Well, instead of sleeping last night, I was mulling over which sort of computer I will be buying (at some point). The new Hewlit-Packard that I procured in August started with hiccups nearly the moment I received it, and then just decided two days ago to not boot up at all.

I shouldn't be surprised, given the amount of hassle it was to get the computer in the first place (ok, that doesn't really count) but my original laptop was quirky and eventually died about 3 months before the one year warranty was up.

So, next time, I'm just going to get a Mac. Everyone I know has one, I might as well join the crowd. I don't doubt it will have it's own issues, but maybe not so much. Who knows.

The week has gone by quickly, and I find myself running around trying to clean up this week's accesses and not much hope for the dishes that are still in the sink. I don't know why I have such an aversion to dishes, I just do.

Ok? Ok then. I guess I'd better get back to it. My laptop will be back in 7 to 9 days, completely wiped clean.
*sigh*

Pepsi in a tall glass filled with ice. Who ever said Pepsi should be relegated to the kitchen ought to say ten Hail Mary's. I spent the afternoon mulling over some things in my head, and watching my favourite Pacino movie, Dog Day Afternoon. It happened to be on tv...not as though I could find the dvd in any of my things.

Is it bad that I have 129 songs on my iPod and am bored of the playlist? I think that's the reason why people get bigger iPods. Silly. Just change the tracks. Well...I would if I could find the cable. It's some where around here.

I have the house to myself for a week, so far I've done anything I've wanted to. Went to the store, it's stormy here....you know that scene in The Shining when the guy is driving in the storm to the hotel? That's what I felt like. Blowing snow off Lake Mindemoya, slick roads and songs I'm bored with on my iPod.

I really plan on locking down for the next week, I'm wondering about how much of my life and mind I've put up on the internet, mostly in the way of the two blogs spanning over 5 years or so. Crazy, if you really think about it.

My friend Cris wants to go to Texas in March for a music festival, I'm thinking of going with her since she wants to drive and I would totally dig a roadtrip...as long as I'm allowed to smoke in the car (with the window open). When she's at the festival, I can sneak over to Mexico and drink Tequila underneath multi-coloured paper garlands.

Gotta go, Pacino is about to start sweating in the bank.

They found the body they were looking for about 200 yards from my house on Manitoulin Island. A young man of about 25 had gone missing during our first brutal blizzard of the season before Christmas. That same night, all of the electricity had blacked out because of the storm, no doubt making it even more difficult for the guy to find his way. Our houses are few and far in between in this very rural area where the deer outnumber the people 25 to 1.

But there was a 3 day melt about 2 weeks ago, causing search parties to resume. I heard his mother found him. Our community lowered the flags and burned a sacred fire for his spirit as a sign of respect for the family as he had died in our community.

I think of him when I drive by the spot where he was found. I wonder if my blackness was as dark as his before the snow and cold and dark became too much. Apparently not, as I'm still here, typing away on the keyboard in the middle of my bed.

Another doctor's appointment today. I never used to see the doctor much and now it seems since last summer, it's all I ever do. It seems the more I walk, the more roadblocks I encounter. I climb or slither over them (just barely) only to see another god damned hill. Life, I suppose is a series of hills.

It's the valleys you have to watch out for.

I'm not allowed to smoke in the house, but occasionally I have one since it's freezing outside and I'm cozy in bed watching something. It's some insane hour of the morning. I have been up off and on for the past 8 hours so it's not surprise I'm sitting here twiddling my thumbs like a good monkey.

I spent some time with an old friend for a couple of days, came home yesterday. She really wanted me to go into the city to hear this three man band that was coming in to do a show, then spend the night. She said singer/songwriter and I managed to move some things around on my busy schedule and poof, I was able to make it.

We had a great time the first night. I don't talk so much anymore, I've morphed into a listener. Lots of Gin & Tonic to be had and it was hard to fit all we've missed in each other's lives into a scant 9 hours of straight talking. I tried to introduce her to Matthew Good, she made me look up every little 3 man band she could think of. There is some truly great music out there.

