isn’t love?

didn’t they say that love was all we needed?

weren’t they right?

isn’t love all we need to be warm at night, to have something to lean into?

isn’t love all we need to make our legs quiver and our checks flush?

isn’t love all we need to get us through the day?

isn’t love that sweet cup of morning coffee?

isn’t love a long, slow drag on your very last cigarette?

isn’t love that feeling you get when you stretch under the covers, and you feel the life spread all the way down to your toes and you can hear the ocean in your ears and your eyes scrunch up tight and your gentle hands make tired fists and someone leans over the mussed up wrinkled make-up-smeared pillow that smells like his cologne and kisses you on the place where your lips meet your cheek?

isn’t love a shaggy-haired sad sap playing Hallelujah on an acoustic guitar?

isn’t love the way the asphalt smells after the rain?

isn’t love stumbling home in the early morning on dawn streets, warm with bourbon kisses, ears numb from live music?

isn’t love break-up sex?

isn’t love make-up sex?

isn’t love a forlorn glance across a crowded sea of wayward souls?

isn’t love unrequited?

isn’t love star-crossed?

isn’t love a W. H. Auden poem?

isn’t love enough?

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Update: What Even Is This Blog?

In the interest of creativity and having an outlet for my often-incoherent musings, I think this blog will start having less and less cohesion in its content from now on. Probably. Maybe. I actually have no fudging clue but WHATEVER it’s my blog and I can do what I want. So I’ll probably be putting some poetry on the main page, and also some prosaic nonsense, as well as the usual day-to-day junk that I started doing on here in the first place. Hope that’s cool and groovy, yo.

K bye.

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Stuff I’ve Done Lately

So, hey. Remember when I didn’t write anything for like two months? Wasn’t that fun?

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Unlike my usual bullshit reasons for not being productive or getting shit done (i.e. I was too lazy/didn’t want to get up/was too busy doing other useless stuff, etc.), I’ve actually been up to lots of stuff in the last like sixteen weeks, or whatever it’s been! So yeah, I guess I have a good excuse for not doing anything creative? No actually you don’t. 

Anyway, I’m baaaAAAcckk. And here’s some stuff that I’ve done in the last little while!

I graduated University BITCHES!!1!

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It took four years; forty-thousand dollars of OSAP debt, student loans, and funds from the Bank of Mom and Dad; three four new apartments; probably over 100 books, anthologies, and novels; and countless nights of staying up till 5am writing essays with literal blood, sweat, and tears; but I finally did. it. And damn it feels…… not really any different actually. I still don’t feel like a grownup, nor do I feel any more scholarly than I did before I graduated. But at least it’s an accomplishment, and probably one of the biggest ones I’ll have for the next little while, so I’ll take it! Plus now I have a piece of paper with my name and some Latin on it that I can hang on my wall and show to all my friends. 🙂

I quit my job.

And I had a new job, one that paid way better, for like thirty whole seconds…

Then I quit that job and went back to my old job. 

Because, well…

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No but for real though. It really takes putting yourself into an uncomfortable, anxiety-inducing, stressful, and totally infuriating place for you to realize that what you had before wasn’t actually that bad. And I’m also super not good with change, it turns out. But I did realize that there are some things you’ll do for money, and there are just simply some things you won’t. There’s a limit to what you’ll put yourself through for a little bit of extra cash in your wallet every couple of weeks. Retail has its really shitty bits, but you just kind of tolerate them and move on when your shift is over. It’s when the bullshit starts following you home that you know you have a problem, and you need to make a change. So yeah. I was super unhappy for about a month, and was really down and anxious and just really fucking mentally and physically exhausted, and then I wasn’t. (My old job is still kinda bullshit but it’s at least familiar bullshit, so hey. I can deal with that.)

I saw some really dope live music.

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In the course of about three weeks I saw a shitload of folk music, Kanye West, Marianas Trench, and Nikki Minaj, and I can definitely say that this is one of my favourite things about my otherwise uneventful summer. I was always surrounded by good beer and even better people, and I was genuinely really happy in those moments. I’m absolutely going to make more of an effort next summer to see more music when I can, ’cause concerts and festivals are just so fucking euphoric.

