It kills me not to know this, but I've all but just forgotten what the colour of your eyes were, and your scars, or how you got them. As the telling signs of age rain down, a single tear is dropping through the valleys of an aging face that this world has forgotten. There is no reconciliation that will put me in my place, and there is no time like the present to drink these draining seconds. But, seldom do these words ring true when I'm constantly failing you, like walls we just can't break through until we disappear.
So tell me now, if this isn't love, then how do we get out? Because I don't know. That's when I said 'I don't hate you, girl, I just want to save you while there's still something left to save'. That's when you told me 'I love you, boy, but I'm not the answer to the questions that you still have'.
But the day pressed on, like crushing weights. For no man does it ever wait, like memories of dying days that deafen us like hurricanes. Bathed in flames, we held the brand. Uncurled the fingers in your hand, pressed into the flesh like sand. Now, do you understand?
One thousand miles away, there's nothing left to say. But so much left, that I don't know. We never had a choice. This world is too much noise; it takes me under.
I don't hate you.

AKA La Fête du Patrimoine de la Rivière-Rouge. But, this comes in later.

Today was an extremely busy day, and I forgot to buy a bus pass, which I need to do tomorrow. ...On top of having to come up with a topic for my research paper for personality psychology. Ahem. First thing, I went to university in the morning. After classes [in Education I presented the structure of the Manitoba ELA Curriculum Documents, which are extremely complicated to follow and apply, by the way], I bussed down to the school where I'm doing my practicum this year, and had lunch with the staff while at the same time finishing up a small reflective assignment for creative writing. In the afternoon I taught English, as usual, followed by Religion. The class was pretty lax; it was a review of the unit on symbolism, because they have a test coming up on Friday. The students seem to be warming up to me pretty nicely. I'm looking forward to the novelty of my presence wearing off so more questions will be academically oriented as opposed to "Hey, Mr. Pauley, what's your first name? What high school did you go to? Do you have a girlfriend", etc.

Anyway, after I finished teaching, I took a short bus ride down to the St. Boniface Museum where the meeting for the Red River Regional Heritage Faire committee takes place. When I walk inside, I'm promptly greeted by a nice young woman: "Bonjour".
I reply in French, we start up a nice conversation about how I'm here for the Red River Regional Heritage Fair. She told me right away that she thought they had met already earlier that day. My heart skipped a beat. "Est-ce-que tu peut demander quel'qun d'autre?" I ask. Or rather, could you ask someone else? She called the museum coordinator, who explained to her the meeting was at 4:00. Whew!
As it turns out, I was the first one there. Makes sense, since I was already in St. Boniface teaching. So, I helped this gentleman who works at the museum set up the room while conversing in French. He told me he was impressed with my bilingualism, so. It was a pretty good start to the late-afternoon.
Once more members of the committee showed up, I introduced myself, though my dad soon arrived and then introduced me to everyone afterward. They were more than happy to have a student teacher sitting on the council, and I was told about all the things that I could do. Hah. As if my plate wasn't full with work / school as it is. On top of that, someone from work is asking me to tutor them in grade 12 biology. Though, a once-a-week thing wouldn't be too bad. Anyway! There was pizza and chocolate. And the director of the board is very friendly. As it turns out, my dad is going to be the master of ceremonies, or rather, will make the opening and closing speeches. Prestigious! I'm being placed in charge of organizing the other student teachers, and on top of that, I'm now going to be doing a blog featuring Reggie the Buffalo! Yayyy. That's the RRRHF's official mascot. And, I get to write a first person weekly blog entry about being a buffalo. How exciting, I think. Everyone seemed happy that I'd be doing that, and it shouldn't be too hard. If it goes well, maybe I'll even post some of the stuff up on here.
In any case, the meeting went for three and a half hours. Aiesh. But yeah, it was a good time, and I'm really looking forward to participating etc so that I can have a nice, polished addition to my resumé, as well as being able to get my name as a teacher out there in the circle of Winnipeg's society of educators.

Hopefully, I'm up for this.

P.S.

Since I'm doing the blog for Reggie the Buffalo, I was given this little plastic buffalo toy to serve as inspiration. Check it out:



But wait. What're those things hanging down on it's stomach? Fur, or something? Nope.



