"May your neighbours respect you, trouble neglect you, angels protect you, and heaven accept you."

It’s been ages, I know. I admittedly fell off the map for a while. It’s largely i part because Ivan needs some medication to get up and running smoothly again, and my lazy/broke ass doesn’t have the energy/funds to repair him. Someone do it for free? Please? Pretty please? That’s reason number one. Reason two is that I’m a busy person—(kinda), full time jobs take most of your energy so for the couple days you get to lounge around the house, the last thing I think about it blogging. Writing, sometimes. Not blogging. They’re too separate for me now. Which brings me to number three. I used this blog as a medium of communication between myself and everyone who happens to come across it. I do not write things to instigate anger or hatred in others, I write simply for the sake of writing, pouring emotion or putting legibility to random thoughts. This is it. So how can I say this kindly, in a way that you’ll understand? Get the fuck over yourselves. No, not every post is about you. If you are or have been any part of my life in that last four years then I’m sure you’ve been made reference to at least once on here. In that event, no I do not need to ask for permission to write about you or what you think make have reference to you. Nor have I spent the last four years conjuring thoughts and poems to make it on this blog hoping that you’ll see it and strike some emotion. Truth be told, if there were a way to restrict certain IP addresses from even viewing this blog, then I would (i.e., if you know how to do this, please help a homie out).

1. lazy & busy
2. Ivan needs help
3. Tired of the “is this about me” questions/claims

I’ve made a conscious decision though to ignore that last factor and instead tough it out through the laziness, Ivan’s lack lustre performance and the nagging. Here it is. Back. Back. Back. For how long? I’m not quite sure. But I do know that I’ve mentally made note of many things to add to the various segments here. Including, “New a Day,” and “Things I should have said.”

I missed Danny. Truly I did.

Cottage 2011

Brief Update, more to come. 

I say it’s because I don’t have anything to write about

And it’s true. I don’t have much to tell you so posts come very seldom. Saw friends tonight—I’ve told you about Johanna here before (which, mind you, every single word in that post still stands true), but the other, Sara, don’t think I’ve told you about her before, maybe indirectly. I’m too lazy to check in all honesty. But anyway, here’s the thing—we used to be really good friends, the three of us. Like everything was about us, always together, always hanging. And I cannot pinpoint where that stopped. Somewhere between first and second year university we all sort of did our own thing. Johanna went to Waterloo & Sara got married & had a baby—and I…well I did nothing remotely different with my life except seclude and pull away from everyone and everything that meant high school to me. They were shoved into the sidelines by default. I kept Johanna around, kept talking to her and going out with her. And so, I fully admit to abandoning Sara. I do. I wont deny it. I convinced myself that she didn’t want to be my friend. She had other friends, friends with babies (this sounds so ridiculous as I try to put it into words). And so a large part of me just thought she was happier with them. And when I didn’t know about the baby, didn’t know about the wedding, didn’t know about her life—I pulled away. I stopped trying. Gave up. I convinced myself that if she wanted me in her life she would have me in her life. Simple as that. The day that your best friend of five (or more) years gets married and doesn’t invite you [rather even let you know about it] is the day that you give up. Please bear with me as I rant for a moment—you see this wasn’t just any wedding. Not just any couple. See, these two (the groom I’ve known since I was 10 by the way)—this was Sara & Matt. Sara & Matt who I pushed together, who I watched break up and get back together fifty times, who I told they’d end up together no matter what they went through. Sara & Matt who I defended to no end after the seventh break up and everyone thought they should just stay broken up. Sara & Matt. I rooted for those guys. I was their biggest fan. From the very beginning. We talked about their wedding since we were thirteen. And I wasn’t there. I didn’t even know it was happening until I saw it on Facebook.  NOW STOP what you’re thinking, the blame isn’t on her. No. Because it’s on me too. I didn’t try, not ever. But if I had to choose, if I really had to narrow it down, that would be when things changed for me. Until then I always hoped we could just pick up where we left off, but then we continued to grow further and further apart until the kids we used to be just disappeared.

So, four years later, after random conversations and meetings with one or the other we decided to get the trio together again. I don’t know why, but Johanna initiated it (she’s brave like that), I’ll be the first to admit that I would have continued on the same path, leaving the past in the exact same area of my subconscious that I had buried it into. Dinner was fine though. I walked into it expecting awkward pauses and forced conversation. Maybe it was just me who felt the “tension,” (but not tension really), just like there were things that weren’t being said out loud. Hence the previous paragraph.