After the band guys arrived it was like a free for all. Two days of travelling fast in a minivan could do that to you, I suppose. In any event, the show was good that night at a little venue in Sudbury. Afterwards (feeling my age) I'm ready to go home, but scads of girls that look (and sound) 14 have gathered about the guys. I can see where this is going, having spent too much time with friends backstage at one show or another. I'm older now, so I'm used to people talking and such, not the screaming groupies I encountered the other night. Then they somehow managed to come back with us. I had to listen to the sound of chirping and screeching girls all evening.

Ugh.
The whole thing was just a rewind of past shows.

Down to the last wire for submitting my application to the university.
And another one disappoints me. I really have to lower my expectations of people. Some aren't made to give.

Labels: Matthew Good, underwater, we all lose in the end, zopiclone

Just a few things coiling up in my mind lately...


dear email god: why do I continue to get email from Budweiser even when I've never signed up for anything and have apparently (not) unsubscribed from the email service?

Why does Buckley continue to believe the cat box is his personal snack house, despite my efforts to convince him otherwise.

Why does Marble (my other Cairn Terrier who is about a hundred years old) think it my duty to lift him onto the bed as opposed to his trying to jump up. I did not sign on for ancient dog duty.

My cat thinks my pillow is hers.

My shrink thinks I'm nuts...if I want to eat lettuce for a week, then I should be allowed to eat lettuce for a week! p.s this is lettuce with some sort of dressing, I am not eating it to lose weight, it's because I actually want to. I like lettuce sometimes.

My room is such a mess that I think I ought to just move to another room.

Even though it is the middle of winter, a melt happened over the course of 3 days and now most of the snow is gone. We had record high winds today and my parent's car shelter blew into a bunch of our cedar trees. They were chagrined.

Time to turn brain off. Toodles.

I have not read a good book in I do not know how long.

ugh, I feel awful. (I know everyone wants to read this).

I haven't slept at all, and I feel so frustrated by the fact that I cannot simply close my eyes and drift off like the rest of the population. Instead, I'm awake and it's past 9 in the morning. There's nothing left to do except stay awake and go about the day. Maybe I'll drink root beer and watch television.

What I really want is a few hours of deep, dreamless sleep. The kind you awake rested and beautiful from. As if you've spent the last few days laying on a beach in Malibu (who really lives in Malibu, anyway?) reading cheap paperback novels and drinking ice cold water from a slippery bottle with tiny grains of sand on it.

Yeah.

Right.

What, exactly have I been doing all this time? Well, for starters I watched a few episodes of Six Feet Under, then decided to do a little internet research on how long it would take to become a licensed mortician (I prefer that word, so gloomy), turns out....it's about 2 years plus (way too long in my book). Then I left a John Cusack movie on loop whilst reading a really shitty paperback crime novel. And eating salt and vinegar flavoured potato chips. I also talked to the two dogs as if they were really listening and made periodic attempts to remove the cat from the top of the (heated) keyboard of the laptop.

I am a star, I know.

You know, I have journals from the time I was 12 years old. Rereading them is like reliving those times in my life. And given the fact my life hasn't been a fabulous cup of tea, that may not be so good. I wonder still, why I keep them around. If I had to sum them up in a word, it would be...

desperate.

It's been raining here for 2 days. The water is melting the snow and ice, the mud underneath is soft and Buckley tracks it in on his paws. He leaves little muddy prints on the floor. Sometimes, I wipe them up. He can stay at outside for hours if I let him, he doesn't mind the rain. Silly dog.

I've been trying to work on my admissions essay. I've been trying to think like a social worker. It's been a little difficult to put myself back into that mind set given I haven't been practicing for a little while now.

I just realised this is kind of a pretty boring journal. I used to be funny. Way back in the day.

I haven't picked up my camera in weeks. Canvas and paint lay like fallow fields. I have them packed up in a box that I've not opened since I've relocated to Northern Ontario. It's not a sin or a crime. It just *is*. I just want to be involved in some really great art.

As with other people I know, sleep hasn't been a good friend and come around regularly. I watch movies and read books. Compose journal entries in my head, sonnets for you to consume. But I never get around to posting them. And upon reading, they don't seem very interesting anyhow.

These aren't complaints, just notes.

Christmas is over (thank goodness) and things will be back to 'normal' before too long. They are in the checking of references stage of hiring, so I may have a job before the end of next week. That will be another choice to make. And a relocation to a much more Northern part of Canada. Baffin Island, I believe.

In any event, time to pretend to go to bed.
I'll be right back, readers.