i need a collective state. where shit comes together. not out of order. its cliche, but i really get the whole “not being able to think around him”. its like someone cut my skull open and swirled all my relevant memories and thoughts with their index finger. up down around, coming going– these things mean nothing. or mean all the same thing. dramatically, i’m confused. the farther i step away from the chaos the much easier i see. or i think i’m beginning to see and then when i try to tie it all together, it slips away. sand in my fingers.

i received the best possible advice (if you can call it that) on the situation tonight. from someone who can see. objectively, or whatever. i’m usually that person. and it made me question what im attracted to. am i in it for the long haul? i mentioned that i’m wary of the fact he likes the idea of me. or what he believes me to be (and then i got to ask myself, do i like only the face he shows me). i’m at the point where i have a general impression of his other faces. just from what i’ve observed and the discussions i’ve had with his cousin. she reckons we’re like mirror images, seeing what we like about ourselves in each other. hating what we hate about each other. entirely too similar. or we were, i feel i’m cracking under the face-to-face confrontation. he’s beginning to resent my weakness is all i keep stressing. so clearly there’s differences. the extent of our anger for example. naturally he’s going to have more because of the whole boys don’t cry bullshit. but the supression is there. the way we deal with emotions (or don’t i should say).

now we’ve reached a block. technically he put himself out there by, first of all coming to me. making the effort to hang out with me. calling me. i’m not sure if it constitutes as the “putting ourselves out there” like she reckons we should do. but now, where do we go from there. she seems to think that he likes me as much as i do. or maybe she doesn’t, but i’m missing the point. the point is that i’ll never know unless i act. i either do it, get an answer i might not want to hear and move on or i get over it and stop wondering. i can’t keep lingering between yes and no. but in truth i don’t even know what i want. this brings me back to the what if he’s attracted to something else. i fear the kaija in his mind would never present her feelings like a fucking tard. because its a narcissistic sort of fucked up thing we got going on. now i’m wondering if “we” is even too presumptious. i don’t think he would want to see “himself” do something as emotionally revealing. but that’s just it, aint it! if he’s not willing to speak about it, or allow me any weaknesses, then that’s not a relationship at all. and as much as i want something (not marriage or even exclusiveness or anything as fucking complicated as that, because hell i get smothered easy) if he’s not willing to bare his neck then all we have remaining is stagnance. when domination and power and the rush of competition go flat i’ll be left with nothing. nothing but his inability to change.

the conversation tonight made me painfully more concious of my nurturing the possibilty that he wants what he doesn’t have. playing it up even. giving him the person i inherently think he wants. make-shift good feelings. when the charade is up and all my walls come crashing down, i’ll be left the fool. for playing myself. for not finding out either way. for entertaining some dillusional idea. the more i write and mull and think, the more i’m starting to believe that even if i had him i wouldn’t know what the fuck to do with him. his cousin told me no one can handle him. he’s wound tight in a vicious circle of self-sabotage. something i myself, am not completely unfamiliar with. my mum loves to allude to it every chance she gets. but i’m concious of the problem, which is half the battle. a lot of the time i’d rather fail on purpose, than try and then fail. futile. i can see this being relevant to him considering people have been telling him what a fuck-up he is his entire life. but is he aware. or is he blaming the infamous “THEY” for his problems. does he want to change? i’m so wrapped up in ego i really question how damaging i would be to him. who’s to say that if the first time i got threatened i wouldn’t use some shit against him that he may of exposed to me. or vice versa. could i be forgiving? would pride let me? sure he might want me– key word might– but he might want heroin also, doesn’t make it any better for him. that doesn’t make a relationship any more healthy.

