Deep thinking...?

I can’t wait to see the new Star Trek. I am so excited to see it. I thought it was kind of funny that some of the purists don't like the new film because it doesn't stay true to the original cannon. I prefer to think of it as a different interpretation of Gene Roddenberrys vision. It’s a different take on the original cannon so to speak. I am looking forward to the newer look. I believe William Shatner said to the die hard trekkies or trekkers or whatever the hell they are called "to get a life." I can understand why maybe the purists to the original series may not like the new version. Maybe it’s like some people when they make a book into a movie. If I see the movie version I hardly ever leave satisfied. I'll always love the book version no matter what and it irritates me what Hollywood does to my idea of story. If they ever made a movie version of Thursday Next series, I'd probably cause a riot. Characters are foremost belong to the author, but they can also belong to the readers or viewers in the case of Star Trek in a different way. They are peoples heroes they love the story that the author created so much any tampering or changing in there opinion maybe considered a downright assault or attack on their imagination and there emotional connections to the character and the story.

It kind of reminds me of Roland Barthes and his idea that there are no authors only readers and the author is the first reader. So the author created the characters and story and sees it one way, but different individuals would see it differently than the next individual. So could Hollywood merely just be another reader and putting a different text out there to be interpreted by more readers, to the point that the meaning and the original meaning of it is endlessly deferred. Like Jacques Derrida’s example of how meaning is endlessly deferred and compared it to the dictionary, that there is no same meaning for the same thing. So the story or the text the author started out with is totally different than what he or she intended. Does this mean there is no such thing as creative enterprise if not seen how it’s intended and is there a such a thing as an original idea? Is there an author? Is there only creative readers?

Case in point I am ultimately putting to much thought into this subject again. Of course all of this is purely my opinion. I digress, I like Star Trek, but I am not obsessed and if I look at it as a different interpretation of the idea then it doesn't bother me too much, because I to am a reader and different than all the others readers out there in my views and interpretations of books as well as a Star Trek.

I almost got hit by a car last night. It was so close I could feel the front tire right by my foot! The groceries I had in my bag were damaged. A box of granola bars were dented right in and my bread was flattened into an unspeakable mass. It was a close call and I got me thinking what if? It was the scariest thing I've had happen in my life, including the time when I was eight and I was electrocuted by my great grandfather’s night light that he gave me. It's safe to say I've had two near death experiences now. It's kind of creepy. It makes me wonder if there is a set time for everyone to enter the world and then to leave it. I hope I leave peacefully and that I am content with how I lived my life when it happens, but I think everyone wants that. I don't think we have a choice in the matter sadly. Much like the act of reading and everyone’s different interpretations and views on it. I have no choice how people will read my work and I have no choice about when I die, but at least being a writer I leave myself and my words behind for others to read and interpret. Funny how I bring a near death experience back to reading and writing, maybe it’s because it’s a BIG part of my life. It’s what I do and enjoy whilst I am living.

Again…thinking about things way to deeply again.

P.S. I write at work, but not for work so I am technically being paid to write, but merely for my own amusement. :P

13/100 entries

Ketchup the Writerer

People make me so angry sometimes. So annoyed that I may never go to a particular restaurant ever again! Why can’t my brother go anywhere with out some douche bag judging him?

Here is the story:

Mom, Tony and I were at Pizza Hut having lunch. Tony loves pizza and he was particularly happy because he won a race against me to get there. The idea was I’d pick up some books I ordered from the book store and see if I would beat him and my mom there, which he did. Mom ordered him the buffet and because he is independent and likes to do things himself, he got his own food. Mom offered to help, but knowing if she interfered he would get irritated and cause a big upset. He has one ear splitting scream and is known to throw, lie down on the floor and not get up, etc, etc…On Tony’s second trip, (we sent him to get more pizza and pasta so he would not eat our own pizzas) he came back to the table with his plate heaping full of pizza, breadsticks, pasta and dripping with salad dressing. (He loves salad dressing) and the store owner no less, got mad at him for dripping on the floor, saying my mom should have been helping him and she would have gotten him a tray and blahbeddy blah. My mom went up to her and tried to explain that he was special needs and wanted to be independent so to avoid a meltdown she let him try on his own, but the lady wouldn’t listen. She made Tony feel like a little kid, less than human and talked about him like he wasn’t even there. I knew Tony understood when he started worrying and compulsively cleaning up the spills on the table, followed by profusely apologising. This however, wasn’t as bad as some incidents.

About six of seven years ago, I was at the movie theatre with my family and my brother excited about seeing Spiderman was being a bit loud, a bit too loud for some cantankerous overweight feral, (I could use much stronger words…) Became upset with my brothers behaviour and demanded that my brother be quiet or leave! A shouting match, mixed with curse words ensued starting with mom and ending with mom, me and the ugly man caused such a ruckus we were all asked to leave. This man said something I will never forget. “Put him into a cage where he belongs!” These words still haunt me to this day. I can hear him say it as clear as a bell. It still makes me angry.

Normality is a confounding subject. Why is it if you are not normal you’re expected to either attempt as much as possible to achieve normality or become invisible so the supposed norm isn’t interrupted by your difference? As far as I’m concerned normal, as well as its synonyms shouldn’t even be available in the English language. The thing I loved most about most of my university classes is that lectures banned the use of it or encouraged students to come up with a different word.

Also why are special needs people treated differently? It’s like they are there, but no one wants to see them at the same time. It’s like the olden days when my mom said children were seen not heard. It’s the same for special needs people. I got hell from a lady with a big family and a car heaping full of stuff because I sent her away when I was closing my till at work on day, not because she was trying to be sneaky and go through because apparently if there is no “lane closed sign she can.” (We have different rules on that matter). She was mad because when a lady with her special needs son came to my till shortly after and not immediately noticing my lane closed sign asked if they could come though I said it was OK. Why? Because I have a soft spot for special needs children. I know how tough it is when you are shopping with someone with disabilities, (the stares you get for starters), but I know that some special needs children like my brother when they are over stimulated or something is bothering them, they tend to have meltdowns. I was trying to help the lady hopefully avoid this, meanwhile thinking hoping that I am not being to presumptuous about her son and his disabilities and what not.

So of course when the lady with the family noticed she said. “Oh you can help her, but not us?” The way she suggested it to me sounded like it was a just on lady not a mother or aid-worker with a special needs child. I felt like I was being ostracised because I wouldn’t help a normal family. So I said “she only had a few items and they have strict rules at work that you must be done on time”, but I left the special needs thing out because the lady with her special child was still there and I didn’t her to think I was just helping the mother because her son was special needs. I wanted to help because I felt it was the right thing to do! After all of this the lady with a big cart of stuff had the nerve to say I was prejudice because she was Native American. First off this had nothing to do with race, the lady and her son were East Indian, not that it matters. It had nothing to do with the amount of stuff she had. If I am prejudice it’s against people who have no tolerance towards the handicapped or play the stupid race card. I digress…I told other cashiers and some other associates and they said I did a nice thing. So there lady with big family cart full of stuff who tries to sneak into my till and then thinks I am racist! Rah! If she did end up complaining I’d tell them the big long spiel I wrote down. LANE CLOSED!

Hopefully I am done ranting on this subject! However, if I were in politics or what ever I’d definitely campaign for special needs people! They need more funding to make things accessible for them enjoy life like anyone else, they need respect. They are human too, but I guess some people are so wrapped up in their normal lives they forget about them, don’t see them or don’t care about them or anything abnormal and in the end it makes me very sad.

I guess this is random putting up a story after my long ranting session, but it kind of has to do with being prejudice. The character Kassy is treated like dirt because she can’t write to either Carly’s or James standards. Kassy is one who thinks she is a writer, but isn’t. Although I don’t think I put that in this fragment. It is because of this she is seen as abnormal and one of the characters James in particular is mean to her because of it. While Carly knows the behaviour is inexcusable she still lets it continue for some reason…almost amused by it, acting like its not even happening. I read too much into my stuff I guess.

Monday, August 15, 2005

Ketchup the Writerer

James sits across from me as surly as ever, Sam sits beside me rolling a ball point pen back and forth across the table. The pen clicks and clacks as it rolls. He was lost in thought, absorbed in his own world as usual. I sit there staring into space.
“Carly!” (a voice behind me) Kassy the Writerer exclaims.
“How are you?” she asks.
“I’m fine,” I reply.
James glares at her, his eyes squinting though his black framed glasses, his chocolate brown eyes dark and mean.
“Hi James!” she waves her hand up in friendly wave.
He stares back at her. “Did any of us say you could sit down with us?”
“I-I haven’t sit down yet,” she replies awkwardly.
“Well are you going to sit down or what?”
She slowly sits on the chair beside me.
“I J-just wrote another chapter in my story,” Kassy says attempting to make conversation.
Sam continues to roll the pen.
“Is this your friend?” She asks pointing at Sam. She smiles awkwardly.
“Oh yeah,” I reply. “He is my fiancé, Sam,” I smile awkwardly.
The pen stops rolling. Sam looks at me.
“Uh Sam, this is Kassy. Kassy this is Sam,” I say.
“Oh…”
Whapp! A ketchup packet thuds on her left ear.
James smirks, Sam snorts, I sigh, Kassy cries.
“James are you bored or something?”
“The ketchup hurt me,” Kassy sobbed.
“Are you allergic to tomatoes?” Sam asks.
“No, just ketchup,” she replies.

P.S. I’ve been writing more lately :)

12/100!!!

Forget Breakfast!

