Am i an optimist or a pessimist?

i'm pretty cynical. i get that from my dad, who doesn't like to believe in anything much he hasn't experienced.
i'm sarcastic a great deal of the time.

i like thiking something great is just about to happen. maybe not today or tomorrow- but soon. it just will. doesn't have to be anything big. maybe the sun will come out. maybe i'll meet an amazing friend. maybe things will turn around.
i guess despite the cynicism there's potential.

i'm an optimist- what are you?

it was supposed to be close to ten degrees today. i wore sandals. it was -1.

So you say

so you say you saw matt. i probably called him skinner just as often. i havn't seen him in years. years.
i always thought he had great hair. never thought he'd grow it out though.
he was everything for so many years. it was so strange.. so unlike anything else or anyone else. my lungs close up when i hear anything about him.

i invited him over once, for a summer party. he said he would come- i'm sure something important came up.
a hair model. i guess i never thought that. i'm proud though.
things change pretty fast anyway. i wonder if he still goes to the rock church. i wonder if he still shakes when he holds someone's hand, and if he's made someone happy yet.

i'd like to see him again, because i liked being friends for the short time that it worked.

Decmocracy and other Illusions

There is an argument to be made regarding the nature of democracy as we excersize it. Not "as we know it", because i do believe that somewhere down there, we think we know what democracy is and is supposed to be.

But there is a discrepency between what we believe we need democracy to be, and what will actually allow us to 'get along just fine'. Industrialization is often equated with the rise of capitalism and democratic rights. However, industrialism and commercialism have taken ever as our high priorities. What enters our thoughts and occupies our minds more- our right to vote and to stand as a voice of society, or our right to choice as consumers?

In a buyers market, we are satisfied by the restricting nature of choice. We feel content at our ability to excercize control over our lives by making purchases, by consuming or avoiding consumption at will. It appears empowering.
The little things empower us- and allow us to be distracted from our utter lack of control in all other issues.

I change the colour of my blog. I have complete and utter control [to the best of my html abilities] over my web space. I feel empowered. I can change the fonts in my word proccessor. I can relish in the sheer beauty of capitalism and boycott any corporation of my choosing. I have the illusion of choice.

In Living Colour

Several years ago I would have never ever designed a pink blog.. nevermind with ~flowers~.. I'd have turned my head in disgust and saught out something with greens, browns, reds and blacks. And while I do like natural, earthy, or less bright tones too- I don't hold back anymore. I wear pink tank tops, and other hints of femininity. I don't worry about being seen as dorky, or girly, cheesy- mostly because I am all of those things, and I like it that way :)

oh right, and I'm a copy-cat too. I had to get on top of this color-scheme chaning thing asap.

Mask making is so much fun. i want to do another one soon!
And having it done on your face is pretty cool too. you can't move so you just have to lay there and enjoy it. it's like being at a spa and getting a facial or something, hehe.

you know i'm kinda drawing a blank on this thing lately.
i can only be 'deep' for so many posts in a row.

They complained about you for a whole hour on saturday.
sometimes i defended, sometimes i joined in.
i don't know who you care about anymore.. if it isn't me, or your friends at home, or your friends here. i never see you unless i'm working. and consequently we have nothing to talk about anymore. i'll keep trying, but i make no guarantees. it might be gone.

i can't believe how beautiful it was out today.
and instead of enjoying it i skipped my last class and took a 2 1/2 hour nap, heh.
guess i needed it.

tonight, i'm making masks with plaster or paris. The pagan society is doing them for some festival this summer. i'm making one to use with my anthropology term paper on the Acadian festival- Mi-Careme.

i've never made a mask. i wonder if its hard..

