I spent 90% of my adolscence hoping that people would leave me the hell alone and treat me like I was invisable. Most people dread being ignored, but any day where I wasn't taunted and made to feel like a pathetic freak of nature in school was a good day in my books. I remember being picked 4th last in gym one day and feeling like I won the lottery. YAY! THERE ARE BIGGER LOSERS THEN ME! HAPPY DAYS!
These days I actually wilt with too much isolation. Reading, writing and day dreaming are all excellent solitary activities, but there are only so many political debates that I can have with my cat before it begins to seem kind of one sided (her arguments are faulty), and a see-saw at the jungle gym is dull without a second person. I guess I look kind of silly on it anyways, but its not my fault they make these awesome playgrounds for miniature parasites (also known as children) instead of hard working, blue collared tax payers like myself.
But, yet again, I digress. The point I am trying to make is that, although I am extremely homesick during this time of year, I hate heading home. I love my parents. I love being cooked for, pampered and made much of. If it comes in occasional small doses and doesn't become too overwhelming, who doesn't? But I dread heading home and seeing that blasted "Welcome to Campbell River" sign. Its like every ounce of sophistication, social skills, and self worth that I have acquired since moving to Vancouver vanishes, and I am left with an awkward, empty shell of the person that I am now.
I don't have a snappy way to end this post, it feels unfinished. Just some reflections on the holiday season. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night :)
Friday, December 24, 2010
Friday, December 10, 2010
The Bath Tub Shark
Things are looking up. As of January I will have dropped down to a .77 part time line and started my distance education courses which I'm pretty psyched for. BCIT does resembled a ton of warehouse stores and is not at all like my gleaming UBC was, but it has a Tim Hortons and loads of non threatening, endearing engineering students. Reminds me of home. Also I am seeing an counsellor, eating again and occasionally venturing outside my bedroom. I'm even going to the airport to see a dear friend off to Uganda today although I am a little concerned because a few days ago a kayak er that we both knew was mauled to death by a crocodile in the Congo....but that's another story.
My mother is unconvinced that I'm doing better, so I'm going to take this post to try to address her concerns.
A) BUT YOU'RE SO SKINNY! ARE YOU ANOREXIC?
No. I am 5'7, 144 pounds and very found of butter. I am not thin at all, and would actually be considered fat in Hollywood. I only stopped eating because I am severely depressed and couldn't muster up the energy to made the 10 foot journey from my bed to the fridge.
B) BUT YOU WERE TRYING TO KILL YOURSELF IN THE BATHTUB, I SAW YOU.
No. I was face down in a sea of bubble bath and pretending to be a shark. My mother has her own key and I didn't hear her let herself into the apartment until she SCREAMED and tried to drag me away from hunting sea lions. I mean....taking a bath.
C) BUT YOU'RE ALWAYS IN YOUR OWN WORLD. I DON'T UNDERSTAND YOU.
Yes and you never ever will. But I love you mom and thank you for your concern.
My mother is unconvinced that I'm doing better, so I'm going to take this post to try to address her concerns.
A) BUT YOU'RE SO SKINNY! ARE YOU ANOREXIC?
No. I am 5'7, 144 pounds and very found of butter. I am not thin at all, and would actually be considered fat in Hollywood. I only stopped eating because I am severely depressed and couldn't muster up the energy to made the 10 foot journey from my bed to the fridge.
B) BUT YOU WERE TRYING TO KILL YOURSELF IN THE BATHTUB, I SAW YOU.
No. I was face down in a sea of bubble bath and pretending to be a shark. My mother has her own key and I didn't hear her let herself into the apartment until she SCREAMED and tried to drag me away from hunting sea lions. I mean....taking a bath.
C) BUT YOU'RE ALWAYS IN YOUR OWN WORLD. I DON'T UNDERSTAND YOU.
Yes and you never ever will. But I love you mom and thank you for your concern.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Introspection
I think I'm actually a very simple, very sane person. Some of the very few of you who I gave this link to and actually read this may be laughing (CHERYL), but really, I am. I think maybe this is why I don't relate well to and am not usually accepted by others, because its very fashionable these days to be loud, proud, "unique" and completely and utterly plastic.
I'm quiet and introspective. I don't like loud noises like those that stem from car alarms or drunk hipsters and I enjoy subtle wit and beautiful things. Filthy humour is not my forte, it seems too easy and I enjoy a joke that doesn't climax after a phrase, but builds with time and patience. Tans repulse me and my skin colour is unfashionable in the here and now, and I am neither thin or curvy enough to fulfill the Canadian definition of beauty. I am awkward, I am stiff, I am everything that everyone feels, but is more skilled at hiding and I'm very very tired of defending myself for being true to who and what I am.
In conclusion I would like a simple life away from other people. A penthouse on the moon with a constant supply of oxygen, supply of hearty comfort food, servants and zombie Groucho Marx as a roommate will do in a pinch if my further flights of immagination are restricted. I suppose I'll allow the occasional visitor, but no broccoli, hipsters, or fatties allowed.