Those, my friends, are testicles. Big, buffalo testicles in all their glory. Figure I'd leave everyone on that fantastic note.

For my creative writing class, we were assigned a postcard piece. That is, what would be written on the back of a postcard. To my dismay, my professor gave us a format that she insisted we follow:

"So this is where people come to _______. I would have thought it was a _________ to ________ in. I have been out. I saw: __________..."

Despite it only being three-hundred words, I'm quite proud of it.

So this is where people come to party. I would have thought it is a celebration to be arrested in. I have been out. I saw: promiscuous women on balconies. Not that I mind, I mean. I most certainly wouldn't want to be arrested, and I sincerely doubt one could become incarcerated for "sight-seeing", as it were. Men and other women alike filled the streets and avenues, adorning shiny plastic beads that were probably made in China. I hate large crowds, so you know. There's always at least one person who forgets to wear deodorant. One minute you're strolling happily along until you run into that wall of stench. It lasts only for a split-second, though leaves you dazed and disgruntled for at least one or two minutes afterwards.
Some ways ahead of me, surrounded by other cheerful spectators are floats; massive, and well-decorated. There are three colours that stand out the strongest: purple, green, and gold. I wonder why that is. It's not as if they go particularly well together, though they do leave a distinct impression upon the senses. It amuses me to think that the person who came up with this unlikely combination of colours did so as some sort of joke while attempting to create the most obnoxious symbol possible. Yet here the colours are, almost arrogant in their success - every person and their mother has two or more of the colours, either on masks, beads, or other apparel.
I can barely hear anything over the incredible noise coming from this elated mob. The streets are bloated with intoxicated teenagers, and lewd couples. To think that people would stop in the middle of the street to dine on the faces of members of the opposite sex - with horrid table manners, to boot. If you'll excuse my short-lived reply, I think I need a drink.

Tara doesn't actually mean anything she says. While she may eventually convince herself that what she says is truth, I don't believe that she does at the start; unless she's as good at deceiving herself as she is others.

Hitherto, there's been no hard, factual evidence that proves this point. Also, that's how you use 'hitherto' in a sentence, Holly. That one was just for you. In any case, without further ado, I present my coherent, logical, and empirical argument.

It all started with Tara coming up with the novel [sarcasm] idea of performing surgery on her extensive list of internet friends. This provoked the wrath of Mariah, who commented with both vim and verve. Following the growing thread of comments, Tara decided that she had made a tactical error in her decision, and immediately offered an ellipsis-riddled reply in hopes of consoling the disgruntled Mariah.

However, this didn't seem to go as smoothly as Tara hoped. Mariah was inconsolable. Now, this is where it gets interesting. You'd think that after such a heart-felt promise of 'righting things' between two old friends, Tara would at least last a week in her endeavors. Alas, it was not to be. Mariah returned once more, blatantly telling Tara that she was even worse than I am! Thanks, I think. In any case, this is where it gets juicy. Instead of following through on her solemn vow of friendship, she snaps, and lashes out at Mariah. Promise made, promise... kept? I think not.

If everyone has followed along, we'll have noticed the following trends:

1) Tara makes a mistake.
2) People get angry.
3) Tara apologizes profusely, vows to change / fix things.
4) People don't forgive Tara right away, and remain angry.
5) Tara becomes angry and blames them instead, absolving herself of any guilt.

The proof is all here, folks. I'm just pulling open the curtains. I hope this was as educational for the lot of you as it was for me; only I completed the course a year ago.

 

I've always grumbled over people who use words that A) they don't know what they mean, and B) don't fit with their writing style.

There are those of us who have relatively expansive vocabularies, whose styles accommodate the usage of words party to a more esoteric genre of the English language, such as 'soporific', and 'superfluous', etc. And then there are those of us who do not, and write with a thesaurus at our sides pondering, 'how can I make this sound more sophisticated and intelligent than it really is?'. One of the more famous examples of writing in a style that makes a silly notion sound complex and reasonable is Scientology. There you have it.

Without further ado, I'd like to introduce a couple of the more recent examples of people whom I'm sure everyone who read this journal know.

"I was under the impression that you were in your eighth (or 2974th, at least) year teaching? Yet you seem to not be able to even string together a coherent sentence. Good luck with that, though". -Anonymous reply.