It's finally done.
20 pages of "journal" entries about popular culture.

tomorrow, after i hand that in, i'll be doing a presentation on language, culture, and community in Quebec- from an anglophone canadian perspective. Hopefully it'll go well, and no one will faint plunging head-first into the floor like the last group presentation in that class. [she was fine- at least it was carpet]

then- one more week in which to write my last two essays.

then- two take home exams- about a week each.
then i'm done and just waiting around relaxing while ben finishes his exams. drink myself blind again at the pub staff party, and figure out if we're going to let "joe" from amherst sublet our apartment for the summer.

and.. ben and i are considering trying to jump on a last minute flight to some all-inclusive vacation down south. [just so i can waste away all my student loan money -and- be late applying for jobs in may]
i feel that my time has come. year after year i see myself turn green with envy while others get tans on beaches in cuba or the dominican republic.
if i don't do it now- it'll never happen. no one in my immediate family has ever even been 'down south' or overseas. i want to break the mould. beaches and all-inclusive booze for all!!

anyone wanna come?

Update

It's all good- i just didn't have the full story. Turns out they couldn't wait because Jill had to work in the afternoon- they were sorry I couldn't come and said they'd probably go again next week so we could all go.

we got together last night and drank ourselves ridiculously drunk.
It was staff night.
we arrived at the pub around 10, when then place was still dead, had cheap pitchers and danced on an empty floor. i tried to check my email in the pub computer room at one point and realized i had to close one eye to try to focus on the screen. I asked to borrow the pub digital camera, and andrew the trusting bartender on that night stupidly gave it to me. i promptly lost it and spent a fretful half hour or so searching the dance floor, hoping it would just appear somewhere. i even reached behind the speaker where i had been sitting- hoping maybe it had fallen behind- only to put my finger open on a piece of glass. some bandaids and a miracle later the camera ended up in the office by some good staffer's hands. i rejoiced and we continued to dance, on the floor that ha become packed around us.

this may sound like a fairly full account- but dear lord those are the very few events that i remember.

Dissappointment's gettin you down

I let myself get let down so easily. i try not to. i know i get excited about things easily and look forward to things that aren't certain. but being involved in new things, having places to go, things to do, people to see just lights me up inside.
we were going to go shopping today, but jill and shelly said they couldn't wait until noonish when my mandatory meeting was over. i try to play it down, and act like it'll be ok if it doesn't work out. but its not. i feel like i've been promised a wonderful time, but got pushed out of the plans.
it's only moncton, i tell myself. it's not a big deal. it's not like i need to go shopping, i'll just go to class like i'm supposed to and get work done instead. but over the week it became built up in my mind. became this great day with the girls that we were supposed to have. we were going to buy things to wear out on saturday. i was supposed to provoke shelly to try more interesting things.. i tell them it's ok, i guess. i'll just see them saturday instead.. its hard to display disapointment through an email without sounding angry.

I'm the middle kid, which means growing up i spent a fair bit of time with both simblings. sarah and i used to ban together as girls to make fun of jamie. we used to do crafts together- every type of craft under the sun that us or my mother could invent. we painted wooden boxes, easter eggs, rocks, christmas ornaments; we sculpted fimo, plaster of paris; we etched glass, and melted wax to make candles.

but the great outdoors was for jamie and i to explore. back before they developed Joshua Slocum drive and planted houses in our paths, we had miles of woods with abandoned roads to roam. We used to set out with boards of wood, a hammer and nails in search of a place to build a tree house. we had built them near the house before- in the back yard- but that didn't quite satisfy our thirst for independence.. to have somewhere all to ourselves where we would reign.

we used to go to the "dynamite shack" [litterally an old shack that used to be used to store dynamite for blasting through rock when the surrounding subdivisions were being built] but that had since been taken over by unruly teenagers with booze who had managed to furnish the whole place and then burn it down. we had to find somewhere new. we set off on one of the paths where we used to go as a family to pick blueberries. the farther we went, the less the path resembled a path, and the more it took the form of gnarled tree branches reaching towards us from all directions, and short shrubs scratching at our bare calves. we trenched through mushy mossy bogs and over rocky hills- all enclosed by a thick cover of trees. there were mosquitos-o-plenty but we were equipped with a hammer and we couldn't turn back until we found it: the cabin that was allegedly hidden somewhere within these woods. andrew foster had told us so.

