rollo, the cop on the other end of the line threw a ton of bricks at me. Oddly enough the bricks had no weight. If anything, all they did was slightly skin away at the fact my father was no longer with me. Dumbfounded, I handed the phone over to my mom with out saying a word.

I sat down at the kitchen table while my mom got the details of what happened. Apparently the cause of death was a sudden heart attack. He was found in his favourite chair in his basement apartment. He didn't suffer.

My mom hugged me and told me it was okay to cry. No tears found there way into my eyes, though. Not then. Not yet. I just remember going to bed that night and having a struggle with the bricks that were still hovering over me… I even went to school the next day and didn't tell anyone.

My dad was as much a ghost now as when he was alive. I mean, after my parents divorced, I saw my dad every weekend. Then it became every other weekend. Then it was once a month. My mom would always say that he does love us (my brothers and I); he just didn't know how to show it. Sometimes when our father would take us out, the out usually consisted of going to a mall and hanging out there. The odd time he'd take us miniature golfing--and that was a gift sent from the heavens.

As I grew older more and more bricks were thrown my way. One of the reasons why my parents separated, I found out, was because my father was an alcoholic. This isn't something a son should know about his father. Regardless of this I still had oceans of respect for my father. He didn't really know how to show us he loved us, no, but it was the small things he did that sang the melodies. Every time my dad and I spoke on the phone, there would always be a pseudo-argument about who had to hang up first when we had to part ways on the phone lines. Usually we had a system: we took turns hanging up first. But, usually because of me and my hate for hanging up on him, I would protest and he would end up having to do the honours. Sometimes he'd pretend to hang up just so he didn't have to hang up on me, but I always caught this and there would be a long silence on the phone--neither of us saying anything, neither of us wanting to shut each other out for the remainder of the night.

What really kicks my nuts, though, is the fact that I haven't visited his grave since the day he was buried. I still don't think I've cried over the fact that he's gone. I had one cry with Patricia, who wrote me a wonderful letter, and that was about it. I fear that if I paid my respects to his grave, all the years I haven't cried will come out like Niagara Falls.

* * *

When I was young, I loved visiting family and friends of the family. I didn't know wrong could exist in a family and I thought everyone was perfect at the peak of my naivety. The visits would always seem too short and I would always ache to go back.

This is kind of how I felt today visiting my parents at the camp ground with my grandmother and Sheryl. It was nice to say the least.

In other news I'm growing more frustrated at things. Got to nip them in the bud, as some would say.

Also. Twelve days until I'm in Kingston.

I am the key to the lock in your house...

2004-08-14T21:14:00.000-04:00

I should totally be in Peterborough right now kickin' it with Scott. Instead I'm just sitting around being bored out of my skull. Oh, and I'm updating.

God, that was fun.

But you know what isn't? Not being able to see your boyfriend for three weeks. (And not having sex for four weeks).

Fuck

2004-08-13T19:28:00.000-04:00

I'm not able to see my boyfriend until the 26th. I can't even begin to describe what a blackhole of suck this is.

My brother is going to die.

2004-08-13T15:50:00.000-04:00

I come home not only to find pot-ash all over my bed, but also to find the batteries in my mouse replaced with dead ones (I could tell by the brand of the batteries that my brother used). He denies everything of course. The day can't come soon enough where I can steal everything in his room and run away to Kingston.

This is what you'll get

2004-08-13T15:14:00.000-04:00

I've never taken a bus high before, but I guess there's a first time for everything. Mind you I wasn't supposed to be high on the bus; it just sort of happened that way. How did this happen? Sit down and let me tell you a tale! Well, not so much an exciting tale as a long-winded story. *Ahem* Lauren, Allan and I made paid a visit to Toronto's first Cannabis Cafe in Kensington Market. Needless to say we got really high really fast, and lost track of time. The bus I had to catch was at 6 P.M., and we left the pot-palace at 5:40P.M. Yeah, we were rushed. We wouldn't have been rushed though if Cindy and her friends cooperated. Anyways, I made it onto my bus with 3-minutes to spare, or 3-minutes to come down from the high--which wasn't happening. Fun bus trip to the moon that was!

Oh, and everybody has to read Breakfast of Champions. Now. By far the greatest piece of literature I've read in a long time. I couldn't put it down and ended up finishing it a day. I loved it. To death.

