Back in NB.
back in the wind and the books and the cold.
one more month- i can't believe it.
i get excited and giddy thinking that spring might be just around the corner..

last year at the end of april i wandered a half empty sackville with Dave. we were buddies, and we set out in search of someone like us- someone not studying for an exam. it was an easy friendship because he had jen and i had ben. a distinct lack of tension. he was the only one in residence who knew about me. i had to tell him because i had to tell someone.
and he didn't care. he didn't say how 'cool' it was, or 'fuct' it was, like they did.
we emptied the whole residence, because that was his job. it was the last day and there was no one left. we could run down the halls and shout at the top of our lungs. we pack up our stuff, walked out and locked the door behind us. we carried his crap up 3 flights of narrow stairs at the new place. i just tagged along, but it was a wonderful stress-free, closure-inducing day.

but the important thing was that i was wearing a tank top and sandals all day.
just think- that could be just around the corner: only a month away.

i'm going to renew my relationship with the telephone.
it's been so long..
but we used to get along.
maybe it can still work out?

we danced.
under coloured lights in thickening air i felt in place.
on wooden floors you can see everyone.
you just dance. slip through the crowd between shoulders and know that for now the drama can be delayed. you just move.

i was so close.
i almost said it this time.
my mouth opened, but my heart raced and my mind was blank due to the butterflies angrily struggling for freedom in my stomach.
i always said i would tell her only on a "need to know" basis. if i had met someone she would need to know. and while nothing's really changed, i want her to know. just because.
i feel like i'm lying with every conversation. each silence is a testament to my inability to come forward and fess up.

she'd be fine with it, i'm sure. she'd ask questions and secretly assume that it was a phase, but she'd be fine with it. she woudln't be appalled or offended or upset. she'd think i was influenced by the new liberalism and my friends, even though no one was saying anything in grade eight when i decided.
i wasn't one or the other: i wasn't us, i wasn't them.
i was somewhere along the spectrum, in the green untouched surface of the happy inbetween.
it doesn't mean confused, it doesn't mean unsure.
it's not that i'm unhappy, experimental or amused.
i'm right here in the middle- looking left, looking right.
trying to be proactive, but obscurely out of sight.
fuck, now i'm writing poetry. which was not at all the intent.. sort of slips by sometimes.

"but i wouldn't say it."*

[* the above words were intended to read "but i couldn't say it", and i only realized afterwards, that i'd inverted one letter. the one that makes all the difference. so i'm leaving the text as is.]

even ben thinks she has a right to know. everyone else knows.
i thought she might ask when i openly attended the pride parade, the bars, the catalyst meetings..
i've meant to tell her a thousand times before- kept hoping the moment would arrive and the words would just fall out, without the effort of thrusting them past a choke.

*note to reader: the following text is purely reflective*

it's funny how disorders lie in the least suspected places. i've always been the ordinary girl. i'm as normal as they come. "well-rounded".. "a keeper" [copyright B & A]. if even the normal think this way, then there must be an aweful lot of disorder in what we try to consider an orderly world.

i woke up at 1pm today, after a long night out. had a lovely breakfast of french toast, and a small bowl of soup later on for supper.
it's now 10pm, and i'm hungry.
my mind jumps back to grage nine: it's about the same time of year, and i'm anxious about the upcoming wrestling competition. regionals were last week- provincials are this saturday.
i'm between categories. right at the top of 49kg. 1/4lb and i push over to the 52 category.. and i can't compete.
[and they say gymnastics and skating are bad for female self-esteem..]
but its not the self-esteem that is the problem. i was perfectly happy with how i looked- but it was the numbers that counted and i wanted to compete.

i chugged gallons of water for a week. tupperware sandwhich containers were stealthily emptied between classes. daily, if not more often, updates from the numbers were mandatory.

the pains and 'discomfort' were ironically comforting:
when everything else was awry, i was in control.
i could withstand whatever i threw at myself. cramps and troubled digestion would last only as long as i willed them to.
my mother hardly noticed until the last day. the competition was today, i tried to avoid breakfast without her noticing. I swore i would eat as soon as the weigh in took place. and i would- really, that was all that mattered. the numbers won't lie.

we rode the bus to the meet, and teammates chowed down on hearty breakfasts packed for them by moms. i wrang my fingers. the weigh in approached.
i passed effortlessly through. the metal bar balanced beautifully in mid-air as i stepped on and off the platform.
i felt successfull, but cheated at the same time.

turns out the scale at home was innaccurate. the numbers had lied, and all of my work had been in vain. i don't use scales anymore.

