Shudder shock of pale.

I'm piecing my peace back together, how about you?

I've felt on edge, out of sorts and completely consumed with MYSELF this past week. This past month. Or two.

When I'm going about my daily livings, one of two things will occur:

1. I feel like an absolute and massively cumbersome idiot. How is it Sarah, that you can spend so much time talking about what you're "going to do" and so little time doing it? How is it Sarah, that you cannot find the words or actions to properly comfort/encourage/love someone who needs it? How is it Sarah, that you cannot finish a degree in the same time span it takes everyone else? HOW DO YOU LIVE WITH YOURSELF?!

2. Or, I feel like everybody around is me a complete and total idiot. How is it McDonald's worker, that you do not know the difference between a plain sandwich and one that is covered in condiment and vegetables? How is it truck/car/van driver, that you have your license when you cannot signal to turn/merge properly/DRIVE? How is it boyfriend/best friend/family member that you cannot grasp these simple concepts I have properly outlined for you? HOW DID I GET TO BE SO MUCH SMARTER THAN EVERY ASSHAT IN THIS CITY?!

It's a funny thing, this coexisting. I never was a team player.

You know how when girls are middle school-ish age they all want to be the Hannah Montanas of the world? They dream of big stages and bright lights. Or at least, I would assume (through my careful observations as a nanny) that the average young girl does.

When I was in grade seven I fell in love with... Emily Dickinson. Although I still find her poetry astonishingly beautiful, it was her life that enthralled me when I first read of her. She was a total recluse, who never left her house and kept in touch with the important people in her life through letters. She wasn't even a known poet until after her death, when all of her poems were discovered in her room.

At the tender age of twelve, I would dream of myself becoming a reclusive poetess. It seems, much to my befuddlement, that my path to this point has been a steady one.

Mind you my tale is set in this new era - blog entries and text messages are my choice of correspondence. My poetry is a bunch of scribbles, quotes and words that rest in the coil-bound journal in my purse. Or on this site.

This post was supposed to be about the music I've been enjoying lately. It somehow progressed here. Why fight it?

But in case you need to be inspired by others through the art of song, have a listen to one, two and three.

Hard to be soft.

In two days I'll be moving two streets down. I'll finally penetrate center city, thus bringing me even closer to campus. Ah-hah, MUN! You thought the increased rent rates of your neighbouring roads would scare me away, but they didn't. Well... the doubling of my rent is somewhat terrifying, but whatever.

I have not packed neither bag nor box. Everything is sitting in the same place it always does (though I did get enough energy to take down the Christmas lights). I'm not worried, I'll throw all my things in garbage bags and pilfered Colemans' boxes tomorrow. The strong and mighty boys will drag my oversize furniture down on Saturday.

So what am I worrying about?

Babies. Babies and the future.

No, I'm not even close to being pregnant. Come on you guys, you know me better than that. But the Being a Grown-up thing is weighing heavily on my mind. What does this have to do with babies? Let me elaborate:

I have seven female cousins, five of which are in their twenties. Of these five, four are pregnant and the one who is not with child is getting married at the end of the year (and already has a kid). Oh, and one of them, my age, is pregnant with twins. Yup, two babies.

Now don't get me wrong, I don't feel the pressure to have kids. If there is one thing my mother taught me it's that SHE DOES NOT WANT GRANDCHILDREN. I know, bizarre in its own right, though that's a whole other tale.

But I definitely feel the pressure of the future. The finishing school, finding jobs, having the right friends and man friend in my life. I should be planning ahead. Problem is I couldn't even tell you what I'm doing in an hour.

I'm moving in with my boyfriend on Saturday. Did you know that? If not, let the shock settle.

...

Good? Moving on. I will be sharing his two (yes, separate living quarters. As I've been telling him (and everyone) roomies first, boyfriend/girlfriend second) bedroom place and to me that is a hugeee leap for Amazonian women everywhere. Or just this Amazon woman right here anyway.

As for school, when this semester is over I will be ten classes away from a degree. Which is more scary than exciting because I am most DEFINITELY required to be an adult with a B.A. stapled to the end of my name. I'm not sure why this is, but society tells me so.

