in the background

2007-06-01T10:49:00.000-05:00

Spring rain has a way of seeping under my skin. It gets to my core and makes me miss you. Unexpected clouds cover what was just a few hours ago a transparent sky, bringing with it a permeating darkness. A sudden rainstorm and I'm caught without an umbrella. There is no choice now but to walk on, one foot in front of the other, by-passing the freshly-filled puddles. The piegons I pass look cold and uncomfortable, their feathers poufed and ruffled. I can't wait to get home and throw off the wet layers which stick to my skin, slowly, piece by piece. But I want to take the long way back. I like to think of you and long, careless sunny days. The lingering kisses and the soft-spoken words. The slushing feeling in my shoes brings me back there, there where I am dry.

Closed Doors, Open Washrooms

2007-01-08T15:31:00.000-06:00

Leaving parts of me in places always close even though they're not

Haunted

2006-12-17T09:22:00.000-06:00

Sometimes when I walk down Krakow's narrow cobblestone streets I hear footsteps behind me. They aren't anyone's footsteps in particular, but rather the steps of the whole of history. They are heavy steps, burdened by the past. I think of all the shoes, ragged and new, that have tread this very street in the oppressive heat, in the bitter cold, in love and in war. Often, it is difficult to imagine Poland's not-so-distant past with the glare of the neon signs from the shop windows. But looking down, at the worn stone beneath my feet, the past somehow becomes present, alive with ruin. The ghosts of this city are everywhere.

38 first times

2006-11-22T15:39:00.000-06:00

Everyday it starts the same way. The sleek blue body of the 38 sliding down the street to the stop where I wait. Sometimes the sun shines. More often, it rains. It's cold and it's grey but I don't have to ask anyone for a bilet studencki on the 38. The automatic ticket dispenser silently responds to my demand. A gentle click, the familiar sound. No necessary words or unnecessary exchange. It doesn't roll its eyes, it doesn't ask for smaller change. No lost elbows, backpacks or pushes. There is always room for me on the 38. An empty seat nearest the window with my name on it. Not that I'm tired anyway, memories of yesterday feeding me, keeping me up, racing. I sit facing backwards on the 38, but always move forward. I don't know what's in front of me and I don't seem to care. The cars, the people, the kisses and the screams. In one, two, three, four stops, I always get to here.

A picture worth a thousand words

2006-11-03T09:58:00.000-06:00

Making it easy for smokers on the street

Yummy garlic ketchup

No wonder bars don't close

Send me all your vampires

2006-10-26T07:53:00.000-05:00

I have become a creature of the night. I draw the dark red curtains in my bedroom during the day to rest. I come alive only after dark. I live in the dingy basements of Krakow and have become extremely pale. I'm so incoherent that incoherence itself is now normal. The constant spin. And the freaky part is I kind of like it.

It's Thursday and it's the weekend. For 10 days! Muahaha.

Captured

2006-10-17T03:58:00.000-05:00

Some moments pass but never die

First there were four, then three, now two.

Monika - I'm going to make this one short and sweet seeing as how we've had enough goodbyes over the last little while and I don't want to drag this one out. I wish all the best on your journey!

Words of wisdom

2006-10-12T05:20:00.000-05:00

As you all probably know, my beloved cousin Mike is here with me livin' la vida loca. Over the past few weeks, I've managed to put together a couple my all time favourite Mike-isms. I will leave out the context because it's just so much better that way. Here they are:

1. "With me, it's a barrel of monkeys."
2. "LOPM! Life of the Party Mike! All the Time! Yes Guy!"
3. "She got Mikeify'd" (note: he spelled this one out for me just so I could get it right)
4. "Who doesn't love me? Everybody loves me" (note: this is said as he stands leaning against a wall, staring out into the blue sky, shaking his head)

And my ATF (All Time Favourite, in keeping with Mikeish): "It's not swearing, it's Power Slang."

Welcome to Eastern Europe

2006-10-09T15:23:00.000-05:00

THE GOOD

Medieval architecture
Clubs that stay open till the last person leaves
The ad-hoc free photo-expo in the Rynek
How everybody moves to offer the elderly a spot on the tram
Smoking in restaurants

THE BAD

Communist blocks
Waiting for the drunko in front of you at the bar to slurrrrrrrr an order
Having to throw plastic and glass into the garbage
How people swear at nuns crossing the road
Smoking in restaurants