I can certainly understand why the person would post anonymously, though because of their style [or lack thereof] I think I have a pretty good idea of who they are. Regardless of whether or not I'm right or wrong, they know who they are. The word in question in the above paragraph is coherent. Coherence, by definition, states that something is reasonably understandable, something that is logical and able to be interpreted. Now, given the fact that this person was able to so eloquently reply to my comical entry, it would stand to say that I got my point across in a coherent manner. Though I too sometimes delight in gasconading my vocabulary, I make sure I use the right words.

In another wonderfully provocative entry, another example [potentially by the same person] presented itself:

"You're giving Tara more credit than she's due. I assure you that it was me and ONLY me who went to your Facebook to ask you to delete my friends (which you deleted, and which I reposted, yesterday, on Tara's journal, which was hitherto ignored). I believe posting THIS ENTIRE THING implies that YOU know exactly what SHE'S doing, and yet you're still sitting here thinking she's broken up with Tom, and posting inconsequential conversations with your dad about her moving back in with you (L O L). Please continue, though, the more you say, the more I have to report to Facebook and LiveJournal, and I assure you that none of your work here will go unrewarded". -Anonymous reply, though probably Holly.

There are actually a couple things I'd like to say about this. Let's start at the beginning. First of all, I'm not giving Tara any credit at all. This goes towards two points: 1) People use popular phrases to sound intelligent in the wrong contexts, and 2) People don't actually read everything I write. In fact, what I really said was that unless she was doing all of that, then she has no credibility. That being said, my comment was a blow at her inability to procure factual evidence as opposed to 'make-believe Tara truths'.
Secondly, the next word we're going to look at is hitherto. Nice word, I do like it. But, you're using it wrong. Am I surprised? No. Hitherto means 'until this time'. Perhaps you knew that, perhaps not, but again, wrong context. You see, if you meant to say "which you deleted, and which I reposted, yesterday, on Tara's journal, which was until now ignored'', you're wrong. I actually replied to your request in the same thread, prior to your 'hitherto' comment, thus rendering the word inappropriate. However! What you sounded like you were trying to say was "which you deleted, and which I reposted, yesterday, on Tara's journal, which was promptly ignored". Which, might I repeat, is not what 'hitherto' means.
Thirdly [and lastly], you've made one more attempt to bolster your prose using the word inconsequential, though set yourself up for failure by using it in a filler sentence that was again on your part misconstrued.

Ladies: either way, please keep your recrementitious jargon to yourselves, unless you know how to use the words that you employ.

So I was in the car with my dad, catching a ride home from work. It was particularly busy today, and I was tired. Since my dad was in the loop about the whole 'Tara running away to the States to get married' business, I decided to fill him in on what I had learned earlier that day. The conversation went a little like this:

Me: So, dad. News has reached me concerning Tara. She and her fiancé have broken it off, and now she's looking to move back to Canada because she's an illegal immigrant.

Dad: Hah. As if no one saw that coming.

Me: Yeah, no kidding. I almost feel sorry for her.

Dad: You know, Mike, you should invite her to come stay with us.

Me: What?! No way in hell! Asides, you really wouldn't.

Dad: No, but you should tell her to come anyway. That way when she shows up, we can take your laptop and send her off.

Me & Dad: Ahahahhahahh!

"fuchsiascreams wrote:
Sep. 16th, 2009 02:44 am (local)
I didn't say shit about anything, all I did was express my condolences towards Tom for having had his engagement cut off - I didn't know it was a lie that you were telling Amanda, I just thought I was comforting a friend. So sure, I get why you would have deleted me and Mariah - but I know for a FACT that Amanda had literally spent HOURS worrying about you, and you're turning around two seconds later and deleting her because there's a bit of conflict and you can't be fucked to put in the effort to maintain a relationship that she's trying hard to mend..."

"reilareila wrote:
Sep. 16th, 2009 03:04 am (local)
If you really wanted to back off from your social life, and if you legitimately felt this perpetual sense of self-worthlessness, YOU WOULDN'T EVEN GO THROUGH ALL THIS TROUBLE TO KEEP THE GENERAL PUBLIC POSTED AND AWARE OF YOUR BAWWWFESTS. Seriously, go call the WAAAAAAMBULANCE. You can fucking cry and cuddle with all the stupid shits that for some goddamn reason persist on keeping you warm and safe under the covers, but eventually they will all fucking realize who you are and that every word out of your mouth is complete and utter bullshit".