Crushed

2004-08-10T12:47:00.000-04:00

My favourite shirt in the whole wide world is officially ruined.

Rockstar Crush

2004-08-10T01:25:00.000-04:00

Muse. One of the greatest performances I have ever seen. Period. End of book. End of trilogy. I extended my 15-minute break to 45- to 50-minutes just so I could experience every last miniscule note created by the band. Muse bent you over and fucked you explosively in the ass with their powerful music and left you begging for more. Crude analogy, yes, but it’s the best I can do. The songs they preformed consisted of Hysteria, Butterflies and Hurricanes and Stockholm Syndrome. Wow. Just…wow. I want more. They blew the audience, and me, away.

I first heard Mogwai during Curiosa, and I liked. A lot. Interpol also put on a great performance, along with The Rapture. The Cure, on the other hand, were somewhat disappointing. I don’t know how to explain it, but they just were. Methinks it was due to me not knowing what to expect. Oh well. The Cure played Numb, which was one of my favourite Cure songs, so that much was satisfying.

So, what did we learn? Muse stole the show.

WTF

2004-08-07T11:20:00.000-04:00

Did you know Chapter's now carries manga?! I was so surprised when I found a table which had all sorts of the graphical novels. I was happy, too. Too bad I already bought some books before I found the sacred sanctuary, otherwise I would have totally purchased some. Yes, totally! Chapter's even carries some manga of the homo-erotic genre like Gravitation.

Man, crazy times at Chapter's let me tell you.

Let me give you everything you need

2004-08-07T00:21:00.000-04:00

I can't believe how much walking took place in Toronto. Luckily I was with some good company, so it was well worth it. We went from Spadina to Church and everywhere in between. A lot of time was spent in book stores, where I ended up buying Trainspotting by Irving Welsh and Breakfast of Champions by Kurt Vonnegut. Remember how your parent’s would threaten to take away dessert if you didn’t finish the horrid, horrid vegetables on your plate when you were five? And how you reluctantly swallowed every remaining morsel of grossness that would make you dry-heave because you knew the deliciousness of whatever the dessert was would make up for it? And because, well, you wanted anything brimming with sugar so fucking badly? This is how badly I want to read the books I purchased…mind you I don’t have to eat anything that turns my face green before I start. I would read them now, but, alas, they're in queue; I have way too many other good books to finish...I <3 books...Anyways, some good food was also consumed--I had some sort of Thai food which was electrically exquisite.

After the huge excursion down town I ran to catch a train to the Molson Amphitheatre to make sure I made it to work on time. The Door~~s were~~ was playing and I was very, very, very pessimistic with the absence of Jim Morrison and, well, the absence of everyone but one remaining member. Long story short, the concert blew. Tips, on the other hand, did not; they were quite plentiful. And I guess that's what it all boils down to.

And, finally, I’ve come to a conclusion. I want a piece of work I’ve created to be published at some point in my lifetime. This was brought about by Hollie, so blame her.

I am so smrt

2004-08-06T00:57:00.000-04:00

I beat this mother fucker! Now to beat tontie...

Funny Story

2004-08-06T00:03:00.000-04:00

Let me set the stage: I just finished smoking a small joint I rolled myself, and I had put Trainspotting on (I had just finished Porno and it made me want to watch the movie again). The volume was pretty loud, and I was pretty buzzed--in short I was having a good time.

All of a sudden I hear the door burst open. Next I hear "We're home". My blood ran cold. Was I hallucinating? Oh, please, for the love of god let me be hearing things. I start to sneak around the corner and my mother appears. I nearly jump out of my skin and my heart shoots to the back of my throat. My mom greets me and then sniffs the air...I was caught.

They were surprisingly cool about everything. I ended up talking to Hollie, and I asked her for coffee so I could just get out of my house while my parents were home. Fun times, really.

The next thing I know we're playing Frisbee with other friends, and ended smoking a small joint. I didn't have much; I had already smoked today. And, yeah, came home and that was my day.

Marijuana Marathon

2004-08-05T01:27:00.000-04:00

Oh, god. I've eaten way too much raw cookie dough. My stomach is very close to splitting open and sharing my innards with the world. Most of the world will be all "Holy shit! That's a lot of cookie dough!" and the rest just won't care...I totally forgot the fact cookie dough expands in the oven. I'll just leave it at that.