First days

2006-09-20T07:08:00.000-05:00

I am in Polska. I still can't believe it. I'm having trouble coming to terms with the fact that I live here now. I'm not coming home in a few weeks; this is not a vacation. Homesickness is setting in and the only way I'm coping is by telling myself I'll be back before I know it. My attitude at present is a tad on the negative side and I know that this experience will be what I make of it. I can either embrace the fear and the change or wallow in unnecessary self-pity over a decision I have already decided upon. I think things will get easier once school starts and I get into the daily swing of things. After two weeks, I still can't get used to people driving way too fast in crappy cars on crappy roads (who needs seatbelts?!) the monotone voice-overs on import TV (90 % of it is import, mind you) and a phone I can't dial out on.
So far, I haven't had much time to get out and enjoy the culture. Stylisticly, things are pretty much the same. The clubs, pubs and lounges we have managed to hit so far have been way cooler than the ones I know back home. You can be on the dingiest of alleyways and you'll still find an awesome-looking bar. Booze and smokes are far cheaper than at home and it's been a while since I've felt the sting of cigarette smoke in my eyes.
My apartment has caused quite the headache since my arrival. Upon first inspection, I decided I hated it and will not, absolutely not, live there. After 4 days of tireless searching, phone calls and visiting apartments far worse than my original one, I decided that apartment number1 wasn't so bad after all (no climbing up 8 flights of stairs, down 5, through a garden and another alley to get to this place!). In order to make the place habitable, though, a trip to IKEA (pronounced E-K-A, here) and a fresh coat of paint were in order. The place looks pretty decent following the mini-reno and Mis should be helping me move in in the next day or so. It's close to the Rynek, but I still don't know how I will live without a dryer.
I have been taking tons of photos (although the ones here are from Mis' camera) and I will leave with a pictorial of my first days here for now:

Seems a little communist, no?

Cramming expensive cars into tight spaces is quite commonplace here

Think it's not possible to down a half litre and meet Dominika (10 min walk away) in 25 minutes? Think again.

A well-deserved Zapekanka from Endziora after a long night in Kazimeriz, Krakow's answer to Paris' Monmarte (or so I eavsdrop from the burak waiting in line behind me)

I like Orange.

The good old car and tram ram.

Difficult decisions.

Look of disgust on Mis' face. I had nowhere else to put my leg on the car ride home from Ikea in Dodo's Ford Puma. Let's just say we were all uncomfortable.

The view from Dominika's house.

The beginning's end

2006-08-26T19:20:00.000-05:00

I saw Kasia off yesterday, her borrowed truck filled to capacity with all her belongings. Only then did it become clear to me that in less than 10 days, I will be making such a step myself - the only exception is I will be waving goodbye before boarding a plane. I'm moving the across the ocean, so far away from home and all the faces I know and love. I'm scared to death but incredibly ready for this new beginning. A clean slate, untarnished by old problems and a fear of myself. It's a chance I'm taking - I could love it or hate it - but either way, there's no doubt in my mind that it will be an experience of a lifetime. I just hope I can make it through this week with minimal tears. For as you all know, I am the queen of nostalgia. I live in the past. I have the pessimistic attitude that what is to come will never be as great as what came before. But that's only because the beginning has been better than I could have ever imagined.

This wave

2006-06-21T13:51:00.000-05:00

So it was my birthday and I graduated. Apparently, these are supposed to big things in life. I can't seem to wrap my head around the pointlessness of everything and yet can't grasp the significance of nothing. But I did have a party, went camping and frolicked around centre island for a day with some of the best people I know.

This carelessness is beginning to bother me. It formed a long time ago, quietly and somewhere far away and is now crashing onto shore. I don't want it. Sometimes there are no sandbags to protect yourself from the impact.

All that glitters is gold

2006-05-31T20:50:00.000-05:00

The warm weather is here and I'm not complaining. The evening obviously called from some blurry messiness.

All medicated geniuses

2006-05-27T18:58:00.000-05:00

Sometimes you have a scab and all you can do is pick and pick at it until it bleeds and all you're left with is a bloody mess and a gaping wound. No amount of cover-up will make it less visible. You've gone and done something you never wanted to and there's no turning back. You've become something you've never thought was possible. You regret it, but no amount of salted tears will fix it. You just have to wait for it to heal on its own.

Reality vs. my head

2006-05-15T20:08:00.000-05:00

Seeing as how I haven't posted anything in a really, really long time, I felt I should having both the time and the inkling right now. I've been so uninspired as of late, not to mention horribly, utterly bored. And besides, I know at least Monika will read this, making me feel as if I actually have friends in the world. Thankfully my friends have been all very supportive of my unemployed habits - consuming coffee to excess being one. Time seems to move so quickly these days and I seem to be obsessing more than usual. Not to mention over analyzing everything that's wrong with my life - a by-product of my boredom I suppose. But what I'm really trying to say is that sometimes complications in life are self-inflicted. Knowingly. Sometimes all you need to to take a step back and chill. Makes all the difference in the world.

Thinking in a bubble

2006-04-22T09:37:00.000-05:00

I wrote this post on Monika's blog more than 2 years ago. It seems strange that I am still the same head space as I was then, albeit with a few minor changes. I just got back from a too-short stint at the Ottawa Citizen and now am sitting at home, with a degree and no job - let alone job prospects even. I just want to disappear sometimes now, like I did then.