One of the few things that I’ve had a consistent habit or relationship with since I can remember is my alarm clock, to be more specific the snooze button. Even the alarm clock changes, whether it be an old battered one (no thanks to my brother throwing it several hundred times) I had for about 7 years, a cheap $2 analogue from the Warehouse, the one on my mobile phone or the new one I got this past Christmas. The snooze button and I have always made contact, which I think is rather excessive. One may press the snooze button 1 or 2 times. I seem to push it at least 7 or more in the morning. I think the record was 2 hours before I finally got out of bed and I had 30 minutes to get ready for work. It’s such a bad habit; I used to leave myself with 20 minutes till I had to be out the door to work. I just like sleep or maybe I just like to press the snooze button for no apparent reason. I am safe in my bed, the world hasn’t tainted me yet and made me bitterer or annoyed with life that it already has.

For example, I set my alarm for 8:30 a.m. to give some time to get ready for the bus at 10:30a.m.…I kept pushing the snooze button till 9:50 a.m.! I played musical alarm clock for almost an hour and 20 minutes. I went from alarm clock, to bed, to dream land to being woken up by alarm clock, to pressing the snooze button, then back to bed and so the cycle continued. Meanwhile my dog Sydney curled into a ball at my feet shifted behind my legs so I wouldn’t keep disturbing every 9 minutes that I got up to press the snooze button once again. Meanwhile I vaguely remember Sydney looking at me occasionally in my zombie state, saying with those cute little brown eyes, “no really Melissa how long is this going to go on?”

So how do I break this incredibly bad habit? How do I get up shut my alarm off, ignore the snooze button and stay away from my bed? I swear if I could, my mornings would be much less stressed.

Ironically I found a story that mirrors my relationship with the alarm clock…It’s a Carly fragment. :P I also want to make a note that any story I write or post on here is entirely copyrighted!

Thursday, July 28, 2005

Forget Breakfast!

The sun beats down on me as I walk along the dusty road. No one is in sight. The heat attacks me making me sweat, my lips dry.
I come to a cliff I see a shadowy figure.
“Sam,” I ask.
He turns around. His hazel eyes light up. He smiles
“Carly?” he replies.
His tanned skin glistens from sweat. His smell amazing, I am drawn to him.
He gazes into my eyes and leans into me for a passionate kiss.
“Beep!”
“Rrrringgg!”
The alarms clocks go off.
I sit up in a daze. It was only a dream.
“Carly…!” my roommate Noel screams.
I smack the alarm clocks.
“ringgg…” I shove it to the ground.
Complete silence.
I miss him. I love him and now its too late.
I quickly get dressed. I dash out of my bedroom.
Crash! I tripped over something big and squishy. Its my brother Tony what’s he doing here?
Tony continues to sleep, unaware that I almost dilapidated myself. It’s a gift in our family. We sleep like hibernating bears. (or bears in hibernation.) My massive brother rolls over and continues to snore.
I kick him.
“Tony!”
“Grawlbhlik,” he answers.
I walk over to the kitchen. The microwave tells me I have five minutes before I need to leave for work.
Forget Breakfast!

P.S. The world’s worst weapon is the tongue. Words said the wrong way are like a thousand poisonous pointy spears. Now I know what all the literary theorist where on about when they mentioned the anxiety of language…

11/100 entries...89 more to go :S

Honeydew Mellon

Have you ever had a conversation on msn that abruptly ends? I mean your talking and then all of a sudden you run out of things to talk about and then its just silence for what seems like ever and then every 10 – 20 minutes you ask if they are there and they reply yes...then someone says some thing random like “I’m bored.” Or “I’m tired.” Then once again the silence continues. Its like the two people in the conversation couldn’t be bothered to talk to each other anymore and can’t figure out a polite way to say I’m talk to you later or I’m going now….Its just silence, no clicking of the keyboard, no nothing. It makes me feel anxious because I think, they may think that I am ignoring them or that I don’t want to talk to them anymore. The thing is I do, but I have run out of something to say to them. Finally after the conversation has stagnated, I just say I’m going to bed or they don’t even bother to say good bye and you see they have gone offline. I feel kind of bad the conversation peaked, and then dwindled into oblivion with random small talk until it was finally over. Sometimes being merely side track results in the death of the conversation itself.

A prime example of this is conversations with my friend Carol. We both seem to think our lives are so boring that we run out of things to talk about. We have the occasional running of the getting out of frustrations and advice giving but after an hour if its on a particular day where nothing exciting happened the conversation usually ends up stagnating and its not because we don’t like to talk to each other. I think we just run out of stuff to talk about or feel we have nothing to talk about. However I think we are interesting but we fail to see it as we are so wrapped up in the “my life is boring all I do is eat, sleep and work.”

I miss the conversations I had with my friend Chris where we’d talk about anything. We actually would have conversations that started and finished. For starters and in no particular order, we talked about:

1. You're face!
2. Boobies
3. Random garbles of words e.g. adhfdshfsdjlkdsfjdslkjfdslkjdfslkjdslk;
4. Flat to Myself movie trilogy.
5. Carol/Philis like stories.
6. Occasional moments of advice, usually about my obsessions, but hardly ever about his. (I feel bad about that)
7. ANYTHING Song of the Superheroes related this includes Fizzy Lemonade and its upcoming possible sequels. One time we had an msn conversation in which we role played. I was Sarah Evans and he was Fergus and we having a mock interview. These conversations went on for hours. HOURS!
8. Other stories we were working on that was not Song of the Superheroes related.
9. Random hellos and plans for the next day (Whilst in Australia of course, better yet Rockhampton!)
10. Reminders to update ones blog “DATE UP! DATE UP! DATE UP! DATE UP! NOW! NOW! NOW! NOW!”
11. Sometimes romantical woes.
12. Other friends, but not in a bad behind your back way. For example, with one friend being in another city, it was merely an informational thing.
13. Literary and cultural theories.

Being that I am on about msn and it reminds me of script format. I thought I should post a short script story I wrote. Seeing as the idea of April is to showcase my unfinished stories...

Monday, May 28, 2007
Honeydew Mellon

Sam is picking vegetables in the food produce aisle at a local grocery store. Frank wanders behind Sam.
Frank: You know what? One time I bought a pineapple.
Sam: (Jumps, is a bit startled as he isn’t expecting company.) Oh I see…
Frank: Yes it tasted good.
Sam: (Standoffishly) Oh course…
Frank: It tasted like pineapple.
Sam: What else would it taste like? (Tries to get away from the insane nerd)
Frank and Sam are now in vegetable aisle hovering past the fruits.
Frank: I thought it would taste like pine trees and apples but it tasted much different.
Sam: OK…How about trying this honeydew melon? (Hand the green melon to Frank.)
Frank: A honey flavoured melon that’s ingenious!

My thoughts: I wrote this almost two years ago! I was still in Australia! I like this story fragment! I’ve decided I will not dig up anything past 2005 because before that was kind of (in my opinion) horrendous. Mind you I am my own worst critic.

Oh yeah and this is entirely random but a flatmate briefly had a cute little dog called Honey Dew Mellon, but she was called Honey.

P.S. I found out that in high school I was considered a walking dictionary. Just ask one of my old high school classmates.

10/100 entries...

read own risk Grammar demons beware

9 out of 100 entries…

Well its late, 12 am late. I’m tired, but not tired. My mind is full of thoughts…

Lately I feel like people think I am stupid, shy reserved. Someone actually referred to me as “timid.” Another said I have a “soft heart”…I think people know I don’t have an adequate backbone so they play on it. At work I am apparently known as the quiet one who reads books. I have a vendetta against assumptions. They irritate me. What irks me more is that I sometimes think I secretly agree with what people think of me and I am annoyed with myself for thinking that I am stupid.

Lately I can’t remember my dreams. They are all garbled. Usually I don’t like dreaming. I have anxiety of what my subconscious will display to me in my slumber and occasionally it causes me insomnia because I don’t want to dream. Occasionally I have a really cool, weird dream that results in a story idea and I hope for them often, but lately if I dream they feel like I am in some mild sort of delirium and I cannot remember a thing. I took my special dreams for granted and now I have seemed to have lost them. Grrrr….Hopefully they will come back!

Anyways the reason why I am on the subject of dreams is because my next story fragment deals with a character dreaming. However, I did not dream it (if that makes any sense) but I did write it? I actually remember writing it too, how I felt awkward trying to write horror, I’ve long since abandoned that genre. I’ve settled more into far fetched fiction. When I found it, the file was called. “Qlever Queen read own risk Grammar demons beware.” I can kind of see why. By the way “Qlever is supposed to be Clever.” I used to think that clever was spelt with a q. I even found a comment I made on it 3 years before. :P

Qlever Queen (unofficial title)
Written: Saturday, October 26, 2002
Poem written: Thursday, October 24, 2002

