It's 3:15 and I Just Kicked the Bucket...

I'm laughin' to myself so hard that I can barely write this. It's 3:15. My adrenaline is still pumping from the fantastic show. I'm still slightly looped...And when I was in the bathroom I kicked the bucket. So it was no death but I bumped into the bucket that I used to give myself an at-home pedicure a few days ago which made a loud crash and probably woke my housemate. I'm graceful...really.

Almost a Perfect Night...

So my voice is nearly gone...as expected. Picture it...it's pourin' like hell and I'm runnin' through the streets of this university town with my Caribbean Girlie in 3 inch heels and jean mini to get to my fav bar where my fav band was playin'. Too Funny! It was well worth it let me tell you. It was nearly a perfect night due to the pesky rain and a few other run-ins. It seems that some things are still hauntin' me. No Worries. I screamed my head off and danced my tail off as promised. For 5 bucks I can have the time of my life...Bedouin I love U and nothing will ruin my night. NoThInG.

Bedouin 2Nite!!

The day has arrived...

Get ready y'all cause I'm gonna be screamin' my head off and dancin' my ass off.

Countdown to Bedouin...

1 freakin' f@#$in' DAY!!!! I'm resting my vocal chords so I can scream my pretty lil head off!

Oh the Horror, ThE HoRrOr!!!

It's that time again! The annual picking of the courses. Yes, this period can be an exciting time of discovery and adventure as one strives to find the per-per-perfect combination of courses allowing for the maximum amount of sleepage and the minimum amount of work. But here's what blows everyone...when you get to 4th year and you have requirements that you haven't filled yet and there are only certain courses that you can take your schedule goes down the crapper. I guess it's a Shawshank crawl through the s*@# for me in order to emerge victorious and free from university...undergrad that is. Sigh. All work and no play makes Cin an even more dull girl. Or not. This year is gonna be different. I'm tired of waiting for things to get better...so I'm grabbin' life by the proverbial balls...

Countdown to Bedouin...

they're back in 2 days!!!

2 pm is nap time...

No matter how much sleep I get or what I do 2 pm is my nap time...my brain goes dumb and I get the yawns. What's up with that? It is inescapable and is really troublesome when trying to work. Ah well. I think we should all be allowed a siesta at 2 though. Other countries have the right idea shuttin' down in the afternoons for a break...shape up, Canada.

Happy Birthday to My Biggest Bro Phil!!

Phil, you're getting so old it's scaring me...just stop aging would ya!

Desperate Times...

So in my current state of financial desperation I have decided to do the once unthinkable...No, I will not become an exotic dancer (although I was tempted since they were hiring in the area...But decided to save my Dad from a heart attack)...I will be entering an essay contest. Yes, I will be writing another fucking paper...And one that I don't HAVE to write. I have reached a new low.

The plus side to this is that I could win up to $5000. And, the prof that I'm helping out this summer (for free might I add) is going to help me with it. Not only that but she's gonna help me get into grad school...AND the best perk of all...She's in Mexico right now and will be returnin' with a precious bottle of tequila pour moi! NJ we are gonna party it up girl!! So I am sacrificing financial stability this summer being an unpaid research assistant...But that's just one sacrifice I'm willing to make...My mom however is not exactly as enthusiastic...

No pAiN No gAiN...

Throughout our lives we spend countless hours working out to the point of exhaustion with the sign of a good workout being a stiff and sore body the next day. That being said, why is it that pain in most other endeavors is considered a negative side effect? We worry that we will hurt others and we feel sorry for those who have been hurt. But sometimes trying not to hurt someone hurts them more. And those who have been hurt are truly the lucky ones; lucky because it is only those who have felt pain who can really appreciate pleasure. The hard part is trying to feel pleasure again when you're so deep in pain...

The Passion of the Pavement...

