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

Dear Chicago,
There's always something left to say. I type this, my fingers numb from cold. My fingers hitting random keys whilst I try to spell words correctly. If that happens, then maybe this time, you'll get my note.
Do you remember those fiery nights in front of the fireplace, smoke occasionally sputtering from the fire, the light allowing us to see our work. Papers upon paper, scribbles and notes all in the margins. Creased photographs and glowing red bottles of wine. It's ok. I remember enough for the most of us.

words fell like water...

Sometimes, I don't know where these words come from. Are they like that Ryan Adams song you liked so much...just merely words? Could I be reading more importance to them then it's worth?

Right now, I light my cigarettes from burning candles that are meant to be in churches, prayers said for the dead. But I'm here in my cold, little room. With these candles that burn for endless hours, even while I sleep. A cheap glimmering light that is just *there* when I need it to be. So afraid to sleep, and for it to be another day. It just means it's closer to the time I have to go. And we both know how much I love leaving.
Maybe this time will be different.
Love, Gish

Labels: David Usher, Dear Chicago, opinions, pharmacology, relationships, run, running, sleep, travelling, writing

I’m a single, 31 year old woman. I like it that way, it keeps things simple. However, one of the things I dislike about being single is when people think you need to be with someone. Anyone. Anyone will apparently do, so long as I am not single anymore. This constant ‘fixing up’ is exhausting and it’s just plain embarrassing. I didn’t understand the need to pair up in my 20’s, and in my 30’s I still don’t get it.

Of course, this all sounds fine and good while I’m in my pyjamas, in the middle of the night, listening to Ryan Adams songs with my headphones on and a can of Pepsi beside me. Alone in bed. There are worse things.

In spite of all my good intentions, I put off a few job applications and writing assignments. I meant to have my admissions essay completed by this time, but it’s not even started. Nor are the ideas that have been whirling around in my head for the past 6 months. Not that easy when it comes right down to it.

Don’t those fixer upper people know that I’m a special breed? If I were to pair up, it would be with an ordinary guy, like….

Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.

Just some guy who knows how to handle me better than I do. Some guy in a bad shirt and a worse haircut. He would be made up of ordinary people.

I thought things got easier with age, but there just seems to be more questions, more mystery behind the meaning of life. But I shouldn't get too serious, I haven't had nearly enough red wine to contemplate those things, and it's still only 11:30 in the evening.

awareness is a terrible thing. What I would not give to be simple-minded in every respect.

Labels: relationships, Ryan Adams, single, singledom

Mother
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.
I took this photo a little while ago. The word 'mother' stood out to me. My mother is worried about me. I adore her, and it hurts me when she is worried. I'll talk about my mother in more detail at some point.

I've been listening to a lot of Matthew Good (for night time music) and Ani DiFranco (to get my Bitch on). Instead of cursing anything that has gone wrong the past month, I'm in the unique position (again) of concentrating on getting even, and looking at things to do that I would normally pass on.

The evil nasty down mood hasn't been around for a couple of days, I actually feel like my old self today. Yesterday was a little manic, I did some things pretty impulsive. I got two two new tattoos (small ones) for a very reasonable price at Addictive Tattoo here in London. I also bought some new skirts as the plan is to remain in skirts, tshirts and flipflops all summer. I also splurged on a manicure and pedicure (30 dollars) and some Starbucks coffee (which I normally don't bother with). I was a buying machine yesterday.

Today, I will see my two nephews, Riley and Danny for the first time in 2 years. I was able to work out an agreement with their father who used to be quite unapproachable (I think the court papers I prepared had something to do with it) and now, I and the rest of the family will have regular access to them. So, later on today I am sure my mood will change as I will have a lot of questions to answer.

The weather around here is on crack. 35 degrees one day, then 18 degrees the next. Consistency would be nice.

There are a few concerts I would like to attend this summer, but with having no job I doubt I will get out there. Buckley likes to eat watermelon, which I usually snack on before bed.

And thanks to Mattie, I have a thing for cheese now. Freshly grated Parmesan and asiago on top of any pizza I'm eating. I can only hope I do not move on to Tapas after this addiction, as I'm currently broke and can't afford such things *grin*

Anyway, my youngest nephew, Nicholaki is having a birthday party tomorrow, he turned 2 earlier this week. I got him a ball he can jump on. I better put a helmet on him, just in case.
Love, Gish

Labels: coffee, depression, family, Gish, habits, layers, Matthew Good, nephews, opinions, relationships, spending

Out Now
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.

I'm not a positive person. In that I don't look for silver linings, or rainbows, or expect the best from people. This hinders me in some areas, however it also saves me the crushing disappointment I may suffer as the result of someone's lack of....follow through, if that makes sense.

I've been on the Lam for quite awhile, ignoring both Flickr and my journal, as though they are simply more places I need to report to. But today, the sun is out and it's warm on my skin. I ate an apple this morning during my commute and for some reason, things do feel like they are looking up.

I was applying for a new car, I had decided on a Ford Escape Hybrid, however due to financing issues it's not likely to happen at this point. And right now, I'm ok with it. Earlier this week, my electricity was cut off because my landlord failed to pay his bill. However, the deal was that I would have the bill in my name and make the payments. Genius-guy, however never closed off his account and thus, I was not able to set up my own. Then he just decides to not pay the bill at all, resulting in two nights by candlelight. And thawed groceries in the freezer that had been bought the day before.