She grabs me by my neck and holds me to the ground. She blows green smoke at me that smells like fish. It is cold and I realize that I am in the woods.
“Face your fears and the stronger you will become,” said a voice.
“Maria?” I said.
The decaying woman becomes more visible underneath the flesh I see Nelda.
“Nelda?” I said.
“Danny, you know me?” she said.
“Of course,” I replied.
“You don’t know how long I have loved you,” she said, as her nose fell off and an ear too.
“I am sorry I don’t feel the same,” I said.
“Go then,” she said. “I hope you know what you did to me.” More flesh fell off.
“Danny,” said the voice. “Run!”
A path was lit in green. It was narrow and hard to see, but you would run too if you were me.
“Danny, this way,” I heard it again.
“Maria!” I said. I saw her crying and then she grabs me.
“Wake up,” she commands me.
I wake up in a terrible sweat, shaking.
“You’re still dreaming,” said Maria in a creepy voice.
“What!” I said.
“You need to face your fears, so you called the friend that you hold dear,” she replied. “Except I am not Maria I am Qlever Queen.”
“You told me never to forget you,” I said still shaking.
“So that’s why I am here. I am sure wish I remembered.”
“If you told me to wake up, why am I still dreaming?” I asked.
“Well you were supposed to but you didn’t listen so I brought you here so she couldn’t get to you.”
“A shamrock is fearless you have to defeat your fear.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“You have inner strength take something that is powerful from you and use it.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“You will know when you have too. I think I am a clue to what it is.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“I am still your friend right?”
“Yeah.”
“I have to go I can’t do it for you.”
Qlever Queen disappears, green cape, chocolate brown hair and sad eyes.)
The door glows green and bursts open.
“Did you think you could get away so fast?” she said menacingly.
She grabs me and pushes me out the window. I thought, I don’t want to fall out I wont let her get me. I stop in mid air and come back in the window. I look to see the broken glass rebuilding its self piece by piece, like a puzzle.
“Qlever Queen,” said Nelda “Why won’t he love me?”
“Because he loves someone else,” she replied.
“I wish too know who. I want her to appear so I can tell her that he is mine not hers.”
“Qlever Queen looks at her. Her eyes roll back. And she says, “Go ahead and tell me.”
I feel a shock, something I have never felt before.
“First off he doesn’t belong to anyone,” she said. “He belongs to himself.”
“Qlever Queen I want to kiss him weither he wants to or not.”
My mind goes blank. She grabs me and kisses me. Picture this, moulding decaying lips, green teeth and a slimy black tounge. Worst thing is I swallowed her tounge. I spit it out.
“Curly caught your tounge,” said Qlever Queen laughing.
The tounge squirms all over the floor. My mouth tasted like icy soap.
All of a sudden I am in a bathroom.
“Need toothpaste and brush?” asked Qlever Queen.
I quickly grab it and start brushing my teeth. It didn’t get better it got worse. Instead of minty fresh, I got stinky breath. I looked on the paste label it said “fish paste.”
“I love it when a man’s breath smells like fish,” said Nelda, now falling apart even more. She picks her tounge up off the floor and sticks it back in her mouth.
“That’s better,” she said.
“Don’t you think I am more beautiful now?”
I looked in the mirror and saw what she thought she looked like. Instead of a decaying girl, it was Tabitha.
“Tabitha all a long,” I said stunned.
“Do you want to kiss me now?” she asked.
“Not really,” I said.
“To bad,” she grabs me and kisses me again. It was even worse than before. One of her eyes fell out.
“Oh excuse me a minute,” she said picking it up and putting it back in the socket.
“Looking at you with two eyes is better than one.”
Qlever Queen starts to say a poem.

I look out the window
And see his face.
His golden brown hair
And how he walks with grace.
I don’t think he knows
How much I care
His eyes are full of
Beauty and light.
I try not to think about him with all my might.
His brown eyes are soft
And warm.
My love grows stronger
Like a thunder storm.
To have him embrace
Me in his arms is my will.
But, I know in my heart
His love belongs to someone else
Still.
I don’t care if he smells
Like fish.
To have one kiss would
Be my wish
I know he is the one for
Me
He is the only one I see
I look out the window
And I see his face.

“My love belongs to someone still,” I said. Maria I thought.
“No you can’t,” she screamed.
I look at poor Nelda.
“If only you could see what I see,” I said.
She looks in the mirror and screams.
I open the door and start to go.
She collapses to the floor and starts to cry.
“No one loves me,” she cried.
“Nelda, someone loves you,” I said.
“Why don’t you love me?” she asked.
“Because I love someone else,” I said.
“I grab some tissue and wipe her eyes.
“I wish I didn’t feel so bad,” she said.
“Everyone feels bad sometimes,” I said.
“I am sorry,” she said.
“Its OK I am still your friend,” I said.
“You’re my friend?” she said looking at me happily.
“Your nose is running.” I hand her a tissue.
“Thanks I needed that,” she said. “Do you think in a few years you will change your mind?” she asked.
“No I am sorry,” I said. “Do you think you might change your mind?”
“Maybe,” she said.
“You know I think I saw Michael eying you,” I told her.
“Really, the turtle geek?” She started to smile. “Wow Michael.”
“You can go now. I will be OK,” she said.
“OK,” I said. “I will see you at school tomorrow.”
“Yes you most certainly will,” she replied.
“Good,” I said, as I walked out the door.
I woke up for real this time I looked at the clock 5 a.m. Time to get up.

My thoughts: This story needs work. It is crap! I think it should be changed to Clever Queen. Not to mention Qlever Queen disappears than moments later reappears. It makes no sense. This calls for a re-write – Thursday, February 2, 2006

My thoughts: I find this story amusing! What’s with all the body parts falling off of poor Nelda? Hopefully this part would be written after I attempted to explain what a shamrock was. I do agree that a re-write is in order or perhaps consideration to be re-written and place someplace else? Or maybe just read from time to time for mere amusement? It is still nonsensical AND the tenses are mixed up too! – Sunday, April 12, 2009

Maybe tomorrow I will dig up something from 2003....

P.S. I can’t believe I used to think clever was spelt with a q.

Invisiblness Syndrome...Nooooo Invisiblness isn't a word!

8/100 (92 more entries to go...)

Well it appears that I have written before the month is over, which is more than I can say for March. I’ve been so down the last few months even the things I once loved deeply such as writing in my blog just for the sake of spouting out pointless dribble about my life and thoughts seemed to be more of a chore than an escape or a procrastination method that it once was. I hope this will change in the future.

Today I started reading some of my old stories. Some of them as old as 6 – 7 years old, I find them amusing and I wonder what I was thinking at the time. Therefore I think April should be old stories month… I am going to post an old piece of a story that I have long forgotten about and review it …It’s a month of fragments starting with this random one from 2002 the year I realised that I wanted to be a writer.

Invisiblness Syndrome
Written: Sunday, September 1, 2002

“You said you were my friend,” said Alex.
“Exactly,” said Maria friend as in friend,” said Maria, “Not the other kind of friend..”
“What kind of friend is there?” questioned Alex.
“We’re too different,” said Maria.
“If we were meant to be, I would no longer be invisible.”
Alberticus walks in the room.
“Maria where are you?” he said. “I forgot to tell you that I would be late.”
“Bert, this isn’t a good time,” said Alex glaring at Bert looking at him like he was intruding.
“How do you know?” said Alex, “no matter what you will never be invisible to me.”
Maria did not answer she just stared blankly at him.
“Are you sure about us being different?” asked Alex.
“Who’s different?” asked Bert.
“I was talking to Maria,” Alex retorted.
“Yes I am. I am invisible. If you noticed me, you could see me right now.”
“Well you don’t look so invisible to me,” said Bert. “You’re right in front of me.”
Maria did not answer. She just stood for a moment, thinking, wow my invisibilness syndrome has worn off.
“You don’t deserve to be invisible,” said Bert. “No matter how invisible you are, you will always be my friend.”
“What?” said Alex.
“No, I really was invisible. It wasn’t a metaphor for how I feel,” said Maria.
“Oh you had invisiblness syndrome,” replied Alberticus. “My grandpa had that.”
“Invisibliness isn’t at word,” retorted Alex. “Its invisibility and there is no such thing as being invisible. It is feeling invisible.”
“Oh, How would you know?” said Maria “Ghosts are invisible.”
“And see through,” added Bert.
“There is no such thing as ghosts,” said Alex.
“Yes there is. Just because you can’t see them doesn’t mean they don’t exist,” said Maria.
“Yeah, how do you know?” asked Bert. “You’re not a ghost.”
“Neither are you,” said Alex.
“You are an amazing person why can’t you see that?” insisted Alex.
“Well I am sure she can see,” said Bert rolling his eyes.
“See what?” said Maria looking at Alberticus amusingly.
“That you are way more amazing then you think,” said Bert.
“That’s just a rephrase of what I said,” said Alex.
“I was not finished,” said Bert.
“Oh really,” said Alex rudely.
“Yes and I wasn’t repraisng you.”
“Rephrase,” said Alex.
“Whatever Alex,” replied Bert.
“What meant was Maria doesn’t see the Maria I see,” explained Bert. “Besides she can’t be herself the way you want her too.”
“Oh shut up Alberticus,” snapped Alex.
“She was invisible before you noticed she was there,” said Bert. “What would make you decide to like her now?”
“Maybe I couldn’t see what was important before,” said Alex.
“Well I noticed her first. She went invisible because I forgot her. I forgot her name,” said Bert.
“You wouldn’t understand Alex,” said Maria.
“I am sorry Maria,” Bert said sadly.
“I am sorry too,” replied Maria. “I never realized how cool you are. I really like your hair.”
“Ahh,” said Alberticus smiling, as he pats Maria on the head. Maria smiles.
“Oh please, you pat a dog or a cat on the head,” said Alex sounding annoyed. “That stupid Curly patented approach you think you could do something more original.”

My thoughts: What the? I don’t remember writing this at all. Although I do vaguely remember thinking about these characters for this story idea I was obsessed about since I was 15. There seems to be an invisible love triangle going on at an indistinguishable location, with unseen description to add to the banter of constant dialogue. I have no idea where they are and what they are doing. Although I just remembered it might be taking place at a dinning room where they work. Probably should have mentioned that. I have no emotional attachment to this story fragment. If I do it is invisible if you get my drift. Maybe that’s why I don’t remember writing it. I do notice how I am still a fan of characters talking. If you ever notice sometimes in my stories, there is A LOT of dialogue but it’s pretty slim on the description. Oh yeah and Alberticus is a cool name. :P Other than that I hate this story.