My point is this: Old friends don’t have to stay that way, not if you don’t want them to. It’s okay to call someone you used to know and tell them you want to hang out. It’s okay to say I fucked up and I liked having you in my life. It’s the saddest thing when best friends become strangers, and it happens way more often then I’d ever like to see.

Twelfth grade. Sara & I.

The three of us. Prom.

We might not get there, not to what we were. I’m okay with that. But there’s something to be said about moving on, and getting to where we are.

You’re so vain, I bet you think this blog is about you

Okay, Hi. I’m still alive. get ready for my excuses: [1] Ivan is dying. Seriously. He flashes red when his battery is in, so I keep him plugged & running. This leads to complete laziness (on my part) because I really don’t want to re-boot every damn time I switch my blogging spot. [2] I’m writing again, lots actually. Which is a relief. I thought for a while that I’d lost it. But it’s there, just waiting every once in a while to come on out. [3] I’m working. I know everyone works, but my inconsistent schedule and anemia lead to exhaustion virtually all the time.

There, those are my excuses. Don’t stone me now. Oh my God. Have you seen The Stoning of Soraya M? Okay. Seriously. Haunting. I cried so hard. So sad. It was insanely…I can’t even find the word. It was just crazy.

I have wax build up in my left ear. I know, it’s such a fantastic topic to cover, but really, I’ve been filling my ear with peroxide on a daily basis and it’s making me insane. Seriously, it’s annoying. I can’t hear properly and I forget what the serenity of a non-aching ear feels like.

I really just wanted to come over here and tell you that I still exist, I’ve been neglecting Danny, I know (sorry guy). I lied okay, what I’m really here for is to tell you how much I love Eminem. As per usual. I can’t get enough of his latest. On repeat.

And that’s all.

I’m back guys. Promise. Pinky swear.

Something Borrowed

So I just watched this movie again. I watched it once in theatres…I can’t remember who I was with (sorry). I hated it then. HATED IT. Now? Still hate it. It’s an interesting movie, there’s nothing wrong with the actors or the screenplay or anything cinematic like that. It’s the story, the sequence of events that makes we want to rip out their hearts.

The entire time I want to stand up and scream THAT’S YOUR BEST FUCKING FRIEND. And in my head, that’s exactly what I’m saying, over and over. I couldn’t imagine it. I really couldn’t. Sleeping with him was one thing. That is something I could understand, accept and even forgive. But the lying, the cheating, the sneaking around. Never. Ever. Ever. I don’t know if I’m an abundantly loyal person, but Rachel & Dex’s characters disgust me. And the entire time it’s like it is just okay, no problem, let’s spend the weekend together. WHAT THE FUCK? That’s your best friend. And I can’t even be mad at the guy. I really can’t, because i firmly believe that every guy cheats. Go ahead, tell me your stupid fucking stories about your loyal boys, I don’t give a shit. I think guys have this innate desire, this cheating destiny that eventually they all fulfill. Anyway, this is why I’m not mad at Dex. But Rachel.

I wish, for the rest of my life that I never have a best friend like her. I would honestly without a doubt rather be alone, forever.

Yes, I lie. I’ve probably lied to your face half a dozen times. Yeah I get mad at you, and I’ll probably say some crappy shit about you. But that loyalty? That tiny ounce of trust that bonds you and I together—without it there is absolutely no point in pursuing a friendship. An anger builds up in me when I watch this movie. And even though the best friend is a total Bitch—I could never.

That’s your best friend. I just say it, over and over.

Countdown

In a month, I’ll be here:

Overlooking the world from here:

Relaxing over here:

The last time I went on a vacation was when I went to Boston with the family to visit my uncles. I was… You know if I had a blog back then I would be able to tell you these details because I could recall anything important with a quick blog search. Anyway, I think I was sixteen. Maybe seventeen. Anyway, it feels like it was a long time ago. It was…At least five years. More, I bet.  Anyway. I’m stoked. Excited. Happy to get away. Even if just for a week, I think it’ll be nice to get away. We leave September 3rd, night time. Sleep, and then the following day we let the festivities begin. There will be a lot of nothing going on. I suspect I’ll get some reading done. Serenity is what I wish most for. Just Quiet. No cellphones. No television. No noise. White noise. Sand. Lovely.