Oh, and to those fuckers out there who are like "wah wah, who cares what society thinks, wah wah": um, well the people who hire you care. And that indirectly affects what kind of place I live in and the life I'll live. And I don't want to be in overpriced two bedroom forever.

This is where my head gets stuck, I don't know how to turn myself into an adult. I don't want to turn myself into an adult! I feel like this is all a charade and any day now someone is going to come along and stick me back on the play mat with my Barbies.

I'm trying to live day to day, really I am, BUT YOU* AREN'T LETTING ME.

So what's a girl to do? Get knocked up apparently. But since that is not the answer for me, I'm going with a heavy dose of ignoring reality (or my perceived reality). And maybe just a little Celexa.



*"YOU" being the collective you of course, society and whatnot are included in the general equation of "YOU"

The act of convincing myself.

MUN is such a funny place. A funny, nerve wracking, panic attack inducing place. I'm willing to guess (for me at least) that it's because it introduces change.

I am very resistant to change. I don't like it AT ALL. I'm a comfortable rut sort of gal.

But in all honesty it can be good. School forces everyone to band together, a team of scholars (ha) desperate to fight the depression and anxiety that is so inevitable in a place like university. It forces you to see people, like the friends you haven't thought about in years. This too is a good thing, because you see them as new people. Cause you are new people... it's inevitable... agreed?

I ran into an old buddy of mine this afternoon, she's all grown up and in her first year now. When she first called out my name in the hall I had that instant heart freeze. I hate pretending I'm friendly. We got to chatting, and I realized that in our time apart we had grown closer. Our interests and experiences jived. How exciting!

What is it I'm trying to say? MUN sucks, yes. But it doesn't have to suck THE BIG ONE. You can make it what you want to make it.

And if that means three night classes and a painfully overpriced stack of textbooks, then so be it. But I'm making sure it also means making old friends new friends, doing the best darn collage I can for Women Studies and actively trying to make the best of a truly shitty deal.

Be with me on this one, eh. I need the frick frackin support.

Ain't no grave gonna hold my body down.

I finished up the nanny gig on Wednesday, oh how bittersweet. As it was nearing the end of the day I grew more and more excited... freedom was on the horizon! But as I was getting ready to go, I found myself lingering over goodbyes - bestowing many more kisses and snuggles than any little boy wants to receive.

And when they brought out a cake, sang me a thank you song, and put two dozen roses in my arms, well, I teared up. I AIN'T GONNA LIE. But it was the pleading from Mommy DRC that got me. Homegirl just wants someone to love on her kids. And man do I love those kids. I made promises to return, took the car seats from my car and drove home.

I woke up the next day with a bizarre feeling that I was forgetting something. I've been watching these kids for nine months, I saw them more often than I did my friends or family. I think it will be awhile before I stop planning outings and crafts in my head. Even longer to stop the worrying, thinking, loving and motheringness in me.

I didn't know what to do yesterday, free time is so foreign now. Robyn and Heather came up for some meaningful what-do-we-do-now chats. WE'RE ON THE CUSP OF BEING ADULTS, ARE YOU NOT SCARED? We made plans and promises to make it a good year. School likes to take you down and we are ready to build each other up. We're kicking off [the notoriously bad month of] September with a silly sleepover (because sometimes all it takes is a bad chick flick and a bitching round of truth and dare to take you out of your head).

And though this summer has easily been the worst most hardest most emotionally draining and tiring one of my life, I am ready to move on and start fresh. To leave my depression in the dust. To see the friends I've been avoiding (I'm sorry friends, you are just too astute at reading my emotions. One cannot hide from ones self if they are being made aware of ones self by another), to live the life I want to lead, trust in my faith and karmic justice and be happy.

The young and restless.

Last Monday I was involved in a fender bender, well I guess it would be more accurately described as a fender scratcher. Today I was called by the police and informed that she has filed a report with them. She has back pain you see. Back pain caused by our scratchy accident. Aren't these the kinds of stories that go down as ruining lives? Or at least insurance rates. I'm interested to see how the system will work for me.