Till next time…

P.S. Don’t you think I haven’t forgotten about my New Year’s resolution to post 100 entries by 2010! This is entry 8 out of the hopeful 100, which means I would have to post at least 11- 12 times a month in the next eight months, which means I better get cracking. This will be one resolution I want to keep!

Blog Neglect!

It’s almost and hour till March is over. So I’ll make this blog post quick.

I am guilty of blog neglect and for that I should be entirely ashamed. ENTIRELY ASHAMED!

But I am sick, with a cold.

Sick of being sick.

But still alive!

Holding on to whatever sanctity I have left. (If there is any?)

THE END!

For some reason writing this reminds me about my brother. One time when he frequented my computer to quench is Paper Mario, Final Fantasy, Banjo Kazooie, etc, etc, obsession he took note of the many Microsoft word documents on my computer one day and inquired about them. I said it was my writing, my stories and he seemed ecstatic and pleased with me and said. “Good girl Melissa, Good Job Melissa!” Then preceded by giving me a good pat on the back. Which goes to show he is smarter than he lets on.

Maybe, just maybe remembering that should be sufficient motivation to return to my craft? I guess you could say I miss Tony a lot.

P.S. Perhaps a summary of interesting events that occurred during the past month should be in order?

P.P.S. I am sick

P.P.P.S.S. Cashiers more for the crap they have to put up with.

MY ENTIRE MIND!

I keep losing things lately as of now my winter hat and my brush is missing, wait I merely looked a second and found my hat lying in the laundry basket. Perhaps if I look there my brush will be there too? Had a quick look and it is still missing.

Another thing I seem to be losing at an alarming rate, my entire mind. MY ENTIRE MIND! When people ask me how I am doing or what are my plans I keep saying I’m good or I am up to nothing really, but want I really want to say is I am waiting for my life to start again. It has seemed to come to an abrupt halt. A complete standstill… and the things that shouldn’t be worrying me are and those that should aren’t. For instance I couldn’t give a crap about student loans and whether or not they take my money, after it was there money that got me too Australia in the first place.

I’ve been trying to get back to my writing but I am just stumped. I have all these ideas stuck in my head just itching to get out, but I can’t place them into words.I have this sneaky habit of having a story idea, starting to write about it but then putting it aside because for starters.

a) I get bored with it
b) I get stumped. I am unsure of how the story progresses next. I guess this is a classic case of writers block.
c) I write fragments of the stories as they come to me and I have no idea of how to piece them all together. One time I wrote the ending first, but I couldn’t figure out where the beginning starts or if a story even has a beginning, but merely a starting point.
d)I start to hate it because it just gets on my nerves causing me to get frustrated with the piece I am working on.
e) I forget about it.
f) I focus too much on the characters to the point that I am not sure how to do them justice. It’s hard to explain.
g) This sounds weird but the characters don’t like what I am writing or additional characters I am adding.

I’ve only really finished one story, but it still feels like I am not done it at the same time. I always wonder is a story ever finished? Oh wells I hope you enjoy my writing and reviews are always nice.

Then there is the fact that I don’t own the English language in which I am creating these supposed stories. I don’t even own the symbols that make the language possible. No one does and if you want technical not a single thought is possible without it. Lacan even said it. There is no self, no thought without language. And I think it was Barthes who postulated that we don’t own language. So I am I stealing or something, or just merely existing in a system of signs unaware of the power of words I use and the anxiety that comes with the use of language. Not mention there is no author only readers and I am a first reader. Case in point I am rambling. The English language, better yet language and the art of using it creatively in stories confounds me.

P.S. Ummmm…..Its my 200th post in this blog.

How I spent my Sunday Afternoon.

Today I saw a movie that brought me back to my fascination with cultural analysis type days back at university.

Anything for Love (also known as Just One of the Girls, a Canadian film :P) is a story about Chris Cadler a musically talented and rather effeminate teenage boy who falls in love with the stereotypically blonde beautiful Marie Stark while pretending to be a girl to escape a bully. I see this movie dealing more with sexual identity and the stereotypical gender codes we are forced to follow rather than a stereotypical teen romantic comedy, which just proves that I read too much into stuff.

Chris and his friend Dan are frequently victimized by Kurt and his gang of followers. Kurt is a a rough creepy fellow who seems to have a fetish for dominating others where it be his friends who aid in his bullying or others. He wears tight jeans and leather which brings a certain negative stereotype to life. Kurt is the epitome of hyper masculinity. More about him later…

Chris enrols in Bentley high school for their music program. Soon it is found out that his tormentor Kurt also attends the school. On his first day of attendance he can’t even make in the front door with out Kurt harassing him. So he devises a plan to get in the front door. With the help of his sister and perhaps the inspiration of a person he saw on the bus that may or may not be transsexual. (She looked very Mrs. Lachlans’ Mumish.) Chris decides to dress like a female and soon as he is inside he change back. His plan is amazingly successful. However, he encounters two teachers while dressed as a girl and somehow gets stuck in this role, something I don’t understand because his disguise is transparent. I could tell he was a guy dressed in drag and he seemed to have no qualms with acting like a female. Despite this Chris is constantly trying to keep up with the charade with somewhat humorous and stereotypical results.

Nearly everyone is deceived. Marie becomes his best friend after Chris helps her escape from her boyfriend John who constantly pressures her to have sex with him when she is not ready. This part kind of reminded me of a scenario in health class, where everyone had to watch the videos on abstinence or waiting till we were ready, the ones with cheesy story lines and bad acting. There were several of these types of moments in the entire movie. THE ENTIRE MOVIE! Even more so when John dumps her for not going all the way, it is implicit that he is an asshole, but that is typical male behaviour that is somewhat a given and could and would be expected from a teenage boy. Marie’s typical female response is to be all sad and emotive about it. Marie wants it to be special, while because John is a guy just wants to have the physical side of it.

Marie even convinces Chris to join the cheerleading squad, at first he declines, but when told he could potentially spend a weekend with cheerleaders he accepts because being a boy he clearly likes to ogle womanly bits. It is this attraction to the opposite sex, which is seen as a problem with his sexual identity by the gym teacher/councillor Ms. Glatt who noticed him gazing at other girls whilst cleaning showers. It is because of these perversions his secret is discovered. When she speaks to Chris she assumes that he is merely a lesbian, trying to hide her secret feelings. While having the discussing in her office Chris assumes that she is talking about him being a male and dressing as a girl. When he reveals himself she freaks out because apparently dressing in woman’s clothing is a completely different matter. Chris quickly pointed out that there was no difference and made up a story about him having a fetish since he was 11. She suggests counselling to help him with his fetish for woman’s clothing.

However the part of the movie I found the most interesting was how Kurt is immediately attracted to Chris’s persona “Chrissy”. He becomes hopelessly love sick. Throughout the film he is constantly vying for “her” affections. Chris finds that he can use his feminine side to manipulate him as well as maybe play with emotions as well. Chris even asks his sister Julie if there is a way to manipulate him to do his own biding. In which she asks if me means to emasculate him. Chris is successful you see a change in Kurt’s appearance and his aggression slightly subsides. It is implied by Chris that Kurt is homosexual because he is always around guys and is constant need to dominate other guys and emasculate them, symbolically robbing them of their manhood by beating them and harassing them. It becomes more awkward when it is discovered that Kurt is Marie’s brother.

His parents seem oblivious to his activities, but once they are slowly unravelled his father Louis in particular becomes concerned, especially when Kurt brings him flowers and a love note when Chris is not at home. He immediately assumes Chris is in the middle of a gay love affair and hopes to God that Chris and Marie are sleeping together. He asks Chris if he is gay and says it’s OK, when its semi clear that it is, but it isn’t. Chris replies by telling him that it was just a joke, a way of Kurt harassing him. Eventually when Chris’s true intentions for dressing as a female are revealed his father replies by saying “you should have stood up to him (Kurt) I didn’t raise a sissy.” His father forbids him to go back to school like a girl and intends to transfer him to another school. Sadly Chris needs too stay at the school in order to attend a winter showcase, where talent agents are attending and could aid in his career as a musician, but his father is intent on him not becoming a female again to the point that he is almost irate.

When Chris finally comes out with the truth he is booed at by a crowed in a pep rally, slapped by Marie who misconceived his intentions a way to get into her pants and nearly beaten up by Kurt. Although Kurt’s reaction was more from embarrassment as he had no idea Chris was a girl. The stigma attached to being in love with a boy was clearly relevant throughout the film and oddly Chris doesn’t seem to be too worried about Kurt’s crush on him, more likely amused. Anyways, on a movie level it was somewhat better than some cross dressing type movies but like I said earlier a lot of scenes reminded me of health class. I found it to be kind of dull, a way to pass the time. It was sweet, but kind of sour as far as movie experiences go, utter tripe. However, on a cultural level I found it to be profoundly interesting especially Chris’s relationship with Kurt, both as a guy and as a girl, as well as the reactions from Chris’s parents and his teachers.

I could ramble on, but I will just leave it at that….so now you know how I spent my Sunday afternoon rather than going to church to apease my mom.

P.S. Alanis Morissette had an entire cameo in the movie I just talked about. AN ENTIRE CAMEO! She sings at the end!

It's been done!

So it finally happened. Something I for the last couple of years thought was necessary, nearly happened, then didn’t, something I never expected to see happen and it did. My brother has officially been put into care. I commend my mom for caring for him for so long. She gave up 17 years of her life.