I'm quiet and introspective. I don't like loud noises like those that stem from car alarms or drunk hipsters and I enjoy subtle wit and beautiful things. Filthy humour is not my forte, it seems too easy and I enjoy a joke that doesn't climax after a phrase, but builds with time and patience. Tans repulse me and my skin colour is unfashionable in the here and now, and I am neither thin or curvy enough to fulfill the Canadian definition of beauty. I am awkward, I am stiff, I am everything that everyone feels, but is more skilled at hiding and I'm very very tired of defending myself for being true to who and what I am.
In conclusion I would like a simple life away from other people. A penthouse on the moon with a constant supply of oxygen, supply of hearty comfort food, servants and zombie Groucho Marx as a roommate will do in a pinch if my further flights of immagination are restricted. I suppose I'll allow the occasional visitor, but no broccoli, hipsters, or fatties allowed.
Monday, December 6, 2010
The hotel mini fridge diet.
So, after a hardy dinner of 2 pieces of beef jerky, 10mg of Valium and 2 miniature bottles of jeigermeister (I call it the "hotel mini fridge diet" but you can totally follow it in the comfort of your own apartment/mansion/condo/trailer park! Except you can't because I copy wrote the hell out of it and you have to buy my dieting book first. 9.99 on amazon.ca and you get a free bag of dry roasted peanuts.) I drunk texted this guy the other day.
Me: I get it. You're either:
A) Not attracted to me
B) Seeing someone else
C) Gay
Him: .........Definattly not a or, b.......
Me: Oh. C. I won't tell anyone. Don't worry.
Him: Wat! LOL. Im noot gay.
Me:.......................
Him: Im not good at multiple chioce questions
Me: No you are not. And you can't spell your way out of a paper bag either. Good day sir.
You trust this man with your health care? You poor bastards.
Me: I get it. You're either:
A) Not attracted to me
B) Seeing someone else
C) Gay
Him: .........Definattly not a or, b.......
Me: Oh. C. I won't tell anyone. Don't worry.
Him: Wat! LOL. Im noot gay.
Me:.......................
Him: Im not good at multiple chioce questions
Me: No you are not. And you can't spell your way out of a paper bag either. Good day sir.
You trust this man with your health care? You poor bastards.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
An Alligator Named Ralph
In second grade we had a killer snowstorm. The teachers went on strike for a week and it was the perfect week to frolic in the snow....for every other kid on the block. Steve and I, on the other hand, had to stay inside with our new teacher....... My mother.
She wasn't really that bad. We had to read a story of my choosing (or I would bite her and Steve). Then Steve had to write a story about a subject of our "teacher's" choosing and I wrote about whatever I wanted (see previous sentence for the reason why).
The first day I wrote a killer story about a crocodile named Ralph who tried to escape from the zoo by biting a zookeeper and then was killed by the zoo keeper's vengeance seeking family. They threw him in the lion's den and he cried while being mauled to death, and was sorry for his past crimes. See? Suspense! Drama! A twist ending! A dynamic character! Fabulous!
My brother wrote a lame ass story about a pencil sharpener named Chris (his best friend's name. See the lack of originality already) who liked blue pencils and not brown ones. Guess which story Mrs. M (she wouldn't let us call her mom) raved about and put a gold star on? Ummm....IT DIDN'T EVEN HAVE A PLOT.
The next day Steve wrote a story about a shoe named Ryan (his second best friend) who liked red socks but not brown socks and liked it when people washed their feet before putting him on. YAWN! I wrote a story about an angry crocodile named Louis that ate his mother and a pencil sharpener named Chris and then wore a pair of shoes named Ryan and killed them by wearing them. I didn't get a gold star or a any recognition from Steve, but I did see the first flicker of fear in my mother's eyes and she made me my very first psychologist appointment that very day.
She wasn't really that bad. We had to read a story of my choosing (or I would bite her and Steve). Then Steve had to write a story about a subject of our "teacher's" choosing and I wrote about whatever I wanted (see previous sentence for the reason why).
The first day I wrote a killer story about a crocodile named Ralph who tried to escape from the zoo by biting a zookeeper and then was killed by the zoo keeper's vengeance seeking family. They threw him in the lion's den and he cried while being mauled to death, and was sorry for his past crimes. See? Suspense! Drama! A twist ending! A dynamic character! Fabulous!
My brother wrote a lame ass story about a pencil sharpener named Chris (his best friend's name. See the lack of originality already) who liked blue pencils and not brown ones. Guess which story Mrs. M (she wouldn't let us call her mom) raved about and put a gold star on? Ummm....IT DIDN'T EVEN HAVE A PLOT.
The next day Steve wrote a story about a shoe named Ryan (his second best friend) who liked red socks but not brown socks and liked it when people washed their feet before putting him on. YAWN! I wrote a story about an angry crocodile named Louis that ate his mother and a pencil sharpener named Chris and then wore a pair of shoes named Ryan and killed them by wearing them. I didn't get a gold star or a any recognition from Steve, but I did see the first flicker of fear in my mother's eyes and she made me my very first psychologist appointment that very day.
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