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Saturday, July 18th, 2015

Subject:long forgotten
Time:10:26 pm.
woah!  my livejournal.
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Tuesday, April 5th, 2011

Time:11:16 am.
100 LOVING WAYS. a 35 minute video about different ways to love cat, complete with song and formal instructions.

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Monday, March 14th, 2011

Subject:Studies in Excel
Time:4:37 pm.
So as part of my continued efforts to job search, I am learning EXCEL.

Women of the Avengers    
  Weight Height (in Meters) First Appearance Number of Years
Scarlet Witch 130 1.74 1964 47
She-Hulk 650 2.04 1980 31
Wasp 110 1.65 1963 48
Black Widow 131 1.74 1964 47
Ms. Marvel 124 1.56 1967 44
Tigra 180 1.55 1972 39
Average 220.8333 1.713333333 1968.333333 42.66666667
Women of the X-Men    
  Weight Height (in Meters) First Appearance Number of Years
Jean Grey 115 1.71 1963 48
Storm 127 1.56 1975 36
Shadowcat 110 1.52 1980 31
Rogue 120 1.77 1981 30
Emma Frost 144 1.52 1979 32
Psylocke 155 1.524 1976 35
Average 128.5 1.600666667 1975.666667 35.33333333
Avengers weigh more, are taller, have been around longer and are kickass!
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Tuesday, March 8th, 2011

Subject:Top Ten Women of Marvel, According to Tony
Time:12:40 pm.
Top Ten Women of Marvel

#1.  The Inscrutable Scarlet Witch

Daughter of a desperate war-monger, heart of a heroine, Wanda Maximoff is universally unbound.

#2.  The Sensational She-Hulk

"A unique combination of brains and brawn" - Peter David, Writer of the now-cancelled She-Hulk series.

#3.  The Enigmatic Nico Minoru

To wield the power of the enchanted staff, she must suffer for it.

#4.  The Relentless Silver Sable

With resources like Iron Man but deadly like the Punisher.

#5.  The Incandescent Nova

"What have we done to ourselves?" - Tori Amos, Anastasia
Herald of Galactus, Frankie Raye serves as cosmic being to protect the Earth, even if it means the destruction of other worlds.

#6.  The Impetuous Mystique

You'll never see her coming.

#7.  The Tempestuous Tigra

Champion of the Cat-People

#8. Black Cat, the Femme Fatale

Felicia Hardy, hardy har har.

#9.  The Untouchable Shadowcat

Sometimes not being there helps more.

#10.  The Elusive Emma Frost

After being White Queen of the Hellfire Club is there room for repentance or acceptance?  Or is it easier just to force you to give in to her will? 

I apologize for the scantily clad, the titular bad clichés and the surprising number of cat chickies.
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Monday, May 3rd, 2010

Subject:Morning Pages #10
Time:11:36 am.

Morning Pages #10


I kept checking the clock all night long, worried I was not going to be able to get up. I mean, when was the last time I got up at 5 a.m.? Oh yes, the last time I wrote in my livejournal, as its only when I get up early in the morning that I feel I can actually extend a little of my time to chronicle the what-not. Stuffing my face with a Joe-Louis, I must remember to bring my lunch tomorrow. I finished Orphans week already, I had my Boo help me (and the alliance, apparently) and I got “School of Hard Knocks”, the achievement I struggled with for seven days last year and got on my death knight (who I was very impressed with at the time, and said, “She’s going to be my main!”, but no one wants to play with a Death Knight, as the class, at the time, was the ubiquitous.). Anyway, it wasn’t long I returned to my Paladin, who I love.


We’re having chicken tonight. Monday Night Chef’s Choice at Scores (although its usually a chicken leg, unless you plead with puppy-dog eyes at the cashier). My Boo is picking it up for me because I’ll completely be asleep when I get home.


I bought two Nintendo DS games last night. Leggo Rockband and Alice in Wonderland. I started with the Rock Band and even on the easiest level, I am horrible at it (which means there’s only room for improvement). There must be an easier way to hold the device and hit the right keys, than what I’m doing. I haven’t played the Alice game yet but the reviews are great everywhere (even though it uses, sometimes, the stylus (you mean I have to hold up the Nintendo DS and use the little pen-thing?, yes.).


As She-Hulk was cancelled I have no favourite super hero who has a comic their own comic -- at a regular interval. And I like my women-heroines so its pretty hard to find in penny-stretched days. I started to read Spider-Girl (who was cancelled but seems to be returning as for popular demand). She did last 50 issues, which is quite the life for a female heroine but not fabulous, just good. Ms. Marvel is the bomb (in a bad way, and I’m pretty sure its cancelled, there was never any coherent writing, no support characters, just marvel event after marvel event. Every once and a while there was a stunning moment, like her revelation that she is crap, when beating up Julia Carpenter (Spider-Woman) in front of her child in support of CIVIL WAR). But those stellar moments are few. So I started to read Dynamite’s Red Sonja (I bought the 2nd graphic novel in the series) and its actually quite decent. I’m willing to pick up another, even though half-naked barbarian women are not my cup of tea (it just looks so cliché) but its not a cliché if you’re the original, right – at least that’s my excuse.


Music wise, I’ve been really into Marina and the Diamonds. The fact that Jeff doesn’t absolutely love her seems to be a bonus. I take quite a lot of pride singing along to “Obsessions” and “I am Not a Robot” really loudly: “GUESS WHAT? I’M NOT A ROBOT!” And he kinda grumpiddy grump grumps away. He will join me in my dance eventually. Brandon introduced me to the lovely Canadian Basia Bulat, and that’s what I listened to on my way to work. Although with her Tracy Chapman-ish voice, you’d think she’d help lull you to sleep but NO, she actually is quite a good coffee replacement.


