my thoughts are my own, but sometimes i like to share bits and pieces.

this is me. and i'm willing to let you in, if you're interested.

AUGHHGHIUA#)($*RIFA)( *&
i am so frustrated with so many things
and it's even more frustrating because every time i tell myself it doesn't matter, convince myself to be happy instead, something else stupid comes and whacks me in the head.

i just want a place that's safe, that feels like home; i want a comforting, familiar voice to soothe me; and i want to figure out who i am.

i want to sleep,
and sleep,
and sleep,
and fall into my dreams until the sun promises to shine again.

all i can really say about how i feel right now is that i'm listening to love shack. seriously, one of my favourite songs in the whole history of music. i want to dance to it forever.

my bed has currently been turned into a couch, and its weird how much it changes the whole feel of my bedroom. i'm so content so just chill out on it all the time. and that's what i do - i haven't actually slept in my own bed in so long. i'm kind of excited to be able to wake up to the misery of a monday in the comfort of my own bed. it's so much easier to not wake up when you're at your own home, haha.

speaking of our home, it may not turn out to be so comfortable aftre all. when i came home this afternoon i was told that just a few hours previously, firetrucks had swarmed the street in front of our house, in response to our carbon monoxide/dioxide/whatever the bad one is detector's alarm. as if everything else wrong with our house isn't enough... apparently now an inspector is supposed to come to the house, which will be very interesting. i'm pretty sure this place breaks every by-law that exists in the realm of housing. let's just say i'm not letting myself get too attached to this location.

there is a lovely hill behind our house, though, and i love to go there and visit. today i climbed to the top of it and lay down in the cold to catch the last rays of the sun. i watched the colours in the sky, and with the sun setting it looked so much like a giant rainbow. there was a hot air balloon, lazily floating by, and the birds were settling in on the telephone poles by the hundreds. i think it's my new favourite spot to be alone in. or with ben, because we can enjoy it without needing to speak about it, which makes it seem more magical.

last night he listened to me ramble on, in a rather drunken stupor, about how frustrating this world is. i hate the fact that everyone is so obsessed with money, i'm so convinced the world would be a better place without it. he says we should just go live in the jungle instead - problem solved.

ugh i was all excited to write and ramble for a while, but now that i'm sitting down to do it, i'm finding it difficult. another time, maybe.

autumn has long been my favourite season, and i think october is by far my favourite month. (well, alright, august is a close second, but it's still up there). there is something about this time of year, right now, that makes everything seem tinged with perfection. i feel like autumn tints everything with reflection, nostalgia, authenticity, and intruige. i spend my days walking around town, smiling at the people who pass me by, wondering about each of them. i mean, i do that anyways, but somehow the fall weather makes it seem like they must all be incredibly beautiful, that there is so much depth and importance to them. my curiosity is heightened. every object i see i look at with a fond recollection of something or other, and shuffling through the changing leaves in the crisp air just makes me feel alive. i don't even know how to word it any further, except those words i've already used: nostalgic, reflective, intruiging, beautiful, authentic, perfect, fondness..

it's just a good time to be here and alive, happy and surviving with only the things i need and nothing more. that's another good point - it makes me feel very simplistic, like i don't need anything in excess. when the world is this beautiful, what more COULD you possibly want or need? it inspires my creativity, it sparks my enthusiasm for life, yet without a wild exuberance - it's more like content satisfaction. again, reflection.

can i say anything more? i think i have to stop here or i'll repeat myself for hours. maybe i'll go for another walk. i could spend days outside, wandering the streets by myself and admiring all the bits and peices of life i pass.

i am so sick and tired of living in my happy little bubble, as if i'm the only thing that matters, and not appreciating everything for what it's worth. i waste so much time on the internet - there are some truly amazing websites that can educate, inspire, and provoke thoughts, but how often do i look at them? nope, i read webcomics, look at pictures on facebook, check my emails. yeah, fuck that. i think it's time to do something a bit more meaningful with my life.

i don't want to be here, in this society, where the mindset is completely backwards from my own. i keep trying to fit into it, but i just don't mesh. this isn't my sort of fun. on a beautiful day like today, where the sun is shining after a storm, the wind is whipping around, everything is alive and fresh and it feels like the essence of autumn.. my roommates are inside, watching movies, again. i don't want to live my life in bed, watching stupid stories that other people create in order to chase fame and money. i want to be outside, in a warm sweater and a good pair of hiking boots, walking some old trail full of coloured leaves and happy dogs. i want to sit down with a full bottle of water, a pre-packed sandwich, and a good book, and i want to relax and enjoy everything that is out there. and then i want to come home and DO something that will mean something to someone. that sounds very vague, i know, and i don't know what it is that i'm going to do. but surely there is something i can help with. with all the problems in this world, there must be something i can devote myself to improving.