I just got out of the bath and still don't feel cleansed. I also wanted to make bubbles, but the bubbles just wouldn't bubble up like bubbles should. To compound my frustration the water was cold. Monika also wanted me to write a post about how guys are the new girls (so passe). Instead, I decided to exasperate you with some psychological banter. But I guess that's life, so now suffer through it. And if you're wondering what this metaphor is about, it's about not getting what you want. Some things just don't work out for a reason. Like living in the forest.Last week, I had this revelation that if I were to live and frolic amongst the various furry inhabitants of the forest, I'd be much happier. It's seriously what I wanted. I was almost packed, standing in front of a mountain of clothes piled in the middle of my room (actually, the clothes had already been lying there a week, so it wasn't really all that intentional). All I needed was a suitcase. Call me crazy, but the idea of leaving everything behind didn't seem that frightening. Breaking the social codes I was raised to accept, it seems, was what I wanted. Forget school. Forget work. Forget boys. Yes, most importantly forget boys (not boys in a broad way - just the dumb ones). The forest sounded like the perfect place to escape: trees heavy with rich green foliage, the smell of pine piercing your nostrils, the sight of open green pastures spotted with some black and brown moobas (that's cow for all you non-Costa Rican natives). I'd obviously want my friends to come and share the experience with me, cause as you all know, the forest can be a pretty scary place at night. Always need someone to sacrifice in case savage barbarian cannibals decide to run out of the thickery with nothing but loincloths tied around their waists, looking for a late night snack, you know? Perfect. It's settled then. Let's get in the car and go. Wait. Sounds like you're a cracked out hippy chick, you cynics may say, smirking your cynical smirks. Maybe. I just wish I really knew what I wanted. I don't know, but I'm guessing someone out there has felt it - you go through the motions of life and can never really understand why you do the things you do. Maybe I'm just having an existential crisis. I don't know. But I really wanna know. And now that I've completely messed you up with the inner workings of Kasia's illogical mind, I'm satisfied. Not quite cleansed, but satisfied.

You are my bubbles.

Costa Rica 2005/06

2006-01-19T20:31:00.000-06:00

There were so many fewer questions when stars were still just the holes to heaven

Poster of a girl

2005-12-06T20:22:00.000-06:00

Kasia and I had a 'girls night' on Friday. But terms like that bother us. With it entailed is a whole slew of other generalizations about committed life - as Emily Haines points out, it is a life of comparison shopping and floral couches. Are we all designed to be confined? Pleased to announce Miss Fregata 2005:

Ya, we actually went there. But don't worry - I'm far from wearing white pants and black shoes to clubs or shaving my head in a zigzag pattern. As we learned, Rule # 1 states: "No Boaters." But it's all love.

Kasia Supertramp

2005-11-21T20:48:00.000-06:00

I have a presentation tomorrow about a guy who lived in a fictional reality inspired by literature. He lived in myth, fought for ideals and died for dreams. He is tragic.

"The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop..."
-Jack Kerouac

Pieces

2005-11-10T17:26:00.000-06:00

I'm so retardedly busy right now and really don't feel like posting something new, but it's about time that I posted something soI thought I might put up an excerpt of a piece I am writing just because I am too lazy to supply you with anything original. Here it is:

That morning, I was putting a bowl into the dishwasher when it shattered to pieces in my hands. Hundreds of tiny, jagged glass fragments scattered the floor and littered the inside of the machine. I didn’t have time to pick out all the shards, so I left them there. It’s often easier to leave the pieces where they lay instead of picking them up in a hurry. It’s the same feeling I get when I am awakened in the middle of the night by her screaming. I am too lazy get out of my warm bed to go pick up the pieces, to mop up the mess. When I do, she often mumbles something incoherent because her medication inhibits her motor functions. I never know whether I have woken her or whether she is still sleeping lest the screaming begins again. When I get back to bed, and settle into the comfort of my covers, my body shakes so hard it feels like its going to shatter into a thousand pieces. It’s hard to keep it together when you know someone you love is falling apart in the room next to yours.

Death by vanity

2005-10-26T18:36:00.000-05:00

It seems that the soapbox I am on as of recently is a preachy, moralistic, "I'm better than you because I don't eat read meat" kind of spell. This is not intentional. For the record, I am a total walking contradiction and a full-blown hypocrite. I wear leather. With that off my chest (it was a burden, I tell you) I wanted to say that I hate these stupid boots that girls are wearing everywhere. On every streetcorner, on every bus, in every mall you will find such hideous displays of vulgarity. I bet you the girl next door has a pair. The reason I am so outraged is perhaps the fact that these monstrosites cost roughly $300 (of course there are knock-offs which are even worse). I was at the mall a couple of days ago, hoping to run in, find an awesome pair of boots and leave as quickly as possible with minimum damage done to my wallet. All I could find after roaming for about 2 hours were these ugly, stupid, furry, Sasquatch-y boots.

Not only are they disgusting to me because it looks like you harveted your pet bunny to make them, but they look ridiculous on (unless you're going for the Yeti look). I could not find a single pair of decent boots anywhere. And what is even more disturbing is how can anybody possibly find such boots cool? Perhaps it's the sheep mentality which pushes us to any trend, regardless of how ridiculous. I thought I saw the worst of it last year with the Uggs epidemic. Then again, how can you ever account for spandex? Valid question I'll say. But anyway, back to my mall story. I left mad because I wasted 2 hours, accomplished nothing and realized that we girls are mindless robots. Now I have wasted another fifteen minutes of my time writing about it. So I hope that none of my friends have bought such boots. You cease to be my friend as of now. I'm off to watch Top Model.