I still have to fix the last few arrangements with the house. Signing date is the end of May and I have to coordinate all that and I’m not really looking forward to it because I have to kind of take control of something that I’m not quite sure of all the processes yet. But it will be worth it in the end. Because I’m going to get a house, to share with the boo, and we can listen to Marina and the Diamonds all day long and maybe, just maybe, if he’s not paying too much attention, I’ll get him to dance along with me.

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Saturday, March 13th, 2010

Time:12:31 pm.
maximoff of muradin
Create cool Profile Comments

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Friday, February 5th, 2010

Subject:blood elf rogue
Time:4:30 am.
blood elf vs. onyxia .. YESS!!

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Wednesday, January 20th, 2010

Subject:Morning Pages #9
Time:11:00 am.
He opens the door, every day, on his way to work. Go out the backdoor, Tony, because its closer to the bus and you're less likely to meet someone on the front than the back stairwell. Although it does smell in the back, you'll be closer to your bus when you get out. Today is my Friday. Wednesday, and I have a meeting with my boss, to discuss my couple-of-penny-raise I'm going to get. There'll be reasons and justifications but the truth is I've been there longer than most people, I work the time, I'm never late, and I take ownership of my calls. Sometimes they're longer than the rest, its true, but thats what happens when you give me the department everyone transfers calls to when they don't know what else to do with them. BLah blah blah, work, I dont want to go; don't make me go again.

Everyday, on my way to work (because that's the only fun part, the bus ride), the bus goes on the highway in this industrial section and I pass a little sketchy building with the sign, "Ruby International". It sounds quite luxurious but it's uber-sketch. Even more so sketch, is the fact that all these sketchy, "young offender"-looking guys and girls that get off at that stop. I made a little song up on my head that I sing to myself everytime I go by it. I tried looking it up on google but it seems slightly associated with Indian Spice Trading? Seems like it might be a front for something else. Drugs? Escorts? Sex Line? I think it'd be really exciting if details news about one of those places got out. I would pour over the article, savouring every thought, thinking, "I go by there every day on my way to work." Maybe I should apply?

The laundry machines in our building have officially broken. They don't drain the water and, as a result, they don't dry. I've had clothes in the dryer x3 (so 7 dollars for a drying load) and its still not dry, even hung up, days later. I'm not sure what I can do about it. We have no caretaker and the landlords don't seem to care much. I hope we find a house to live in before we have to move out because it's quite innerving to have to have wet clothes, especially considering the coldness of a Montreal winter.

Jeffie says he's going to do the Morning Pages with me (not with me) but accompany me on my art journey. These are supposed to take all the criticalness out of you, but I still feel quite critical all day. But I have been doing a few more creative projects. I think I can say that that's winter because you're less likely to do any outdoor activities in the winter (cold) so you stay home. And we can't WOW every day, can we? Well, we probably could if we could, and we do, sort of, try. But I need those frost badges, right? Because it can give me gear, right? And if I get gear I can be pretty cool? What a paradox. I can only be pretty and cool in a virtual world if I let everything else slip aside. Moderation does not apply in World of Warcraft. A couple of hours and you've accomplished almost nothing. Imagine what you could do if those couple of hours were devoted elsewhere?

... at the ruby international. tell me do you need your soul? tell me, you're responsible. tell me.. honey, tell me.. RUBY.. listen, ruby...
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Monday, January 18th, 2010

Subject:Morning Pages #8
Time:10:59 am.
if you want to be my lover, got to get with my friends.. why do i have spice girls stuck in my head? i swear to god, with the dew comes a little crazy. things to do today: go to work, not freakout at the many calls, at not being able to handle the new stuff that was thrown onto my lap and i feel very insecure about being able to assist people, without the tools or the training. i had like ten emails sent to me about stuff that i need to configure and do and i just dont understand it all and not sure how its relevant. i also dont want to notice how slowly the time goes, how exhausted i feel midway through the day, how fighting with people sucks all the energy out of me and apathy causes more fights. empathy only goes so far, "YOU'RE SORRY, YOU KEEP SAYING YOU'RE SORRY BUT YOU'RE NOT DOING ANYTHING FOR ME." So whether I do anything or not do anything I am screwed. I'm sure that I will always waive the early cancellation fee when you have a contract for another few years, buddy. Why? Because you're not happy? Because you've had horrible customer service? That your device isn't compatible with bluetooth, wifi or whatever. I don't know where I'm going with this company but every time I feel like i'm moving forward, getting new skills, I find myself right back to where I was, a horrible weekend and night schedules, screaming customers, escalations to management, confrontations about how I should have handled the calls in less time.

Jeff was able to get up this morning and get to work on time, thanks to my handy phone that rings every five minutes from six forty-five a.m. until seven thirty. i somehow can sleep through it all but at least jeff's not late again, as he's been a couple of times every week. I too have been late a couple of times in the last weeks, which is sad because I work at noon. How can you sleep in when you work at noon? Well, pretty easily. You can stay up all night because you dont normally go to sleep when you get home, right? Well, neither do I. But then its easy to get lost at night because you're doing things with no human contact and *poof* its six a.m.

We played magic the gathering last night and for once, i didn't win a game (i usually win all of them) but then i guess i wasnt as focused as i normally am. I'm very excited about a new rk post vampire chickie, common so supposedly easily acquired. I love his art, I've ordered several pieces and had them framed above my computer. There's something sophisticated yet cartoonish about the surreal ladies he creates. Except for the bearded angel that he supposedly used his wife as inspiration. She was just creepy.

I moved charlie to the computer room; he's now the official computer room mascot. He sits on my green tower, with his lime green fur and his hands are going into my green mug, always smiling. What a very friendly little monkey. He compliments everything.