jamie was my little brother: we were a year and a half apart. but in the woods, he was the adventurer- the leader- and i was the follower. i felt small and unsure as i watched his back plunging farther into unknown territories. we'd been walking for days it seemed. i had to yell to him from time to time to slow down when i lost sight of his figure. we reached a small river, and jamie decided to go on- certain that the cabin was just past this. he took the wood and hammer and scrambled over the river in a leap of scrawny legs. he would go just a bit ahead, he said, and come back to tell me when he had found it.
i waited.
i waited, and waited, and scratched at the bumps forming on my legs from numerous bites. it was getting darker, and i was sure he was gone. he had forgotten to come back. i called his name a few times, trying to see how far he had gone. he didn't answer. i called and yelled, and started to cry. i was small and lost with a terrible sense of direction [which remains with me to this day] and no one to be lost with. i cried out once more, and heard the most joyful sound in return: "WHAT?!!?" he was there. he was upset at me for whining, but he was there. he came back and helped me over the river, and through the trees.. and there it was. the cabin.

it was located in a clearing of trees which had undoubtably been used to build it. A log cabin, with whole tree trucks for each level of each wall. it was elevated off the ground by a couple of feet, and there seemed to be no way inside, until we located the unlatched "trap door" underneath. we climbed in to the tiny 'cabin' which was scarcely large enough to fit more than the two of us inside it. nothing but blank tree-trunk walls, and dirt on the plywood floors. back outside jamie climbed along the 10 foot high "bridge" [a long board of wood which stretched out across the clearing to the nearest tree.] With his hammer and nails, he nailed on a new board of wood. His addition. He had claimed it in our names. [despite the fact that it was almost certainly built as a location for hunters to hide out while awaiting prey.]

we havn't really gone on any adventures since. the development of our woods makes 'exploration' somewhat of a moot point. but this one sticks in my mind. i have trouble calling him my little brother anymore, being that he stands at roughly 6'3".. . something like he did back then, in the woods, when i was small and scared, and watching his tall shoulders plunge forward into the trees.

The Down Low on Livin

i met two potential roommates today: one who wants to share this place with me [carolyn], one who's renting the other room at scooter's place [kasie]. and....

i've come to a decision. [applause please; this was a laborous project]
i'm staying, and as soon as i talk to the landlord tomorrow, i'm offering carolyn a place here with me.
she's a first year science student, looking to move out of res. she was sweet, but easy going. doesn't seem creepy/uptight/angry/stressful. she's been in love with the house for a while already, because she can see it from her residence window.
i'm gonna have a roommate! :)

things are falling back into place. new places. different places.
two responses to my roommate posters: from "tim jones" and "carolyn".
what do they sound like?
i'm forming ideas, preconceptions. probably misconceptions.
should i decide what i want, or what he wants?
i have often gotten along easier with males. nearly all of my close friends were boys at one point. can i live with one if its not him? how will it effect him? he refuses by imbuing guilt instead of making assertions. maybe i don't want to hear the assertions anyway. i am getting ahead- i haven't even met them yet.
pros and cons to every solution.
i can't give up though- like the perfect job, i hunt for the perfect living arrangement. i want a perfect life with just enough contentment, conflict, and duality. i can't give up the search- i can't abandon my quest. i've not been down, but merely dormant- and coming out of the haze.

Randomicity
prior to now: not a word. post-now: a word.
ahh the glory of language and all its productivity.

i hate sneakers that squeak when you walk. especially when it's MY sneakers that are squeaking.

I see that chris has gone and gotten himself a blog too- woot! bloggers of the world unite!

cat fur is powerful stuff. it can stick to anything. it will follow you to class and ensure its place all every article of clothing in an opposing colour. they should find a way to harness that energy- its got to be good for something.