One month. Come on now.

Fuck. Fuck. Annoyed.

Monday
Me: [call work, switch my 9:30 to 6 shift for a 1:00 to 9:30 shift; make plans] Hey dad, just an FYI, I’m using the car Wednesday morning. In case you wake up and think you’ve been robbed…no no,I have it.
Dad: Okay.
*five minutes later*
Dad: WAIIIT, no I have an appointment at 10.
Me: Don’t lie!
Dad: seriously, I have an appointment at 10.
Me: Fine.

Okay. Damage control. Call work, switch my 1:00-9:30 shift back to a 9:30 to 6 shift. Plan to do something in the evening. Learn that Boss is alone. Call work. Switch my already switched shift back to a 1:00 to 9:30.

Text Nad. Text Jo. Text Mary.
Guys, can’t do breakfast. Lunch? around 11:30…gotta be at work by 1, maybe 2 [pushing it].
All agreed. Perfect.

Wednesday
Me: Dad, you gonna be home be 11?
Dad: Yeah, it’s not far.
Me: Perfect [send confirmation text x 3] Dad, you’re gonna be late, go get dressed.
Dad: for what?
Me: Your appointment. At ten.
Dad: OH, no I changed it to 12:30.
Me: I just asked if you’re gonna be home by 11 and you said yes.
Dad: What?
Me: I’m gonna fucking hang myself. Right here. Fuck.
Dad: What?
Me: OHMIGOD.

Text x 3
Guys. Cancel lunch. fuck. so annoyed.

My father doesn’t understand why I’m upset right now. He thinks it’s not a big deal. I cancelled an opening shift. I think this is why I’m so annoyed. I fucking hate closing and my back pain feels worse when I close. Now I don’t have the night off to do what ever I want. I’m so annoyed right now. I wanna pull my hair out. No, I wanna shoot myself more. Know that gnawing feeling inside when you wanna scream and bitch but can’t, because he’s your dad. And you can’t be mean to him. Not even a little. So you sit there in silence with a stupid pouty face on forcing yourself to shut up because the next thing you say will be explosive. An he’ll yell. You’ll yell.

Get me a car. Anyone out there.
This would all be avoided with a vehicle.

I can’t say it enough. I’m annoyed. My heart is shrinking.

Movie Review: Friends With Benefits

  

It’s not just because they are so fucking adorable. Like seriously, Justin Timberlake: sexy. Mila Kunis: so sexy. Together, there is this large combination of pure beauty. Okay, really though, the movie was hilarious. I mean it. I laughed out loud several times. Timberlake grew out of his annoying acting that we saw in Alpha Dog (refrain from throwing up at the thought) and Kunis, well quite frankly, I’ve loved her in everything I’ve seen her in—even from way back in That 70s Show.

The film follows Jamie, a head hunter, who recruits Dylan to the New York offices of GQ magazine as a…I actually have no fucking clue what his job is. Something in graphic design and marketing. Anyway, this is how they meet. And right off the bat, you already know they’re falling in love. So Jamie tries convincing him to come to NY and takes him on all of these romantic adventures in a night. Let me just stop us there—MOST ROMANTIC FUCKING THINGS EVER. Seriously, it was like my dream night in the first 20 minutes of the film. Best part: mountain view of NY from on top of some crazy high symbolic no cell signal building.

Anyway. I’m going to ruin it all for you right now. Dylan fucks it all up because he keeps thinking they’re both in just for the sex. Of course—those lines got blurred when they were all gay and lovingly looking in each other’s eyes the night before and the jokes disappeared and they *barf* made love. Sorry. I had to throw it in there because OBVIOUSLY Hollywood has to throw in the oh so obvious difference between the two.

   

They’re so cute and so funny. Honestly. Definitely watch it, not kidding. Worth it. Yes they fall in love at the end which a huge part of me was hoping that they wouldn’t (i.e., The Break-up) just for the sake of making it a little bit different. I loved it. There are great moments, great lines, great laughs.