Why plants are my moral dilemma

2005-10-02T15:41:00.000-05:00

This is what I would look like if I were a plant

Plants are people too. I’ve never considered it, but there it is – and apparently, it’s a fact. Now that I’m informed, I’m afraid I don’t know what to eat.
I’ve always loved animals and this love of animals has translated into feeling guilty about not being a vegetarian. And upon attempting vegetarianism on a number of occasions, I was only able to get through a couple of months at a time on whole wheat pitas and hummus. Now my yo-yo veggie binges seem like a massacre.
My self-awareness as a murderous herbivore began with a seemingly harmless get-together with a friend over lunch. Munching a large bowl of leafy greens on a sun-drenched patio one summer day in August, my friend, or rather my bearer of bad news as it were, asked with a slight smirk, “You’ve heard about that wacky experiment they did back in the ‘60s about plants having feelings?”

"No, I hadn’t," I replied in between bites. I naturally think it’s a joke; she’s just playing with my acute sense of guilty conscience. As a 5 year-old, my mother could bribe me into eating everything on my dinner plate by telling me that the leftover broccoli would feel sad because it would be torn apart from the food that was already in my stomach. It didn’t only work, it worked every time. Avoiding the issue for a couple of days, the nagging curiosity set in and I looked it up on the internet. I was sure the only thing I would find would be Chia Pet fan sites. But no: “Happy plants,” “The Secret Life of Plants” – the information was all there, I just wasn’t sure I could stomach it.
The information I found was this: Cleve Backster, a lie-detector expert who ran a school on lie-detection for policemen and security agents in New York City, rather accidentally detected primary perception in plants in 1968. While at work one day, he hooked his polygraph up to a tropical plant on his desk, just to see what would happen. After watering it, he was surprised to see that it produced a pattern on the graph very similar to that of a person after receiving an emotional stimulus. After further testing, he found that, somehow, the very thought of setting fire to its leaves drastically changed the pattern of the graph. It seemed as though the plant could not only feel, but also read his mind.
So now it seems that I should either give in or starve. Natural selection has forced me to opt for the former. I must come to terms with the fact that I will always be a morally corrupt human being and live with it. Nature is nature – I can’t fight it. But the next time I walk by a tree, with leaves coloured bright hues of red, orange and yellow, I can’t help but feel a little sad and a lot less hungry.

Turkeys are better off in the oven

2005-10-01T16:21:00.000-05:00

So I'm sitting at my desk and a TY stuffed turkey is staring at me mocking me with his glass eye. I can only see one eye and I know he's laughing on the inside, with his silly beak turned upwards towards me. He makes me mad at times like these. I'm supposed to be writing and all I can do is stare back at him, and vent my frustration. If he could talk, I know what he'd say. As a projection of my anxieties and insecurities he's my worst enemy at times like these. 'Stretch' - what a stupid name for a stupid turkey.

When black fades to grey

2005-09-25T14:01:00.000-05:00

It's been a while since my last post. It seems that I was simply too wrapped up in what has been a rickety rollar coaster of a summer - all thought and feeling consciously supressed. Not that it has gotten any better, particularly, but now that the mental asylum we call higher education has begun again, ranting and raving in cyberspace seems like a sane thing to do. Writing these words now seems to be taking the edge of the cement block that is my brain. I got nothing.

There's nothing to live for when you're sleeping alone

2005-06-22T11:39:00.000-05:00

It's been over a week since I got back from Mexico and I still can't get my head out of the clouds. Putting the whole experience into words simply would not do it justice. Coming home to an empty house after such an intense week of relaxation, fun and great company doesn't bode well for one's psychological health. It was one of those experiences which leaves you restless and unable to cope with daily life upon return. Ya, I know I can't live on a beach in Mexico, sipping daiquiris, cruising through the mountainous countryside in a Jeep all my life, learning how to surf and never having to worry about life's daily problems, but it's about more than a change of scenery. How can I be happy here if I never find out what life is like anywhere else? I can't seem to shake this idea. One thing is for sure - this spontaneous 7 day vacation changed me. Aside from the memories made which will last a lifetime and the images imprinted in my mind, knowing that there is a whole world out there to be explored is as exciting as it is intimidating. All I know is I want to be by the ocean.

Since I can't put all the pictures up here, I posted a few of the pretty ones (if you want to see the 'motel room' pics, you'll have to ask me nicely)

The quintessential 'we're on vacation' sunset pose.

Paradise it is. On our way out to dinner after a long, hard day at the beach. (A drunk kid took this picture of us. I'm suprised it turned out the way it did. Thanks drunk kid)

The Bday girl hanging with the transatlantic homies

Kasia calls a truce on the gin and tonic battle which left her smelling rauchy the whole way home.

Kasia caught in the middle of a cross-table caress. Where's Carlos when you need him?

Enjoying, actually, rather not enjoying some 'authentic' Mexcian ice-cream which was disposed of shortly before this picture was taken. It's not my fault. I wanted prepackaged.

Our jeep, the street and where I want to be living. For now anyway.