So it's Monday. Most people get up today and drink their coffee and have a headache, "ohhhHHh its MONDAY." I have that same feeling but I've just worked both Saturday and Sunday. GRRrrr.. so I get the worst feeling and the worst, with no weekend rest. I lose and lose. I can't wait for Wednesday night. Wednesday is my Friday. Maybe i'll go see strippers on wednesday, as I haven't done anything like that in a while and it always gets me a little bit trigger-happy.
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Sunday, January 17th, 2010

Subject:Morning Pages #7
Time:7:28 pm.
I ordered delivery barbeque chicken last night as a reward for surviving Saturday; I worked a very long shift, not longer than usual but because it was from 12 p.m. till 8 p.m., it consumed my morning, afternoon and night. The calls were not easy, not easy to help people when the demands are so extreme. I imagined we had a special department where we hired all these actors from young children's shows, in my head I'm picturing french clowns, and had them address our customers like the children they pretend to be. Maybe this approach to customer service would meet their approval? We're still not going to hand them Iphones but maybe they'd relax a bit if the person saying it was wearing face-makeup, bright red wig and pompoms all over their zigzagged and circular outfit? My neighbour says we should make an island and watch them duke it out like survival of the fittest. I thought that was a little harsh. What surprised me most was that the delivery man-boy was quite attractive, hunky arrogant, probably too young for me, possibly too straight to engage in anything I would want anyway. So I gave him a twenty dollar bill but asked for one dollar back (this is an extremely generous tip but also gave me more time to gawk as he sifted through his pockets for a spare looney to hand back). I didnt really have time to eat the chicken when it was warm though, as I was caught healing an instance for my two frost badges, an endless task that will one day amount to being both a fine balance of both pretty and awesome. *GO SHAYERA ON BURNING BLADE*

I still have not been able to see Sherlock Holmes, the one time we tried it was sold out. I found out, though, that near my work, which is sort-of near my apartment, there's a movie theatre. So maybe, if we have time at some point in the future, we'll see Sherlock Holmes there on the big screen. I'm not sure if the Boo saw Avatar yesterday like he had planned. He didn't mention it when I got home so it could not have been as awesome as everyone says it is but, then I was going on and on about my chicken. I'm not sure what is resisting me to like it, as there's animated blue chicks and I love animated blue chicks. I guess its the story of Pocahontas being blown up and retold like its something new that puts me a little on edge. And although I liked Titanic when I was still young enough to find Leonard Di Caprio hot, I know now that love story might possible disturb me as being slightly cliché. For some reason its okay to be cliché if you know you're being cliché (like BRING IT ON) but when its supposed to be a serious artistic endeavour masterpiece its blah. I dont mind someone taking inspiration and doing an homage. So I'm not sure, it just doesn't interest me. Isn't that okay? But then, really, is there much more to Sherlock Holmes than a good mystery and pretty boys? And most people wouldn't find those 'boys' so pretty in Sherlock Holmes. They're a little aged and dry.. not like the delivery boy. God, what is wrong with me? I'm actually really upset that my January Man on my Men in Uniforms Calendar is the hottest one in the bunch. I mean, for the rest of the year I'm going to be wishing it was January again. Honestly, the calendar makers should really not do that. I should write them a letter. Maybe its to make me look forward to next years edition to Men in Uniforms and next year's January Man might be even hotter than this years?

I apologize for the superficiality. Its just I kept thinking of what I was going to write in my morning pages (and its funny I'm calling it morning pages when its 6:41 p.m. at night); the only reason I'm writing is because Sunday, the calls have slowed, and I'm giving myself a chance to decompress. I wish I could write more. All week I think, "I should mention this" like uhm.. err.. Boo's planning on taking Tai Chi and/or Yoga this season with the Dorval Community Centre. I would if I could (not yoga or tai chi.. but something else). My crappy late, ever-changing schedule seems to forbids me. Is that passing the blame? Honestly, I don't feel like doing anything. Maybe join a choir? It'd be nice to be able to sing loudly, without fear of interrupting the neighbours (both down below, with that loud, endless cough at night, and beside, the screaming toddler who has recently been given a *VERY LOUD* t.v. to help him sleep at night). Actually, between the two of the name, I don't really have any shame of banging on the piano, screaming during the day. But there's always a sudden fear that I might be interrupting someone who deserves a little piece and quiet; maybe there's someone who works all night and sleeps during the day. I guess the person who plays the Pachelbel Canon for two hours non-stop is probably interrupting them anyway. I guess if I wanted to get away could.

Liz and I worked on our new non-musical creative piece together. We first wrote some prose, one line at a time, not knowing what the previous one wanted and then put them together to create a story. This process, taught to us by a creative writing class teacher is called 'exquisite corpse'. We're trying to take it to another level, a soundscapee level. Liz and I brought in a whole bunch of.. the best term I could say is 'instruments', like plastic bags, chinese magic balls, empty beer bottles, copper wire, tambourine; anything that makes sound. And we each took turns recording the sounds that were going to play around with and put our prose-dialogue on top of. We recorded ourselves in our normal voice and Liz did hers in a british accent and I did my famous America-South accent. Very exciting. I am eager to see where this, presently non-directional, piece goes.