Joey is home and that means happy warm fuzzy times. He has a fancy new car and the same Joey goodness, it is just not the same when he isn't here.

It looks like the Merrymeeting ladies will be disbanding (on good terms of course!). As McKayla finds herself searching for a place with Phil and Sierra and I join forces with Allan. Of course the housing market in St. John's is ridiculous right now (I'm not complaining, we're pretty much the only city in North America not feeling the recession, yay black gold), so no one has found anything. IT'S ALL RENTED UP, FOLKS.

And I'm finishing up work next week! I will miss my blonde children, but I'm pretty ecstatic to do the school bit again. I've been asked by my employer if I know anyone who wants my job. Part-time nanny work, anyone?

July (oh please don't Facebook these faces).

The moral of July:
One must always swim in city pools during the day, doing said activity during evening hours will have one of the following results:
- Being chased out of pool in underwears by policing figures
- Losing shoes
- Six inch gashes on legs
- Paddy wagon scares
- Getting caught by a running police figure who then insists that you may not put on your bra
- Scaring the shit out of everyone, both involved and indirectly involved
Or that could all happen. On your 19th birthday. Silly friends. Happy birthday Brittany!

Doesn't humidity suck? This summer is so sticky! I'm glad I don't live in the south, I would melt away.

Prepare my place.

I no longer blog. But oh if you could see my art journals and scrapbooks, filled with art and love from these few months. I'll post scans of some soon.

Life is hard. I no longer know what to make of it.

My grandmother died just a little over a month ago. I'm finally making sense of it and moving on the way I should. But it seems the summer of 2009 is for grieving. My Poppy Fudge died last night. Is this getting tiring for anyone else?

In the run of a year I went from having four living grandparents to just one. The frightening part of this is it's just the beginning. Next parents, aunts and uncles. Cousins, siblings. Friends.

And I realize it's all a scary circle, that dealing with this stuff is the price you pay for living a beautiful life.

Knowing this doesn't make anything easier.

I won't be heading west for the funeral, I can't handle another so soon. I'll do my grieving here, without family, without anyone who even knows my grandfather's name.

Oh the emotions.

Jonesy time.

I have a special treat for you hooligans this evening: a guest blogger!

Rob left a comment on my blog a few days ago stating that he would like to write for my [soon to be coming] house blog. And of course I said that he was welcome to blog on any blog of mine.

So he chose to post here instead!

Without further ado, I give you:

Jonesy Time

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

BIGGER. BOLDER. BOUNCIER. STUPIDER.

If you've never heard of the show MANswers, now you have. If you've never seen it, you simply don’t know what you’re missing.

The subtitle of the show is: BIGGER. BOLDER. BOUNCIER.

I know this sounds ironic, but: you have no idea how gross an understatement that subtitle is until you've had first-hand experience with this gem of American brain-washing propaganda.

The first thing I noticed when watching this show is that THE HOST IS ALWAYS YELLING EVERYTHING AT YOU. IT'S LIKE HE'S AFRAID YOU'RE GOING TO MISS ONE OF THE HUNDREDS OF UNNECESSARY FACTS THAT HE THROWS AT YOU.

In fact, the only way the show can create any sense of dynamic is with an even more abrasive barrage of sound effects and images.

So, while the host is yelling something moronic like, "BOOBS ARE LIKE SEX: EVEN WHEN THEY'RE BAD, THEY'RE PRETTY GOOD", there is a simultaneous visual bombardment of girls with really fake boobs, in really tiny bikinis, eating really big pieces of meat. And don’t forget the obligatory “BOING” sound effect that plays while these girls run around.

This is the essence of MANswers, and that’s not one word of a lie.

Some common synonyms for breasts used in this show include:
Money-makers
Fun-bags
Melons
Utters
Glorious-globes
Dynamic-duo
Firm-fruit
Knarly-knee-knockers
Ankle-anchors
Rockin’-racks
Droopy-disasters
Sag-sacks
Love-pillows
B-cup-bozonga-bonanza (Once again, totally serious)

So, even if you don't retain any of the gratuitous nuggets of knowledge that they throw at you, at least you'll accumulate amplified abilities in alliteration - you're english Professor will surely appreciate that.