You seem to be leading a much fuller life than I, Tara. Canceling your wedding, fleeing America as an illegal immigrant. Do you plan to finish high school? I wonder if you actually believe yourself, in the end.

Really, your choice of words here amuses me. Let's see what you wrote.

"Anyway I am nearly incoherent because I still haven't slept, just thought I'd share in the joy of another opportunity to be confused and amused at just how lowly and pathetic a mutt Pedomike really is.

Oh and since I'm sure you'll read this and be all lololol she reacted, here's an answer to all of the above:

I'm doing much better than you! As my parting gift, you piece of shit, I offer you some advice:

Get better at pretending to be mildly decent at life. We can see right through you".

Right there, you've said much more than I'm sure you believe you've said. Not intentionally, of course, given the fact that what you've revealed [not that I didn't already know in the first place] isn't exactly positive. Let's review!

"Nearly incoherent because I still haven't slept". I wonder why that is? Nothing to do during the day, as always. You can sleep whenever you like. You don't have a job, you don't have responsibilities [at least, not ones you acknowledge], so all you do is leech around on those who can be bothered to support you.

"I'm doing much better than you!" Now, this is the part that I find quite curious. This implies you know exactly how I'm doing. Short of stalking my livejournal and perhaps getting Holly et al to look at my Facebook updates and so forth [which would then suggest hypocrisy on your part, given the fact that you make multiple acclaims centered on my habits of 'obsessive stalking'], you wouldn't have any idea how I'm doing, and wouldn't be able to give a consistent answer. Because I'm feeling generous, I'll let you know that I graduate next year, am buying a car [some of us have our licenses], and will be moving out into a place of my own after I start teaching. Delightful, really. David, Josh, and Teresa send their regards.

"...here's an answer to all of the above:". Now, I apologize for not having this in chronological order, but bare with me. You're being very deflective, and put those questions aside. You began to answer them in your head, but as soon as you discovered that they were leading you to the same place you were a year ago, and a year before that, you put them out of your mind, and shrouded yourself in a cloak of denial as you have in the past. I certainly am jealous of your life, Tara. I'm jealous of the friends you don't have, the successes you'll never share in, and the knowledge that will never be yours.

Finally, "We can see right through you". We? What we? The friends you mock-banish from your life to try and draw them closer into your web of insecurity and deceit? You have made no lasting friends; all that remains of those candidates are the ashes of bridges you've set aflame.

I must soon be up to prepare for today's classes, so I'll not have the time to write in the manner of my preference.

Though I realize that a 'tyrant' is to some degree a hyperbole, I use the word symbolically as opposed to in a literal sense, merely to articulate a point.

It is now, on September sixteenth of two-thousand and nine, one year and sixteen days since August twenty-fifth, two-thousand and eight, that the cycle has realized itself. She has gorged herself like a wolf on the sympathy and pity of many, both enemies and allies alike.

I remember her ex-fiancé gloating over a hollow victory as she paraded her exposed flesh across the pixelated, ten frame-per-second theater of adultery, and I remember passing unto him a warning. At last I can have my rest, and perhaps he can share in this victory. None will mourn the passing of a tyrant; sic semper tyrannis.

Aimee.

Oh, and Encyclopedia Dramatica.

Yeah, the title really gets your attention. It's relevant, too!

So I was riding in Josh's car with Josh [obviously with Josh] on our way to pick Michelle up from work, and then off to play some pool, right? Right. Barbie Girl comes onto my iPhone, which was playing through Josh's car speakers, so of course we jack up the volume and sing as loud as we can.

COME ON BARBIE LET'S GO PARTY. ♪♫

So anyway. I go to point out the window. No, wait. I go to EPICLY point out the window, with the whole raising the finger, and then pointing really fast. Yeah, not gonna happen. I go to point, and my finger hits the top part of Josh's window frame. Over the music, our singing, traffic, wind, etc., we hear this loud crack. Confused, I look at my finger.

It's sticking out to the side at a really weird angle. Fuck. I just dislocated my right index finger.