I'm not panicking anymore. i'm looking forward to the inevitable change. wherever it leads me- it will be good. every year is becoming better than the last as i shape and form myself into something new.
identity is not a thing, it is a process.
i am becoming.

the less i study the less interested i become in the subject matter.
tonight i studied for a midterm and reminded myself of why i chose to study sociology. [and relationally, anthro and history]. i like reading things that make me wish i were going into academia. i don't want to do a masters. but if i were going to, i'd write a thesis on Queer theory. Queer theory relates little to homosexuality. mostly it involves a critical analysis of the socially constructed links between sex and gender.
put as susinctly as possible, gender is the socially constructed performative expression of one's biological sex.

what the fuck does that mean?
it means that gender roles [the way one acts in relation to society, portraying "masculine" or "feminine" characteristics] are not directly or 'naturally' linked to sex. they are instilled upon us by cultural ideologies, as portrayed through the 'culture industry' [media].

why does that matter?
because it systematically excludes the possibility of intertwined gender roles, and wraps the status quo of stereotype in a cloak of illusion: of "natural-ness". the very fact that Aretha Franklin can sing about feeling "like" a natural woman indicates to us that there is a correlational binary opposite: one of feeling or acting "not" like a woman. thus, prescribed gender roles are not biological rules, but historically created assumptions for what a 'man' and a 'woman' should be: how they should behave, speak, dress, work, and think. this undermines the integral possibilities for social interaction and imagination, by fitting all aspects of human activity into two restrictive categorizations.

how does my blog keep turning into a sociology essay? at least i can probably use this for my next weekly class commentary.

alright amy, your quiz was impossible. now you have to take mine. however, in writing the quiz i did try not to deliberately be tricky... you might have a chance :P

Take my Quiz on QuizYourFriends.com!

DO it!

oh the hillarity of it all.
packed into the back seat of a car, drinking "Boones" from the bottle, in an Antigonish bowling alley parking lot, with the doors locked, hiding from crowds of young high school students laughing loudly in obvilion.

then laying on the green of a golf simulation game in the 'back room', wrestling with shelly and 'breaking her toe' [sissy], watching jill spill her drink twice, and hiding from the sketchiness of the packed "all-night bowling rave" going on beyond the door.

dancing to happy hardcore [or "contently mildcore"] in bowling shoes, then stocking feet, in the bowling lanes, under a disco ball, until 6am. stopping at bigstop on the drive home .

this is all just what i need.. more distractions to make me edgy and unable to write the 40 pages of essay and 15 pages of journal entries that are due throughout the next two weeks.

should i get a roommate? what if i don't know them?
should i move into a new place? change can be good..
there will be two other girls living upstairs at scooters: i could share the place with them.. but who are they- what if i don't like them?
i saw an add for three girls looking for a roommate.. should i call them?
should i stay in this place? it's nice, and close, and fairly big for a single.. but adding another bedroom would make it a fair bit smaller feeling.
will anyone answer my adds? what if no one wants to share the place with me?
what if the landlord calls and wants me to sign the lease soon? how will i decide where to go?

*head explodes*

i don't like this. i don't get panicky. why am i panicking? that word looks wrong. is it spelled right? how do you spell panic?

..will you come live with me?

PANIC MODE

ok, so Ben has decided that as long as Dal lets him, he'll be going back to Halifax in september.
[Because MTA has fucked him over royally in terms of course transfers, etc]

so..
this means i now have to find a new roommate to move in with me [we could make my place into a two bedroom apartment, but it would hhave no living room..] or find a new place.

ben has actually offered to pay for his share of the rent so i can keep the place, but i'd still have to pay the full heat, phone, and power bills- which add up to over 250$ some months.

Eep! so now i'm frantic, because most people in Sackville have their september living arrangements figured out in january.. its kinda late to be making new plans. we told our landlord we'd be keeping the place several months ago, but we didn't sign a new lease yet, so we're not bound by law..

crap, but i need help! i need a plan..
ideally i'd like a roommate [or roommates].. i don't really want to live alone, just cause i'm obsessively social, and being alone in sackville when half my friends are graduating would just suck royally.

aaaah. i hate having a lack of direction.