ben came over last night, somewhat unexpectedly, and although overtired, we had the best conversation. we talked about getting out of here, silly little fantasies like buying a sailboat and sailing around the world, stopping and canoeing onto some remote little island and setting camp there. and then monday morning rolls around, as it always does, reminding us that we've subsrcibed ourselves to so much responsibility for things we don't even care about. yeah, school is interesting, it's incredible to be able to learn, it expands my mind.. but i'm not passionate about trekking to campus to sit in a room for an hour and be talked at. ben isn't passionate about waking up before the sun rises to sit in a lab and grow plants. why is it that - and yes, i think you're guilty of it too, i think this whole world buys into it - we go about our daily business, living unsatisfactory lives, and instead of improving them, we try to convince ourselves that we are happy? there is so much potential, so much joy to be found in just about everything, but just because it;s there doesn't mean we have it. we need to get off our lazy asses, throw down our responsibility to some greater being, to some desire for power, and start being responsible for our own needs. 

and now i stop, sigh, take a moment and remember to breathe. it's not easy, getting out of this. but i want it - i need it. i am terrified of dying, and part of the reason is because i haven't truly lived yet. i've been wasting myself away, and if i'm going to die, then i want to be able to be okay with it, because i'm happy about the life i've lived. i don't want to be grasping for straws at the end, hoping for just one more chance to be better, to have more fun, to do something real. i won't be a slave to this great ideal life that we've set ourselves up for. who's stupid idea was that, anyways?

i have some serious thinking to do. i feel like it's time to go hide in the woods for a while. this society is fucked.

The animals in that country

In that country the animals
have the faces of people:

the ceremonial
cats possessing the streets

the fox run
politely to earth, the huntsmen
standing around him, fixed
in their tapestryof manners

the bull, embroidered
with blood and given
an elegant death, trumpets, his name
stamped on him, heraldic brand
because

(when he rolled
on the sand, sword in his heart, the teeth
in his blue mouth were human)

he is really a man

even the wolves, holding resonant
conversations in their
forests thickened with legend.

    In this country the animals
    have the faces of
    animals.

   Their eyes
   flash once in car headlights
   and are gone.

   Their deaths are not elegant.

   They have the faces of
    no-one.

by Margaret Atwood

the world is too much with us; late and soon,
getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:
little we see in nature that is ours;
we have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
this sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
the winds that will be howling at all hours,
and are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
for this, for everything, we are out of tune;
it moves us not. -- great god! i'd rather be
a pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
so might i, standing on this pleasant lea,
have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
have sight of proteus rising from the sea;
or hear old triton blow his wreathed horn.
  - william wordsworth, sonnet XIV

this is a (very long) poem we looked at in european studies last year. i really enjoyed that class because i learned a lot from it - i felt like i came away more cultured, more aware of many different things. there are a few poems, pieces of artwork, and ideas that we studied which i think of often, and this is one of them. it never fails to surprise me how much meaning there is in a poem, most of which is hidden.. the whole idea of tedium in this one really strikes me.


Night Song Of A Wandering Shepherd In Asia

Why are you there, Moon, in the sky? Tell me
why you are there, silent Moon.
You rise at night, and go
contemplating deserts: then you set.
Are you not sated yet
with riding eternal roads?
Are you not weary, still wishing
to gaze at these valleys?
It mirrors your life,
the life of a shepherd.
He rises at dawn,
he drives his flock over the fields, sees
the flocks, the streams, the grass:
tired at evening he rests:
expecting nothing more.
Tell me, O Moon, what life is
worth to a shepherd, or
your life to you? Tell me: where
does my brief wandering lead,
or your immortal course?

Like an old man, white-haired, infirm,
barefoot and half-naked,
with a heavy load on his shoulders,
running onwards, panting,
over mountains, through the valleys,
on sharp stones, in sand and thickets,
wind and storm, when the days burn
and when they freeze,
through torrents and marshes,
falling, rising, running faster,
faster, without rest or pause,
torn, bleeding: till he halts
where all his efforts,
all the roads, have led:
a dreadful, vast abyss
into which he falls, headlong, forgetting all.
Virgin Moon,
such is the life of man.

Man is born in labour: 
and there's a risk of death in being born.
The very first things he learns
are pain and anguish: from the first
his mother and father
console him for being born.
Then as he grows
they both support him, go on
trying, with words and actions,
to give him heart,
console him merely for being human:
there's nothing kinder
a parent can do for a child.
Yet why bring one who needs
such comforting to life,
and then keep him alive?
If life is a misfortune,
why grant us such strength?
Such is the human condition,
inviolate Moon.
But you who are not mortal,
care little, maybe, for my words.

