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.

I know that bad's got to fix itself.

I had a camera inside my body today. Ain't that cool?

It was a new one for me on the growing list of Sarah's Pointless Medical Tests. Though now that I think about it, I'm surprised it hasn't happened sooner.

Now you're thinking... the female body has seven orifices, which one?! It was not my pooper, no worries. But my left nostril saw action that no nose should ever have to deal with (the right one got just a mere tickling in comparison)!

El doctoro shoved a half of a pea sized camera down my nose and into my throat to check for the bad stuff. With absolutely NO warning I might add!!! Just a "chin up" and swish into my nose. I cried.

My appointment with the specialist (ENT) this morning gave me four things that doctor visits always bestow upon me:
1. Invasive and uncomfortable tests
2. Promises/Papers to get more invasive and uncomfortable tests
3. Appointments with other doctors (yup, they're sending me to a different specialist now)
4. No answers

Are you guys sick of hearing me talk about this? I AM SO TIRED ABOUT TALKING ABOUT THIS. I feel like I've been on repeat for the past four years of my life. Seriously, go through the blog posts. Countless ones about illness, doctor's visits, medicine prescriptions, body meltdowns, sick days and everything else that makes me want to give up and live with sub-par health for as long as people with sub-par health live.

Whiny whiny whiny whiny whine whine whiny whiny. Bitch moan bitch bitch moan.

Am I overreacting? Am I a fucking hypochondriac? I hope so, I just don't want to be a Fran Drescher or a Kylie Minogue.

Traipsed across the continent.

I had a major meltdown on Friday. And that would be all day Friday, started the day in tears and finished it sniffling and puffy eyed. I took procrastination to a whole new level and left my ENTIRE distance course studying until the day before the midterm. I had close to a hundred pages of notes and nine chapters of text to know for my Saturday morning exam.

I missed Robyn's birthday party and that sucks cause her shindigs always make me lol to the max. You know mine and Robyn's love tale, but since I didn't get to tell her in person I'll say it on here: happy birthday, Ro-yn Mchizzle! It looks like I missed a slammin' good time, jeez, just check out this cake. I'm sad to have not gotten a piece!

I have another midterm on Monday which I'm not nearly as worried about. It's with Professor YouTube, aka the I'M A TRAINED STAGE ACTRESS CAN'T YOU TELL prof from last semester. Nothing from the textbook because girl didn't order enough for the bookstore so no one could read it. Yup, she's still a flake.

Alex and I found this website and have been doing some of the assignments from it when the mood strikes. Yesterday, while it snowed, we ventured out to make a field guide of our yard. Called it quits after a few pictures though because we both agreed that we were probably freaking out the lady downstairs.


P.S. It's my birthday on Saturday! So don't make any Halloween plans because everyone is invited to Salisbury to help me greet a new year, 21 peeps!

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.

Status of the car wash.

So it has been the longest sixteen days of your life, I'm sure.

If you were wondering whether or not I had given up the blog, the answer is: NOT. My computer has been in the back room of Avalon Software for the past eight days, trying its hardest to become a normal laptop. It barely succeeded.

What have I been up to these past two weeks...

Not a whole lot. Working five days a week with my kiddies! Playdoh, story time, Spider-Man/Villain, hockey, space adventures, puzzles, Toopy and Binoo... This is how I spend my days.

My life is a blurry mess right now. I'm working really hard to fix it and so far my effort has helped. Not only did I stop blogging, but I ceased to scrap and paint and exist for far too long. IT IS GETTING BETTER!

I've been planning trips in order to get me through the day. For Easter break me and five of my best our spending a few nights in the luxurious Little Harbour! Yes, three nights in a town of fifty people and no stores. We are very excited. No computers, no television, no driving, no ANYTHING. Beers and Easter ham, yes please.

My health has been steadily improving through the magic of prescription drugs. Ten pills a day... try and beat it. The sinus infection is kaput as well! Sunny skies.

I hope to see you all very soon.

Toopy and Binoo.

I have one class a week and I skipped it tonight.

And you might judge me, or be jealous. But if you knew the day I had you would rejoice in my opting for bath and three episodes of Kenny vs. Spenny.

For the record, a child's head is indeed as hard as a rock. My bloodied nose proved this fact when I was headbutted by a two year old.