A happy tourist pose in Sanulyta, a hippy beach town which draws thousands of tourists each year for it's annual dog surfing competition. NO, not REALLY.

Only if you believe me, that is.

I miss it already. Nothing better than smoking in bed.

Tales from a far

2005-06-05T19:36:00.000-05:00

So Olki flew in last night only to hop into Andrew's car and head downtown in true supertrooper fashion. Despite jet-lag, miminal sleep, packing and unpacking, we headed straight to London...

This Is London of course. I wanted to show Olki, who herself had had a number of encounters with creepy French men while away in Europe, the strange crowd that hangs about the place. Picture it: Guys with white collared shirts, open only to reveal the monkeys on their chests, bald heads, chin straps (which of course make up for the bald heads), and big silver/gold hoop earrings in both ears. Not to mention the drug-induced muscles. But we were disappointed to find that no one goes clubbing at 9:30 p.m. So instead we annoyed the bouncers by peeking inside and taking pictures of the property. And Andrew pulled the always trendy brooding emo kid pose.

After much debate we sat down in a cafe and Olki enlightened us on her European vacation. Apparently, Toronto is more lively than any city she visited in Europe, which I find difficult to believe even on a hot early summer night on College. As an eclectic mix of people strolled by, Olki had yet another world-class evening, this time in the T dot.

And Andrew was so excited, he kept slapping himself to make sure he was awake. HAha.

P.S. I'm heading to the land of Mehico tomorrow and just wanted to remind you peeps not to make plans for Saturday the 18th. It's my B-Day Party!

A breath of fresh air

2005-05-28T18:48:00.000-05:00

I need air. I've been breathing in too much stale Toronto air as of late and I'm dying for a change of scenery. Some palm trees? Check. A Beach? Check. Spending all day sprawled out on a towel baking under the hot sun, drink in hand? Sounds like my kinda getaway. So I stole K1 away from her boyfreind for a week and we're flying to the Pacific. Puerto Vallarta, Mexico Pacific to be exact. Only thing is, I'm missing my berfday. So those of you anxiously awaiting the occasion, not to fear. We'll have a big bash when I get back (all tanned and beautiful I might add). And it works out better this way, 'cause my Euro-hopping, little London trendsetter Okli from the block will be back. So get your party hats on in advance. Mine's on perma-style.

Back to black sheep basics

2005-05-18T08:20:00.000-05:00

Step # 1: Always remember that I am the shepard...

Step # 2: Following crucial Step # 1, Step # 2 follows seamlessly.
Be my sheep.

HaHA

So sublime when the stars are aligned

2005-05-16T14:18:00.000-05:00

I think I owe an explaination to my 5 readers. I haven't been posting because I've been angry at Blogger. And blogging in general. Too much personality sacrificed for image. But in accordance with my usual style, I'm over it.

the web alter-ego: singing the songs of self-praise

A case of commitmentphobia

2005-05-02T16:44:00.000-05:00

I hate committing to things. I end up feeling trapped even though I enter into most agreements on my own accord. The thought of being bound to something for infinity (although I realize that this infinity is just a figment of my imagination because I am a creature of free will after all) freaks me out. And it's not relationships or big things I'm talking about. It's the little things. It's these shoes in green or pink.
And these pink shoes, which I have now committed to, I will have to wear. If I don't, I'll feel guilty. This is not simply indecisiveness, but it's not as crazy as it seems either. Think about it. You've just committed to going to the gym, for instance, something I am in avoidance of right now (actually, I'm one of those people who feels that simply by having a gym pass, I am changing my physique). Masked by good intentions, you, like many guilt-ridden sloths, have chosen to lead a healthier lifestyle - one characterized by whole grains and yoga. But this choice has never actually been realized. This the fundamental issue. Delusion does not equal action - although I really wish it did. And what is action if not a commitment to something?
Well, if you haven't noticed, my ramblings aren't without cause. I am rebelling against the whole process while I am packing my pink shoes on my way to yoga.
Guilt sucks.

It all started on a stormy night in 1981

2005-04-26T23:27:00.000-05:00

Apparently two years later, Rafold was born.
Twenty-two years after that, the waitress is completely disinterested, and we're confused.
But after eight shots of tequila and seven beers, you'd probably get the story wrong too.

The B-Boy is self-assured and ready for more.

Much to the doubt of sceptics like me who would like to see him under the table. It's just not human to drink that much. And act sober. And do jumping jacks. And not berf your brains out. Not normal.

But the drinking continues despite my dismay

Annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnd what? Raf gives me the evil eye. Or he's trying to be a model. I can't decide.

Now this is Raf the model. It's not easy being ridiculously good looking, you know.

And learning something new among drunkards is always entertaining. Do you know how to say 'sex' in Kazsakstani? Neither did I. But it's never to late to find out. The only question I have is why is this not said? The 'symbols' for it are like this. First, you must rub hands together like so...

Then you must clap like this...

And you get the picture. Maybe it's better this way 'cause it can be said in seeeeeeeeeeecret. Genius.

Taurus power represent.
Happy Bday Rafold! I think I speak for all when I thank you for the enlightening lessons learned last night.