                              
www.rbouyounes.com rating 8/10 thumbs up : )

John & Stella’s Wedding 16/07/11

           

     

Every once in a while I find a gem

Last year on my birthday Nad wrote me a card that said,

“I know you don’t like celebrating your birthday. But I’ll celebrate it anyway,
because it’s the day that God brought you into the world and into my life.”

It is corny. And sweet. And romantic. But there’s a large chunk of me that believes it, and makes my black heart go awwww. I love this girl. She is one of the very few friends that I have—even after marriage & a baby she still somehow manages to make some time for me.

This is more than I can say for most of you.

But every once in a while I find a gem, Like Nadia buried amongst 6.5 billion people; or like this card buried amongst 6 hundred pounds of clothing and garbage and makeup. Every once in a while these little things make the crappy things seem okay, seem to disappear.

Thank you.

From Monkeys.

Darwin’s theory of evolution goes like this:

humans, from the ape—have evolved, shedding and gaining traits and qualities that aid in our survival. We (including all animal species) over the course of thousands of years change our physical beings in order to live. Plain and simple. i.e., the tail. We all have tailbones. But no tails. The theory is that monkeys used their tails to hang and jump and transport themselves, eventually, we stopped needing them because our legs were longer, we could move faster on ground, could stand upright. The tail became unnecessary. Generations through and through, the tail was lost. The bone remains.

Opposable thumbs. Eye lashes. Body hair. All of these things came about through our species’ attempt at survival.

Darwin was on to something. It is not time that heals all wounds. In fact, wounds—they never heal. This illusion of healing is really just the transitioning phase of our physical selves. We adapt. It’s what we do. Our bodies, our brains, we learn how to live with change, we learn how to accept it.

Adapt. Live. Survive. Do it again.

Darwin said it first. In a physical context. But here I’m saying it—healing is a false reality and the sooner you accept that the wounds are still there and very concrete, the sooner you prepare yourself for the process of adaptation. Because, you see, this process is not short. It will takes years, lifetimes. Your children’s children may potentially feel the repercussions of your generation, your lifetime.

There is no healing involved. Just adapting, then accepting.

I thought maybe it was just me

Is it strange that the fact that there are over two hundred and five million people wondering the same thing comforts me? I thought maybe it was just me. I had lunch with Nad yesterday, and I told her that the only thing I could see myself doing for the rest of my life is having my own business—whether the bakery route or restaurant route. This is the only thing that I could whole heartedly see as making me completely happy. I drove yesterday. Alone. No dad, no instructor, no one else in the car. And this strange serenity came over me. I had complete control over my own life, for the first time ever it seemed. I felt like I could go anywhere, do anything I wanted, and I was happy. I don’t even remember the last time I was so unequivocally happy. My facebook feed is filling up with great stories—job offers, proposals, marriages, moving, etc etc etc. And me? nothing. I need to do something, but for the life of me I cannot figure out what it is that I need—rather want to do. I slept until 2pm today. I don’t know when the last time it was that I slept that late. And then it hit me. I don’t sleep in because I’m lazy. I sleep in because I have nothing to wake up for. I could lay in bed all day long, and nothing would change. No one would miss me, no jobs would go unfinished, the world would function perfectly normally. I cannot say it enough because it is a constant thought looming at the back of my mind. I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH MY LIFE. Now I have dreams, still, those unattainable, too-out-there, type of dreams. Like writing & publishing for a living, particularly writing songs for famous artists and sitting way at the back of the concert hall listening with my eyes closed as a crowd of ten thousand sing my lyrics back to the band. Those kinds of dreams. But the realism escape me. I don’t want to be accountant or a firefighter or a teacher or all those other regular things that people want to be. I don’t know.I didn’t know ten years ago when I was graduating elementary school and was told that I had four years to figure it out. I didn’t know five years ago when I graduated high school and was told I had a few months to figure it out. I didn’t know four years ago when I picked a specialist & a major. I didn’t know two months ago when they handed me my degree. I don’t know. But all these other people do. Except for the two hundred million of us. 

For the guys who didn't pull out in time.

It's a terrible way to look at it. I laughed so hard when @DarynJones tweeted that, makes you wonder how many dads are dads simply because of failed contraception. there are probably a lot, probably most. few children are ever planned, I think. usually just big surprises-- could be good or bad. Think Revolutionary Road. watched that film for the first time yesterday. that last pregnancy realllllly messed them up, they were genuinely happy before it. it happens, you see, all these unwanted children. anyway. this isn't about that. 23 years and i've yet to meet a man as hillarious, kind, loving & giving as my pops. no, he probably didn't want all five of us, likely didn't plan for any of us, but he puts up with us, day in & day out. and if you can put up with us all at once, then you definitely deserve a day for yourself.