Yet you, lovely, eternal wanderer,
so pensive, perhaps you understand
this earthly life,
this suffering, the sighs that exist:
what this dying is, this last
fading of our features,
the vanishing from earth, the losing
all familiar, loving company.
And you must understand
the 'why' of things, and view the fruits
of morning, evening,
silence, endless passing time.
You know (you must) at what sweet love
of hers the springtime smiles,
the use of heat, and whom the winter
benefits with frost.
You know a thousand things, reveal
a thousand things still hidden from a simple shepherd.
Often as I gaze at you
hanging so silently, above the empty plain
that the sky confines with its far circuit:
or see you steadily
follow me and my flock:
or when I look at the stars blazing in the sky, 
musing I say to myself:
'What are these sparks,
this infinite air, this deep
infinite clarity? What does this
vast solitude mean? And what am I?'
So I question. About these
magnificent, immeasurable mansions,
and their innumerable family:
and the steady urge, the endless motion
of all celestial and earthly things,
circling without rest,
always returning to their starting place:
I can't imagine
their use or fruit. But you, deathless maiden,
I'm sure, know everything.
This I know, and feel,
that others, perhaps, may gain
benefit and comfort from
the eternal spheres, from
my fragile being: but to me life is evil.

O flock at peace, O happy creatures,
I think you have no knowledge of your misery!
How I envy you!
Not only because
you're almost free of worries:
quickly forgetting all hardship,
every hurt, each deep fear:
but because you never know tedium.
When you lie in the shade, on the grass,
you're peaceful and content:
and you spend most of the year
untroubled, in that state.
If I sit on the grass, in the shade,
weariness clouds my mind,
and, as if a thorn pricked me,
sitting there I'm still further
from finding peace and rest.
Yet there's nothing I need,
and I've known no reason for tears.

I can't say what you enjoy
or why: but you're fortunate.
O my flock: there's little still
I enjoy, and that's not all I regret.
If you could speak, I'd ask you:
'Tell me, why are all creatures
at peace, idle, lying
in sweet ease: why, if I lie down
to rest, does boredom seize me?'

If I had wings, perhaps,
to fly above the clouds
and count the stars, one by one,
or roam like thunder from crest to crest,
I'd be happier, my sweet flock,
I'd be happier, bright moon.
Or perhaps my thought
strays from truth, gazing at others' fate:
perhaps whatever form,
whatever state
it's in, its cradle or its fold,
the day of birth is dark to one that's born.

i look for meaning in all the wrong places.
i can't stop myself.

sometimes i wish i smoked just so it would give me the excuse to go outside and be alone and be angry.

this is beautifully done.


( the script is here )

words don't seem adequate anymore

you may suck, world,
but i'm still smiling.

i made my song a coat
covered with embroideries
out of old mythologies
from heel to throat;
but the fools caught it,
wore it in the world's eyes
as though they'd wrought it.
song, let them take it,
for there's more enterprise
in walking naked.

curiosity killed the cat,

but satisfaction brought it back.

 http://www.ted.com/index.php/talks/view/id/206

you simply have to watch this. it is amazing. 
this sort of thing is why i love watching the discovery channel.

one person left a comment that really sums up how i feel about it.

WOW. I'm speechless. These things make you appreciate nature so much more... things you're not even aware of, and you see with your own eyes... we're so conceited, we think we're the only creatures who can make things shapeshift, with all of our technology... we've got nothing on mother earth. Nothing at all.

anything plain can be lovely, anything loved can be lost
maybe i lost my direction, what if our love is the cost?
anyone perfect must be lying, anything easy has its cost
anyone plain can be lovely, anyone loved can be lost
what if i lost my direction? what if i lost sense of time?
what if i nursed this infection? maybe the worst is behind

- barenaked ladies, falling for the first time

i don't understand

i had forgotten the simple pleasure i get from immersing myself in a book.
from reading, straight through, until i am done. no stopping - read through dinner, put everything else off. through the night if need be, until i've no choice and just drop.

just continuing entirely until i have completed the story. 
i love losing myself in another world for as long as i possibly can.
i love finding that obsession, the need to continue.

okay, this is wonderful, i am very very excited.
it is snowing! not rain that sort of looks like snow, not the occaisonal spot of white floating from the sky.
this is lots and lots of fluffy white falling down. it is cold and wet and glorious.
and i get to walk dogs in it!

ahh it is so beautiful. i love the first snow.