Feeling bored, feeling numb

2005-04-25T21:18:00.000-05:00

School's out for summer. Fortunately not forever. Finally done and now I'm feeling helpless and lost. Today was the first day I've had at home in months. With no car, friends at work, and nothing worthwhile on daytime television, I actually felt bored. I didn't even know that I was still capable of boredom. Obviously I am. Moping from the computer to the T.V. to the fridge, I realized that my life has been school for the past couple of months. Not last Saturday night though. Celebrated the completion of another year with the drunken slopiness that was last weekend.

A cure for thursday night boredom

2005-04-24T19:57:00.000-05:00

It's the middle of exams. There's nothing to do. We're in Mississauga. Facing the ultimate suburban dilemma...

Not to fear. Feeling calm and collected as we pull up to Starbizzle with intentions to watch the sunset in the parking lot (how romantic) and to catch up over some over-priced coffee.

Sippin' on coke and rum...alex is 'like so what I'm druuuuunk'...you know the rest. No? Well, it's almost the freakin' weekend baby, gonna have me some fun. Except subsititute rum for caramel machiatto. Now that's what I call partying.

And every party (especially those about to take place) must include the suprise guest. The elusive Joanna showed up, a rare creature that is often spotted in the wild along side her mate, Rafold.

But first Alex, I mean Okli from da block, keeps it real by pretending to be intellectual and all interested in books.

The fun escalates with Monika who arrives to join in on the parking lot festivities. Look out, these kids don't mess around.

Things are really starting to get outta control.

Yet another lonesome, wandering soul stumbles across four girls in a parking lot and discovers that 'hanging out' can have many different meanings.

Parting ways after some time well wasted is often a difficult feat. Especially when there are exams to study for and work to be done.

One last goodnight kiss on a night that gives new meaning to the uses of public spaces. Never let Thursday get you down.

I gave you life and I can take it away

2005-04-19T20:45:00.000-05:00

It's back.
Everything is normal again. My dreamy state dissapated upon wakening.
I'm half done exams, half not, and like many people out there, I'm wondering what the hell I'm supposed to do next. If I had my way, it would be nothing. Absolutely, completely nothing. Just for one day. Even if that means hiding in a cave. I really want to stop thinking about the future and live in the now. Hard, it seems though, with a million things to do. If only life were like that mxpx song - responsibility, what's that?
But it's not necessarily only responsibilty that irks me. It's the fact that junk food is unhealthy. It's the fact that I don't live on campus and don't get to be a 'girls gone wild' girl. It's ugly Ugg boots in the summer. It's girls in white pants at the library, who don't seem to find it neccessary to wear underwear.
I blame them.

The enemy. Again, not the culprit (just like the subway solicitations, I just don't seem to have my camera on me at the right time) The girl in question was guilty of a crime much more heinous than this.

When all your dreams are made of strawberry lemonade

2005-04-17T17:51:00.000-05:00

The scent of spring hanging in the air, the dreaming begins.
The mood is light and airy, the bounce returns to your step and even though sometimes you don't get all the sleep you should, life still feels good.
Being outside no longer means wearing 20 layers of fleece, shaking convulsively and having red hands. It's about lingering.
Loafting.
Passing time without worry. Sitting on outdoor patios with friends, taking long drives on country roads, the radio full blast, sunglasses in full effect. Counting the days until you can breathe in the fresh, pine-infused northern air. Dive headfirst into cool water. Shedding winter skin, hoping for a fresh start.
This time of year is about renewal - the feeling that this year will be better than the last. New goals, new aspirations, new dreams, hopes and fears. Having the ability to cope with life's curveballs made much easier with a bench, a coffee and a good friend.
Falling can be good.
Falling into daydreams. Spending some time with your head in the clouds after months of facing a harsh reality. Falling headfirst into something new. Standing on the edge of summer, awaiting the plunge.
Drowning in dreams.

Wodsworth Lake, Kaszuby

P.S. I will return un-Prozaced Kasia to you soon. Don't know what happened. I'm sure my melancholic state will be short-lived. I prefer angry and cynical.