I was livid. Now, I've paid the bill *for* him and deducted it from the rent, have the utility in my own name and things are running smoothly again (for the time being). But then my laptop decided to have a fatal error and while it was nice enough to give me time to TRY to get some documents from it (mostly music and my art), it is slowly coming to a stop. The good thing: it's still under warranty. The bad thing: potential loss of my entire music library, and it will take about 3 weeks for the company to ship me the repaired laptop.

I know, when it rains, it pours. Instead of sitting here and being a big baby, I have decided to go to the Island and surprise my mother for Mother's Day. It's a long trip and only over night, but I might as well do something lovely for her.

Work is still work, and I'm still doing it. Buckley was scheduled to meet with a trainer for his bad behaviours this weekend but that will be rescheduled. Unfortunately for him, his neuter surgery is scheduled for Tuesday. *grin* Poor guy.

In the meantime, I've misplaced Mrs. John Cusack (my iPod) and I have to go out and buy a bag I can pack with weekend essentials. I know, I'm the best of the drama bitches. There's more to it than this, I just can't seem to scratch the surface.

Labels: how not to be an idiot, late night, melancholy, music, relationships, work, writing

the border
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.

Dear Chicago,

It seems that some of us live our lives, aspiring or thinking of....'one day'. I have to admit that I'm one of those people. It's not a an issue, but the problem with that is...I'm not really sure what I want my 'one day' to look like.

I talk about these things with my friends. They tell me (which I think is a huge injustice) that it's ok, everything will work out and I'll be happy with whatever I end up with. One of my biggest fears is that I will wake up 10 years from now with 3 kids, a dog, an SUV and wonder what the hell am I doing. I'm afraid that I'll hate my choices. Afraid of boredom, the sense of having settled, the sense of not doing or being all that I can be.

Scary, heavy stuff. But, what the hell. I'm nearly 31 years old. At some point, I will have to stop thinking and start doing. Sometimes, I just don't know where to start.

I cross borders and look for new things, carrying on my love affair of maps.

I wish I could believe that my future lies in wait with one who has walked your streets before. Maybe he was shopping, or working, or just loving the way your concrete meets the ground. But, I stopped believing in fairy tales and fantasies in my 20's. I know there are those who, unlike me, are nursing hurts and broken hearts. Such luck to have held it for that time, and such luck to have another chance to find it again. And so much thought and effort devoted to and building up of achieving a single emotion.

It's foolish. And inspiring.

Labels: drama, fools gold, habits, how not to be an idiot, inspiration, layers, melancholy, opinions, photographs, relationships, underwater, writing

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

*Fearless
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.
This is the photo I contributed to the photo theme, a photo to match a song title. It's not what I wanted. But it was a spur of the moment kind of thing. Not matched even in my mind, with what I think of myself. Or how anyone else sees me.

Does anyone see me? Or do they all see me, and that's why there are hardly any people around me. Food for thought. If I think of food one more time, I will explode. Too many french fries. My fridge is broken. I tried to cook what wouldn't be wasted but I know I won't eat any of it. No cold drinks. No ice. That's what is on my mind.

That and things from yesterday. Many yesterdays. Think of me, when I listen to different songs. A day for sleeping. Sleeping on soft flannel sheets. Striped, like a man's bedding.

How would I know?

Can't someone appreciate In the Cut the way I do?

Labels: how not to be an idiot, layers, neurotic, relationships

my picture of my photograph
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.
I'm all alone now, I can do as I please.....I don't feel like doing much of anything...
Spent time with some of the kids in my program. They were making hand drums. I don't feel much for editing or sorting through photos or else I'd post one of the kids with the slippery hide and tendons stretching to make taut surfaces of the drums. Time through our fingers, unnoticed.

I think of the new sheets and I just want to curl up in them, but it's still too early for bed. Grocery shopping with my older sister tomorrow. It gives us a chance to catch up, and she gets to pick what I eat (sometimes). I know I'm supposed to be thinking about some arty photography for the theme at The Cooperation, but the ideas I thought I had don't seem very good. And my 'get up and go'...kinda got up an left.

And I'm hooked on this song. My favourite part is 43 seconds before the end of it. This book I'm reading is not doing much for my sense of mankind. It's called The Demon Lover by Robin Morgan. Discussing the roots of terrorism. I don't know if it's something I can fully subscribe to. Because after all, we're looking for solutions, and one of the parts of that is to lay blame with someone or something. This book lays the blame on men. Man, in general. I'll either be a man-hating, frothing at the mouth kind of feminist by the end of the book, or someone who has just read a bad book.

I dreamnt about money last night. Lots of it. I suppose it's because I am constantly worried about not having any or enough. And when sad songs come on the radio, my thoughts drift towards the Apostle. I wonder what he's doing now, what he's thinking. If he misses me. Then I have to look in another direction or I'll get lost in that train of thought.

My face is just a disguise. Another layer to me that no one has really figured out. How many layers are there...? Not sure. Even I don't have all the answers to myself, I can hardly expect someone else to. Silly.

Maybe I'll rent Purple Rain tonight. Such a nostalgic movie, not to mention that Prince is 5'5 feet of pure sex. MMmmmm.

Please Do Not Let Me Go - Ryan Adams

Labels: Apostle, drama, inspiration, layers, music, neurotic, pearls, photographs, relationships, Ryan Adams, song

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