HAPPY FATHER'S DAY,
too a great one.

posted from Bloggeroid

I need to make up with Ivan

If you’re back, then you’re about to (or have read) the last post about why Ivan and I have been so distant lately. It wasn’t until a couple of nights ago when I realized how far away I had pushed him. Andy has kept me sufficiently connected to the world. But he just can’t be enough anymore. A few nights ago I was checking postsecret and realized that I hadn’t read postsecret on an actual computer in over a month. There’s a special experience reading postsecret online, different features and notes you don’t quite get from the convenience of a mobile. For instance, when you hover over each secret you get to see some little gems. Things like taking note of what Frank has saved it on his computer as. This is crucial because often times the secrets have things written on both sides of the card, and it will be saved as “onback.blahblahblahblah.jpg,” so you get to see that. Or the file name will be something sweet that he noticed, or the image will invert to actually show the back. Or he’ll reveal another secret, like a translation of something on the card, or some insight into where it could have come from. Anyway, it’s important to read postsecret on the computer. Andy just doesn’t give me all the perks that Ivan can provide.

file name: “onback.withamanlikeyouhowcantheynotbe.iloveyou.jpg”

file name: “wheredopeoplemakeIslikethat”

file name: “onback.grandpakilledhimself.jpg”

   
When you hover over the above photo, the below photo appears:

I feel like I’ve let you in on a little secret. Read them differently now. They will change you, if not more than they might already have.

Those old guys were on to something

Durkheim and Marx talk about anomie—all in all, the process by which our actions (everyday, mundane actions) eventually become habitual. Eventually we complete daily tasks without even the slightest thoughts, we simply go through the same routines over and over leaving little room for surprise or change. Anomie. anoME. I could not describe it more clearly. Habits. Layman. Mundane. The everyday. It’s a cycle of the same old repetition. This is why Danny’s struggling for material. More so why my brain is suffering from a lack of inspiration. I wake up. Go to work. Come home. Sleep. I wake up. Watch television. Play with Boss. Sleep. In a sequence of these events (change order every so often), these are my days. I’m dying inside. I’m DYING inside. There has to be more after this. Tell me that I didn’t graduate to just sit around and hate what I’m doing, and hate my routine, hate (dare I say it) my life. I do. I hate it. I can’t hate it because people are worse off. But at this very moment, the boredom of the everyday is mentally exhausting and I hate it. I stay away from Ivan because I know that Danny is calling me, waiting for a new story, a funny riddle or clever thought. I stay away from Ivan because even he has nothing new and interesting to offer me. I’m tired of being bored. Someone once told me that they had never had a boring day in their life. I would love to understand how they accomplished this. I am bored. With life. With routine. I need a change now. As much as I hate change and as much as I fear it, I need it so badly, just to prove that I can actually do something different. I don’t know what it will take. But this anomic assembly line life style is killing me. There has got to be more out there. There just has to be.

… I want to see the world.

… I want.

Post Apocalypse

Sunday, May 22, 2011.

12:24am.

The sky is dark (well it would be, it’s just past midnight). I hear the distant sounds of explosions, screams of innocence echo outside of my window (actually, little black kids are lighting fireworks and shooting them at each other). I think about the other side of the world (googled some twitter feeds in Australia, s’all good there). Life exists [no one died. Well, someone died. People die every day—but nothing end of the world related (I don’t think)]. I spent the potential last day of my life fulfilling dreams (I worked till 6:30) and doing everything I’ve ever wanted to do (I spent an hour cleaning Ivan’s virus). The day was majestic and beautiful and the sky lit up (it’s boiling hot and I thought we were all going to burn to death). If you are reading this (you are probably alive) then it means I’m dead (no it doesn’t) and it means that something has gone terribly wrong (unlikely). Tell my family I love them (it’s okay, I’ll tell them myself).

In light of today, go watch a good post apocalyptic film and imagine what it could be like:

i.e., The Road, I Am Legend, District 9, 2012, etc etc etc.