Anyways, had a few friends over. Marc was very anxious to smoke. Played video games and watched Fear and Loathing in Los Vegas. I love that movie, and it's even better when you're high. I mean, things just sort of click, like it was the pot that put some bridges between scenes. Everyone then left except for Eric. We continued to smoke and played NHL Hits 2002. It was a very close fuckin' game, but I came out victorious. He, not so much, obviously. Battered and bruised is more like it.

And now i'm falling asleep. I just wish this stomach ach would kindly disappear.

Last Minute

2004-08-04T11:46:00.000-04:00

Who knew three people watching someone play NHL Hits 2002 could be fun? Certainly not I.

Anyways, threw a last minute party. 'Twas fun. Veronica played the aforementioned video game the entire time--right up until 5 in the morning. The rest of us watched. And drank. And now I have several friends sleeping it off around the house.

Edit: Everyone has just left. But before this, Veronica went back to playing the game, again, all morning while the rest of us watched...again. Though she was nice enough to let some of us play...but wasn't happy when I played with Philadelphia and kicked her ass 16 - 0. This might be because she was Toronto, and she hates Philadelphia with such flying passion. True story. I like stories.

Pissed Off.

2004-08-03T16:31:00.000-04:00

My brother. When he's not raiding my room, he's making the kind of mess in the house like a pig would do; leaves dirty dishes and empty beer bottles everywhere, fails to wipe anything he spills up, leaves his shit everywhere, and then he flees to his friend's cottage leaving me to clean his mess up. Actually, I'm probably giving pigs a bad name.

It's really the ravaging of my room that irks me; the mess I can deal with. My room is my sanctuary, a safe-haven away from all of my family, if you will--and I don't need it to be violated by anyone such as himself. So, in short, I’m going to retaliate by raping the fuck out of his room taking whatever I see fit. And then I’m going to piss on whatever remains…no I wouldn’t actually do that. Or would I? No. Stop looking at me like that! I'm still going to pee in the toilet!

Crazy, I know

2004-08-03T13:32:00.000-04:00

Oh FUCK OFF!! I had a huge journal entry all ready to go and it disappeared after a fucking error message. I’m beyond pissed. Just, fuck. Well, here’s a much shorter (and lamer) recap of this weekend’s events.

1) Forgot Scott’s gift at home. I’m retarded, I know.
2) Scott told me some splendid news: We had the house to ourselves on Saturday before he had to go to work. Sexy results ensued.
3) Helped out at the Festival of Lights. Leah was in a cheerful mood, which was pleasant. After this we went a party. Highlights: Sonny, upon noticing my “Anarchy <3’s You” shirt, states that she’s anarchy because she loves me. Sonny rules. Speaking of people who rule, Gabe does as well. Hardcore. He’s coming down along for Scott next weekend.
4) Spilled the beans on Scott’s painting while we snuggled that night.
5) Snuck into his bed that morning where we snuggled. Then more really, really, really hott³ sex commenced. Two positions in one go. We at one point want to reach three, but, y’know.
6) More snuggling.
7) I avenged Scott’s discomfort by killing the bee that pseudo-stung him in the eye by killing it with the letter ‘L’.
8) Waited about three hours in the waiting room while Scott stood in line to get his eye looked at. Turned out everything was fine; his eye felt better and he left with out seeing a nurse. He had to sign a waiver form before leaving ‘cuz, apparently, he could have gone blind.
9) Saw the Village with Gabe and Ian. Twist was pretty lame. It was a mediocre movie in general.
10) Scott was tired when we returned home so he left me to my own devices. I read some Discovery magazines and read more of Porno.
11) Had a sexy shower with Scott.
12) Rented Six Feet Under, a show I’m now addicted too.
13) Scott’s mom took us out to dinner.
14) Rented Pumpkinhead. Don’t waste your vision.
15) More snuggling took place.
16) Dropped me off at the bus terminal the next morning.
17) Had a lot of time to kill before for my train, so I stopped off at Second Cup and read for over an hour. I really love Porno.
18) I’m home.

I swear to you I had a better account of events before my computer decided to fuck me in the ear.

Anyways.