My date with my artistic self this week involved drawing a picture of my Muradin Guild. I've almost finished colouring it but actually I was surprised on how long it took. I drew the sketch once and then I redid it because everyone was disproportionate and I'm so bad at hands, I tried to hide everyones hands. And I didn't much like drawing a Tauren at all (so I hid Casey's Aamu behind the bunch, with her head poking out and her hoofs visible). I actually had to buy coloured pencils for this because we had none in house and then I remembered why I didn't have colorued pencils (I'm very bad at colouring). Its a very strange relationship because when I'm colouring things, I like to colour with just a light touch, so as not to blunt the edge of the crayon (I detest sharpening, it's messy and I'm obsessive compulsive; just when I've sharpened the pencil crayon so its at the perfect level of sharpness, I tell myself I can sharpen it just a little bit more, to avoid having to sharpen it soon enough again, and I do sharpen it a little bit more and then the sharp edge falls off and I have to restart sharpening all over again!). So I colour lightly so the pencil crayon doesn't dull before its time. But then the colours dont look good. So I said I was going to colour everything boldy but it takes so much time that I eventually gave up. There's a half coloured Traitors of Kind Tony Art sitting on my DVD shelf right now.

Almost all the plants are dying. I noticed a couple of days ago that the soil is all dried up in the pots. I know I'm a black thumb but I had to try to save them, so I watered every plan in the house. But now they're still all dying and I had to whine at Jeff to save them. My favourite plant had all of its leaves (minus one) dry up and wither-off. And now it doesnt look as pretty anymore. The only one that keeps growing is the weed in our room, its vine has a crush on Jeffie, methinks. Because Jeffie is the one that takes care of it and saved it from work, and everything, and while I'm sleeping the vine is going to grow its limbs and strangle me. But because the vine is so thin and light no one will suspect foul play and it'll just be a mystery natural causes clause checkmarked on my autopsy report. Maybe if I sing it a few songs from Little Shop of Horrors it will at least stop growing and be content with the plant life it has, stay in the pot and suck it up.

We almost put an offer on a place last week but it sold before we could. Which is sad because it was on the market for one day. The agent was a sleaze, or stupid (take your pick!) as he knew we were going to present an offer, which would have given his clients a chance to sell it at a higher price but because he was most likely going to make dual commission (or wanted a quick sale), he decided to ignore us, keep us uninformed and waste our time. If he had just said, "it's sold" we wouldnt have had to take the time and right up an offer and everything. It was a perfect little place in Pointe-Claire with three bedrooms, a nice basement, powder room and bathroom, living and dining room. The Boots and I would be so happy there. It had a very old-woman feel to it, but I'm pretty sure a little, what do you call that, when you have sex in every room to uhm make it your own? I think its a word somewhere between ostracize and castrate.. but obviously those arent it. Castigate means punish. This is hard. You know what I mean anyway, we'll be making the rooms our own. Except we didnt buy it, so we wont. But we would have if we could have and there will always be more rooms to have sex in, I guess.
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Sunday, January 10th, 2010

Subject:Morning Pages # 6
Time:2:03 pm.
Gots my new computer!
So excited.
It's green; not lime but not guacomole: kind of like a little bit darker than an apple-green.
When playing WOW yesterday, I updated all the graphics to the best ever quality (before my Paladin's consecrate wasnt even visible, as well as certain bosses aoe's on the ground (which made me feel newbish when I couldn't see them!)); but now everything is easy-peasy mode.
I put Charlie and the mug my mom made me for Xmas (also green) on the green tower and it feels like a greenspace in our playroom.
I'm at work now, on the phone calls. Havent had any in an hour but I had a few follow ups to do and one colleague (I guess) in another call centre, in another province, didnt want to take ownership of a call (and I had previously spoken with his customer) so he told her I'd call her back. And sent me an email saying, "call her back!". Lovely, I'm in an inbound call centre so he's lucky its not busy (he actually told her i'd call her back on my day off yesterday!). Okay, enough about work.
Call centre blah-ness.
Enough about WOW.
Think of all the things I can do? I'm going to download SKYPE and get Cool Edit.. and then we'll try doing some recordings in this week. I'm also looking forward to having itunes and wow open at the same time (imagine the possibilities!). I just have to get home. In about eight hours. My heart just fell, crumpled into sadness and I know that eight hours is far away.
Hey, the guy next to me is in a rap/metal/funk band. He actually took electroacoustics for a bit at Concordia. Weird, huh?
Also, Liz and I are going to be working Thursday on our new Magic Sound Box piece which is all a sonic 'exquisite skeleton'.
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Friday, January 8th, 2010

Subject:Morning Pages #5
Time:12:31 pm.
Mariamne. Arrogant, stoic, poised piercingly. I have never seen this Waterhouse painting (and it was quite grasping, walking into a room, with Waterhouse's largest work .. and a small portrait of Cleopatra. But this beauty, almost coming out of the picture, as if to say, "they're going to kill me. but they'll regret it."). What's her story? Waterhouse is great at depicting Champions or Sorrow.. The Lady of Shalott (1 'L', two 2 'T's) looks like she's heading towards her death, even the pictures of live Ophelia look dead (they didnt have any Ophelias though, or none that I noticed.. Dead Ophelias anyway), the Circe portraits convey immense focus and power, both Miranda's of lonely anticipation, Medea plotting. I tried to read a little bit of the texts, and even though I forked over a whole 15$ to see the Waterhouse exhibit on a Thursday (and not cheapie-Wednesday!), it was still a rather large gathering of people (and one guy who had my exact scarf, even though its a model from last year!), so people were in the way. Loved Mariamne though. They didnt have a postcard or picture of her at the giftshop afterwards, disappointedly. But I still had all the Circe, Sorceress and Mermaid portraits as postcard (and weird 3D displays of them?, I guess for little gay boys and girls?). Pre-Raphalites, how do I love thee! Waterhouse has always been my favourite in art history classes, and I have always been looking for a good, coffee-table book of his, so I did make that purchase. And a few postcards of Circe, Ophelia, Miranda and others (not sure what I will do with those, as I'm quickly running out of wallspace). The exhibit was missing a few, but it had all the favourite ones. The Source of Magic, The Lady of Shalott and the Mermaid one I bought a copy of for my dad. Honestly though, I would have preferred the exhibit as a normal, white-wall backdrop but they seemed to have made a painstacking effort to make sure all the walls were black... to evoke this whole, dark, occult thing, quite juvenile. But what was even worse, at the end of this exhibit, you hear these sounds coming from a room and when you go in, its this horrible documentary movie that I watched for only a couple of seconds but reminds me of the Blair Witch 2 (production values) meets Blair Witch 1 (crap, velvet cloak (which was kind of nice) running through the forest, blood, red (and then I decided I did not need to watch it!)). Melissa Auf Der Maur was somehow associated with it (and they sold her C.D.s at the gift shop at the end). I really felt that kind of took away from the exhibit but then it all seemed a little silly and overdone. Can't they just treat his work with the respect they'd treat Picasso? It did seem to attract a lot of younger, gayer people. Although this could be the norm, I dont go to the museum very often. Actually that probably is the norm. Nevermind.