I finally got a savings account.

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Not that I have any money to actually save in it, but still. It’s the principle. Actually it does feel pretty good being able to put some money aside for myself. I would always try to give myself a budget every time I got paid, and I tried lots of different methods of saving money. In the end though, I either got too lazy or I was running on too little funds, so I really haven’t been able to accumulate funds between paycheques. Setting up an automatic savings plan, though, means that I know I’ll have emergency cash if I need it. Like if I want to go on a trip somewhere, or need a new pair of shoes, or a new jacket, or like I don’t want to feel guilty about using rent money for McDonalds, or…. k wait. That’s not adulting works is it……..

I learned a couple things about myself as a person.

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Not anything Earth-shattering or like existential or anything, I just happened to realize that some things I thought about myself weren’t actually true. Like, for example, that I’m totally comfortable with – rather – that I thrive on change. Wellp, turns out that’s the biggest douche-baggy lie ever. Change gives me hives. I literally have an allergic reaction to the universe. It makes me nauseous and anxious and irritable. Until I get used to the change and then everything is all hunky dory again! Another thing I learned is that I don’t deal very well with writer’s block. Clearly. One of my “solutions” for writer’s block is to read other people’s writing, but that only makes me feel shittier about myself and my lack of talent, so I kind of just end up in this nasty ugly hate-spiral of self-doubt and Half Baked ice cream. It turns out that you have to sort of just power through the rut that you’re in, and not try so hard to come up with a fix or an answer because it’s something that you have to work through with yourself, not anyone else. I’m trryyyiiiinnnggggggg.

Whew. Thanks for bearing with me :’)

Walking, Talking Sacks of Fluid and Bones

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Why Human Beings are Super Fucking Weird.

1. Reality TV shows.

2. Cropped tops.

3. Finger puppets.

4. Spray cheese. Whose fucking idea was that?

5. One night stands.

6. Running 10 kilometers for fun.

7. Spending hundreds of dollars on shoes.

8. Self-indulgence.

9. Dressing animals as humans.

10. Dressing humans as animals.

11. Dressing humans as other humans.

12. Solipsism.

13. Selfie sticks.

14. The fear of being alone.

15. Hating social situations.

16. Spending nights sleeping in a sack in the woods on purpose.

17. Jumping out of planes and enjoying it.

18. All other death-defying acts.

19. Defying death and then simultaneously fearing it.

20. Inside farts.

21. Collecting things.

22. Taxidermy.

23. Not learning from mistakes.

24. Metaphors.

25. Working for other people.

26. Rubbernecking.

27. Useless honking.

28. Putting our mouths on each other’s body parts.

29. Falling in love after getting our hearts broken over and over again.

30. Tattoos.

31. Tattoo removal.

32. Butt-holes.

33. Voyeurism.

34. Liking that smell after it rains.

35. Rob Ford.

36. Pretending not to be home when someone knocks on the door.

37. Re-reading books.

38. Insulting each other.

39. Getting stressed out about the Universe.

40. Currency.

41. Going to University to study dead guys.

42. Luge.

43. Wearing clothes. Who decided being naked was inappropriate?

44. Quickies.

45. Nicolas Cage.

46. The Twilight Saga (the movies, not the books).

47. Thinking that women are not beautiful without makeup.

48. Forgetfulness.

49. “I’m not like other girls.”

50. Words like fleek and bae.

51. Helicopters.

52. People who like the movie better than the book.

53. Taking things too seriously.

54. 69.

55. Not showering during a thunderstorm.

56. Flappy Bird.

57. Vajazzling.

58. Using “google” as a verb.

59. Siri.

60. Making birthday wishes.

61. Horoscopes.

62. Ambivalence.

63. Binge eating.

64. Karaoke bars.

65. Being paranoid about pre-cum.

66. Celebrating a pet’s birthday.

67. Missing people you’ve never met.

68. The overwhelming urge to squeeze something cute.

69. Procrastination.

70. Religion.

71. Say Yes to the Dress: Bridesmaids Edition

Breaking News! Also, WTF?