I love it when Scott’s breath dances on my bare skin when we’re snuggling. I love it how my skin tingles when he’s pressed up against me, like two different puzzle pieces interlocking. I love it how he makes sure I’m okay and comfortable every step of the way when we’re having sex. I love it how when I sneak into bed with him his arms naturally wrap around me like he knew I was coming all along. I love it when his lips are eager to caress mine, and how they don’t want to stop. I love it when our tongues touch. I love the look in his eyes when we’re making love. I love the way he makes me laugh and the way he makes my heart race. I love everything about him. I’m drowning in this so called love, and it feels oh-so-good.

I can’t wait ‘til he comes down next weekend. We have some movies to watch and some sex to have.

One more month until I’m in Kingston. The nails that summer has been digging into the road are slowly wearing down, and this summer is finally starting to pick up speed. The fact that my parents are gone for three weeks helps. A lot.

I’m tired. But I’m off to read. Then sleep. Maybe.

Timewarp

2004-07-31T00:57:00.000-04:00

Holy shit and the like.

Tonight was a birthday celebration for Fran. I became royally drunk, like everyone else. I saw a lot of people there who I haven't seen since either I blew them off during New Years or since I just ignored them since high school has been over.

Okay. I'm drunk. None of this will make sense. But. It was a surreal night. So many people. So little time. Weird. Andrew is still buried in the closet. A lot of people are still the exact same way since I left them. I don't know what I"m trying to say. Maybe it's just that once I figure out that people suck in the beginning, the people suck at the end, no matter what they do. Yeah. Weird times. Haven't seen some of these people in a year or a year and a half or TWO FUCKING YEARS. It was tres-weird. Oh well. To sleep I go.

Oh, and shaving yoru pubic region is quite the hassle. It's my small surprise for Scott. True story.

SLeep i go.

I was talking to you in my head

2004-07-30T10:55:00.000-04:00

Ugh. I fucking hate this house. I hated it when I moved in here last summer, and I continue to hate it at this very moment in time. Right now there's a leak in my room. Luckily some of my stuff absorbed some of the water. We can't figure where the leak is coming from and we can't afford to have this looked at. So, because of this, we're just going to wait it out. A large bucket will do the trick, methinks.

Yesterday I went and visited my grandmother. This wasn't an act strictly out of love, mind you; my cousin, Kelly, was visiting and I hadn't seen her in ages. She's part of a family which everyone thinks is a lost cause or the black heard of sheep or, simply, the fucked up family. The alcoholism and the aunt who went crazy and ran away might have had a thing or two in plastering this inescapable label on to them. It's the kind of label that relentlessly beleaguers them with flashy, bright colours. Not me. I love that part of the family. A lot. In fact, I would go as far as saying they're my favourite bunch of people in my family. I remember my aunt visiting and we stayed up all night talking. She also promised me tons of hash the next time I see her. My other cousin in that family is awesome as well. She is so cool, calm and collected. She's also a forest firefighter. But I digress. The visit was nice and the pot was great.

Also had a great scare last night, but I do not want to rehash those events. All I will say is someone went missing for about five-hours. All is good and well now, though.

Like, you know, whatever

2004-07-29T00:35:00.000-04:00

Duncan is wicked-excited about giving me my birthday gift. According to him it's a three-part gift, and it all follows a theme. Word ‘round the campfire says he had to go on some wild-goose chase for some of it. But he said I was worth it, so huzzah! I’m quite excited to see what it is.

In other news, I had a fabulous birthday dinner with my family. Scrumptious birthday cake followed afterwards, which I had to force myself from not inhaling the entire sugary slab which was covered in a cream cheese icing. The cake mixed well with my taste buds. Luckily my younger brother isn’t around (he’s at camp) and this means I can have seconds later on during the week. And possibly thirds. And, if I play my cards right, fourths.

Also, MY LOWER BACK ITCHES like the sensation is going out of style! (I don’t know why, exactly, I capitalised some of that, but meh.) I can’t scratch it ‘cuz of the tattoo, but Jesus baby-eating Christ I want to. This is easily a form of torture.

Duncan just told me he told someone of my gift, and the person who’s now in the know is really jealous. I WANT TO KNOW WHAT IT IS! And he just said that there’s a fourth part. Ah!

And I’ve decided my posts have been severely declining in quality. That is all.

Another day and I'm still not in Kingston

2004-07-27T23:20:00.000-04:00

Tea is good.
Tea is grand.
It makes me have to go pee.