*sits back from the keyboard*..
*ventures to the kitchen for a plate of nachos and a glass of lactose-free milk*.

yay sunshine!
well i havn't been to the gym since last tuesday because i don't have the luxury of a *free* gym here in halifax.. but i managed to get out cross-country skiing yesterday. i think i'll go again today. every little bit helps.

how did i manage to gain weight now that i'm in my own apartment instead of eating crap at meal hall over the last two years? not that it's been much. probably not even noticable really.. just to me. and what else really matters?

when did i become obsessed?
i can't stop shopping. i want my hair to look just so- but it never does.
i always think about shoes.
i idolize carrie bradshaw and miranda hobbes.
i go to the gym twice a week, and mentally frown at myself for having no time to do more.
i don't want anyone to know how much i work at it. because you're not supposed to. you're just supposed to be. we're supposed to be the low maintenence girls who make fun of the ones who wear make-up at the beach.
i want to be the perfect cross between the two: the princess who changes car tires, the eye-candy who can take charge of a situation.

I used to hold balloons.
All of them together.

Now they rest on every finger, tied with single strings.
No collectives, no big bunches, all on single strings.
*******************

So i can't wait until the day when i'll be out of sackville for good. or at least returning only for nostalgia's sake.
I'm sick of wind, i'm sick of classes, i'm sick of people who kind of know you, who kind of care, i'm sick of missing people, and playing it by ear.

i want plans you can count on.
i want warm summer beaches with friends that have known me all my life.
i want it to all fit together again- doesn't have to be the same as it was; it just has to be.

i've never had a best friend, but i at least want best friends.

she's so beautiful,
i look on in awe.
i want to be beautiful- i want to *have* beautiful.
maybe i just want to have it because i can't really be.

i want a bus.
a big ol' school bus- or better yet a Zink bus.
i'd drive around and pick up all our friends,
and we'd take a magical bus journey.
maybe we'd go somewhere special
maybe we'd just tour the stix.
but we'd all be there, and somehow we'd all be happy.

we'd paint the outside: a big bus painting party,
with overalls on, and paint in our hair.
we'd remake the inside- with lights, warm bright colours,
soft fabrics, and everything.
we'd all be there, and somehow we'd all be happy.

seem to have fixed the problem...
probably looks all wrong on laptop screens now instead.
*shrugs*
they can deal.

damn html.
this blog's being a pain in the ass. i've just realized that this page looks entirely different on smaller monitors. it looked great on ben's laptop, but on this computer, everything's all shifted.. the colums aren't the right sizes, and my banners aren't the right size for the screen. :(

that makes me sad. i worked so hard on the proportions.
[not to mention all the trouble i went through yesterday when a < / blogger > tag was missing....]

Only a few more hours to go. i'm almost there. almost home.
The chill of my apartment can be replaced by the chill of my second floor bedroom, and bed covered in thick handmade quilts. And soon i'll be out of the wind. The Sackville wind that never ceases, never relents, beats against your back and throws your hair in all directions.
I have a kinship with the wind.
But, like siblings- you love them but do you like them?
I just need time away I suppose.
The train is delayed.. but not by much.

My cat will throw fit in the train pet section in her little pet carrier cage. She's never been in it for more than an hour or so.. we take her out in the car and let her sit on my lap.. dozing inconsistently.
She's going to cry.
Maybe the week away will take away some of her anxiety.. she's been so aggitated lately.. picking at everything. knocking things to the floor. flushing toilets. clawing feet. dropping thumb tacks in the hall.
she was so good first semester.
i think she's an angry teen now.
maybe just mischievious..

how to be realistic when a body won't connect with a mind?

or can't. is stopped. restrained. held back from being real by citrus fruits on paper.
acidic squares that make your tongue reel.

is this how things should be? but it is how it is, and i can't stop you now. i've already said yes.
you'd be so upset if i asked you to stop. and you seem to have so much fun.
is it really so bad? is it really that good?

can't we all just eat lemons in the summer instead?

I have motivation
I have inspiration
I have dedication, and all the other makings of an excellent student.
But something's changed.

Now all the motivation, inspiration and dedication is for art projects, crafty ideas, and shopping sprees.
I want to live the high life and enjoy every second of life.

Suddenly spending hours writing essays and assigments in order to ensure myself a better life later on seems like a ridiculous idea.
Why waste time in class when i can do it all right now? I can have a wonderful time doing nothing, instead of a stressfull time trying to do everything.

some things should just never be known.

Snow. Mountains of it.
Winter makes me anxious.
How the cold restricts your movement, your freedom, even your though processes.
To see what could be free-flowing water frozen on the side of the street-
on pause; waiting.
That which doesn't die goes into hiding.
Nothing moves except the ever-present wind across Sackville's rolling winter tundra.

I used to get through by imagining warm sand and the blue-green water of a summer beach
Now I clench my teeth and wait it out.
Looking from one week to the next- ignoring the present in the hopes that if i ignore it long enough it'll get tired of sticking around unnoticed.
Is time like a lonely kid? Will it sulk away, or persist like one of those who doesn't know they're lonely?

Well well well. Here we are in blog town with all the other bloggers.
Never thought I'd find myself here to tell the truth.
Because honestly- if the net were a physical place [which many would argue it is quickly becoming / has already become..] then what a hellish wast of space.

But then, if it is a place- we all need our piece, don't we?