Josh pulls into the parking lot, and is all, "Hey, bro, lemme have a look".
Being in the semi-state of shock that I was, I show him my finger. He reaches out, grabs my finger, and pops it back into place.

I scream.

It was excruciating! Dislocating it was NOTHING. Relocating it was FFFFFFFF. Jesus Christ. Now my finger is permanently bent a little to the side. I don't know if Josh set it right. Maybe I should go to a hospital, or something. I still can't quite bend it all the way.

She's still stuck in the same rut, saying the same things, but to different people. I kind of regret not being able to do more, but I always end up telling myself that this is something she has to do for herself, by herself.

The Eureka seveN movie was disappointing. At least there's Storywriter.

Was, in short, incredible. I'm so glad Aimee made me go with her and Jason. Even though I wasn't having a lot of fun at first, since Aimee was kind of bitchy about her Pyramid Head costume, and had to stop every ten seconds to let people take pictures of her, I totally ditched them for some other friends of mine which I spent the rest of the con with.

'Kay, first thing's first. This was at the Winnipeg Convention Centre. Attached to it is the Delta hotel, which one can access via a skywalk. I didn't want to pay for a hotel room, and Ai-Kon lasted three days [Friday-Sunday], so I resigned myself to staying up the entire time, maybe catching a wink or two when I had the chance.

Yeah, I didn't get any sleep. Not until Saturday morning, around 3:00AM. But that's the grand finale! Can't get ahead of ourselves, now. Nuh uh.

Kay, so. It all started after I ditched Aimee and Jason for Jen [a friend from high school] and her friend Michelle. Michelle is really pretty. Anyway. We hung out for a little bit, wandered around, sat and talked with people, etc. Just generally enjoyed ourselves. But, Jen had to go home. So, Michelle and I decided to go and find something to eat. Not an easy task at midnight in downtown Winnipeg. We tried three different places [Subway, Ichiban, and some Indian food place] before finally happening upon the holy grail of the hungry: Pizza Hut.

So we headed in. And we met this awesome guy named Danny. He was the person who was cashiering. He was also bald. Anyway! After ordering our food, Michelle and I went and sat down at the booth. There was this Native lady sitting at a booth across from us. I did the polite thing to do, and waved, smiled, and said hello.

She drunkenly replies, "Heeyy uhh. Can I sit with you guys, eh?"
"Uhm, well. We're kind of-" I start to reply, but she's already gone and shoved me further into the booth as she muscles her way beside me. She smells like Listerine and tobacco.
"I'm sssoo hungry, guys, I have no moneyy", she slurs, and proceeds to pull out a cell phone. Fumbling with the device, she leans over to me. "Howww ddoo youuu openn this thingg?"
Gingerly I use a single finger to push the slide-phone to the open position. "Just like this, see?"
"Ohhh..", and she starts pressing buttons. The screen is black.
I exhale in a sigh. "The phone is off."
"Whaa? How thee ffffuuccck do you turn it onn?"
"Just like this. You have to hold the red button here."
At that point, she begins mumbling to herself, pressing buttons, and wanders off. Michelle and I had shared uneasy glances with each other since the whole ordeal began, and ended up laughing over our triumph against the intoxicated Native lady. The food came, and it was delicious. We finished, and found out that we had half of it left. Our eyes had been bigger than our stomachs, it seemed. No problem at all! There were plenty of hungry weeaboos who needed feeding!

So we headed back to the convention centre with a box full of pizza and breadsticks, passing out food to the hungry. It was a good time. In any case, the night was wearing on, and Michelle had to get home. She was about a twenty minute walk from the centre, and this creepy moustache guy was trying to give her a ride with his equally creepy looking friend, and I was all "Kay, Michelle, let's get you home." It was totally boss. At least, I felt pretty good about it. Michelle seemed thankful too, which made me happy. Anyway, I brought a friend from work, a gay guy who wouldn't stop hitting on me and grabbing my ass, along with us, 'cause even in Winnipeg, you don't want to walk around alone at the all hours of the night.