A poem by Meghan MacDonald.

God, I still miss the times spent in Kingston.

Today consisted of a lot of nothing. Went out to dinner with some friends. KK gave me a certain something so I can continue my surprise for Scott. True story. I'm excited. And I'm bored.

And then I said to Maybel...

2004-07-27T02:12:00.000-04:00

I was sad to say good bye to a fabulous week spent in Kingston…a week which consisted of copious amounts of 80s music, an obscene amount of alcohol, and a sickening amount of food-- and I owe this all to Meghan, who showed me a wicked-cool time. How I miss the talks and laughs shared already.

On my birthday Meghan and I spent quite a bit of time on my, and I quote, “fucked up party mix” CD. And I must say I’m quite pleased with the outcome. The mix starts off with the B-52s and their Love Shack and ends with Hole singing Celebrity Skin, and, yes, we made this work. No, I’m not making this up; I have the disc to prove it. I think I’m going to put it on, now that I mentioned it. Yeah, the mix is just that cool to be put on just after a simple mention.

The plan was to celebrate my birthday by drinking a great amount of alcohol whilst being in the company of good people. Both Meghan and I assumed that the others would be drinking along with us, but we were wrong. Very, very wrong. We were the two who became the drunkest of the group, if not the only two drunkards. After everyone (Meghan, Lauren, Eric, Cindy, Allan, Katy, Gabrielle, Jude, Bryan, Bryan’s friend Brian) arrived at Meghan’s (yes, Meghan can arrive at Meghan’s place. Just shut up), and after Meghan and I were already good and drunk, we wandered to Shoeless Joe’s where I became even more intoxicated. Meghan too. Afterwards Meghan and I consumed poutine, courtesy of Bryan, and ended up at Meghan’s with Brian, where I sat and watched the spin room. Or the room spin. I think it was the latter, but I could be quite wrong. Yeah, anyways. Apparently Meghan and Brian had a conversation on Catholicism, where I would quip some random nonsensical shit. Or, as Meghan would put it, I sounded like crap. Meghan then put to me to bed, and there ended a great birthday. Well, it was a great birthday considering the lack of birthday sex, which I have Scott and his strep throat to thank.

Anyways, I received some cool pins and a “dork” armband from Bryan, and Lauren gave me a blown up picture of Scott and I. I was more than pleased, obviously.

The last day spent in Kingston included trying to buy a dildo at the Sexual Health Resource Centre, which sells things at cost and hence why I wanted to acquire the dildo there, but, as luck and the lack of volunteers during the summer months would have it, they were closed. Shame, really. After this failed endeavor, Meghan and I dined at my favourite restaurant in K-Town: Stooley’s.

I finally ended up at my final destination in Kingston at Scott’s house, where Meghan and I waited in Scott’s room for Katy and her parents to take me home. The last laughs were had between Meghan and I, and I concluded Meghan had some of the worst feet when it came to odours. I never knew a smell could drive itself so far deep in my nostrils and throw a party there, where all the party-guests would then proceed to throw up everywhere, and then have the audacity to expect me to clean the mess up…yeah. Think about it.

Then stuff happens and I’m home where I find out I’m not working until August 3rd. What the fuck. I could have stayed in Kingston--that’s to say Meghan would have allowed me to continue to squat in her house--for another week. Again, what the fuck.

As soon as I’m home I realize the pit I’m living in. My mother is arguing with my brother, and then I have to turn into her safe-wall, and then my stomach knots itself up in the kind of knot that will only come undone when I’m back in Kingston. Yeah, so, needless to say I cannot wait to be back in Kingston.

God damnit I wish I could express how much fun I had in Kingston for that one week. This year is going to be a fucking blast. I’m going to be living with an awesome person. I’m going to be able to see Scott more than once a week, and I’ll be able to have sex more than once a week. Meghan and I can have a hellovalot more Goat trips. I can listen to Lauren’s radio show more often than not. The list continues.

Moving on. Claire and I went to Julia’s to watch some Sex and the City. We watched about four or five episodes, one of which I thought was absolutely hilarious. The other’s ranged from mediocre to not bad.