Romance is dead

2005-04-11T21:11:00.000-05:00

Ok, so I'm delusional. I actually liked (note the past tense) the Bachelor. I thought it was fresh and invigorating. At least compared to other dating shows like Blind Date and the 5th Wheel, that ever-so-original spin on America's favourite pastime - dating on a bus. Wait, wait - hold back the bile, let me explain.
The Bachelor was an escape. Imagine a land of hottubs, champange and strawberries and an endless array of studs professing their love to you in little handwritten haiku poems. Fantasy world indeed. I watched the last Bachelorette religiously. My love for the show came to a screeching, burning rubber-kinda halt when Jen Schefft officially burst my bubble effectively destroying my monday night ritual.
I, by that time, had developed what you could call a slight - note slight - obsession with Jerry whats-his-name. When she dumped him, I was angry. Not angry because I genuinely cared, but angry cause I didn't get my way. I mean what is UP? She's looking for a SERIOUS boyfriend? But that's not part of the show. I never get mad when the couples who hook up on the show break up later on. That's fine. I don't care what you do after the show as long as I get my fairy-tale ending. Let me have my hour of romance. Please.
For one, real romance is never like that, but girls, being the silly creatures we are, like to delude ourselves into believing it is. Even me. I hate reality t.v. I don't even really watch t.v. Last I heard, Lindsay Lohan had a singing career. And second, it complemented my own steamy love-life. Right. Like who has time for boys anyway? But as a single girl, I was completely content supplementing my dose of romance with a dash of voyuerism.
That aside, I gave up watching the Bachelor after that last disappointment. But my nagging curiosity got me. I caved in. I was able to steal the t.v. for one hour tonight and had my pick between Miss USA or the Bachelor. Of course it was a gut-wrenching choice. Opting for the latter, I was even more sickened by the state of the sleaze on that show. Like omigod, is this your door? Yes. Like let's hang out. Not only are the girls extra dumb this season, the guy's a friggin monster. He speaks some weird broken English in a deep, droning monotone voice. Plus, he's Jerry O'Connell's brother. I guess that kind of celebrity status garners you your own show these days.
But nothelessless the show sucks. I probably would have been better off watching Miss USA. Then I could have worked up the old diatribe about women and objectification. Perhaps I've become even more cynical, although I really can't imagine that being possible. Or perhaps the show always sucked and I'm just starting to realize it. Either way, romance is dead in my books. At least it is on prime time t.v.

What's better than a joke?

2005-04-10T18:45:00.000-05:00

A redneck joke. ha. Hope this keeps you as halfly entertained as it does me. I've been boring lately.

Feeling Down?

2005-04-05T21:08:00.000-05:00

Don't worry -I LIKE you. But just in case you need some more reassurance, click here and feel better about yourself. Nothing like a self-gratifying morale booster.

Almost As Sad As Toby

2005-04-03T15:45:00.000-05:00

The only difference is I'm not gonna be eaten. Yes, I may be just as cute, but I will not end up on somebody's dinner plate. And I thought I had it bad - missed deadlines, dust-ridden textbooks, unwritten essays and a horribly forgetful memory (seemingly defeating its own purpose). All my whining aside though, this little guy has it much worse. I swear, people are weird. Weird and greedy. You see, somebody decided to raise a small fortune by threatening those of us who still have hearts left, that if we don't fork over about $50,000 USD, Toby will become this creep's next meal. Still don't believe me? It's for real. Just go to www.savetoby.com and find out first-hand what people are capable of. As for me, I'm not starting out a savekasia fund just yet. So don't worry.

Uncanny resemblance, no?

Real Reality

2005-04-02T20:53:00.000-06:00

The Pope died today. Even though I don't consider myself religious, this is big. A unifying force, human in his actions, yet otherworldly in his presence. His passing left me with a feeling of loss of control. Things are off-kilter. Not as they're supposed to be. Eerie. Strange. We all knew this was coming; for the past weeks no one could deny its immence. But as I was sitting in a candle-lit cafe last night with Alex somewhere in the Annex, everything seemed a little too real. CNN's constant updates flashing on a small monitor in the corner of the cafe - the Pope's not dead yet - seemed to lack dignity. It got us thinking. Real thinking.
What is real anyway? Is it this life? Another one? UFOs. Religion. Conspiracies. The Illuminati. Skull and Bones. Control. Body. Life. Other dimensions. The nature of time.
The guy sitting at a table next to us overheard our discussion. You know? He was shocked.
"You know," he said, his strong features illuminated by candlelight. "It's scary when you first start to realize things aren't always as the seem."
Ya, for real. Maybe our whole reality is really just a complicated Matrix-like computer program.
Maybe we're all prisioners in some kind of a Panopticon in which nameless elite families are the prison guards.
Ignorance is bliss. Or is it?
Personally, I'd rather know. I'd even rather know that Alex thinks I'm an evil spirit. She told me that yesterday, much to my fright I must say. She said I looked at her in a weird way. She said her imagination was running wild. Really, really wild. I was scared. Scared 'cause we had gotten really into these questions about reality. But it's no surprise since conversations like these can get you in a zone. A completely non-medicated altered state. Trust me. The moment we left the cafe and stepped into the real world, we were both scared. Scared to go the bathroom, scared when we walked awkwardly fast down the crowded street. It was just like leaving a scary movie.
Only everything is a bit more real.

Do Something Cool This Weekend

2005-03-31T18:32:00.000-06:00

Why go to a club or to the movies tomorrow night when you can see live, in an on-stage interview, one of the strangest directors of our time? Harmony Korine, best-known for Kids will be at Ryerson tomorrow night at 7:30 and I suggest y'all check, check, check it out. haha. Got lost in a little diddy. It happens sometimes. Anyway, for more info, click here.