And after picking up the "confetti" 100 piece puzzle set three times, I accepted in my heart that only 97 pieces would have to suffice.

Not to mention my even earlier mornings (apparently there is life before my usual 6:40am) since Mr. Snowplow Man decided to take a personal vendetta out on my parking nook. FOUR MAJOR SHOVELS IN 48 HOURS, NO WAY HOSEA.

The bath has made me calmer.

Dropping the lighter.

Things I don't like:

Headaches
Kitty howling into the night because she is in heat
Not getting a student loan
Dirty dishes
Having to buy five books for one class
School itself
Being unemployed
Being employed
Having a cough for seventeen days (and counting!)
Milk going bad before I can drink it all
Distance classes
Having to print off a 184 paged manual for my distance class
Doctor appointments
Pokemon
Assholes

At this moment I am not looking on the bright side of things. But give me cough free lungs, a murder mystery night and a new book and I'll be good to go.

Speaking of which, I've been reading like crazy in 2009. Here are the books I've read so far this year and I recommend them (minus The Summoning, it sucked) to you!

River Thieves by Michael Crummey
The Summoning by Kelly Armstrong
A Great and Terrible Beauty by Libba Bray
Rebel Angels by Libba Bray
The Sweet Far Thing by Libba Bray

Yeah, I've been on a fantasy kick. But River Thieves was probably the best, holy cow the amount of research he must have done to write that book.

What have you been reading, hmm?

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.

Women are taking over (yay).

Boring politics post, ewww.

There was a collective "wtf" moment a couple weeks ago when Stephen Harper elected Leona Aglukkaq as minister of health. Health is HIGH-PROFILE. Aglukkaq is a first time MP. SHE'S THE SARAH PALIN OF THE NORTH JONES' PANTS.

I was super happy to see a woman get this position, but in all honesty, I'm pretty sure it was just Harper shining up his cabinet. I mean, what is better than a female native cabinet minister? Nothing... except maybe one that's in a wheelchair.

And this sounds cruel, yes, but I've taken enough Poli Sci classes to realize THIS IS THE SHIT THAT MATTERS. It is not who is qualified for the job a lot of the time, it's who looks good/sends a good message. Just ask Duceppe's hairnet supplier.

Back to women in politics.

Eva Aariak was elected as Nunavut's second ever premier today. I know absolutely nothing about her and the CBC says she's an "Iqaluit store owner."

Paul Okalik has held the position since 1999 when Nunavut was formed. I'm kind of sad to see Okalik go. Not because he accomplished anything worthwhile mind you. But he always said hello and kind words when I passed him on the street during my lunch breaks in Iqaluit (Nunavut's a tiny place... population wise).

And I super loved that classy seal-skin vest he wore all the time.

I seek you out.

I have a French exam this week. I knew I had to study this afternoon so I watched Amelie. Constructif, non?

I kid, lots of studying was accomplished. Minus a Philippe makes the whole process a lot more arduous though.

Started making my Christmas cards today. That's right! This year I'm going the homemade route for gifts/decorations/cards. The only downfall with this is that you have to start mid-November, which is something I am not that cool with. Whatyagonnado. Less than seven weeks until Christmas!

Also, I have decided to take a brief hiatus from drinking. I haven't decided how long yet. But I was drunk three times this week. And this number was almost five times, but I've abstained from joining in the past two nights. Really? REALLY?

I'm just not having fun anymore and I've run out of funds. Lame, yeah.

TODAY IS AMKI'S BIRTHDAY. ARE YOU EXCITED?! I AM. We had her pirate birthday last night. :)

Make butter for my piece of bun.

Sarah is on meds A, B and now as of today, C. A and B are fine together. But C causes B not to work. And A mixed with C kills Sarah. But Sarah needs meds A and C. WHAT DOES SARAH DO?

Answer: watch Top Model and read about municipal and federal interaction in Canada, all the while pretending that everything is alright.

Get a new life.

I am having a suckfest of a week.

Four midterms in three days. With French consuming my life. Je déteste le français.

I've been feeling ill, a combination of blue curacao, nerves and a lack of fruit and vegetables.