I also have $40 more to spend at chapters; my brothers gave me a gift certificate from the store. My mom gave me a cheque for $60 saying that there would have been more if it wasn’t for the $50 dollar phone call placed to Peterborough. Fuck, hearing Scott’s voice was worth it. I received a card from my step-grandmother containing $25. I received a card from my actual grandmother containing nothing. In all her wisdom she decided she doesn’t want to give anyone anything anymore, and sit and shit on her disgusting amounts of money. She’s the most selfish person on the face of this family’s tree. My grandmother once told my mom that she would rather see her kids suffer than help them out. What the fuck. My grandmother could easily help everyone out, but sits on her money whining about all her inconsequential woes. Fuck you and fuck your money and fuck your lack of love. You don’t make friends by hoarding away affection and love. God my grandmother from my dad’s side of the family was a true grandmother; it was the little things she did that made us feel special. She had so much love to give. When she knew we’d be staying a night at her apartment, she’d make sure to have the sweet and sugary cereals we weren’t normally allowed to consume at home. My grandmother from my mother’s side does dick all and expects us to spoil her. Yeah. Okay.

I had a semi-long conversation with Leah. I knew it wasn’t my place to say anything so I played it pretty Swedish. Apparently Scott has changed in the past couple of weeks. Apparently to her it feels like Scott doesn’t care about anyone in Peterborough anymore and is bored with the company there. This screams all to well of what Duncan said of me. Sad that this has to go on in more places than one.

I don’t know what else to write. I hoped you enjoyed another useless update high in superfluous paragraphs and with 99% crap.

I Can Take It

2004-07-25T00:52:00.000-04:00

Meghan has the greatest way of waking people up. I mean, really. What she does is simply push her finger into your shoulder while staring at you like you're some sort of dead body. Does the trick, I must say. Since that day was supposed to be my "birthday", she gave me my gift, and I absolutely love it. The gift was an extremely nice bread-oil set, and I can't wait to start using it in my new house. Mmm, bread and oil and vinegar. Mmm.

Scott arrived around 10:30 in the A.M., and my god was I happy to see him. I hope I didn't make Meghan too uncomfortable; we did a lot of making out in her apartment. Soon after he arrived we were off to the library to photocopy my tattoo design out of The Hobbit. After what turned out to be a pseudo adventure that ranged across not one, but two libraries, we finally made it to the tattoo parlour where Smaug made a permanent home on my lower back. Pain-wise it was duable, though some parts hurt like a mother fucker. I know Meghan is calling me a sissy 'cuz apparently her tattoo didn't hurt at all, but, according to the tattoo artist, the lower back is one of the more painful spots to put a tattoo. And I will stand by that statement.

I'm really, really happy with the out-come of my tattoo, and will probably post a picture of it on this blogger. It rules. The end. Wait--epilogue: Scott also really likes it, which makes me happy. I find it a huge turn on knowing that the tattoo is there.

The time spent with Scott and Meghan was simply awesome. Lot's of laughs were had, and I was just really happy to be back in Scott's company. I'm really tired right now and want to sleep, so the rest of the update will be in point form which will consist of random events that happened up to tonight.