It’s always been about him. I was the older sister, the second helper, the other sibling. There is nothing physically wrong with me so I often felt that I wasn’t important. As far as I am concerned I lost my mother when I was seven and I might as well of entered adulthood when I was 12. I wonder if other siblings of special needs children feel the same way I did Ignored, sometimes second class! I find it hard to explain what its like. You’re ignored but your not, you’re there but your not. You hurt because of it. You feel guilty for feeling this way and all at the same time you’re resentful of them, but love them dearly too. Sometimes it depresses you. I never even admitted these feelings most of the time. I don’t blame him for this. Its not his fault I feel the way I do. I love him no matter what.

I am very much interested in writing a book about this for some reason. Not just my experience but others out there too, the invisible ones. Maybe it’s because you always hear about the parents and their special needs child, but I’ve never read a story about their siblings. They are just as much part of the child’s life.

I won’t go into details of why this has happened, only that I know it had too. I surprised myself by being upset by it. I thought I would feel differently about it, but I don’t. I feel guilty, like I am aiding in giving up on a family member, the only family I have known is splitting apart. I still have my other family, but they are all far away. :( I miss my friends. I'll MISS Tony.

My little bro :)

P.S. I’ll never understand life. I just confounds me. I also hate my writing. Its turned to utter crap due to the fact that I have severe writers block.

Comming to terms

Have you ever been to the point in your life where it just doesn’t seem to be going the way you want it too? Then you suddenly realise it may or may not be your entire fault? I’ve gotten to that point. I’m alive, I am existing, but I am not living or happy…that’s pretty much it. So I guess this is where I say I am depressed. I admit it. I wish I could say this started after I left Australia, but I’ve felt this way since I was young. I think I am just coming to terms with it myself now. I am not sure what else to write at the moment…

So I guess what I really want to know is, is there anyone else out there that feels this way? Don't worry nothing will happen.

And now something to cheer this blog post up…I planned to post this upon my return to my native land but I never got around to it…



P.S. I clearly have a bad case of blogarrea or perhaps bloggers block. I apologise for this lack of entry.

Princess Jo!

Princess Jo, the character, the person and the Barbie doll?

It all started two years ago when I found a Barbie doll at a thrift store and for some strange reason decided to buy it. She had long blonde hair and pretty blue eyes. She reminded me of the Barbie in a colouring book that my brothers step mom gave me.

She sat on a shelf in my kitchen with all my other collectables; I wrapped her in a red neck scarf as I had no proper clothes for her. Then two years later while unpacking things I left behind when I went to Australia and I find her amongst the random junk I saved. That still makes no sense to me.

I constantly tried to fix the red scarf not sure how I managed to make her presentable back then. She sat on my bookshelf next to my computer desk. Finally I felt bad for her clothing impairment so I bought her a cheap pink princess like dress at the dollar store. Then I suddenly remembered the character and the person and Princess Jo was born. Princess Jo which of course you know stands for:

Pretty
Radical
Intelligent
Nice
Calligraphic
Eccentric
Silly
Sultry
Jovial
Oddity

As Princess Jo continued to sit near my computer desk, I was sometimes compelled to fiddle with her hair to see if I could make it more presentable. On Christmas Eve, I decorated the dress and hair with beads and buttons to make it more artistic. I was intent on turning her into an artistic piece. Then I was going to give her as a present to my moms special needs friend Erika, but I couldn’t do it. Suddenly this doll had some sort of sentimental value, which sadly had faded some by Christmas morning, but spawned a sudden fascination with my inner child.
Tony gave me a new Myscene Barbie doll, which I named Astrid Viola Morningstory for my brother’s amusement. Astrid was much nicer and prettier than Princess Jo. This caused to be PJ ignored to an extent. Later on Christmas evening Tony insisted I bring Astrid and Princess Jo out to play toys with him. PJ was degraded somewhat. She was forced to go on car rides with “GI Joe-Ken” and was danced around dizzy by Erika, then attacked by my dog Sydney, which supplied much amusement to Tony. Her new dress was damaged by rough handling from more than one party, not just the dog and her hair became out of place causing her to look like a mad woman. She was also accompanied by a broken earring and some lovely teeth mark in her face.

Luckily I restored her to her former glory. I fixed the dress and braided her hair. However, Tony still liked her ,calling her by name and inquiring if he could borrow her. I let him make use of her while he played with his toys. He was tickled pink that I was allowing him to play with something of mine. Sadly some days I would find her half dressed lying under the couch or defiled by my dog or in the process of being eaten by Sydney. I started sitting her on my dresser rather than near my computer because Tony insisted she sit with the other dollies. Despite her mistreatment I still allowed Tony to play with her, occasionally when I joined it I let Sydney in on the play too. He was the scary gromit her ate dollies. It became one of Tony’s favourite games. I didn’t mind any of this I figured she was an old doll so it didn’t really matter, but oddly she was still important.

Sadly Princess Jo’s life as a toy has expired. She ended up on the floor again a couple of evenings ago. I tried to save her from Sydney’s jaws of death and her head ripped off, breaking the piece that holds her head on. Sydney decapitated her because he hated her. THE END! Have I thrown her out yet? Nope she still sits on my dresser except she is holding her head in her pink lap. Suddenly her sentimental value has increased. I guess it’s safe to say that Princess Jo the character and Sydney might not get along either as for the person I have no idea. As for the spot the doll Princess Jo used to sit, I put a photo of the real one instead.

P.S. I started reading The Time Machine :P

Happy New You!

Happy New Year! (Sorry about the lateness...)

My brother says Happy New You! This has got me thinking, is each New Year that arrives is it a time to be a new you, to reinvent yourself?

2009: What does this year hold for me? What adventures and misadventures shall befall me? Well it certainly won’t be like 2008 starting out relatively good, then changing to good byes, stressfulness, frustration and emotional obscurity. It seems to be starting out the exact opposite.

But before I go on about 2009, perhaps I will share some of my insights, highlights and whatever else I can think of about 2008.

Highlights of 2008:

Finally getting a degree! Despite the fact I haven’t actually seen it yet. I hope it hasn’t got lost in the mail.

Going back to Canada. It’s been good, but it has also been a bit rough…

Finally finishing Song of the Superheroes or was that 2007? I know I finished it then but I believe I was still working out the kinks for months after…I can’t remember.

Best quotes of 2008:

“I wonder how old I will be when I am 50.”

This was said at the dinner table with Jim-Lady-Man Person and Sue-Woman, which resulted in Sue-Woman erupting in hysterics. I mean to say to my grandma. “I wonder how old you will be when I am 50.”

“It’s so romantic. I need some rope.”

I randomly said this to Elise-Woman/Lady. She was discussing her crush, which I thought was romantic and I had mentioned my issues with Officer Octogenarian. She told me to get some rope and “rope him in.” Somehow I put the two trains of thought together to make this random Melissaism.

“Someone is having a Barbeque!”

I was watching King Kong with Elise and Sam-Lady. Ironically it was at this very intense moment where the two main characters were going to kiss. I smelt the barbeque outside at the pool the Brazilians where having. I mentioned it at this moment enough said.

Best moments of 2008:

Finally seeing Carol after 2 years. I thought it would be awkward and our friendship was in the pits, but apparently not. In fact it seemed like things were almost better for some reason. Anyways it was awesome seeing her again.

Seeing my brother after 3 years and realising how friggen tall he has gotten!

Worst moments of 2008:

I won’t dwell on those….

2008: Good riddance too you!

I have a feeling 2009 will be better. Therefore I have decided to compile a a list of resolutions or goals for the coming year.

1. Let go of my frustrations and resentment. I keep it in until I explode into
   a) A flaming ball of bitchiness
   b) A red hot glowing Melissa
   c) A scarlety monster.
2. Work on my indecisiveness. Learn to make a decision because I want to make it, not because I want everyone to be happy with it or because I feel responsible to people it may affect. I’ve already done a lot of this to the point it embarrasses me.
3. Move out on my own.
4. Work on my relationship with my mom and brother.
5. Read:
   a) Something random, that I normally wouldn’t read or haven’t heard of.
   b) Something by Charles Dickens. I haven’t decided which book.
   c) Either 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea or Journey To the Centre of the Earth by Jules Verne
   d) The Time Machine by H.G. Wells.
   e) Ulysses by James Joyce
6. Finish Fizzy Lemonade by the end of the year. Maybe work on other stories?
7. Work at trying to get Song of the Superheroes finished.
8. Update my blog at least once or twice a week. I have a goal of 100 posts by 2010. I actually found half written blog entries that were never published. I've let some good ideas drift by too!
9. Get more exercise.
10. Try and save money and pay off debts.
11. De-clutter, donate or get rid of things I don’t need anymore. I’m a bloody pack rat.
12. Find my father and ask him his side of the story.
13. Repair relationships that were damaged.
14. Make new friends

Anyways, I hope I can stick to my very long list of resolutions or at least attempt some of them…

P.S. My fashion sense is just fine Jo! :P

Christmas shoppers ba humbug!

It’s hard to believe that a year ago, I was in Australia contemplating another Christmas without my family, constantly asked if I was going home for Christmas or why I wasn’t going home, etc… Now I am back in Canada, struggling to type this entry as my dog seems to have taken a liking to the computer.

Now Sydney has finally calmed down from trying to eat the mouse cursor on the screen and is lying on my lap keeping my legs warm, which is very useful on a day as cold as -30 with the wind chill.