People say that one of the best things to do when troubled or conflicted is to take a walk to clear your mind. For minor worries or for sheer poetic enlightenment a walk on a beautiful snowy afternoon or a warm spring evening at dusk is absolutely in order. However, nothing matches the intensity and passion of a truly conflicted mind like running on the asphalt. The concentration that it requires to monitor your breathing and to keep in the groove of running swiftly cancels out the concentration previously devoted to stewing. Kick off your strappy sandals, girls, tie on some runners, and hit the road. It's liberating to figuratively run away from all of your troubles... [Oh, and running definitely helps to tone your buns so they fit into the oh-so-tiny string bikini and/or barely there flirty cheerleading skirts that seem to be all the rage...which, by the way, have a little too much cheer with the copious amounts of way too girlie pleats and are a little too "leading" for my taste. And I still haven't christened my new bikini in the lake yet...but I am oh so excited to.]

The Length of Platinum...

The North Star is the only star in the sky that doesn't move. It's the traveler's guide, a celestial constant. If the Earth rotates secured to its axis, then what secures us as we spin sometimes uncontrollably through our lives? Is there anything that stays constant in this world? If people grow and mature then can we even trust ourselves, our morals, or our identities to ground us somehow? Have you ever had a revelation where suddenly you see the world in a completely different light? Or a Joycean epiphany, one of those "Like, Whoa, Scoob!" moments? You know, even when you see the lovers kissing instead of the chalice???

Do you have those milestone people who you need to stay the same in order to point out to you where you have been and to lead you to whom you will become? In Sartre's Nausea Anny tells Antoine: "I need you to exist and not to change. You're like the platinum wire they keep in Paris or somewhere in the neighbourhood [...] I'm glad to know that it exists, that it measures the exact ten-millionth part of a quarter of a meridian" (184-5). Do you have those friends, friends since birth practically, who you don't even have to see but who you touch base with now and again? It's like how Carrie sees Big as "the Chrysler Building," someone whom she can't picture out of her life. I, too, feel that there are just some people who are markers, some people who I couldn't bear to see walk away and never come back. It's not that you have to see them all the time but, like the platinum wire, it's just good to know that they're still breathing somewhere.

Cigarettes and Calories...

So this online journaling really feels very Bridget Jones' Diaryesque. I type random thoughts that cross my mind and people may stop to read them. Although the thought of documenting one's weight and nicotine problems seems silly and pointless, I truly am doing the same thing. So instead of cigarettes and calories I will henceforth document my adventures in guitar playing, my money troubles, and my list of concerts to see. This is the summer of music and money and man, it's much needed. It's time for me.

List of concerts in my area is 2 so far (list of affordable concerts that is). May be headin' to TO for a couple or back to the beach. The Hip are hittin up Wasaga and that could be a good show. For someone who enjoys herself so much at concerts it's a shame I've never really experienced the concert scene. For all that I feel useless with no job I'm lovin' that I have time for me and time for fun if I have the opportunities. It's unfortunate that no one wants to hire me (Story of my life that no one wants me)...but it's their loss. This having no responsibility is something that I could seriously get used to.

Great things are in the air...I can feel it. I think I'm gonna lose it when my Caribbean Girlie leaves in July but until then it's all good. Now if I could only get the smiles back...

Happy Birthday to my roomie André!!!

"Anywhere You Go It's the Same Cry. MONEY WORRIES."

All you Bedouin Soundclash fans should recognize this title. (As for Money Worries...stay tuned to my blogs to come!) I'm so freakin' excited that they're coming back to town I could just spit!! Went to two concerts this term and I swear they're what kept me going. Sad...but true. To quote one JP, the concerts just had that "change your fuckin' life" effect on me. It's funny how music can do that to ya. I'm not sure what it is about it but it gets under my skin and shakes me. My only desire is to be more musically talented. I haven't taken music in years and find that all of my knowledge and rhythm has left me. I even did a Psych experiment where I sat in a sound-attenuated booth and had to discern whether clips of music were the same or different, etc, and found that my ear has gone tone deaf. Can that happen? Maybe I was always tone deaf...maybe I'm just in a rut.