Fun with dyes

I've had 'auburn', 'copper', 'cinnamon', blond highlishts, blond and reddish mixed highlights. I go through phases where i'm obsessed with change, and this is one of the few areas where i feel i can opperate change smoothly. i'm in another loop of change. this time: 'espresso'. my first time going dark. a nice stark contrast to the crowds of blond that inevitably start to show with the coming of spring. i think i need a tan to go with it.

Theory Conflicts

i sometimes feel empowered by fashion.
isn't that the ultimate anti-feminist statement?

i sometimes objectify other women.
..isn't that the ultimate male-chauvinist statement?

i used to say i wasn't a feminist because i hated the media images of radical-feminists arguing that women should rule the world. and yet feminism forms the basis of most of my core beliefs:
Foucault's transitive identity and the lack of any "essence". Judith Butler's queer theory and discussions of the performative nature of gender. Jean Killborne and the influential role of the media on perceptions of female identity and active vs. passive social roles.

i suppose it's true that understanding the problem does not mean we are immune, or have any form of soluton.

a night of dancing. of smiling. of sneaking glances. of learning where people stand.
mixing drinks in the kitchen and meeting new people in the candle lit apartment with music playing loud and everyone looking so wonderful- so New York, so enjoying of life.
Tristan's martini parties are always fun. we've become excellent co-hosts.
we sit sipping strong drinks under low light with expressive faces leaning on one arm next to the glass coffee table covered in hors d'oevres. beneath the music, conversations flow freely in english, french, and spanish. a room of liberal attitudes and pretend snobbery; a room alive with postmodernism and a wildly classic sense of aestheticism. laughter overpowers, and we dance by a wall of windows that overlooks the quiet Sackville streets below- worlds so distantly far apart, so distinctly out of synch.

on to the tantramarsh club and rounds keep coming forth: trips to the bar act as punctuation to the otherwise seamless dancefloor transitions from song to song to song. we all crowd in the corner, taking it as our territory and mixing amongst ourselves, creating and reshaping rapports between us by our motions and by huddled conversations over shared water.

walking home we were six and none could justify and end to a thus far wonderful night. shuffled in to Joey's for greasy food and tired laughter as the lights shut down around us. ran home in the snow, and ever pleased at the decision to wear flats.

The Ecologies and Cosmologies Symposium:
Things you can learn through an arts degree..

Today at a required conference, I attended sessions on 1) natural acadian herbal medicines, 2) hay bail and cob house building, 3) natural dyes, and 4) dowsing.

the first three were fairly interesting:
-had myself some aweful tasting Laborador tea [which i am informed is like buckleys.. it works.. though he didn't say for 'what'], and rubbed some Saint John's wart oil on my hand. again- supposedly very good for you... though no idea what it does.
-hay bail and cob houses are awesome, though i still have my suspicions about how they'd hold up in NS climates. In my ideal world I would have an environmentally friendly and energy efficient house.

-dowsing. well ok, so maybe anthropologists tend to lean toward the crackpot end of things from time to time. Dowsing: for those of you not familliar with the 'art' [..yea, lets go with that] is usually done with either a pendulum or a pair of special metal sticks. It is traditionally used by farmers in order to find water. One simply walks around a given region with the pendulum or dowsing sticks in hand and observes the subtle motions of the sticks/pendulum. if they move or change the direction of their motion at any point- it is an indicator that there is water below. It can also be used to search for 'cosomological energies.' ..i'm not bothered by the fact that these traditions / beliefs exist.. just that my proffessor expects us to treat them as fact. Listening to these very interesting and excited speakers throughout the conference I silently debated their sanity, and came to no conclusions.

Sporadic Thoughts
Alias is a horrible show, and yet i keep watching.
i need cable next year. 2 fuzzy canadian chanels and DVD's from ben's mom don't cut it.