I have the stress of people. Stress creators who create stress because that is all they know how to do. I miss my Gear Street family, makers of happy hearts and light minds.

I miss my effing sign. Some asshole stole my giant Jack Harris sign from the front lawn. IF YOU HATE NDP, GET A RIVAL SIGN. IF YOU LOVE NDP SO MUCH YOU MUST STEAL MY SIGN, YOU WOULD BE DELIGHTED TO KNOW THAT EVERYONE CAN GET A SIGN FOR FREE. And if it was Gerard (who seems to have a thing for stealing signs), well, I am just not impressed.

My mind is full and none of it is happy stuff.

I am having a suckfest of a week.

You're the only one catching hell.

I was going to ask what everyone thought of the leader's debate tonight but then I realized... none of my friends have televisions. What hippies! Allison, fellow tv owner and poli sci major, what did YOU think?

I'd just like to say that Stephane Dion makes me laugh and I hope that I'll be able to find some very cute and VERY frenglish clips on Youtube to share with you. He is really stuck on twins-ing Harper to Bush thing.

One question: why is Duceppe still around? To appease Quebec? It just irks me. The whole Quebec vote going to him and whatnot.

Anyway. I wrote a paper and now I'm going to submit it... 1:30am, yes.

And I am excited for my weekend to see my lovely S'ville family who I have abandoned this week in favor of school work. And I'm excited to Rock Band with Meagan, pick a good song for us to perform together!

I'm just excited.

Sitting at the table doesn't make you a diner.

I cave! I post! Everyone put their guns away.

So the last two weekends I've been a social butterfly and have spent copious amounts of time "partying" and just being in love with everyone around me. Yes you!

I brought my camera to all of these social situations and yet only two pictures were taken. Both of Susan and I at Roberts' party the weekend. And I will not shame us by putting these horrid images on the internet. Liquor and snapshots do not mix.

What have I been up to other than aggravating the misanthrope in me? WELL. HOW ABOUT SCHOOL?!

School is absolutely hating me this year. I have skipped seven of my Deviance classes in a single month. That is how bad this class is. There are too many police studies kids in it. Uniformity at its worst.

But I have yet to skip any other classes which just goes to show how awful this particular class is.

Did anyone go see the candidates debate yesterday on campus? I had class but I really wanted to go because I don't even know who is running for the Green Party in St. John's East.

And did anyone go see DAVID FRICKIN SUZUKI who gave a talk at the A&C yesterday? It was free! Again, I had dumb class. I should have skipped it to see the sexiest Canadian of all time.

Fill me in!

Life inside a music box ain't easy.

My first semester of university was rough. As was everyone's I guess. We were all trying to adjust to a new school, a new city, a new life. The only comfort I took out of all three of these things was the anonymity.

I could walk around this city for hours and not have one person recognize me. I could attend a weeks worth of classes and not have a single person talk to me in any of them.

I loved it.

A girl I met on the bus while traveling to Stephenville last Christmas told me (three hours after meeting) that I hated people. I was shocked! Everyone tells me how great I am when I first meet a stranger, how I can make an awkward situation happy by asking the right kinds of questions. I am a people person!

This is not true in the least. I am not a people person, in fact, I am a misanthrope. I despise going out with groups of people that I'm not really friends with. I hate the awkward conversations that inevitably ensue when you see a person you haven't talked with in awhile. I can't take the effort that goes into forced conversations (this probably ties in with my inability to bullshit people).

For example (and this is not meant to hurt anyone's feelings), but every single time I come home from a SASF gathering I have a headache. Like a raging one. Every time. I like most of the people that go to these togetherings, but my mind cannot handle the forced "hey, how is school going?", "what are you taking again?", "oh, this is fun.", "we should totally hang out sometime!". I don't care about any of the questions I ask or am forced to answer, but out of politeness and general caring for the people who attend these SASF gatherings I pretend I do. And pretending (aka:bullshitting) gives me migraines. LITERALLY.

My brother constantly makes fun of me for my "hatred of being seen". If the family wants to eat out for dinner, we can't eat at the restaurant but must take it home. No going to the mall unless it's for a specific thing. None of this walking around to kill some time stuff.

I've always been like this. Maybe I really do hate people.