Apparently, word on the street (i.e. jeff) says my tower is guacomole-coloured and not lime-green. Jeff's brother, Randy, has it in posession. Although I think it will still be nice, just not what I was expecting (even though I was properly warned (stupid comment guy!), it's just my hope superceded what most people (I guess) would take at word-value; maybe he was just trying to keep all the lime-green towers to himself, so that he could be special. People do strange things. I knew this guy once, who was really into Emm Gryner and then he would upload Emm's music to Napster but as Tori Amos' rare songs (so that the rabid fans would download them). Good intentions, you know to be PR for Emm, but he was purposely manipulating people. Maybe that's what this guy was doing, I had hoped. I try to see through the things people say and understand why they say it. I mean, who would make an ugly green tower for computers? If someone is going to invest in a whacko colour, make it a little bit more whacko, no? Pink, Orange Glitter, Sky blue.. Why would you make them faded and non-sleek? Makes no sense to me. But then maybe it was supposed to be another colour and something happened in the manufacturing. Well, as long as it was supposed to be, at its heart, lime-green, that makes everything okay. Actually, I think I'll stick with that thought. Then Charlie can sit on top of it and it'll be like they were meant to be. But then who will I hug at night?
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Thursday, January 7th, 2010

Subject:Morning Pages #4
Time:12:48 pm.
Brains, marbles, berries, out of the bucket, into the lap of my favourite buttercup prince. He belched, possibly to offset his pretty. Sweet sweet Jeffrey, all the strange things happen in the winter, when we grow more to stay warm. Will you watch Ally McBeal with me? I know you won’t, but if I turn it on, will you join me to enjoy? I was up this morning but his sweetness, Lazy Mary, wouldn’t wake up. I guess pointlessness is the point, winter months making me move, making me love. He made me hot chocolate with coloured marshmallows (do you eat the pink ones first?). I drank some but forgot and the marshmallows all got fat, while crafting, warcrafting, and I didn’t want to eat them. Loose and smushy, sticking to the sides of the ceramic. Germs, again -- at the bottom of the glass. That’s why you have to drink up fast next time, Tony. Otherwise they’ll take over. And then you won’t be able to breathe again.

I don’t remember yesteryear. Things we did and said when we were younger. I was blonde though, with brown eyes and long eyelashes like a little girl. These were the times when my hair had no legs and I could run for minutes without stopping, breathing, panicking. But I used to fall and scrape them a lot. A little bloody sometimes. I got a Little Archie Comic once when I was good and held still while the doctor stitched me up. I remember his jeans, not the doctor, and the label that was coming off the side. Is that why I don’t like peanut butter breath? Look at the double chin I have now, protruding in places where nothing used to protrude. Maybe that’s why I don’t remember. Can you remember nothing, a beforehand period, where substance was ethereal like faeries? Is life like a globe, if I walk far enough will I find myself where I’ve been? And if so, can I go before that? Unborn, unmade, with the unique me who I’ve always been. But evolved or matured or grown, or double-chinned? How can you call me ‘friend’ when I’m different than I was yesterday. In the process of becoming did I become someone else?

Life used to be simple. Now its excess. And excess in its lacking thereof. Information, friendships, time. Time for my date tonight, with myself and the artistic side of myself. I don’t remember things ever having been simple but they were simpler than they used to be. If someone didn’t like me, they would punch me or talk bad about me. Now its all smiles and backbiting. But I have more facebook friends than my brother so everything is aye-okay with the world! Tonight the Waterhouse exhibit, dead girls and sorrow, but that means I need time, and venturing through the snow, and I want to be a Lazy Mary too. Charlie wants me back in bed. Can I skip it or would I just be doing what the book said I would?
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Wednesday, January 6th, 2010

Subject:Morning Pages #3
Time:1:19 pm.
Apple Juice, Orange Juice. No lime lemonade today. Not for lack of trying, the vending machine was empty and I didn't want to go to the work-cafeteria for just juice. And I would never go to the for anything else, for quality reasons. Also, the caf's cash line is also painfully slow and overpriced and I usually find myself 'accidentally' overcharged anywhere from .25 cents to a couple of dollars // no receipts ever get printed and there are no prices on any of the products (just a blurry, small-print poster behind the cash). But the cashiers also always look confused when you buy a muffin or a cookie, like they don't know what it is.. or where the button is on the cash and they seem to pick any random one, no matter the cost. Its so weird and sketch-o. Rather than make a fuss over pennies, I've vowed not to go back And then, when I do go back, because eventually I'm hungry, and I work in an industrial section of Montreal with no restaurants around (except for the IKEA one but I'd never be able to get there before my 15 min break is over), I find out the cookies I purchased are stale with traces of whatever was on the wrapper's hands when they were wrapping them up. It's actually quite revolting, especially from a mysophobe's perspective. Pick your battles though.