and here i am, writing some big inane article about someone i barely know not getting any farther than where i started. i don’t really want to fuck him savage and i don’t really want to be his ghandi, so now i have to figure out what i want. i keep going and using that big scary word relationship. which i’m sure can be confused as like, hand holding and domestic stuff. but that’s not it. i’m independent to a fault. perhaps i should be using the word “understanding” instead. my natural instinct is to just let things progress. but fat lot of good that ever gets me. i’ve got to step back for a while, swallow pride and just act organically. in other words: chill the fuck out, get a better feel for the ground i’m standing on and go from there. as much as i’d love to barrel in and just get all this crap of my chest, the last thing i want to do is fumble. or be unsure of myself. or pride out at the last second and severely bung things up. but first and foremost, before this ship goes anywhere, i need to figure out what i want.

definitely the best thing since sliced bread

the sky has been shitting out mounds of snow for the past two days. ironically enough, only a week after i helped rubatio plant some things in her garden. for god’s sake i’ve tried to be patient with the snow. honestly, i have. i’ve barely bitched about it at all. it was a new experience (for an ex-west coaster) and i embraced it the best i could. but christ on a cracker, its all ready april and this shit is still going on. where the fuck is global warming when you actually need it?

my feet are mangled and blistered from trudging through the snow this afternoon. i walked over with n-hole and marsha– but i had might as well’ve been walking alone. the silence was thick with my irate behaviour. couldn’t help it. i was just pissy for no good reason. well, its not like i didn’t warn them. i said, look bitches, i’m in a right mood right now so apologies in advance for when i snap your heads off. perhaps its the weather. at any rate, i need to get the fuck over it. being stuck in a foul mood hurts yourself the most. its futile behaviour.

Dear Prime Minister,

I am a student who just recently immigrated to the USA. Despite my fancy new residency (and quite sparkly visa in my passport) I am still quite patriotic and rather concerned as to Canada’s role in wellbeing of society. It’s been brought to my attention that Canada is eighth to the bottom of preventable deaths that occur every day from hunger and poverty-related diseases. Eighth to the bottom of what, you say? International aid of course.

So what’s up? How come my country is not honouring the agreement it made and signed at the 2002 Monterrey Conference and once again at the 2002 Johannesburg Summit? We are supposed to be making a concrete effort towards giving 0.7% of our national income in aid to poor countries. Perhaps I’m being naïve, but that really doesn’t seem much to ask.

If all 22 countries make this 0.7% goal, it is estimated that the resulting hundred ninety-five billion dollars each year will be enough to effectively combat— and essentially abolish— extreme poverty on our planet.

Honestly, I have paraphrased most of the above information from generic letter located on poverty.com (so assuming you read your own letters, you might recognize it). In my defense, I thought personalising it into my own words would give it a more authentic feel, not to mention it was a good source of statistics and facts.

I understand that you and the rest of our government have a lot of important things to worry about. Canada is a big country, after all. But it’s important to realise that abolishing poverty won’t just help destitute individuals in distant countries. It will also aid our nation in numerous ways– because poverty affects everyone. Not only would we be raising the general quality of life, I suspect by at least reducing poverty we will dually be reducing crime. Clearly humans are flawed by nature so no, I don’t have any pie in the sky ideas that we will become the perfect Utopia, but in the very least we can heighten security. Having nothing makes you desperate, wild with the wonder of where you will get your next meal or source of shelter.

Looking back over the letter, perhaps I got a little too informal at the end. Maybe you get letters like this all the time. Who knows? But again, perhaps that makes it all the more authentic. I don’t understand politicians and I don’t pretend to. Much thanks to whoever took the time to read this and I just desperately hope society keeps continuing to better itself. We’ll never be perfection, but damn it we can try.

Sincerely,
Kaija A. Thom

i’ve discovered the mystery behind my toilet’s bad attitude. its all pissy and up in my grillz cause it doesn’t like me throwing my hair clippings in there. well, why the fuck didn’t it say something sooner?

bitch of a toilet. you’re nothing but an outhouse in porcelain clothing. that’s right. i went there.