As for my adventures in learning to play the guitar...what a sad little adventure it has been!! I guess it doesn't help that my guitar sounds like death. I've progressed but in 5 months I am still struggling. However I refuse to give up. There's something about the feeling of hitting a beautiful chord that, well, "strikes a chord" within you (god, what a load of cheese I am!). I think I squealed with excitement for an entire day when I was able to play something that actually sounded like a song I knew.

I'm just not one of those people who can walk and chew gum at the same time so having two rhythms in my head at the same time is mind-boggling. Thus, problem #1: I cannot strum and sing simultaneously. Problem #2: I cannot sing even when I get the patterns figured out cause I'm too nervous and am used to singing along with music. Problem #3: I can't use a pick. For now I am a rhythmically-challenged chick tryin' to play ANY song (and I mean ANY song. I have no prejudices...if I might be able to play it, I'll try it. I don't care how lame I have to go!!). And for any lovers of music do not ask to hear me play because you'll cry when you hear me kill every classic song...

But fear not, I will emerge victorious and be able to play the fuckin' guitar soon enough. And then you will all worship me and be floored by my greatness. Muuuaaaaawwwwww!!!!

Happy Birthday NJ!!!!
Wish I could be there. I'll make it up to you I promise!

You can take the girl off of the beach but you can't take the beach out of the girl. 

I Have a Confession to Make...

I'm involved in a hot and steamy love affair...with the beach. I can't deny it. Although I grew up as somewhat of a city girl, my weekends and summers have been booked with hot dates with my beach. Any beach will do, really. I watched the sun set across the bay every night last summer and would do anything to have that luxury again - well almost anything.

The beach is a magical zone where skin is in and the rest of the world doesn't matter. To learn to swim your parents throw you in the water and you learn to appreciate the saying "sink or swim." Everything seems beautiful at the beach and perspectives are skewed by the reflection off of the water.

How can you not fall in love there? There's a reason why most people "enjoy long walks on the beach." I have felt my heart stop for a few seconds while watching the sun set; it's been known to stop for a lot longer when watching it set with another. Even though it's the same sun that I've gazed at for years, it changes every time I go back, a reflection of my changed self. Or maybe a projection of my changed self.

I miss the beach and all that it represents. I miss the bonfires and the barbeques and the Coronas in the sand. I miss the laughter and I miss the sunsets.

The Perfect Accessory

If the little black dress is the perfect addition to any wardrobe, then the perfect accessory to a fine young lady is a good nickname. And not just one nickname, but a nick capable of rendering endless permutations of itself. A good nickname is like the Swiss Army knife of id tags. Yes girls, a good nick can take you places (hee hee...I have no Nick but if I did I could be goin' places!).

We are told that dyed hair that is "multi-tonal" or "multi-faceted" looks most natural, so why not have a name and thus, an identity, that is multi-faceted? A good nick should be able to traverse the spectrum that is YoU. A multi-faceted nick allows you to be silly, stupid, sexy, smart, sultry, sly, superfly (ha ha)...whatever ya want. Why can't we change our name like we change our clothes? The perfect nick maintains that essence of you but adapts to your moods and instantly connects you to others. Nicks are to me one of the most endearing signs of association, connection and, above all things, affection. I'll take a good nick over roses any day...

What They Say is True...

E.T. really is one of the greatest films EvEr!!! I finally watched the film in its entirety a few nights ago and all I have to say is...ClAsSiC. My face has been hurting from smiling ever since!!!!! It's just one of those flicks that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside! The cinematography is fantastic, the characters are wonderful...Even the sound is good!!! And the scene with the frogs...Sheer genius. I don't know how anyone can watch this film and not walk away feeling rejuvenated and refreshed by its childish wonder. It's just one of those films that gets to the core fundamentals like Freedom, Truth, Beauty, and Love (to steal from another fav flick, Moulin Rouge). Ever since a child I've been drawn to these ideals with my wide naive eyes...I guess I'm just a sucker for a good movie where good triumphs. I'm also a sucker for lovable animals and creatures like E. T. whose large eyes and incessant breathing and noisiness reminds me of many animals I've had the pleasure of knowing. I guess that's truly the joy of this movie; we recognize a little bit of ourselves in it.