It has also occurred to me that I am sitting at my computer, known T-Man in sight. Woot! I’ve officially banned him from it for awhile as:

A: He kind of ummm drools on it….
B: He hogs it on me and won’t let me back on it unless I am helping him on a part in a game he is having troubles on.
C: It turns him into a scarlety monster for some reason I haven’t figured out yet. Sorry but I don’t appreciate being hit because I tell him to get off.
D: And because I don’t quiet appreciate him using it without my permission or as soon as I get home from work and (I am barely in the front door!) it isn’t Hi Melissa how are you? It’s “Melissa computer?”

Anyways, on Saturday I successfully had my first breakdown. A customer was so mean to me that I actually cried.

It was all because this crabby feral looking lady didn’t want her son to see his Christmas presents and I was trying to help, but every time I thought I had it bagged enough she wanted another bag. (Yes because triple bagging is not an assault on the environment.) So I tried to help her but she is like no let me do it your holding the line up because there were at least 5 -6 behind her. She violently yanked at the bag I was holding and I accidentally said “You don’t have to be so grabby.” Then she went off her handle and insisted I was mouthing her off. The irony was she was mouthing me off. She was a fucking bitch! I admit I shouldn’t have said anything, but she didn’t have the right to flip out at me and then she ended her tirade with “I was trying to help you.” I managed to stay composed for three more customers and as soon as my line was cleared I burst into tears. It was embarrassing. Luckily another cashier from the front desk noticed and I sat and talked to the front end manager about what happened. I learnt that my quiet demeanour is advantageous because she found the bit about her mouthing me off hard to believe and I told other cashiers about it too and they said it was my job to bag the stuff I wasn’t doing anything wrong.

Then at the end of the line up I get a customer exactly like the first one, condescending, demanding and rude. I almost had it with people after her and I was about to go home or better yet hide under a large rock, but my manager asked me to stay an hour and half longer… I hate customers and sadly I actually wished bad things on a few customers. Nothing too evil mind you. Have people forgotten that I, the rest of the people I work with are human beings? ….guess not especially when I have heard customers refer to us as “workers.”

So….I attempted to avoid writing an angry type entry again, mostly about the trials and tribulations of being a cashier, but as you can see I have failed miserably. I could continue with the other half I was going to write, but I might get fired if they ever read my blog. Then I thought maybe I could write a Philis and Ashleigh used to be known as a Melissa and Carol story about them and meanwhile get out my frustrations in a humorous passive aggressive way. Then again I had this idea for a Christmas special, which I will draw on my negative experience and turn it into something positive for my friends and make light of the experience of being someone in the customer service industry.

I guess you could say customer service is the one profession that can turn me, as Joan would say “a red hot glowing Melissa.” I can’t wait for the Christmas shopping to be over…

P.S. Merry Christmas! I'll try to write more in the new year...

I'm Ingrid?

Your result for Are You a Jackie or a Marilyn? Or Someone Else? Mad Men-era Female Icon Quiz...

You Are an Ingrid!

You are an Ingrid -- "I am unique"

Ingrids have sensitive feelings and are warm and perceptive.

How to Get Along with Me

• * Give me plenty of compliments. They mean a lot to me.
• * Be a supportive friend or partner. Help me to learn to love and value myself.
• * Respect me for my special gifts of intuition and vision.
• * Though I don't always want to be cheered up when I'm feeling melancholy, I sometimes like to have someone lighten me up a little.
• * Don't tell me I'm too sensitive or that I'm overreacting!

What I Like About Being an Ingrid

• * my ability to find meaning in life and to experience feeling at a deep level
• * my ability to establish warm connections with people
• * admiring what is noble, truthful, and beautiful in life
• * my creativity, intuition, and sense of humor
• * being unique and being seen as unique by others
• * having aesthetic sensibilities
• * being able to easily pick up the feelings of people around me

What's Hard About Being an Ingrid

• * experiencing dark moods of emptiness and despair
• * feelings of self-hatred and shame; believing I don't deserve to be loved
• * feeling guilty when I disappoint people
• * feeling hurt or attacked when someone misundertands me
• * expecting too much from myself and life
• * fearing being abandoned
• * obsessing over resentments
• * longing for what I don't have

Ingrids as Children Often

• * have active imaginations: play creatively alone or organize playmates in original games
• * are very sensitive
• * feel that they don't fit in
• * believe they are missing something that other people have
• * attach themselves to idealized teachers, heroes, artists, etc.
• * become antiauthoritarian or rebellious when criticized or not understood
• * feel lonely or abandoned (perhaps as a result of a death or their parents' divorce)

Ingrids as Parents

• * help their children become who they really are
• * support their children's creativity and originality
• * are good at helping their children get in touch with their feelings
• * are sometimes overly critical or overly protective
• * are usually very good with children if not too self-absorbed

Take Are You a Jackie or a Marilyn? Or Someone Else? Mad Men-era Female Icon Quiz at

Centre of my Universe

Fine I admit I have been gone a long time, but what is it to you?

I haven’t had the initiative to write for anyone but myself, things I don’t feel like sharing. I mean I have been writing, just not on my blog because a lot of the things I want to write about lately is about things that are bothering me and I am not sure a public space is where it belongs. To who it is directed too needs to hear it, but it probably won’t happen yet till my “backbone” grows back or the timing is right.

Anyways….

Work could be used as a valid excuse for this absence as well. Saturday was terribly busy. Especially now that the dreaded Christmas season is upon me. I hate the Christmas season. Not the actual holiday for what its stands for, but the business side of it. They should call it Commercial-Christmas. It would be entirely more fitting. It’s a bunch of crap. Non stop money driven, who cares about what it was all about in the first place type holiday! It was the same thing at Big W too. What good will towards others? Giving because you truly want too, not because some holiday out of the year has been designated to do so? All I see is a bunch of impatient people buying presents to give to those they love (I do give them credit for that), with money, which lets face it they probably DON’T have and treating people where I work(ed) like crap because they are all stressed out. Oh poor them.

To that I say Christmas? CHRISTMAS?! BUHUMBUG! Rah! Yes I am turning into a scrooge.

I can see it now I become the scrooge of retail and on Christmas Eve I’ll be visited by three retail Christmas shopping ghosts. The ghost of Christmas shopping past sales records, the ghost of Christmas customer service present and The ghost of Christmas preparing you for Christmas shopping future/ Boxing Day of all insanity.

Anyways, I am thinking of either

A: Making Christmas presents.
B: Buying presents online
C: Buying gift cards and letting them deal with it!
D: All of the above.

This Christmas will hopefully be less lonely because it’s the first one I’ve had with them in 3 years. I had my friends and all but it just wasn’t the same. I don’t really care if I get presents this year. I’m happy just spending time with family and with the many misfits my mom has apparently invited. So far on her list 2 pregnant old lady men, one of which, who doesn’t like people doing the laundry in the laundry room provided for the residents of this complex, another a friendly p.o.l.m. who wears a red hat and thinks that everyone are slaves to rich people. Then two other older ladies one of them a next door neighbour downstairs named, who bangs on the floor downstairs frequently and coming up to tell us to turn down music that isn’t playing in our place, but next door. The other is a nice lady at the bus stop whose who has arthritis in her hands and keeps asking if there are apartments for rent where I live. Then of course mom’s special needs friend, a fifteen year old girl trapped inside a 50 year olds body, who is entirely draining, but has a good heart. Now that’s Christmas, putting aside differences and reaching out to others who are either a pain in the ass or people you frequently talk too on the bus.

So what else have I been up too since….over a month!

Not much,

Work!

Readings some books

Mom

Tony

Ignoring my writing

Mom and Tony

The occasional story idea, that I forget to write down. Curse me!

Mom and Tony

Sydney, he is so cute!

Mom and Tony

Sydney, all he wants to do is play with me.

Mom and Tony

Mom and Tony

Mom and Tony

I sprained my pinkie finger!

Mom and Tony

Mom and Tony

Mom and Tony

I burned myself with soup one night in an unmentionable place. It really hurt.

Mom and Tony

Mom and Tony

Mom and Tony

Mom and Tony

Work!

And finally…

Mom and Tony…who knew?

My centre of my universe has become seriously out of whack.

It used to be writing, friends the reading of and occasional good book, university and unfortunately my financial and personal woes, which I dumped unnecessarily on people and I apologise if I did. I never realised how annoying it is.

This whole idea of the centre of the universe came about during a discussion with one of my moms friends. She believes everyone has one. And it is something so important to the individual that it truly shows. Strangely it feels as if everyone in my family including my dog seems to believe whether unintentionally or intentionally, in the case of Sydney I am probably understandably the centre or his universe; that I cater to their universal centres. Something I find entirely frustrating. I just want someone not in there universe to add to mine, that I can talk too in person whilst I am in this dastardly transition period. I know I have friends, but they are so far away.

Anyways I am sorry I have been gone so long, but now I hope I am back to the blogging world more regularly again.

P.S. Tony has frequently taken over my computer!

I believe in God

This entry is somewhat inspired by Amy’s many blog post on religion, but mostly about the religiously confounding themed dreams I have been having the past year or so. I guess I figured it was finally time I added my experience with God and religion.

Perhaps I should start by saying I have been confused by religion since I was young. First I was Mormon, then I was Seventh Day Adventist, then I was Mormon again, then I was a somewhat of an atheist, then agnostic, then I thought of maybe being Mormon again, that was until I considered Buddhism, but that was before I decided that I believe in God so the previous was kind of pointless and now my mom (intentionally or unintentionally I am not quite sure) is trying to convert me into a Baptist. They should have frequent flier miles for people who can’t make up their mind spiritually because I think I would have a lot of them. I’ve come to the conclusion as of now that I believe in God or a higher power, but I don’t believe in church or an organized way of believing in God if that makes sense. There is just too much evidence in my life that proves what I believe.