ATTN: MALE POPULATION; IF YOU HAVE THE ABILITY OF “SWEET BEARD GROWING” THEN CREATE SOME B.A. MUTTON CHOPS ON YOUR FACIAL AREA. IF YOU IGNORE THIS DEMAND, DO NOT BE ALARMED WHEN DEATH TALONS TEAR INTO YOUR GENITAL BITS. THANK YOU.

i fear for my sanity, every time i take a shit in the downstairs toilet

its so mercurial in its overflowing fecal goodness onto my bare feet

i got victoria pains today. the familiar short-lived, dull ache of: god i miss that city. what is it about victoria– and vancouver island, for that matter– that just makes you pine for them once you leave? i mean, while you’re residing there all you can do is bitch about the weather.. cause let’s face it, the climate is shit for a good half of the year. but that’s all a matter of opinion. now that i’m gone even the the perpetual newspaper lining the skies, and the eternal parade of umbrellas seem whimsical and picturesque. and the weed. can’t forget the fucking weed. minnesota is pants in the marijuana department. i’ve enticed my locals friends with epic descriptions of bc bud, and how i’ll bring them to the motherland one day and smoke them retarded. but thinking it over i’m not sure i’ll follow through. think of how shitty the weed will be in comparison when they get back. as wonderful as it is, i don’t want them to have to go through the bitterness that i experience every time i hit the bong. ignorance is certainly bliss in their case. so unless they plan on becoming seasonal or permanent residents i’m really not going to recommend it.

picked up the phone and called shaela this afternoon (victoria pal). she seemed a tad distant and awkward, to be honest, which seemed pretty ass-backwards considering that in the old days, she always seemed to have the upper hand. hey, well, never kick a gift horse in the mouth. so naturally, i yammered on about pointless bullshit, basking in the warmth of “upper-hand”… my arrogant, gloating nature knows no bounds. sheesh, everyone has there flaws but i’m thinking i’m one of the select few that actual revels in them (for the most part). any how, shae proceeded on informing me she’s moved out of her house. fascinating! sorta kinda not really. but yeah, i don’t know. i guess i don’t have a lot in my own life to talk about so i’ve degraded myself to gossiping about broads on the other side of the continent.

my life. myyy liiiife. what is this life business. thought processes are so over-rated.

the funny thing about female orgasms, is the astonishing array of intensities they can arrive in. some are like a gentle rolling hill and when you reach it, the sensation is so soft you can barely notice it. or the ones that are reminiscent of a craggy cliff, in which you have to violently dig your nails into the cliff-face and hoist yourself up in attempts to get even remotely close to the top. but the oddest part of it is that ‘they’ never explained this to me. sure, we had sex ed. but it was pretty clear it was all goal oriented. cock goes into cunt, semen goes into egg, egg makes baby .. etcetera, etcetera. no one really took the time to explain clitoral orgasms … and when they did, they seemed to convey it as inferior or not as important. any way, so basically they brushed it off. fair enough. their main goal is for us not to get pregnant, not contract the hiv. fine, i get that. but i feel they could’ve put a little more emphasis, for general knowledge at least.

fuck, i didn’t even know chicks could masturbate ’til i was 12! and even then i thought you would do it with a dildo or some sort of, you know, cunt penetration. how very ironic that now, i never masturbate that way. why would you? its so much easier to get yourself off the other way. but that’s beside the point. why couldn’t they have explained an orgasm better? it was a really big let down to discover i had all ready orgasmed when i got eaten out for the first time (by a close friend) and i was expecting some ground shaking experience. but was sadly mistaken when, “oh, so i was actually masturbating when i put my crotch against the jets at the pool”. now maybe i should’ve been a little smarter and put two and two together. but honestly, i wasn’t that smart. i didn’t even know which hole the cock went in (apparently canadian sex ed wasn’t very thorough– or i just wasn’t listening). the orgasms you get from jets at the pool are just so subtle. nothing like a good, long wank. so in my defense: how the fuck was i supposed to know!