Listen up y'all...if you're feelin' down ya gotta watch this movie...I cannot say it enough.

"That's Some Cold Shit"

So I'm at the Doc's Office trying to figure out what this newly-developed red and itchy mysterious rash is on my neck. Eliminating allergies, poison ivy and any other know causes, the Doc then proceeds to look at me with a smirk, saying that I have an infection...An infection that "young" people get. And though I tried to tell her that I have not been out shakin' my tailfeather with any random boys she still insisted that I had picked it up somewhere on campus. From her tone and her look of condescension I couldn't help but think that she pictured me neckin' with strange boys since that's where the "distribution" is...Perfectly in make-out neckin' zone. Frankly I'd be happy if that's why I got it cuz at least then I would live up to the "young" stereotype and would have memories of a fun time while contracting said infection. But no, my age denotes sex and disease and this is what the Doc concludes within a span of say 1 minute talking to me. However, now I am left with a mysterious infection, no known cause, no medication, and a friggin' itchy neck!! Well you know what Doc? "That's some cold shit."

sTiR CrAzY

So it's Saturday night and I'm feelin' stir cRaZy. Can't seem to keep myself occupied today. No, that's not entirely true. I guess I'm just feelin' lonely in my house. Shoulda rented out our extra rooms for the summer since two of us are still here...coulda had a few more people to hang out with. There's still time so maybe that's something to consider. Goin' out and having fun with people isn't always the answer when you still go home to an empty house. It's amazing what a difference it makes just having someone to say good morning to. I feel like I've been a prisoner in my house for way too long...maybe I should have thought harder about my housing situation. And havin' another girlie around would be right wicked...

Bust a Gut...

So in the past months I've had many strange meetings and six degrees of separationesque run-ins. Do you ever have people who keep coming back into your life?? I can't help but laugh at how connections through mutual friends lead people back together or create new circles of friends. It's amazing how the networks intertwine.

I've also been musing at my track record with gut feelings about people. It's freaky but it's also quite handy! Why is it that women have this uncanny ability to read people? It's indeed a gift, "the gift that keeps on giving." After nearly five years with my high school sweetie I was able to finish his sentences and practically read his mind. To this day our messenger conversations are short and to the point because we know what each other is thinking. Is this ability to read a person like a muscle that you flex or a skill that you hone? Once you know one person does this skill translate to others and make you better at reading people in general?? Hmm... Things That Make You Go Hmmm...

Dance Like It's Your Last Day on Earth...

Finally went out dancing after an extended dry spell! Great times had by all. The patio is open at my fav bar so the summer is looking up. Let there be more "skirt nights" to come! Went out with people I don't even know and still had a blast. That's the thing about bars...you don't have to go with people you know or people who you really like normally...they just have to know how to have a good time. Going out dancing is like air to me. I need it. I love it.

One of my only demands about going out is that there be more than 2 people and that there be at least one guy there. Why you ask? Well it's just a fact that gross and slimy guys often are drawn in by our skirts and long tresses and can't seem to take the hint when we turn and run away. Thus, a "Cock Block" is needed (aka J the phys eddy and Nick who kept the token gross guy of the evening at a safe distance from our skirts). However, the downfall of said bodyguards is the mistaken id of "bf." Ha ha. We were all getting advances from random strangers...craziness. A little cleavage and a short skirt'll do that for ya!

When going out dancing I live by one rule and that is "Dance like it's your last night on Earth." Today my hips and legs hate me for it.

The Little Black Dress...

Ok everyone, after countless months of searching and near dehydration due to copious amounts of tears shed, I have emerged victorious and my quest for a little black dress (or any dress in fact) is over! Yes NJ, no longer will we try on EvErY dress in the mall, laughing at the awkward spectacle that is me. And though I am sad to see this past time go, I am just plain giddy with my find.

There's something magical about the way a good dress can make you feel. The right pair of shoes can change your walk, clothing you with confidence. And there's a lot to be said about others' reactions to you dressed in said apparel.