Are all cats this hyperactive and borderline psychotic? you can tell when something's gotten into her when her ears are slicked back and her pupils dialate. then she bounds around the room with her back arched and tail puffed up.. and eventually she calms down- storm over- and usually sleeps.

I finished an essay today. *waves of relief wash over me* sure it was the shortest one, but its done. 3 more to go, plus 25 journal pages and 3 other assignments. *breathes* i can do this.

Can gas and indigestion last 4 days? What cures it? what if that's not it...

Why does it have to keep snowing?

I hope i find a good job this summer.. two years worth of tim horton's doesn't scream 'academia' on the resume..

I have pain in my side.
It's been there since tuesday.
All along the upper right side beneath my ribs.. i don't know what it is, and i was hoping it was some obscure form of indigestion, but 3 days is a bit much, don't you think?
I'm going to see the campus nurse today.. but really it's just another distraction in the divine plan to stop me from ever doing any work or having a chance in hell of getting 70+ pages of writing done by the end of the term.

Cream Peas on Toast:
According to Chef Alan Crosby it's an "esoteric" maritime dish. When mom makes this at home now, only she and i will eat it. It looks and sounds a little odd, but trust me, it's comfort food.

[Standard béchamel sauce]:
Wisk together two tablespoons each melted butter and flour. [called a roux]
slowly wisk in 1 cup milk. Bring to a boil, then turn down heat and let simmer for up to 3 mins.
If too thick, add more milk.
Add 3/4 cup of Canned peas [not frozen].
Spoon on top of buttered toast, serve immediately. [serves 2 to 3]

mmm

Postmodernism at its best...

Things that exist in terms of a Spectrum:

-race
-ethnicity
-gender
-sexual orientation
-equality
-friendship
-cruelty
-faith
-nationality
-strength
-need...

it's about matters of perspective, degree, intensity, proportion, scale, scope, range.

Things that do not exist in terms of a Spectrum:

-lists.

sarah wrote to tell me her new cell number. nothing big, a couple of lines. and suddenly i had an idea..
i mustered all my nerve- i hit reply.
i wrote fast so i couldn't change my mind.
i told her i was bi.
i said she didn't have to respond, but i had to tell someone and i had tried so hard to tell mom. my heart is beating, but i'm not scared like i usually am. this was the right move.
we never talk about personal things.. in fact, unless she's home we never talk. i've never phoned her, and sometimes i worry we'll be one of those adult families who never keeps in touch anymore.

i envy mom's relationship with her brother. Clyde's great- he's talkative and doesn't find it weird to talk to his sister about emotional things or his personal life.

my mission: attempting to recreate that with sarah and jamie.

Megan. Jamie. Janice. Lana. Leah.

i thought we were through. we are through.
i thought i was over it. i'm not over it.
i can't see them without remembering, without being happy,
without imagining, without wondering, without being angry.

you can't spend two years with someone, spill your secrets to someone,
eat all your meals with someone.. live your lives together for two years and then just give it up.
you can't have no regrets, you can't pretend it never happened.
well, i guess they can.

i can't. they smile, but they keep walking.
what happened, what changed, what went wrong, what did i do?
i knew all along. i suspected it would happen. i saw the glances, i heard the whispers, i noticed the tendency to make plans without me. they slipped away like leaves falling off the trees: you can't say exactly when it happened, you didn't really see it starting until it was already too far gone.

they came to the bar last night, and i was working.
i han't seen them all together in months- we blissfully managed to avoid each other most of the time.
they were drinking and dressed to the nines. they would have gotten ready together, drinking and laughing and trying on each others' outfits. they would have played music loud in their 5 bedroom house. they would have done all the things we used to do as 6.

Megan was my roommate.
Lana was my history buddy.
Jamie was my closest friend.
Leah was my neighbour.
Janice was the one who started it all downhill.
we were the top west girls first year, then the top east girls second year. we were the trueman house girls, we were the floor everyone wanted to be on. now they're the union street girls, and i'm a lansdowne girl.

i can say it wasn't meant to be. i can say they weren't good for me. i can say that i saw through them, but it won't make it easier. for now i'll just keep trying to make new friends, new contacts, new links, better links, so i won't have to spend saturdays alone, thinking of what they were propably doing.