I don’t know if my mom accepts that. She says that I am probably going through the same thing she went through with not believing and what not, but I am not her, and I consider my situation to be different. My mom just won’t leave it alone, she says she is not pressuring me, but she is, just differently that Sue-Woman was. Both said similar things. “Going to church makes me happy and gives me a good special feeling and I want to share that with you. I want you to have that same feeling too.” Never mind the fact that I am perfectly happy to go on believing in God in my own way and I don’t try to push my beliefs on others. They can believe what they want. I don’t care, what works for me may not work for others and that includes the whole church thing.

My religious confusion has showed up in many of my dreams. Dreams I have never decided to share with anyone till now. I used to dream since I was 14 or so that the devil, which I never physically see is dragging me through my bed down to hell and I all I see is blackness. I now understand that it may be a sign of my depression growing up. But I digress. I immediately pray to God for help and I reach out for hands to grab. I struggle with it. I demand for help almost. Then hands that I never see reach out to me. For ages I could never reach until I willed myself to do it. Sometimes I am brought out high above the floor in my room towards heaven, but I lose grip or evil hands grabs me again and I fall back to earth. There is always some tug of war between the good and evil hands grabbing me. One time a ghost grabbed me to save me and the other time it was invisible person of some sort. Another time it was an angel and this time I even saw light and then I realized it was now no longer an angle but a giant butterfly dragging me through a beautiful mystical forest.

Then a few months before I returned to Canada, I dreamt I was walking up a long hill on a beautiful sunny day. I then thought I believe in God and Jesus and that he died for my and everyone’s sins and I believe the world will end one day. I felt kind of fearful. Then moments later I heard a loud trumpeting noise. I look to my left and Jesus is in the clouds. I was terrified, mostly because Jesus looked like he was pissed off with me.

Then last night I finally saw the hands good strong ones, which turned out to be Jesus. I told God I wanted to go to heaven and this time I made it there. I was kind of indifferent about meeting him. I wasn’t too happy or excited. He looked like the Jesus in paintings, but something seemed off. Sometimes I could see him clearly with a heavenly white light and other times he looked kind of normal. He never seemed emotive either. I desperately wanted to see the scars on his hands for some reason and I was constantly denied this no matter how hard I tried to look. Then I met God, but I couldn’t see him only feel his presence. God spoke, but most of the time I couldn’t hear him all I felt was a strong powerful roaring sensation. It felt like my ears were going to rip apart every time he spoke. I desperately wanted to talk to God. In my dream God told me that I wouldn’t remember most of the dream, which ironically I don’t. I told God that I believed in him and Jesus to which he seemed or I felt he was pleased to hear. However, he became angry when I asked him where he came from and why he created us. I got the impression it was not a question to ask. I even discussed Douglas Adams with him and some of the themes in his book the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy to which God said it was a bunch of crap and the answer was not 42.

Soon Jesus showed me around heaven and he gave me a list of every movie I had watched that had guns or violence in them, which was 314. He then said the book that was being written about me was still in progress and I am forbidden to look at it. Jesus appearance constantly kept changing. The only thing that stayed the same was he was wearing white.

Then the dream got weird when God sent me back in time to make sure Jesus died on the cross for humanities sins because someone somehow tampered with the events in time and stopped it from happening. When I was sent back to the biblical times it looked like modern times and I was following Jesus everywhere to try and convince him of what he had to do, but he wouldn’t listen too me.

So anyways I was wondering if anyone had any insight to these dreams because they seriously confuse me. I would write more but my mom wants the dang computer back.

P.S. Sydney’s vendetta against Douglas Adams cost me $8. I had to replace the library book he ate. The End!

Pictures and my puppy wuppy.

Hello world of possible readers and friends,

I kept wondering where I would get pictures of my cute little puppy and then it occurred to me mom took pictures. Therefore I have a few to show thanks to my mom’s magical happy fun camera.

Me at the community garden in July.


Sydney!

A picture Tony took. I thought it was cool.

Sydney and Weiser (mom's dog)

Tony and Sydney

The past few days have been entirely strange and stressful.

First off I found out my brother has been diagnosed with severe scoliosis, which is the curving of the spine. It’s not good.

Then I had a debunkle with Wal-Mart and McDonalds, which I think I have explained to death!

Good old Sydney. What is there to say about him? He is annoying. He loves socks and underwear, so much in fact my mom was carrying a pair to the laundry basket and he attempted to steal her underwear from her hands. He constantly nips at poor Wieser’s heals, but Wieser is too nice to do anything except the occasional passive aggressive snarl. Sydney also chewed up a library book. (I guess he doesn’t like Douglas Adams.) Then he got into my purse and chewed up my watch strap. The only thing that keeps Sydney out of trouble is the fact that he is cute and it’s hard to stay mad at him and he inspired a character in Fizzy Lemonade, who also uses his cuteness as a scapegoat. In fact the character is so cute he becomes Officer Octogenarian’s rival in a contest to find the most beautiful cutest sentient being in the universe. I hope to have a new chapter of Fizzy Lemonade up soon by the way.

I will write more when I can think of something more productive to mention.

P.S. My dog ate a bunch of my cough candies.

The death of the author is birth of the reader!

I decided that I since I have deprived people of my new works long enough and the endless promising to write more. I shall share a bit of Fizzy Lemonade that I have written lately.

“Ashleigh, Ashleigh, terrible news!” says Roland, a black Labrador, with an adorable yet annoying smiley type face.
“What?” Ashleigh replies.
“Our Author friend has died,” Roland whined. “You know Sarah Evans. I saw her book published this morning you know that means she has passed on to writer heaven. You know the system of signs, the place all great writers go.”
“What?” Ashleigh repeats, dumbfounded.
“Sarah’s an author,” says Barthes, his Husky companion. Husky as in the dog not husky as in husky, but you know the breed of dog…
“Ummm why is that terrible?” Ashleigh asks.
“Well if she’s an author she is dead!” Roland remarks. “DEAD!”
“Yes and I she must be pregnant too,” Barthes adds.
“There is also a big baby boom too!” Roland says.
“Let me guess they are all readers,” says Ashleigh. “You do realise that an author’s death is only metaphorical.”
“What?” says Barthes.
“Sarah isn’t dead,” says Ashleigh. “She was merely the first reader. Readers are the ones that say what a book is about. Therefore there are no author only readers and the author therefore enters a symbolic death.”
“I don’t understand!” says Roland.
“Sarah’s isn’t dead,” says Ashleigh. “It’s to do with the system of signs. Language doesn’t belong to the author. It belongs to everyone. Therefore there can be no authors anyways only interpreters.”
“But she is an author not an interpreter!” says Barthes. “Authors die. Interpreters work at pregnant old lady man conferences and translate old Fergarianese.”
“And then readers are born,” Roland continues. “But when they become an author they die.”
“You’re misconstruing an entire theory,” says Ashleigh.
“So are you coming to the funeral?” asks Barthes, completely ignoring Ashleigh’s common sensical answers.
“AN ENTIRE THEORY!” Ashleigh bellows.
“You’re are so disrespectful,” Roland growls. “Have you know respect for authors?”
“She is being disrespectful to authors,” a lonely dejected voice in the background calls. “Lets get her!”
“Yeah! Good idea lets get her!” says Barthes.
Ashleigh is suddenly chased down the dirty alley way by a black American cocker spaniel, a black and white Shiatsu Terrier of all cuteness, (both of which are important enough to be named later as nothing of ill will is intended towards them) and the aforementioned Roland and Barthes, who are coincidentally named after the crazy French guy Roland Barthes who actually conceived the idea, that was misinterpreted by the two of Ashleigh’s pursuers.

(c) Copyright 2008 by Melissa McKenna no part of this may be reproduced with out written permission.

What do you think?

So what has happened since I last wrote…

Well I am still couch bound for starters, but I am getting used to the vegetable-onion couch as I like to call it.

I have a cold or some sort of something that is making me sick. Urgh! Although, I was particualrily pleased I could have the cough (lollies) candy I like. They didn’t have the brand I liked back in Australia…

I miss Australia.

Winter has arrived and I am not ready. I am barely acclimatised as it is!

I now work at Wal-Mart. Satisfaction is Guaranteed Always! I have less hours here so I am officially going to devote myself to my writing when I am not working. It’s not that bad to be a cashier. I mean you say hello you scan, scan, scan take the payment and say goodbye. The End! Oh yes and the Wal in Wal-Mart is short for Walton as in Sam Walton the company’s creator.

McDonalds probably thinks I am passive aggressive, which I think I am too.

My dog Sydney has a new obsession, the computer keyboard. He was sitting on my lap last night and he kept trying to type stuff with his floppsy white paws and/or licking my fingers. I put him on the ground but he kept jumping up to sit with me. Maybe he missed me while I was at work? You know your life is boring when you write about your dog. He attempting to sabotage this blog entry as I write this.

My birthday is in 10 days! My mom and I are going to the pub across from where we live for a meal and a celebratory drink! Woot!

P.S. Sydney likes noses too!

3 things (and then some) that have happened since my last entry...

The number 3 has been popping up a lot lately.

I have 3 best friends…I am not naming names…

I’ve crashed on 3 different couches.

I was hired by 3 places whilst in Lethbridge.

I lost my dog 3 years ago and now I have a new one.

Things have definitely changed in many more ways since I’ve come back to Canada.

I turned on the Price is Right the other day and instead of Bob Barker, like I was expecting it was Drew Carey. I kept thinking “what the f*&^@ happened to Bob Barker?” Go figure he retired after 35 years in 2007. Where was I when this all happened? Oh right I was in Australia.

