Blee-Bloo

I've decided that I want to marry at least five people. But never get a divorce. As in kinda like polygamy, but where the woman has multiple husbands, not the other way around. It really could be the answer to many problems, think about it. It would cut down on population (which is a measure desperately needed to be taken right now), it would mean six people (myself and my five husbands) would probably be able to live quite comfortably, if we all worked, but not full time because there'd be five incomes. There are more women in the world than men, so it would make things more equal. And women, on average (in Canada) outlive men, so there'd be a greater chance of 1) me being there until the end for all of them and; 2) one of them being there for me until the end.

This is my bit of wisdom for the day.

I'm sorry, I can't write this post without sounding emo. I am so overwhelmed by my environmental studies class. I love and hate the stuff I read for it everyday. It depresses me and inspires me at the same time. I cried reading an article today because I just feel completely helpless. There's no foreseeable way as far as I'm concerned, to reverse this full speed downward spiral we're sending all our lives towards, and it seems like no one will notice until it's too late. I'm glad I'm learning about this, because I'm slowly becoming more and more aware, and I suppose that's a step in the right direction. But I feel like I'm wasting time sitting in school, when stuff needs to be done NOW. I've taken 9 ferries since mid August. BC ferries spend $75 million a year on fuel, that's a lot of fucking fuel. I use my computer everyday, sucking up god knows how much energy, everything I use is made out of plastic, I eat next to nothing locally gown, I've never planted a tree in my life. And yet, I recycle paper, and people think I'm environmentally friendly, that's extremely sad. I'm just as bad as everyone else, and everyone else is horrible.

Oh, how fabulous.

These are the steps to writing a paper, so far as I've learned them:
1) Alright, I feel inspired for this one and I totally know what my argument is, I've just gotta find some references and I'll be done in no time!
2) Wow, I can't find anything, e-journals SUCK.
3) I don't have any idea what the fuck I'm arguing, maybe I missed a class, I don't know what's going on.
4) *roll up in a ball and cry for 20 minutes*
5) Pick yourself up off the floor, get some inspiring words from another (if your lucky) or have your own mini pep-talk, and move on
6) Realize in looking back at what you've written so far, that it all sucks, and that you need to start again.
7) *roll up in a ball and cry for 20 minutes*
8) Realize how pathetic you are, and how could you have thought this would be easy
9) *roll up in a ball and cry for 20 minutes*
10) Know that you've now wasted an hour crying when you could have been working and it's now 12 o'clock at night and you've gotten no where
11) *roll up in a ball and cry for 20 minutes*
12) *roll up in a ball and cry for 20 minutes*
13) Write your god damn paper, not caring if it makes sense or does anything it's supposed to do.
14) Get a C on you paper
15) *roll up in a ball and cry for 20 minutes*
16) Start your next paper.

Poser, or is it poseur?

So I've hit the institution popularly known as university, and anyone who's reading this would know because everyone who reads this knows me in 'real' life too. Everyone who's reading this would also know that I am doing nothing but procrastinating by writing this, to the point that I really should not be writing this at all because I have a huge test tomorrow.

I have this thing where I feel like I need to impress people, which is lame, but I know I'm no where near alone in that aspect of my personality. For example, there was a poster sale on campus the other day and I bought some posters(as one tends to do at a sale for posters). Anyways, I bought 'Don Quixote" by Picasso, 'Les Elephants" by Dali, and a crazy colourful one by Kandinsky. Needless to say, I am no art critic and I really know very little to do with art. In my defense I really do like these paintings, but I can't help but think that I bought them in part for credibility. You know, when that cool, well dressed, extremely cultured person who lives on your floor in res walks by and is like, "oh my, Salvador Dali, he's just excellent." And you're like "Hmm, I suppose he's ok, you know all the artist out there, there really are lots that are much better than him, for numerous reasons." Well, I guess that didn't really happen, but it could have, and then I would have been like, score, brownie points with that random! Res seems to suck the life out of you. It is by no means easy to make friends when everyone is either already friends with a lot of people or they're just weird and immature and get into cliques that are way worse than highschool ever was.

So the moral of the story is don't go to university, especially don't live in res, and buy posters because you like them, not because you want others to like you because they think you like them... And now I MUST go and study.

thunder thunder thunder THUNDER! LIGHTNING! RAIN!

Look up before you jump

So, I'm just chillin' at Brian's house, and we hear this loud banging noise from above us. Brian suggests that it's roofers, but seeing as we were in the bottom floor of a three story house, I thought the fact that it seemed like the ceiling was going to collapse meant it was a little closer than that. So being the detectives we are, we went to check it out. When we got upstairs we realized that it was just Patrick cleaning the deck, and all was good. After a little chat with his mom, we started to head back downstairs. Now I have this thing, and other people have said they have it too, where I hate walking up or down stairs in front of people. You kind of get that feeling like you're being chased where your stomach flips around and you get a crazy surge of adrenaline. So I'm walking in front of Brian and kind of getting this feeling, but I'm ignoring it. I said this was a three story house before, and it still is... so that was on the first set of stairs on our way down. Then on the second flight of stairs, he went in front of me and was just fooling around and being stupid, so I just laughed and walked in front of him. Then I heard his footsteps on the stairs behind me and I got all freaked out and started to run down the stairs and I jumped the last two and I heard this big bang, and didn't know what it was at first. Then I realized that it was my head on the doorframe at the bottom of the stairs. Yes I'm still alive, no I didn't get a concussion... I don't think, and yes, I am a retard.

What was I gonna say?

I have a perfectly good reason as for why it's been about a year and a half since my last post.

I have Alzheimers. I'm sorry to break this news to you, but it's true, and is a perfect explaination for much of my odd behaviour. For example, I'll walk out of my house without my shoes, but I usually figure it out by the time I'm on the driveway; I went to school without my backpack the other day; I must write everything on my hand if I want to remember it... in detail because if I write "Talk to nicole" when I want to talk to her about something, I won't know what that something is unless I write that too; I consistantly trail off in the middle of my sentences, or can't start them at all because I've forgotten what I was saying, or was going to say; I have to ask my friends what class I have next on occasion; and I make about two to three different plans, with different people on a single night on a regular basis.

So in other words, I kind of forgot I had a blog, and why would one think about writing on thier blog if they didn't remember they had one?