I was up early enough, the alarm snoozes (because I had multiples), going off every five minutes. I was up and about and outside, with my scarf, mittens and hat in hand (well, that hat on the head, but the expression suits, at least for gloves). Jeff stayed in bed until I left (I called though, just to make sure he didn't sleep in because I'm sweet // not because I'm sweet that he'd sleep in, that I wouldn't let him because I care). I cuddled Charlie last night and noticed Jeff had his arm wrapped around Charlie when I left. Charlie is my new lime-green stuffed monkey, one of my unsbubtly hinted-at XMAS gift from the Boo. I once bought Jeff a lime-green stuffed monkey, at a Jean Coutu in Fredericton, when I went to my dad's second wedding. That sweet little monkey sat in Jeff's windowsill, his cat Lynx's playmate (aka fuckmate) through many-a-season. But Jeff resented the monkey. He thought it was infantile and silly, and thus made him look infantile and silly. He likes to keep his room, at the time, IKEA-catalogue perfect; spotless, simple, no excess (which reminds me, I can't wait to put the new TORI AMOS and GARBAGE posters in our room up, btw, they're so big and bold! Champion-women smiling down.). He kept threatening to destroy the monkey (the original lime-green, not Charlie), toss it into the garbage, his way of demonstrating his maturity. I was very shocked that such a representation of my love could so easily be tossed away. Because he did, or so I thought. But at the Christmas party this year, his sister hinted that the monkey was placed into a box in his parents' basement. I don't know why he would want me to think he threw it out when he didn't. I will have to thoroughly investigate the matter. I just need to find my Nancy Drew hat.

Speaking of gay private investigators, we went out the other day to see Sherlock Holmes but it was sold out. Stupid Avatar, taking over all the screens. Robert Downey Jr. got into quite a kah-fuffle recently, hinting the sequel to Sherlock Holmes would have a far more intimate connection between his character and little Watson, played by playboy darling Jude Law. However, the woman who owns the rights to the Sherlock Holmes has vowed to retract any permission if homosexuality is discussed in the film. I always thought there was more to the 'dig depper, Watson' joke. And everyone was gay in that era, right? Yet another Northstar, to be hinted at, I guess, subtly, rather than overtly displayed, like a lime-green monkey. I hope a little excitement about a homosexual role doesn't cost Mr. Downey Jr. millions of dollars in lost-revenue for a picture that never was...
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Tuesday, January 5th, 2010

Subject:Morning Pages #2
Time:1:00 pm.
Head in the pillow, one o'clock in the morning, I did a 25 man vaults and a whole bunch of dailies so that I might, one day, be able to afford to create a virtual motorbike. I don't even want a motorbike in real life but somehow, late last night, this was important. My morning alarm was set, clothing laid out, room almost spotless for what was supposed to be a seamless wakening this morning. Not so much; I guess, because of yesterday's snooze marathon every five minutes, my subconscious decided it'd be fun to just turn off the alarm altogether, after the initial ring this morning. Jeff, bless his little soul, was of no help. When I woke at 7:20 (to a phonecall, no less), he said, "yeah, you turned both alarms off" (not just my telephone alarm but I actually got up, walked across the room to turn the second alarm off). I thought his statement was quite accusatory and will have to remind myself to berate him when I get home, especially considering I don't even remember hearing either of the alarms. No matter. I threw my clothes on (thank god for folding them in a neat little pile by the bed), smothered myself in a few wet wipes (somehow missed my face), deoderanted my underarms, brushed the teeth (while singing happy birthday twice, because a co-worker told me many years ago this was necessary I continued to believe it as truth) and ran out the door to catch my ride (thanks Jacqueline!) again. Can't wait to be home though. I have a motorbike to make.

Today, after work, I get to go to wal-mart. This is more exciting than it sounds as I've had some of my favourite posters laminated. Yes, they've spent the last couple of years in a dirty basement, possibly getting mildewy, possibly slightly burned, paper next to a heater, definitely basement-smelly. The Tori Amos one has turned brown (from white) in certain parts and well, after that I didn't want to examine the Shirley Manson (that HUSSY!) one. I do love the posters and am more than willing to fork a bit of dollars (that I dont have!) to have them displayed as bedroom wall-accessories. Because so many people will be coming into our room going and say, "wow, what great posters!". Maybe I just want Jeff to feel like all these women-champions of mine are watching him, accusingly. And if he's not right with me I may turn evil and bitchy, just like them. He's already endured the black and white vogue-ing Madonna, with that slight glare in her eyes, the Marilyn, the mermaid, the Avatar of Woe, the Voice of All, Imogen Heap, another mermaid, yet another mermaid, Eddie Izzard in fishnets and a whole display of ladies I like to call 'my geishas'. What's a couple of more? He already reprimands me as controlling, decorated everything to suit my wants (and not his). If he's going to think that I don't see why I don't actually do so; he's made it abundantly clear he doesnt want to put any of his special pictures up.

I spent the weekend visiting my good bud Bobbies. We made little MySims characters in his Wii racing, Mario-Kart-esque game. But the premade characters had more detail (and pigtails!) than the customizable ones, so I had to go with Brandi, the dark and vicious gothie (purple and black haired!) chick/girl/thing. Now I'm not a Wii expert and I found playing the game very much like exercise, as you had to hold the remote controls up and it turn it aggressively before the game's motion sensor responds. Haven't seen Bobbies in a while, and felt weird, because I gave him money for Christmas (remember, bad tony gifts this year!). At least last year I got him a gift card. I did try to call a few times, speak with his boyfriend, to see if he had/wanted a magic bullet (turns out he did want one..). But no one ever responded (i.e. his boyfriend Jonathan). Oh well. He gets money, my mom gets incense and the world will go on, even though my gifts were crap. What's horrible is I pretty much spent the one (out of two!) weeks of 2009 vacation shopping for gifts. And have absolutely nothing to show for it, crappy gifts and what can be perceived as little-to-no-thought.