We’ll have this conversation again in in the new year, supposing we’re still alive.

#17 It ain’t over till the big guy says it’s over

“But about that day or hour no one knows,
not even the angels in heaven,
nor the Son,
but only the Father.”
Matthew 24:36

It will happen. Eventually. One day. As a Catholic I believe this and expect it and wait for it. But when? Who knows? Next year. The year after. Maybe. A millennium from now? I don’t know. No body does. That’s the point. It’s not up to us and our calculations and our science and our prophecies. It’s not up to us. Just get on with it. Stop with the fear and agony over when and where and how. Just know that it will. We’re ALL dying eventually. Let this not be any different. When it’s here, it’s here. Better it be a surprise, rather than rack your brains and souls about it. Let Him do as he sees fit, whatever He has planned. Let go. Let live. The end will come when it’s time for it to come. Until then, stop fucking thinking so damn hard about it.

So easy to ignore.

I don’t remember how I found this poem. It’s…haunting. A thought so expansive that my brain wants to explode. I find things like this every so often and my mind & heart kinda go waaah? Not sure what is going on. It could be better. I have to say, it could be a lot better because the concept is so fucking brilliant I want to die. So brilliant I think, wow, how could I have never seen this before. Read this poem, it’s The Dash by Linda Ellis. Thoughts are running through my head, I want to make it better. It could be epic.

When I’m silent for too long my mind gets wandering. If I’m silent for too long get me speaking—because otherwise I’m thinking of my father’s eulogy, or a maid of honour speech, or an epic movie break up scene. My mind is morbid and twisted and in my silence it thinks of all these weird things that I do not say out loud because even to me they are strange.

This poem. It does that for me. It brings that strange-ness to paper. Thoughts are brewing.

The dash. It’s such a brilliant concept. So simple. SO easy to ignore. But God, brilliant.

Don’t do anything to be I’m sorry for

I haven’t blogged in a while. In almost a month. I’ve never done that before. A week? Maybe. A month? Never. I can’t tell you why. (not that there is anything) but that I don’t have a reason. I have no reason. I come home, tired. Ivan and I haven’t spent much time together and I’m desperately dreaming of the day I can replace Andy because he just isn’t cutting it anymore. Freezing and shutting down regularly really makes him a pain in the ass. Typical guy—loud & annoying, never there when you need him. I have things to tell you. I do. I have photos to share, that Sammy is dying to share but I am overwhelmed with laziness. It’s like—I’ve finished school & no longer have the will to do anything with my life. I am perfectly content lazing on the sofa & sleeping. ALL DAY LONG. Ivan. Ivan. Sorry, bud. I’ll hug and caress and cuddle you a little bit later. Most of my cuddling goes to Boss, let’s face it, he hugs back. In lieu of all these missed blogs, here’s a brief up date:

[1] I’m taking driving lessons (and am quite good)

[2] I got a promotion & a raise

[3] I’m buying a car. Eventually. (one day) (not a real update as nothing has happened here)

[4] That is all.

Oh God, every time I turn to Danny (the dot com) I wish I have more to tell you, but I don’t. Geeze, Danny’s been so neglected that I even let his domain expire before renewing it. SORRY DANNY, forgive me. He’s kind, he’ll still love me (even tomorrow).

If you had to sing an inspirational song, which would you pick? Which, if you’re not on American Idol, is really just a question of which song do you think is inspirational? I picked Dear Mr. President by Pink and I Hope You Dance by LeeAnne Womack. God, so good. Both.

[5] I changed my mind, on my tattoo. It wont be “though died and gone to heaven, forever we are 
seven,” it’s gonna be, “On Earth as it is in heaven, forever we are seven.”

It was mother’s day recently. Made mom cry (score) always a sign of success. NADIA’s first mother’s day[!] my big baby. Bought her a mother’s day gift but my neglecting means I still haven’t even seen her to give it to her. We’re TRYING to make plans and why am I using CAPS LOCK like a gajillion times in this post. I hate capitals unless they’re at the beginning of a sentence.

I miss Danny. I miss Danny. He should be up and running within 48 hours. Keep me posted, would ya? If you click here and it takes you to Danny (and not an error message) please contactme@rbouyounes.com or www.facebook.com/rbouyounes me. Something. Thanks.