Scott wanted to eat because he was oh-so-starving, but ended up only eating less than half of his food. He went on and on about how hungry he was, so naturally we made fun of this fact. This is probably a "had to be there" point, but I don't care.
When Meghan says she is having a ten-minute shower, don't believe her for one second. Scott and I were on the couch, and, well, let's just say she was in the bathroom for about five-minutes, tops.
For a pre-birthday party, the plan was to get intoxicated at Eric's, which turned out to be a lot less intoxicating for everyone. I wanted to stay sober so I could still have sex that night.
Had some mind-blowing sex. Not to gloat, but Scott is some sort of sex-god. Yes, I said "sex-god".
I usually snuggle up close to Scott when sleeping, but there was some heavy-duty snoring on his part. This would add to his fears that he had tonsillitis (he was feeling crappy for a couple days now--tired, headache-y and the like). Don't worry, he didn't have tonsillitis; he has strep throat. And, as he put it, I have an insanely high chance of having it as well. Waking up with strep throat will be one hell-of-a birthday gift. Oh, it's my birthday now. Weee, 20.
Received some awesome birthday gifts from Scott. He bought me a "Big Hunk" bar, which I thought was cute. He also included some Galaxy bars in bubble wrap because the last time he bought me Galaxy bars, they had all been crushed in his bag. I thought this was an awesomely sweet gesture. I also got a super-nice book, The Fabric of the Cosmos, from him which I cannot wait to start reading!
Went to Meghan's for cartoons and an awesome breakfast. Also decided to stay in Kingston instead of going back to Peterborough with Scott because of his ~~tonsillitis~~ strep throat.
Went to see The Bourne Supremacy, which was a pretty decent movie. It pretty much followed the same formula as the first movie, but it was enjoyable nevertheless. There we found out Scott paid to see Spice World in theaters. He's never living that down. Ever.
Saw Scott off, knowing that there was to be no birthday sex, and that that had to wait until (hopefully) next week at the earliest. Sadly it was only a short visit this week, but it will have to suffice. Better than nothing.
Goat-ed it up with Meghan, where we talked and talked and talked. Oh, and talked. There we went for dinner at the loudest fucking Pizza Hut restaurant on earth. There was a family of maybe 30, where the adults were more obnoxious than the kids. Fuck.
Found ourselves at Lauren's, where more discussion took place.
Found ourselves home, where Eric, Bernita and Eli showed up. We had found out at this point that Meghan and I might have strep throat as well (Scott informed us via e-mail), so we sort of black-balled the drinking that was to be taking place. Hopefully I'll be able to drink on my birthday. Correction: I will drinking on my birthday. Those fucking strep throat germs don't know who the hell they're messing with. They can go fuck themselves now.
Went for a walk with Eric and Meghan, where more discussions took place.

That brings me up to date, and I believe these points don't do the time spent with everyone any justice. Oh well. I'll blame the fact that I'm tired. You don't think I can, eh? Just watch me.

Fabio was hit in the face by a bird on a rollar coaster

2004-07-23T01:30:00.000-04:00

I forgot to mention I had Bubba's poutine last night. God, I missed that greasy, deadly food. So much, in fact, that I ate the cheese curds and fries off of the table.

The first song Lauren played on her radio show was dedicated to me (it was Sexy Boy by Air). This was the bait she used to get Meghan and I down to the station--and it worked like a charm. While we headed down to the station, we passed fields littered in children. Meghan and I concocted a plan to walk up to the children with the biggest smile on our faces, and then proceed to kick children randomly, whilst holding our smiles...I doubt I'm doing this idea any justice.

The plan was to go to the Goat after the show. Upon waiting for Lauren to put away whatever she had to put away, Meghan noticed a Hate Crime poster. Why is this seemingly superfluous information important? Because Meghan didn't know it was a Hate Crime poster at first; she thought it was a "Hat Crime" poster due to the "e" being covered up. Oh, we had a good laugh. Hat Crimes. Drive by hattings. Chalk outlines of corpses with a really big hat on. The list went on. We are cool. Really.

After time spent at the Goat, I made Meghan and Lauren my infamous Pizza Sandwich. So famous, in fact, that the name deserves capital letters and a lack of quotation marks. I put so much cheese in between two pizza crusts that it sort of made a mess of the tray it was on in the oven. Oh, but it was orgasmic. Literally; Meghan and Lauren had to change their pants. Actually, that was a big fat lie, but it would have been funny if that was indeed the case.

Anyways. The original plan was to partake in 2.50 shots at Shoeless Joes. Scott phoned (!) and informed me that he was able to see me tomorrow, and that he was coming up at around 10 in the morning. Not wanting to be hung-over for him, we altered these plans. Long story short, we took Lauren to Shoeless and after four shots she was pissed. Before this consisted of a bunch of us hanging out at Second Cup. And after this consisted of playing Aerobie, which isn't the greatest of ideas in the dark; that thing is so fucking hard to see at night. But so much comedy ensued, so it was definitely worth it. Good times, really.

I've also decided I'm getting a tattoo tomorrow--some sort of birthday present to myself. It will be of the simple dragon design on the cover of the Hobbit. I think that that encompasses all things fantasy-- something I have an incredible hard-on for. The tattoo will have its permanent house located on my lower back. I'm really excited but really nervous at the same time. Hopefully I go through with this.

I've had such a blast this week, and because of this I don't want to go back home. Back under my parent's thumb. Granted they're more liberal now than they've ever been, I just don't like the fact I'm so ... suffocated by them. Meghan has been a more than generous host, and I'm forever in her debt for making this week as wonderful as it's been.