I'm a couple of days away from getting my new computer. In the advertisement on the website it's lime-green (but some doofus in the comments section had the nerve to post it was actually 'guacomole' coloured). So rather than be shocked and disappointed with the horrible bait and switch of the company, how they lured me in with the shiny limey emerald and thrust upon me a dried vegetable, I'm well aware in advance I'm not going to get what I want. Is that better or worse? I mean, with the possibility of getting an actual lime-green tower against the option of a less-expensive, more-functional, with more fans and backing, black tower, who would choose the black one?

I feel like a sorority girl sometimes. I bought the sequel to "Confessions of a Shopaholic". "Shopaholic takes Manhattan". I read the original book in one day. Thought it was funny and by no means intelligent. It would be a good replacement to the Archie comics or People Magazines in my bathroom for toilet reading. But with Bob, on the weekend, we watched the movie that came out two years ago. And it wasn't as bad as the critics made it out to be (it was by no means another 'Catwoman' or 'In the Cut') but it just wasn't as good. They changed the characters. They made her less british and the love interest more british. And by less british I mean 'American' and by more british, I mean 'ugly'. The Luke Brandon character was supposed to be this classically attractive, successful, hunky, from a distance character and they turned him into a sloppy joe, always in the picture character, centre of the movie guy. He didn't actually appear much in the book. He was always this character, from a distance, looking at the main character (who is just plain silly!), smiling. She thought he was making fun of her the whole time, like he knew she was a fraud, bad at her job, the joke of the british financial journalist scene. But the whole time he was actually attracted to her passion, to her as a person, her whims and quims and things, her very different approach to a scene she obviously didnt really belong to. Sometimes I feel Jeff looks at me in this way (lovingly!), or looked at me in that way (I can of piss him off way too easily now). And I guess if I read the sequel I can get a little bit of that back. Silly, huh? Like a sorority girl.
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Monday, January 4th, 2010

Subject:Morning Pages #1
Time:12:51 pm.
Woke up this morning with a jump, flash, bam. Well, a jump flash bam after an hour and fifteen minutes of pushing snooze. From 5:45 a.m until 7:08 and my bus is at 7:20. Why did I keep ringing the the snooze button on my foot (and pressing the snooze button on my phone. Wow. Don't speak much, do you, Tony?). I blame Jeff. He's a very good excuse for all my problems. I mean, why didnt he kick me out of bed or, at least, pass a few nudges or shoves in my direction, after the umpteenth alarm. I know he's very good at that because when I try to touch him at night, the shoves all appear, vivacious and strong. And why did he stay in it bed, all comfy and snuggled, when he, too, had to get up? Thank god for Jaqueline kindly offering a lift to work. So here I am, 8 a.m., corporate training for telephone services. Refreshing vague tutorials about phones I've never touched. Has been a year, I guess since I took the smartphone tutorial. At least there's the tech support department when we have to go into specifics. Not really sure I ever learned anything the first time either, so the refresher has just gone out the other ear.

Things I'm looking forward to; I'm going on a date with my creative self on Thursday, were going to see the Waterhouse exhibit downtown which I think, hope, is still on. I've been very bad at planning things and so now I've marked it on my semi-nude men uniform calendar (thank you, Jeff, for the wonderful gift!). I had the Lady of Shallott (never can really spell that word, two 'L's?, two 'T's?) laminated poster in my room for long periods of time (years) and even though its now a cliché, like Geiger (which I still have up in my living room, I just haven't found a suitable replacement for it yet), I do love it. I bought my dad, when he was still alive, one of Waterhouse's mermaid pictures and attached it to a Christmas card gift (probably a tie, or those chocolate mint baton-things // I'm not the best with Christmas gifts. I hope that doesn't mean I'm uncaring or don't know people well), with the hope that he might paint a picture of it. For me. My mom told me I had to tell him directly, otherwise he would never have gotten the hint. I'm not sure if I ever did ask, or if he ever did paint it. Probably not. He did paint me a picture of the Scarlet Witch once, when I asked, and I ripped it up when I was mad at him. Probably hurt me more than him. No more pictures was probably a good thing. Odd, now that I look at the few paintings he had done, of houses and landscapes and other boring things, and think they're just beautiful.

I give myself permission to not know, to start off new, to start off ignorant and maybe even bad. My lemonade is limey. My brain is fuzzy. This is me and where I am and where I need to go. This is the first draft. #1. The part where I get to let my censor go uncensored. It's actually fun, watching it freak out. Or is it freakout? Look at me, I'm not even looking it up. I don't think its even a word, anwyay. FREAKOUT. Okay, maybe a word. Or a scream. Or an old song, long forgotten called 'the show' which, it turns out, when I listened to it on repeat about fifteen times that I actually think its a great song. Lyrics were slightly confusing, so I rewrote them (from listening to them) and then I had a friend also rewrite them, from hearing them. Both are better than what I had originally heard (originally, in the repeated non-original sense of the word), when I relistened to the song (which is an original composition), once it had been found (refound, not founded). So I guess its not all bad. I just hope I remember how to play it. I dont even know what chords I'm using and I am worried that I might not be able to play it ever again, which serves me right for having fogotten about it in the first place. But if I forgot about 'the show' and I recently remembered 'rainbow mittens' (which I had also forgotten about and even in place of the song in my memories, I replaced it with others, so that events made sense), what other songs have I simply forgotten from lack of appreciation or trying and ambition?