The next day, I had still not slept, and there was a dance later that night. The day was fairly uneventful, and my mood drastically improved when I saw Michelle [and Jen, too] later in the day. We hung out until she had to go grab some dinner, at which point I took a trip to Subway with some other friends from high school. When Michelle got back, it was time for the dance. Michelle and I went together, and spent some time dancing. It was lots of fun! She was pretty good at it, too. Anyway! A little into the rave / dance, I had this brilliant idea. Tie my circular glowstick to the end of this string, and swing it around like a nanchuk. It was pretty awesome. Then, I decided I wanted to get a second one. Michelle was a huuugeee help. <3 Because she like, tied it for me and everything. She's such a sweetheart.

Anyway, after gathering the attention of a small crowd, having people recording video, taking pictures, etc, some girl [who I later found out was named Alex] gave me these glowing blue balls attached to chains and asked me to use those. It was awesome. I loved the attention. Alex started teaching me some poi moves ['cause that's what the balls were meant for] and I got absorbed into it. Remembering Michelle like 10 minutes later, I rushed back to her, apologized profusely, and then all of us [Michelle, Alex, her friend, and myself] all went outside to learn more poi.

After doing that for a while, Michelle and I decide we want to go for a walk. So, I get this crazy idea to head over to this pool / pond / fountain thing by the legislative building to skip rocks. Of course, I sort of KINDA get lost partway there and Michelle figures out where I was taking her. Anyway! So we get there, and as it turns out, she's never skipped rocks before. Le gasp! So, I teach her. And, she gets three skips! It was awesome. So we hug. And, it was a really long, nice hug. Then there was that moment, where you look at each other and go like.. "This is where we're supposed to kiss".

And then it happened. We kissed. It was glorious.

After making out on the uncomfortably hard concrete beside the pool thing, we move over to the grass. It's a little wet, and I happen to be wearing a t-shirt, and a button-up shirt overtop, so I take off one of my shirts, and lay it down on the grass for her. Soon, we're making out again. It's totally hot. Except.. the mosquitoes. Yeah. Such a moodkiller. We start to make our way back to the convention centre, but it's hard, 'cause we stop every 10-15 steps to make out. Cops drive by, people walk by, we don't care. It was totally hot.

Finally, we make it back to the convention centre, and at the security desk is my favourite, awesomest security guard. He's so boss. I go and ask him if there's someplace where Michelle and I can lie down where we won't get thrown out, since you're not allowed to sleep in the convention centre. Being the awesometastic dude he is, he opens up one of these locked family guest rooms, with like a crap-tonne of couches, where Michelle and I cuddle and fall asleep together to get a couple hours of rest.

That pretty much sums up my time at Ai-Kon. Definitely, I'll be remembering it for a long time to come.

I feel compelled to post this, after reading what you wrote about me. It brought back our entire history in a rush of emotion, both good and bad times, some of which we agree have been the best, and worst times of our lives. I can honestly say, Ami, that I'll never, ever forget you, or us.

Even if you don't realise it [though in your infinite wisdom, you totally do], you've helped me do a lot of growing up. You've always been there when I needed you, and asides from being the best ex-girlfriend in the universe, I see you first and foremost as one of my closest, best, and most reliable friends. I love you.

Even though I sometimes [often times] piss you off, or annoy you, or show up at the most inconvenient times, you're never far from my thoughts. I still have everything we've shared with each other, from the o rly badge to Osama, to those pictures of our waterfall.
Seeing your entry almost made me tear up, I swear. I'm going to stop writing before I get too mushy. In any case, I'll talk to you later. <3

Was awesome. I only got to hang around for a few hours with Aimee and company, but while it lasted it was pretty awesome. Never before have I seen so many pugs in pink shirts gathered in one location.
I also got this chocolate penis, which was quite delicious, and fun to play with. ;D

I bought rollerblades a few days ago. I've spent liek 123128638172615124`138`14 hours rollerblading since then. It's so freaking awesome and boss. They're wicked, and it feels great to be out and moving and stuff. I went rollerblading at night, went down a dark path in my park, hit a pothole, and fell on my elbow. >: It hurtses.
But that's okay, because I'm pretty damn good. Well, I'm not amazing or anything, but I can go reasonably fast and have a good sense of control and balance, and going downhill doesn't bother me. I always put me feet together and put my arms out exclaiming: JACK. I'M FLYING.

It's boss. This is a picture of my lovelies.