I want to say that I have bad luck when it comes to electronics, but I think that maybe I'm just a laptop breaker. Someone who just happens to break any laptop they come in contact with. Which is something I should think about since I'm borrowing my mother's laptop to write this entry (and also to watch movies in my room). My second laptop, the HP Pavillion Entertainment laptop that I got in September in place of my old Compaq, has just sputtered it's last little breath and died whilst I tried to reboot it half a dozen times, in any manner. The Compaq died in a similar way although it's death was not as final as this one appears to be.

I've been putting off burning copies of all my music and photos because I'm lazy and it takes time, but for some reason thought it a good idea to do so this afternoon. Luckily (for me, anyway), I was able to do that *just* before the old HP told me to Fuck Off in no uncertain terms. It's sitting right beside me now, probably chuckling it's revenge. I always give animation to inanimate objects. It makes me feel better.

Also, I was supposed to send the HP away for servicing (when it first started acting up awhile ago) but never did. because, again...I'm lazy to pack it up in a box and find the nearest UPS place to drop it off....no small feat when in the North of Ontario. Seriously.

So, here I am, exactly one week away from flying out of here (to an even more remote Northern location) and NO laptop of my own. Do I simply go and buy a replacement and send off the old HP? Of course, that will mean I will have 2 laptops, and who needs that. Or, do I send off the HP and wait an indeterminate amount of time for it to be fixed and sent back to me?

And call me crazy, but an 'entertainment' pc should allow one to watch unlimited movies over and over again without having various hiccups and needing to be rebooted *just* to get the internet back or even allow one to change discs. It's here I should mention I've only had the HP for about 6 months. I mean, why can't the darn thing just work, at least until it's 1 year warranty?

Something that does not outlive it's warranty does not bode well in my mind. I think I'll get a Mac.

In any event, I suppose that's the end of my rant about the laptop issue. It's probably about 3 pages shorter than it would have been had I not been able to borrow this laptop. Somehow, without a movie on, I feel lonely. Or at least the ability to have one on.

Heard from Craig the other day. He left a beautiful message on the answering machine. For some reason, I just want to tell him everything that's happening, but we can't connect. Literally. And I wonder if he will let me go, and if I'm fated to not have any stable relationships, for whatever reason. Just little things that come in at the night, when I'm trying to sleep.

In any event. Glad I was able to post. If nothing shows up for a few days, at least you'll know why.

Labels: broken, Craig, drama, laptop, Manitoulin Island, Northern Ontario, relationships, sleep

I am not leaving this desk until I update my journal. That means no cigarettes, no coffee refills and definitely no eating of the nasty, bad chocolate eggs that someone has left in a tidy green bowl on the filing cabinet in the hallway. They are clearly for only the mad people, and I don’t qualify. Yet.

The tailpipe on my car is just about dragging on the ground, I haven’t changed the oil in my car which should have been done about 2000 kms ago and I keep forgetting to call my sister back about seeing my nephew this week.

However, I did buy car insurance this morning and managed to blow dry my hair without electrocuting myself with the hair dryer. Kitchen is still a mess, and the bathroom kind of scares me, but…all in all, it’s going to be ok. And I was only 1.5 hours late for work.

And I’m still eating sugar. Which could be seen as a failure or (as I see it) an unconscious decision to continue on with my unhealthy lifestyle. Despite the fact there are two heads of lettuce and numerous bottles of un opened salad dressing in the ice box. Yes, you read that right. I am now calling it an ice box.

Had a quick conversation with Craig this morning, I feel like my head is on straight now. I love talking to him. I really ought to start paying him for my whine services.

Rose and I walked our dogs in the park the other day. Apparently, it's supposed to snow here tomorrow morning, but the past few days have been really warm (where I sweat like a pig if I do more than swing my arms while walking outside) kind of weather. Anyhow, we walked the dogs in the park, where I looked like a bad, non caring sort of dog mommie, and Rose looked like the perfect english nanny kind of mommie. Her dogs were heeling, listening to her commands and following her lead. Meanwhile, Buckley was clawing at the ground and barking himself hoarse as soon as our feet hit the ground.

And he still only weighs about 9 pounds. Rose's dogs are rottwheilers (yes, I am aware I probably spelled that wrong. And used the word 'spelled') who are pushing 100 pounds each. So I guess I should be glad that my little dog is being the jerk, and not her big gigantic dogs. I think I told her I wanted to do this once a week with the dogs.

I must have been nuts. Anyhow, I should get going. They do expect me to work around here, not update my journal and leave cutesy messages for my friends on Myspace.

Werd.

Labels: Craig, drama, electrical, Gish, habits, how not to be an idiot, inspiration, late night, layers, neurotic, writing

craig bancoff
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene
Late night phone calls are the best. I say this because that is when I am usually lounging around in bed, reading a book or watching t.v. I'm jsut a night person. I prefer the dark. Maybe it's to keep my visible flaws to myself. Who knows.