As you can guess, there's some really offensive stuff in this show, but one question that totally blew my mind was this: "HOW CAN YOU TELL IF SHE HAS SAGGY BOOBS BEFORE YOU RIP HER CLOTHES OFF?"

How in the hell do they get away with this shit?

I mean, this show is single-handedly increasing stupidity in America (and Canada too; you can thank cultural imperialism for that), and the last thing we need is more idiot guys obsessed with nothing more than meat, cars, and T&A.

Anyway, I'm going to stop now before I have a stroke. If you need me, I'll be driving my Hummer to Mc Donald’s while ogling girls on the way.

Trust me, it's ok, Spike TV said so.

HERE, HERE and HERE.

- Watch. Listen. Be enlightened.

Look a baby bear.

Since I didn't have a photo of the new home I drew one in paint. Did I mention I'm moving? I'm moving.

It has been an extremely stressful week. Packing and essaying and spraining. I can feel my mood brightening despite the fifteen page paper which is due Tuesday assessing the advantages and disadvantages of the social union agreement for stimulating policy innovation and learning across jurisdictions. OMG, POLI SCI MAJORING IS AWESOME.

This morning I got out of bed and when I put my feet on the floor I accidentally smashed an entire glass with my right foot, caveman style! Luckily there wasn't anything in the glass so nothing was spilled... except my blood.

Things I have purchased in the past week:
3 pots
2 frying pans
4 mugs
6 cups
4 knives
4 spoons
4 forks
1 mixer
2 bagels from Tim Horton's (stress = starch consumption)
1 pair of sexy suede boots

But I've also been downsizing. I cut my 23 pairs of jeans (how embarrassing is that number) down to 10. And I have a gianttt bag of clothes for the thrift store.

My Mom is making me pack up all my shit I don't take so she can have a room to make booze in. I wish I was lying.

This creates opportunities to find awesome stuff like:

My Middle School friends! A lot of the same friends I have now. Brett, David, Ben, some guy, Kenneth, Robert, Kelly, Ashley, Kaylan. Yeah, not so much Kaylan. He was just in love with David. And one loonie for the person who knows who that random guy is.

The "grad" dance from Middle School. That is McKayla up there with Caitlyn White. Rob with Kelly. And MR. JONES. Now this has to be the best photo ever. Simply because there are three pages of photos from this dance, all of them groups and couples. And one. Of Robert. By himself. Infront of the lattice arch. GOLD, MY FRIENDS.

Found my admission letter to music school. I wonder how different my life would be if I had actually gone. Would I be happier? Hmmm.

No more what ifs! I have too many pretty friends here that keep me lovin' life.

Full of these endless rhymes.

I just started watching ANTM season five, and I have made a discovery:
Robyn McHugh has a doppelganger! Isn't the resemblance uncanny?!

Yous a model, Robyn! :D

Are you ready for this?

Canada's federal election is on October 14th and I have made it my mission to see to it that all of my friends vote (preferably not Conservative, but we all have our democratic rights so ultimately the decision is up to you).

Everyone has been asking me the same kinds of questions in this quest: How do I register? Who are the people running? Where do I vote? And so on.

So consider this...

SARAH'S HANDY GUIDE TO VOTING

Let's begin!

Am I registered to vote?

The National Register of Electors is a database containing basic information – names, sex, date of birth and addresses of Canadians who are qualified to vote. It is used to produce the voters lists when an election is called. The National Register of Electors is maintained using a number of different sources, including federal income tax returns.

Election officers update the preliminary voters lists during the revision period of an election. The revision period starts three days after the election is called and ends six days before election day.

Door-to-Door Revision
Elections Canada does door-to-door revision in specific areas where elector information needs updating, such as in new subdivisions (this is how I registered to vote in the last election and why it was so easy for me, I just signed a piece of paper saying I was 18, living here and a Canadian citizen).

Voter Information Cards
Elections Canada will send you a Voter Information Card (VIC) if your name is on the preliminary voters lists. The card will tell you that you are registered, and where and when to vote (note: for most of you this won't be sent to you in St. John's, but to your "real" home, usually wherever your driver's license is registered). For this election, a Voter Information Card will be mailed to all registered voters between September 17th and September 19th.


How do I add my name to this almighty voters list?

The two easiest ways would be:

Contact your returning officer. You should have your VIC by September 24th, so if you don't get one (or if it got sent to your parents' home, meaning the information is wrong) these are the people to call. Find out where yours is here (because I'm not sure if they change by constituency or by city).

Or you can register at the polling station on election day (although Elections Canada advises you to register before then). You must show valid identification, meaning:
1. A government document with your photo, name and address, such as a drivers license (this won't work for any of you because I am assuming none of you changed your address, this is based on the assumption that you're voting for the district you live in within St. John's).
or
2. Two pieces of identification from an "authorized list", one with your name such as a social insurance number card, and one with your name and address, such as a utility bill.
or
3. If you don't have acceptable pieces of identification, you can also be vouched for by an elector whose name appears on the voters list in the same polling division and who has acceptable ID. Both of you will need to make a sworn statement and the person doing the vouching can only do it for one other person. Make sense?

Here is a fancy way of saying all that as well as that "authorized list".

Still with me? Because the rest of it's simple. To find out if you're on the voters list, where you vote, what you need to take when you vote, who the candidates are in your area and pretty much everything else in handy form GO RIGHT HERE. Seriously, handiest little thing ever.

Other links:
The terrible "youth" site on Elections Canada's website
How to vote by mail if you are not in your district at the time of the elections
FAQs, like "am I allowed to eat my ballot?"

Are we good? Remember, the leader debates are on October 1st and 2nd. For the first time in Canada's history there will be FIVE party leaders on the stage.

KNOWLEDGE IS POWER!

Being greedy.

I have been thinking about acquiring two things.

The first would be a new computer. Poor me. I have a Dell. And for those of you who don't know (because I didn't when I first purchased it), Dell is synonymous with shit. Really and truly!

And so I really really really want a MacBook Pro. Really. And I have a feeling I'll get one before the summer is out, just because my current laptop is being held together with like superglue. And I love how you think I'm being hyperbolic, but seriously, superglue.

Are we okay with the Mac choice? I don't think any of you guys have Macs, but Ashley does and she is coming to me this fall and could help me with any questions I have. I'm told it's easy to catch on. Although I'm seriously hung up on having only one clicky thingy on the mouse.

The second thing I would like to have is a tattoo. I know, what a jump. I have been bitching about getting a tattoo since my first semester of university. I've made three appointments with the tattoo place in Stephenville ('cause the dude at Peek-A-Boo is the shit), canceled one and missed two.

But now I really know what I want to get and where I want to get it (גם זה יעבור). And I know what place I want to go to (Trouble Bound). And their booking is like a million years wait so I can save enough money and confidence before then. And if it is a long wait, shouldn't I book it now?!

GRRR. Indecision! I really want it. I honestly don't think I'll regret it. Feedback?

And as much as I'd like a slammin' new SLR like my favourite peep has just been given (did you see that super cute pic of her, awww, darlin'), it is simply not necessary at the moment. My point and shoot is the shit.

Man, don't you love these posts where I just go on about the most boring kind of stuff. IT HELPS ME WORK THINGS OUT IN MY HEAD, OKAY? Plus I like getting your guys' two cents, lord knows why.

A comparison.

My summers are so much more fulfilling. When I’m in school I feel cranky and useless and angry all the time. So I wanted to know: what am I doing differently?

How does one find this answer? Easy, pie charts.

These are break downs of my day, on the left an average school day (not taking weekends into account). And on the right is an average summer day.

I can't help but notice my replacing of people with books.


P.S. A lot of people want to know how The Host was, ummm, AWESOME. Did we really doubt Stephenie Meyer for a second?