Australia….

I miss it a lot.

I miss Bob Barker. I used to watch him when I came home from school for lunch when I was in grade five. Sometimes I’d feign being sick so I could watch the second half. Strange I know. I wanted to see who one the grand prize. I have no idea why but I really liked the show.

Things have been going OK now, despite the fact that I am without a room. I am sleeping on the couch. I am the mercy of my mom’s night owlness. She doesn’t go to bed and she sits there till 12 a.m. or a later peeling onions, chopping onions, chopping potatoes, carrots… the list goes on. She is either dehydrating or canning the vegetables from her garden. I think she has done quite well. The house smells of onions mind you and so does the couch, but I live with it. It’s my own fault. You see when I ran away to Lethrbridge. My mom gave the second bedroom back to Tony, now I would feel bad if I kicked him out again. So for now I am couch bound until I find my own place or my mom changes her mind. The second may be happening you never know. Although I am not sure I want the room it smells like dehydrated onions and dog pee. The dang dogs go where ever they want and they have this doggy like fascination with my brother’s room. Sydney my dog is getting better slowly and my mom used vinegar to get some of the smell out.

I have been in a grouchy mood. I guess it’s a bit better than the previous feeling of depression. I really don’t like working in fast food. I had the opportunity to get away from it but because of 50 cents difference in pay. I screwed it up. I still feel bad about that.

So I wonder did I ever like working at McDonalds beforehand? I seem to really hate it now. Here is some evidence of my distain…

“Today was a good day. I am finally done with McDonalds. I
slacked off too. This is the last time I have to hear a manager rag on me to do
something. Usually I do something after all I am paid too but, it was my last
day and all I kind of just felt like it.
Manager: "Melissa find someting to do." or "I am sure there is lots to do"

Me: "OK." *continues to do nothing.* Talks to crew member also doing nothing, but not getting in trouble. Grr.. the irony eh?

Me thinking: What are they going to do fire me. Ha ha.

It feels weird. Today will be the last day I have to put
breakfast parts away, sit in drive thru and sadly the last time I will see my
friends. No more till, no more angry customers, I am glad to be gone. This is my
last fast food job I want out of the
industry.”

- February 15, 2006

Oh wells I might not have to be there much longer. I just got hired at Wal-Mart. It is pretty much the equivalent of Big-W with a bit of Woolworths jammed into it as they have some grocery items. Is this weird I miss working at Big W? I won’t go into my opinions on the company. Amy probably knows what I think of it. Anyways, who cares it is a better job than nothing. Not that I am unhappy to be employed. It’s better than the luck I was having back in Australia. I also think it’s ironic because the Wal in Wal-Mart I think is sort of Walter. One of my characters is named Walter…I find that entirely coincidental.

Australia….

I really miss it.

I think I already mentioned that, but I think that’s where some of my sadness is derived from. Not only that but my massive debts. The government is mad at me because I am behind in three payments. Yikes! I want to tell them go away I am will pay you but I have no money to do that at the moment. Now on top of this I am sick. I have a cold and then I found out I had a stomach virus of some kind. How annoying. I was told to take a couple of days off of work something I can’t afford to do.

Right now my dog Sydney is quite the character. He keeps trying to hump my leg. He goes after my underwear and bras. I think he has a lingerie fetish as well as a foot fetish. I swear he won’t leave my feet or anything related to feet alone. I constantly say “my feet are not your chew toy.” Mom says the same thing. Then not to long ago this cranky pre menopausal pregnant old lady woman accused Sydney of doing the dastardly deed of impregnating her ugly terrier because she has seen another black and white dog roaming around. Little does she know he is still too young to know what it is meant for, he is five months old so he is just coming into his puppy sexuality if that’s what you want to call it and he seems more interested in himself or boy dogs, particularly Hev-Lady’s dog Weiser. I am not saying he is that way, but I won’t be surprised if Nigel does an outing on him. Oh yes he doesn’t leave the house on his own…so I know he is innocent of all claims against him. I hope I have a picture I can put up soon.

I want to write more of Fizzy Lemonade…I always get inspired when every I walk the dog for some reason. However, I keep dreaming about killer robots who shot at people they interpret to hate robots or the government or something. I had this long complicated dreams twice now. I told my mom and she pretty much demanded that I write it down, but I don’t really care about the robot story right now. I am sure if it was indeed a dingmare I will continue to dream about them or the idea will come back to me when I am ready to flesh it out more. As I am writing this the robots have identified themselves as characters and are deeply offended I don’t want to write at story about them…perhaps I will write the synopsis of my dreams. Then come back to it.

I thought it would go with my intended theme of three by talking about three different things but I think it was 6 or 7 oh wells.

P.S. Carol is feeling a bit sad lately and I am not sure how to cheer her up…

P.S.S. I can’t wait for the massive road trip in August!

Rough Transistion!!

It has suddenly occurred to me while sitting and playing video games on my computer in Edmonton bus terminal, with at least 4hours till I leave for Prince George B.C that I have neglected my blog for over an entire month. AN ENTIRE MONTH! Whoops sorry. I hope it’s not to late too

DATE UP! DATE UP! DATE UP! DATE UP! DATE UP! NOW! NOW! NOW! NOW! NOW!

Here is some of the reason for my absence the past month…

I am so depressed recently it’s only now that I feel like actually attempting a blog entry.

I am immensely frustrated!!!!

I was spending time with mom and brother.

And lets see painting doors and cleaning my grandfathers house he was renovating. I hope it burns to the ground.

My Aunty thinks I am condescending and rude.

My grandma, or should I say Sue-Woman has probably disowned me.

All because my mom got involved and sent some nasty e-mail about events previous and recently between my family and mom.

I guess to be frank, my life feels like it has turned to shit. My entire family has turned on me, except my mom of course. I have finally joined the ranks of pariah in my dysfunctional family. And the most of it has nothing to do with me. I am suffering for problems mostly between my mom and family. I know I am a part of it, but still why do I have to be?!

Scarily for a while there I thought of ending it all! I am not embarrassed to write that either. I am sure there are others who feel the same way at one time or another.

The only reason I am here is because of my three best friends 2 Amy and Chris who still e-mail me and let me know they care and Carol who helped me through the most trying time of my life to date, my mom despite some rough patches since I have been here and my little brother, who I immensely care about. These people and my all my friends are my family now. Fuck the rest of them!

Anyways, I digress, a lot has happened in this time period. This entry may get a little depressing. DEPRESSING! Because lets face it I am depressed and this is not about attention seeking of anything like that I am just stating a fact.

I went to B.C to live with my mom after Australia. 20 hour flight, 23 hour bus ride…

My mom gave me a puppy named Sydney. He is cute and I apparently he was used as emotional bate as if!!!

Saw my brother for the first time in 3 years and suddenly realised how much he has changed. Holy crap has he gotten tall.

Played Lego with my brother, my mom ended up destroying our creations accidentally I assume, well it was in the way.

Things were going OKish until almost almost a month later due to unforeseen circumstances, which I will not discuss on a public space…(most of my friends know what happened anyways). I went to Alberta partly because of the unforeseen event and partly because of pressure from Sue-Woman. Sue-Woman, who I can’t quite decide yet if I see as a grandma anymore…I could go on about her right now…but I won’t. Besides only three people believe me about what happened.

Now two weeks later I am going back to B.C. to live with my mom because of pressures and stress from Sue-Woman. I managed to get a job at the old McDonalds I worked at and Zellers a department store in which Carol works at. I turned down Zellers much to the (rightfully so) dissatisfaction of Carol I’ll write more about her in a minute. However, here is the big part. I had no accommodation because stupid students, came in August and took most of the places and the cheaper places where in the dodgy parts of town. And, AND this is a big one, Sue-Woman said she’d help me but then she turned around and didn’t because the place I found was too expensive and she didn’t think I should be living on the West Side. So it was either stay with Carol and her sister for a while and possibly get them evicted because I wasn’t suppose to be staying there for too long or stay in a woman shelter till I had enough money for damage deposit and rent in October.

For two wees let’s just say I was in the presense of a scarlety monster, being forced, FORCED to go to church and no where to live, which was constantly joked about as if it were some kind of joke. I was an emotional wreck. I also realised there error of my ways from the first incident…. The end…If I had a choice I’d would not go to either place I’d go home to Australia. Home, I’ve lost it. It’s as if I lost the love of my life. I want to go back so bad!

Then I got my old job at Burger King and McDonlads a week later. It felt so weird, like I was having an out of body experience. I felt like I shouldn’t be there for some reason.

Most of the friends agree with me in my decision and even if they didn’t it’s not there’s to make. Sue-Woman doesn’t agree, I think she might disown me too. She says I am making a big mistake…she doesn’t know I have left yet, at this point.What ever non-likingness between her and my mom is their problem, not mine, but I think I have ended up on the other side of Sue-Woman’s wrath, with my mom. I always wondered after Carol actually brought it up how can a person who isn’t even blood related have so much power and control over family affairs.

One word!

MONEY!

It’s the root of all evil.

The only good thing about coming back to Canada thus far has been seeing Mom, Tony and Carol. Carol is awesome. She seemed more positive at first, then some of the old habits I remembered so well surfaced…think Philis like behaviours. The only people I missed while away was Carol, Becky, Mom and Tony. I never missed Sue-Woman in fact I dreaded calling her and I felt even more depressed every time I had to add to the God Damn Fucking “Tally!!!” Lump sum payment my ass. She can disinherit me!

P.S. More positive entries will come soon!