In any event, Craig and I on the phone last night, talking about everything as usual. I have to say (and I haven't said this before) but I love this man. He's managed to make a place for himself in my heart and my head. I'm so glad he's my friend.

Ok, I started this entry ages ago and have been surfing and photo watching, I get a call in the middle of it and it's the job place. The place where I applied over a month ago. Offering me a position.

So, seeing as I don't currently have a job...I accepted.

Thank fucking Christ I am now employed.

Labels: Craig, Craig Bancroff, Gish, how not to be an idiot, inspiration

Buckley and Gish
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.

Dear lover,
It's snowing where I am. Not that fluffy romantic kind, but the kind that gathers in thin, mean layers on the ground. Crystal onion layers. The wind is harsh, too. When I walked into the store this evening, I had to bend my body against the force of it, and curled my hands around my collar, as if I were a person in a movie.

I am stuck listening to Ryan Adams. I told Craig to tell his bass player friend to tell Ryan that I want to marry him. Sounds complicated, but it's not. How can one not want to marry a man who writes songs like Please Do Not Let Me Go ? I mean, really. 43 seconds from the end of the song, is my favourite part. You'd know that, though, being my lover. You'd know that I love harsh weather even when I complain about it, because it's what reminds me of the comforts of home. And you.

I know it's been awhile since I've seen you last. The days in between are many. The sound of your voice is a balm on what ails me. I pretend I don't miss you, or need you, or want you...but in the end, it feels like the sum of all I am. Terrible, to let emotion rule the daily being of a person, yes? Can you read/hear what I'm saying?

What keeps you, I know I can't get past it. Passed. I just have to let the days slide by, and have faith that I'll see you again. Soon. Sooner than I had thought, but not soon enough to stop my missing of you.

Please don't go skating in Central park without me. Don't check into the Chelsea hotel without my half of our signature. When I get my shit together, I'll come. The last train before the end, the sleeper cars are all full, I couldn't get a spot. I'd say meet me at the station but I'm not sure when I'll arrive.

Just send me a Valentine in your heart, miss my face even when you have no idea. Our time will be here soon enough.
Love,
Gish.

Labels: Craig, Craig Bancroff, drama, how not to be an idiot, inspiration, love, music, neurotic, relationships, Ryan Adams

Still There
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.

Always on the other end of that lens. You know. You're the one I'm looking at. You're the one that I'm focusing on in order to get a good shot.
I guess I don't really focus on the things that I need. Like sleep. It frustrates me to no end that I'm wide awake at 3 in the morning like clockwork, no matter where I am or who I am with. That's why I stopped having sleepovers. Those 3 a.m. wake up times became mini 'thinking' times, and before you know it, I never liked who was lying in my bed.

I came to this realisation that I had to like whomever I slept with. Would I want to be friends with this person? Would I invite him back for coffee or some herby tea if we were buddies? Would I give him a spare key to feed the cat while I was away?

No. So, my bed has been somewhat empty these past few weeks. In a manner of speaking. And then before I knew what had really happened, this man made his way into my life and really, has brightened things up around here. In a completely platonic manner. And I can't get over how nice it is to hear him on the other end of that telephone wire (yes, I'm stuck in the dark ages) talk about things, concepts and ideas, half-hearted theories for future experiments, existential no-no's that most people avoid.

We embrace them. Hug them to ourselves because it feels like the caffiene in the coffee. And I say platonic, because I want to know him for as long as possible before I break it. Because we all know how good I break things. Maybe I'll be extra gentle. Maybe I'll wear kid gloves when I handle the aspects of our relationship. Nurture it in this little pot of compost and see where it can take us. Like the infamous beanstalk.

Now, I sound like a crackpot.

Imagery came to mind tonight when Craig and I were on the telephone tonight. He talked about going to see his grandparent's old house, with a cracked window pane, the same curtains, a chalkboard on Pine Road. He was looking for ghosts. Looking in that green chair, and in the backyard where there is a swingset surrounded by a grassy lawn and a chain-link fence. This house had to be in New Jersey (just kidding, Craig).

He sings little pieces of songs on the telephone, and they are performances that could not be duplicated. A passing moment in time. Gone before I knew it.

I'm just trying to figure out what people mean to me, inside my heart. You know, you keep your distance for a long enough time, it's more comfortable to stay who you think you are, instead of venturing into who you could be. Food for thought. Something that tells me I'll have to let Craig in a little more so he can really know me.

Thing is and I've said this before, once I slow down long enough to let them in, I usually scare the crap out of them. Oh man...a Catch 22. Or is this just what I tell myself because really I'm the one that's scared.

A valuable friend came to me when I least expected it, and I guess I'm a little...too much me, I guess. Just to put the words out of my head feels good.

That and I'm high because the sleeping pill I took made me so, instead of doing it's real job.

Back to the trenches, my beauties.

Labels: Craig, how not to be an idiot, relationships