Severe back pain. Argh. Dying. Love you all. Missed you much. I’m back. Really. Try my best. Ivan cries at night because of me. He cries AT me. Sorry. argh. So much apologizing. How about not doing things to be I’m sorry for? That’s a Carrie quote. Know from where? I’ll give ya five bucks.

They grow. Grow. Grow. Grow. So fast.

It’s Leah’s baptism today. I’m such a terrible Catholic—I was buying her card and couldn’t remember if Christening and Baptism were the same thing—I suck. SO bad. Anyway, yes. It’s her baptism Christening today. She’s four months old. Crazy. Doesn’t feel like that long ago.

She’s way too young to understand what is going on today—she’s far too impressed with her fluffy white dress. Mom & Dad are excited and happy and all kinds of proud…like she got herself here, it was all you guys. I don’t know what today means. I don’t know what to wish for kids on these days. I’m not the most religious person, I have a wide set of beliefs and when it comes down to it I’m not really sure what all this actually signifies. I just want her to find something out there, we need to believe in greatness, believe that there is something bigger than us out there, believe that there is a point and a final destination for us all. We have to. These, I believe. I want her to find faith—wherever she chooses in whichever form. I want her to love believing and when she sits down to pray I want her to want to pray, not because she feels obligated or required, but because she wants to say hello to someone, wants to say thank you, needs to ask for a favour, needs to heal a broken heart or decaying soul. I want her to want to believe that her prayers are heard, that God is there, waiting, smiling at the sound of her thoughts. We all need to believe this.

Baby, this is what I want for you. This is what I wish for you. I don’t know what is out there for us, I don’t know why we’re here or where we go—but I believe that it’s incredible, and I believe that we’re destined for greatness, whether on Earth or elsewhere. Believe. Love. Find faith. This is all I can wish for you. You’ll figure it out one day, or at least get to an age where you can try to figure it out. Cherish your unknown innocence, love your folks, choose your God. Believe, baby, as hard as you can.

Happy Christening little one. In the meantime, I’m praying that I’ll be around to see you in your second fluffy white dress. Until then, love you.

I’m all done now

Racha gave me a minor heart attack telling me that I needed a plan, that most people, once they graduate have a plan of some sort. I have no plan. I have no plan, no plan, no plan. I don’t know what I’ll be doing tomorrow, never mind five years from now. I hated those questions when you were younger—where do you see yourself five years from now, ten years, fifteen years? I DON’T KNOW. Kay? I don’t know. Stop asking me.

I walked out of my last exam—and I wanted to run through the halls screaming. It’s a Monday night, and I have nothing to do. No papers. No exams. No readings. I have the luxury of doing nothing and it feels bizarre and exhilarating at the same time.

This building fascinated me all these years—It won a bunch of awards for the construction & design, it’s the CCT building at UTM. It’s entertaining and lovely. Fully aware that I would never willingly come back here, I snapped some photos of what I love about it. First, there’s this mini-forest contraption on the walk to North Building. I saw deer here once in a while, so whimsical and adorable.

This is the walkway to the library—they didn’t always have one. They’re slowly connecting all the buildings, talking about re-attaching North and South somehow. Old tale about a girl getting raped in the underground tunnel that attached the two buildings, so they cut off access to it. I never found said access point. Secret. I keep writing buildings without the i, so it says buldings and I hate going back to correct it. annoying.

There’s this mural outside my class—I was always enthralled by it. I mean, I know, not the best in the world, lots of people out there who could do better I’m sure. But I’m fascinated with graffiti downtown, it’s this secret society and so impressive. I can’t draw for shit, never mind make something gigantic like this look good. I think the artist is Arabic, it’s Arabic writing I think, signed by Mohammad down in the corner.

I like. Pretty.

So I’m done. I’ll let you know when I know what I’m doing with my life. It wont be soon I assure you. I have ideas though:

[1] I want buy a banquet hall. No lies. I would love to.
[2] I want to work in youth counselling/rehabilitation.
[3] I want to teach, somewhere abroad.
[4] I want my Bakery. I’ll call it La Reine. I’ll hire a French pastry chef, and everything will be Parisian. I thought about a cheesecake factory and calling it Cheese Louise, but that’ll only work if my name’s Louise. I could change it.
[5] I want to write songs. For famous people.

There. That’s my list. So far.