This whole nonsensical post is stemming from the fact that I can't even go FIVE SECONDS on campus anymore without having someone I know/recognize start a conversation with me.

Where did the anonymity of this city go? :(

Twilightical anticipation.

Okay.

I am saying this right now before I get any farther than the book sleeve and the opening acknowledgments of Breaking Dawn: I have high expectations for this book.

Which means I will inevitably be crushed because no book can possibly reach what I have conjured in my head.

Nonetheless, I am so far ecstatic with what I've read (instead of dedicating the book to her family or friends she dedicates it to her all time favourite band ever, Muse, which happens to be one of my all time favourite bands).

Though I'm already confused because apparently this is the conclusion?! Or so it says on the book sleeve... But she did say she way going to rewrite the first book from Edward's perspective which is going to AWESOME.

Oh, and this book is the biggest of the big. 750 pages, yum yum yum!

Since maybe two people read this far (and probably neither of them understand) I am going to end this abruptly now and will let you know how it goes when I'm done.

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.

Mister anchor assure me.

I caught the tail end of the CBC news tonight and it was that part where they do the “here’s what our viewers have to say” thing. There were a great number of responses to a piece that had aired on Friday about a protest in Kelligrews against a 64 year old sex offender who planned to move to the small town. The man had been convicted for two sexual assaults against children, acts he committed over a decade ago.

Okay. I can pretty much guarantee I know more about sexual offenders than your average adult, simply because I’ve taken several classes for my criminology certificate on the subject.

So when I see something like this, I get about 20% mad and 80% frustrated. Ignorance irks me!

Pedophilia is a disease. This man will always be attracted to children and I am not saying that a couple years in prison have fixed him. Probably made it worst.

But Canada has been labeled a sex offender's “heaven”. We have the lowest legal consent rate like EVER. And our sex offender registry is s-h-i-t. I really wish I could convey to you how pretty much non-existent it is. It would scare you.

So when a convicted offender registers with the police in hopes of bettering his life, I can’t help but have respect for him. You might say “Sarah! You can’t respect a person like that!” But he is human.

And think about it: a sex offender who doesn’t register could be living in Kelligrews right now. But we wouldn’t know it. And he isn’t getting any help or therapy because he isn’t registered.

At least this man is trying to live his life the right way. And what do we do? Protest a man with a proven mental condition? Would you protest someone with AIDs on the off chance they might spread it to you?

I’m going to tell you what will happen here. This man will stop checking in with the RCMP so that he can live somewhere with his wife in quiet without the neighbourhood being notified. His neighbours will befriend him and his wife, taking them to be a retired old couple living in rural Newfoundland.

And it might work for the first year or two.

But after awhile the man will become sick again, there is no cure for pedophilia. And he will have no access to therapy or guidance because he will be too scared to face the penalties for not having kept the registry updated.

And he will slip and fall like any other human. Except it won’t be an extra piece of cake for dessert. It won’t be a few bottles of beer wrecking his liver. It will be a child.

And I cannot believe that these adults who are protesting this man in Kelligrews cannot make this connection.

There was a FANTASTIC article in Maclean’s a few months ago about Canada’s sex offender registry. And you can read it online here. And it might seem long or gory, but seriously people, educate yourself. Before you go out protesting something you don’t even understand.

Almost 1,300 of the 16,000 people listed on the national registry (eight per cent) have disappeared. That may seem encouraging. After all, that means 92 per cent are doing what they're told. But remember, thousands of convicted offenders are not on the registry - and that number gets bigger every single day. Where those people are living right now is anybody's guess.

And the fog became God.

I've taken quite a number of beautiful photos this month. Mmm, tasty summer lighting.

Let's see. I head back to work on Sunday (already, I KNOW). I need to make lots of money because I got absolutely fucked over by the government. Did I mention that? It's quite a funny story that involves me crying and losing lots of money.

Never mind, that's not funny.

Darryl leaves on Wednesday which troubles me to no end. What in hell did I do before he came home? Will someone take his place as my tennis buddy? Actually scratch that, I could use a break from tennis for awhile. How about a crafting and Weeds watching buddy? Hrmmm?

I don't know if I have friends anymore. Hah. Well you're reading this, I CLAIM YOU. Loser.

I like this song, this song and this song. Now you do too!

Where were we...