I want to be clothed by your eyes, cloaked by your desire...

Whenas in silks my Julia goes,
Then, then (methinks) how sweetly
flows
That liquefaction of her clothes.
Next, when I cast mine eyes and see
That brave vibration each way free;
O how that glittering taketh me!
-Robert Herrick, "Upon Julia's Clothes", 1648

"but grace was lovely in her eye, though cloath’d with
Raggs" - Thomas Brooks

So I've decided that I'm totally one of those perfectionist bloggers who fiddles and changes things and edits entries all the time. I'm a nit-picker. In an episode of "Sex and the City" Carrie questions whether nit-picking women should just "shut the fuck up," asking when does criticism go from constructive to destructive??? I'm getting a degree in English Literature which means that really I'm getting a degree in thinking...analytical and critical. I spend my life examining and questioning and get penalized when I don't push it far enough. So how do I separate this kind of thinking from my daily life?

Let this be a mass apology to anyone who has ever felt the heat of my interrogator's lamp! But really, if you want me to chill out, just buy me a drink!!! I'm a starving student for pete's sake...

ha ha. Cin out.

Momma Always Told Me TTI

I grew up in a family with working class parents and two older brothers. My dad is as blue collar as they come and my mom is from small town Northern Ontario...When I say small I mean bumfuck nowhere. Our vehicle of choice was the station wagon...And not just any station wagon...Oh no, it was dark brown with tinted black windows and made enough noise that we knew Dad was turning onto our street by the rumble of the beast. We all nearly pee ourselves when we watch the car scenes in Uncle Buck. Needless to say, I never wanted a ride to high school.

My mom still dreams of being an actress and has filled my mind with big dreams ever since childhood. She insists on telling us repeatedly that she could be an actress. She always told me I could do it but I didn't have the desire or the confidence to follow through with it (I make up for this lack of drama in other ways...Ha ha). I think I watched every award show on TV with my mom, starin' at those beautiful women (albeit simulacra of real women) walkin' the red carpet. Mom always told me I could be there one day. She would pretend to walk as if one of those women. "See, we could be there. We could look like that. You just have to stand tall and walk in there as if you belong. Just TTI and strut like you own the place," she would say. TTI is our code for "Tuck Your Tummy In." To this day, even when I feel out of place at functions I know that if I TTI and walk proud I will belong...sorta.

That's the thing about class...It isn't something you're born with but something that is learned...And social status does not necessarily define class. Nothing looks worse than a wealthy woman in some expensive getup tryin' to look wealthy but sporting a protruding belly with hunched shoulders. I've seen business men who chew with their mouths open and, that's one thing I'll say for my dad, he may be a mechanic but when he eats in a restaurant he looks like a gentleman.

My desire to be better off in life than when I was growing up is in a way troublesome to me. I don't want to become stagnant in the same place that I grew up in; I want to see the world and grow by its influences and by my experiences. I would be content with the life that I had growing up but part of me wants more. "I want the fairy tale," says Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman.

I've never even been on an airplane. I've experienced so little compared to others...But the reverse is also true. It's not like I was deprived as a child - not in the least - but compared to some at my school my life has been blah. Sometimes I walk around campus and feel so strange and out of place. No need for violins. I'm not tryin' to cry about a life that wasn't really bad at all (I actually find some of the stories of my childhood and my family funny as hell!!!) I'm just tryin' to explore the relationship between our family identity and our personal identity.

A lot of the time I struggle to incorporate my upbringing into my life without having it define my identity completely. It's hard sometimes to try to fit with others who have experienced the world. And sometimes I feel that I don't have much to offer to guys who are worldly. And I guess I don't...at least I don't have exciting stories to offer...But I do have a hell of a lot more once you get past my superficially blah upbringing and reach the goals and dreams that I have had all my life. If anything I think growing up with desires and dreams makes you able to fit in with regular people without judgment while learning to fit in with the upper crust.

If you're only as old as you think you are, you're only as poor as you think you are. Bein' wealthy is as much a financial situation as it is a state of mind.