The other night I was out for drinks with friends and, as usual, there was a TV on the wall opposite of me that had some news channel on (also, what kind of bar shows national news at 10:30 at night? What happened to men running around with sticks and balls and stuff?). I paid very little attention to what was happening on screen, as I normally do when something depressing like the news is on, but I did happen to glance up and see the last couple seconds of a story with the headline, “Can Middle Aged Actresses Be Sexy?” Umm…. Pardon? I’d like to know which old white man came up with that segment.

Good question….

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Umm…. Hmm……

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Gee, I don’t know…

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Not sure if…

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…these women can be sexy…

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…or if they’re too old…

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Wow yeah totes not sexy.

?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

Let me also add that all of these women have previously been categorized by some as “unfeminine;” almost all of them have played roles in films and TV shows that place them in positions or jobs normally considered to be “male” professions (i.e. Grey’s Anatomy, Madam Secretary, etc.); NOT TO MENTION how hard it is for women to find equal pay and equal opportunity in the workplace, let alone in the entertainment business, so for these gyals to be killin’ it like they are is pretty fucking sexy if you ask me. SO YEAH. In conclusion, I think middle aged actresses can be sexy and everyone should just mind their own fucking P’s and Q’s, thanks very much.

#SubjectiveRantAndNotEvenSorryAboutIt.

Update: New Things

Happy Tuesday friends!

As I had threatened, I have created a blog solely for my poetry! I’ll be moving the poems that I’ve published on this blog over to the other one slowly but surely, so there will soon be only personal blog posts published on this site! No more Sunday poetry publications! Not that they ever happened regularly anyway.

If you’re at all interested in following my poetry in the future, you can do so here! It will also be linked in my “about me” section of this blog. It’s a less casual blog, so you might not find the same kind of humour there as you will here (unless you don’t take poetry seriously and giggle at everything anyway). I hope you like it! Love meeeeeeeeee.

K thanks. Bye now. Xo

In Search of Perfection

Some moments are nice, some are nicer, some are even worth writing about.

– Charles Bukowski

I read a blog the other day by freelance writer and York University Alum Sandy Braz that was all about the perfect moment; what makes a moment so perfect that you would want to relive it over and over again, ad infinitum? What makes a moment perfect to begin with? Do perfect moments even exist? In her post, Braz floats this little piece for consideration: “I’ve never felt that […] have you?”

Which got me thinking. About the perfect moment, whether I’ve experienced one yet, whether or not I ever will.

I could go through my memory bank and pick out several moments that I would choose to live in forever. My childhood would be easy: I’d pick any time spent at my family cottage. From my adolescence, I’d pick the moments I met all of the people who have made a difference in my life, whether or not they’re still a part of it. A moment in my young adulthood could be anything from getting accepted to University or Grad school, to realizing what I want to do with my life, to meeting my current boyfriend, and so on.

I thought about those brief moments you have when you first wake up in the morning, when you stretch the sleep out of your muscles and bones and just lie in bed for a few seconds, buried in the comfort and warmth of your sheets. I thought about all those times I’ve laughed with friends and thought “it doesn’t get much better than this.” Or when you reach the end of a good book, and you just kind of hover for a moment between the reality of what you just read and the reality of your own life, in a kind of blissful, suspended limbo.

As I thought about those moments, though, I wondered to myself, were they really perfect?

Did I even want them to be? The thing about experiencing the perfect moment is that, every moment thereafter, you will never quite feel as good as you did when you first realized it. You will always try to top that perfect moment, but there will always be something missing. So what’s wrong with never experiencing the perfect moment? What’s wrong with there kind of always being something missing from every moment you ever experience? You can spend the rest of your life always seeking out that missing piece, coming across amazing, wonderful, blissful, precious moments all along the way, and never really lose anything.

So, Sandy, to answer your question, I don’t think I have experienced the perfect moment, and I don’t think I ever will. If I were to chose any specific moment to relive on repeat, it wouldn’t be because that moment was perfect. It would be because I’d want to relive that fleeting moment of imperfection, and experience it differently every time, always with the excitement of knowing that it will never be the same.