Things that I keep thinking about. Gaining weight. I used to buy extra small t-shirts and small sweaters. Now I buy small t-shirts and medium sweaters. And as I sit in this chair and type, my medium sweater is not long nor big enough to cover the little bit of jelly in my waist-area blubbering-away. I guess if I really cared I'd do away with all those salted french fries, swirly milkshake sundaes, non-diet coke and ice, with a maraschino cherry (I had to look up maraschino. Bad censor!). I'd do away with the never-ending array of Christmas chocolates that have piled up on my livingroom plant table (the table my mom tiled with her grandmother, and then I stole from her because my plants needed a place to sit). In their defense, they quite like it. I wish they liked me. When I'm the one who has to water them, I see them frowning, my black thumb of over or under-watering (we've had a few casualties in 2009, 2010 looks promising so far!). My aunt Barb asked me once to look after her plants. They were black and crispy when she came back from being away. I did water them though so my excuse is a thumb made of black. And let's not forget my fig tree, with its gooey-white insects all over, eating it alive. I felt so bad for that plant, I could hear it screaming if it could, but it didnt even manage a faint wimper, which made me even sadder. I had to perform euthanasia and end its suffering (and mine, to sit idly and watch the thing decay from my comfy futon-chair. It was distracting while I watched t.v.); I marched to the kitchen, like a good little soldier, grabbed the sharpest knife, which happened to be a pair of scissors, and chopped it from the stem. The thing is, they're supposed to die when you do that. With no leaves, a plant has no air valves, no oxygen intake. I pretty much strangled it with a plastic bag. And yet the stupid plant still lives. Except now it really doesnt have a solid base, its all sprouting from sprouts, leaning from the little shaft it has left, off-putting and mocking in my direction, as if to say, "Tony, it's all your fault".
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Tuesday, May 5th, 2009

Time:12:14 pm.
okay. i will clean the house today, as its my day off and wow is down and blah blah. were going to p.e.i for cousin nathan's wedding in a few days and i dont want to come back to a messy, stinky apartment.. sadly enough, the thing i hate most is recycling; i have to separate all the plastics, glass, cardboard/paper so i can put them in their separate bins downstairs.. but no one puts them in the proper bins, so when i lift the lids, everything is chaos; but i could never do that! even though i know its all jumbled, i still insist on separating everything, which takes a long time. blah blah, which is why i am now here..
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Sunday, May 3rd, 2009

Subject:NEWS: Blizzard announces there's an "I" in Team !!!
Time:11:13 am.
School of Hard Knocks PVP Achievement:

After ten straight games of Alterac Valley (all losses, but who's counting?), I had almost given up on my Orphan quest, which actually would disable me from getting my Purple Proto-Drake in a few months. The Purple Proto Drake is like the Holy Grail of Nerd-Dom (and it would completely match my precious purple skeleton warhorse!). What Blizzard has asked you to do, in order to accomplish these achievements, was to assault a tower with your orphan out as a witness to your very righteous cause. Not a bad idea in principle, the only problem is there are forty other people, with forty straggling orphans behind them, trying to do exactly that and a very limited number of four towers. It doesn't work like other quests that ask the same thing where anyone could cap the tower and you just have to be in the vicinity as having accomplished it yourself. Game after game of wishing I could kill my own faction, I found myself no where near closer to the achievement.

Got kind of annoying.

Stonehearth and Icewing were impossible -- even if I were the first one in the stone towers, which I almost always was, I would not be able to get the achievement because as you're trying to cap the flag, the NPCs are hitting you with their arrows. And dont even think of killing the NPCs, cuz then you'll aggro, and someone else will cap the flag because of you're actually doing them a favour and taking the hits instead of them. You see what a blahy situation this has become?

I gave up with Icewing and SH and went for North and South Bunker, which are closer to the alliance headquarters. As you're reaching these towers, you're more exposed and my beautiful Death Knight would find herself at half life when reaching the tower, the npcs mercilessly sharpshooting. The alliance, eager to prey on an already weakened enemy, took advantage of my poor health and would usually oneshot me to death (usually a paladin). ... But then what happened? I'm right beside the flag, dead as a doornail and instead of being automatically transported to the nearest graveyard, my body lay limp, a message popped up on my screen, "do you want to resurrect" .. what the? I had no soul stone on me! "do you want to resurrect" .. I looked around in my ghostly form; no pallies, having secured themselves in the knowledge they had raped me senseless. I pressed the red button and came back to life, half life, and blew the whistle to get my awkwardly-chipper orc orphan out and I capped the flag, the last of my school of hard knocks.

Bless the angel who took pity on me. And shame on Blizzard for creating battleground achievements that promote selfishness and greed.
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Thursday, April 30th, 2009

Subject:new plants for a vege-friendly apartment
Time:1:03 pm.
Boo and I went to Canadian Tire yesterday for Spring Shopping on Plants.

We got home pretty late last night, as it was his mom's birthday. Boo toughed it out and potted about 10 different plants and we placed them around the apartment; my role included assigning the right plants to the pretty pots, cleaning the living room and the mess in the kitchen afterwards (as potting plants is quite dirty). FUN.

The only thing that we didnt get done was our outside plant because it was still a little chilly last night and I didnt want it to die.

Hopefully the plants will make us feel better, as we're both still suffering from a horrible cough. We keep crossing our fingers its not Swine, as neither of us has been to Mexico and no reported cases of swine in Quebec exist. Although, I must say, I am perturbed that the reported cases in Canada that have swine were in Mexico a month ago, which means, they've been spreading around the Swin Flu for a whole month. It could easily be all over Canada by now. Still. Crossing fingers. And hoping its just a common cold that goes away soon. Otherwise who's gonna water the plants?
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Monday, June 16th, 2008

Time:1:57 am.
back to mOntreal.
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