*snicker*

note the subtle details such as lipstick, lip-liner, eye-shadow, eye-liner, and coloured-contacts.

*sigh*


and i'm spent.

ok, that's it ..for now.

ha i was wrong. i've found another excellent pic to play with.....

Oh the fun of it, hehe.
I've just discovered This whilst roaming online.

which has allowed me to do this:

hahaha. [sorry Bee...]

ok so its not so hot. but it IS lots of fun.
and hers was the only pic i had that was clear enough and facing relatively head on :)
actually i had a much better [read: funnier] one, but it wouldn't let me save it for some reason.

watch out- you could be next. *points finger in your general directions*

Yesterday i went to visit with Dr. Fleming about my essay proposal [a linguistic cultural compairison of quebec francophones and canadian aboriginals] which he had ripped apart last week. we had our meeting and i was just leaving his office, when i hear my name.
Dr. Doyle, whose office is next door, is standing in the hall, and asks if i might visit with her for a minute. "I'd like to talk to you about your decision *not* to do an honours"..
Turns out she had overheard me talking with another student in her "sociology of cyberspace" class about it, and had become upset. "I think you're a very bright student- all of the professors do- and i just hate seeing smart women sell themselves short," she insists.
I assure her that my decision not to do an honours has more to do with my inability to complete one in the four years and that i really don't wish to hang around mta longer than usual. She fears that I want to do a B.Ed. and go into teaching only because there's 'nothing else out there for me'. I again assure her that's not the case- that i do actually think i'd enjoy teaching.
[i had no idea teaching was looked down upon so badly.. not that i'm even close to deciding whether or not that's what i'll actually do..]

still- it was pretty nice of her to worry about me. my ego is boosted by knowing that i might still be viewed as a good student, despite the drop in marks i've gotten here at mta. makes me wonder how badly the 'bad' students are doing..

i have cut out a pattern for pants.
next step: finish all homework and assignments so i actually have time to work on the pants.
my "to do lists" of homework assignments vs. art projects are about equal in length. unfortunately they both threaten to take up 100% of my time and niether end up being completed.
coincidentally, i'm currently not wearing any pants. :) that makes me happy because today i wore a skirt to school and _didn't_ freeze my ass off.

I've had Madonna's "Material Girl" in my head all day due to a class video on popular culture yesterday..
so i decided to drown it out with some feminine tunes more in my style: Stevie Nicks, "Edge of Seventeen".
Gotta love the internet- all i could remember of the lyrics was "ooh baby .... sings the song....[something] singin".... and there it was! oh so easy. I can only hope that in 10 - 20 years time we'll be able to order our groceries that way.
my how things change.. but in a good way i think.

Ways that I've changed:

- More outspoken in conversations with strangers -
since: having always been in the shadow of my roommates in first and second year.

-Always tip people in customer service positions-
since: having been both a bartender and timmy's employee.

-Acting / Dressing more "girlie"-
since: I stopped worrying about being considered "ditzy" by my friends, and decided i didn't have to be 'cool' by downplaying my femininity.

-Putting my artistic side to different uses-
since: i gave up trying to draw/paint, and started putting all those crafty decorating / clothing designing ideas to use in my apartment... and consequently having a much harder time concentrating on school.

-Smoking more, drinking less-
since: actually i'm not sure when that transpired... and i'm not entirely sure if its good or bad yet, lol.

so i'm not supposed to miss dates, or butterflies, or the anxiety of a new relationship.
but i do.
don't get me wrong, comfortable is wonderful. its something you can't have with just anybody.
not having to wonder whether or not they dig you is priceless. but sometimes i like the cryptic nature of dating. of not knowing. when everything is open and shared and incorporated, what is still private?
from apartments to blogs and icq messages, is it all now shared?