If you go, you'll almost be as cool as this guy

Feeling Strangely Poetic

2005-03-30T18:38:00.001-06:00

I don't know if I've been listening to too much emo or what, but today everything seems incredibly profound. I came across this passage while flipping through some old books of mine and felt like sharing. It's an inscription in Heminway's For Whom the Bell Tolls, one of my favo books of all time. In light of Hunter S. Thompson's recent suicide, Hemingway too, like many creative geniuses, committed suicide at the height of his career. To me, this makes this passage that much more haunting:

No man is an Iland, intire of it selfe; every man is a peece of the Continent, a part of the maine; if a Clod bee washed away by the Sea, Europe is the lesse, as well as if a Promontorie were, as well as if a Mannor of thy friends or of thine own were; any mans death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankinde; And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls;

It tolls for thee

-John Donne

Little thoughts carrying great weight.

Gotta turn off the emo.

Subway Solicitations and Other Monday Morning Faux-Pas

2005-03-28T16:53:00.000-06:00

"Hey there."
I look up.
Oh no, please don't be talking to me.
"What's your name?" he says after a stupidly obvious once-over and an attempt at a wink.
"Lauren."
Out comes my paranoid sensibility. Never tell a stranger your name.
I look away hoping that he'll get the hint and leave me alone. It's too early for this.
"My namesfemish." What? It doesn't matter. I nod politely and pretend to be enthralled by all the people walking by. He sticks out his hand. Ewww, gross. Please, please don't make me touch you.
"I wanted to ask you two things," he says after satisfying his need to spread all his germs into my palm. Great. Two things. As if I was acting interested or something.
"Do you want to buy some body products and do you have a boyfriend," he says in a mumbling manner. Body products? Like artifical limbs? No. Boyfriend? Yes, I lie.
But it doesn't end there. Of course, like many other solicitors, he continues to convince me that my non-existent boyfriend won't mind if we hook up.
Right.

This isn't him by the way

It's enough to make a rainy Monday morning that much more depressing. I don't know if it's just me, but situations like this are enough to make any girl feel uncomfortable. There is a fine line a subway picker-uper must not cross: Don't stand too close. Don't freak other person out by breathing on them. Don't solicit girls at 9 in the morning. Seems pretty obvious to me. But I guess it's not universal.
I was able to escape my solicitor by having my prayers answered for the subway to come as fast as possible. But it's not always that easy. Unwanted solictors are hard to shake off. It's a new breed of male, usually personified by googly-eyed old men you want nothing to do with. And I don't want to spread the wrong message here. Boys, it's completely cool to approach a girl in a public place.
Just don't be creepy about it.
And save it for after lunch.

The Little Robot That Could

2005-03-27T19:19:00.000-06:00

Ok so I came across this today and thought it was pretty cool. A little strange and creepy, but nonetheless cool. There's this geek-o-symposium happening down in San Fransico where homemade robots in wooden crates are preparing to duke it out. Kinda like a robot gladiator. Although it would be much more amusing if these robots really did duel to the death, with their little robot arms and little robot legs and the pegs which hold them together flying all over the place, I don't think what this is about. It's a contest to see who has the best 'homemade' robot. But I take you guessed that already being the intelligent creatures that you are. What sucks is that these robots can actually do stuff, much unlike the robot I created in Grade 4 out of cardboard and tinfoil. Robots are getting much more sophisticated nowadays. Maybe they could make one which would clean my pig-sty of a room regularly. But I probably wouldn't be able to figure out how it works. I live in a technological Ice Age. I have dial-up. I just got voicemail on my cellphone a couple of months ago. I still use my walkman. I wanted to put a video clip of this cool little guy Qrio who Sony invented but I couldn't figure out how. I tried, but really couldn't. So I attached the link instead. Even if you're not into all this fancy-schmancy techno-robot stuff, and I'm not trust me, you should check this out. This robot talks to kids. He can think. He's more intelligent than some humans. He can see colour and move around obstacles. Introducing the little robot that could...

http://www.sony.net/SonyInfo/QRIO/videoclip/

Hint: watch the video where he has a full-out convo with some Japanese kids. Conichiwa.

The Easter Bunny Who Ate Easter

2005-03-26T22:29:00.000-06:00

And got all sick. Stopped short of puking up all kinds of Easter goodness like pickled herring (for all you non-Polish, you hear right - pickled fish - usually downed with ice-cold vodka to numb the tastebuds) With a year's supply of chocolate, though, family gatherings are totally worth it. I hope everyone gets as much chocolate as I did this year. Then we'd all be happy and be one more step closer to achieving world peace. Really. So eat up your chocolate and revel in the good mood only gluttony can bring.

New Kid On The Blog

2005-03-25T17:13:00.000-06:00

That's right. I'm the newest kid on the block to jump on the blogging bandwagon. I decided that I spend too much time reading other people's blogs and being all disgruntled that these people, who I don't know, don't post often enough. I started to scare myself. So, I figured it would be better to waste my life on myself, rather than some too-cool, shoe-gazing emo kids from NYC. And I don't wanna write my english essay. Obviously, I will go to great lengths to avoid handing in assignments on time. What would be the fun in that? You wouldn't be able go through the o-so-pleasurable panic attack phase where exuses can be made for all kinds of unacceptable behaviour - like smoking and cursing too much. So it seems that procrastination and stalking tendencies are behind this online journal - sound like some solid foundations to me. