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.

Purely politics.

I still don't have internet, but I couldn't resist stealing a signal to post this:

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"

Keeps the doctor away.

I had a bad weekend. Got the flu like woah. On the upside, all the friends came over for a rip-roaring sayonara Merrymeeting party on Saturday. And I do mean ALL the friends. Thanks everyone, it's a little easier to say goodbye to this wonderful place now.

While I crawled (alright, drunkenly staggered is probably more accurate) up the stairs and into bed around 1:30am, everyone else stuffed the remainder of their booze in their pockets and headed down to da bars.

My boy lost all his goodies dancing (and I do mean all: wallet, iPod, cell phone, sweater) and he came up the next morning looking like his dog had died in some sort of freak accident. Moral of the story? Always keep your shit in your bra... though I suppose that really couldn't apply here anyway.

So to start the week off right (because yes, despite what your heart might tell you, for some reason it's actually Monday already), I am sharing the cutest little blog that everyone can enjoy and get some smiles from. A Lego a Day! Dude makes little scenarios with his Lego men and posts a picture everyday. They're really good!

Chin up, wha.

And these wars; they can never be won.

Alex and I went to the mall immediately after he got off work yesterday. Why do you ask? The latest Muse album, The Resistance, dropped yesterday. We had a listening party planned (with Mr. Jones included of course, him being my fellow Muse lover for the past half decade). Needless to say, we had high hopes.

Muse has been my most favourite band for a long time, a really really long time. Their last album, Black Holes and Revelations, really did it for a lot of people. They generated this whole new fan base with their overproduced catchy tunes. Some nice stuff to play on Guitar Hero, I'm sure.

Now don't get me wrong, I enjoyed their last album. It wasn't the Muse I remembered, but bands always change with the times. It was a new Muse, but one I was open to, one I purchased and listened to with love in my heart.

Muse has kind of taken a back seat since 2006 for me. Amazing albums have come out since then and I have been focusing my attention on them. But I waited for this new album. I waited and I prayed real hard, give me something that will blow my mind!

It blew my mind the wrong way.

Gone were the bass beats that had me pounding my hands on the steering wheel. No longer was Matt Bellamy singing his falsetto out loud and proud, instead he kept a tight grasp on it, I kept on waiting for something more... edgy. Most songs were an obscure power ballad, as if Timbaland had mixed a Queen song. I was, and am, very disappointed.

There are a couple good songs. As we listened through them we kept hoping that the three part symphony at the end would somehow make up for it, that the band had invested in these three songs the most. Unfortunately they were no different from the rest of the album.

I'm not saying don't listen to it, it might be your taste! I'm just really surprised to find that this is Muse's taste now. I'll probably keep listening and maybe it will grow on me. A brief perusing about the internets this morning displayed rave reviews all around. Shows how much I know.

Muse has definitely evolved, they're entering the spacey electronic future at full force. Unfortunately for me, as previously stated, I'm just not big on change.


Edit: this review dude must read my blog, apparently I'm not alone in my opinion.

Feet-ah (spelled phonetically).

This has been the worst week of the semester. By leaps and bounds.

It's only Tuesday.

I have no money. No time. No right wrist.

I am officially failing a class for the very first time in my life. 47% in French. 3% stands between me and fulfilling the last of my language requirements.

I wrote a 2500 word paper last night. A 2000 one the night before.

Tomorrow I have a French interview and I don't speak French. It is 10% of my grade and right now, 10% makes a hell of a difference.

This weekend I am supposed to move. Yes, move all of the shit I have accumulated these past three years. I have to come up with a month's rent.

Monday I have a dictée, another 10% I desperately need.

Tuesday another 2500 word paper.

I can't think because when I do I realize I am ruined.


Oh, and I sprained my wrist. Why not.

Aw, nuts.

Everyone seems sad this week. So I thought I would give you a happy reminder...

No matter how bad your life is, it is never as bad as the collective Michelle Tanner duo.

Happy Friday!

The muscles fought so long.

I left for Iqaluit one year ago today. LIFE STOP RUSHING AWAY FROM ME.

Lundi, mardi, mercredi.

Dear jeudi,

You are the dumbest day EVER and I never remember you when I’m rhyming off the jours de la semaine. Get a life, jeudi, I hate you.

Love,
ANGLAIS Sarah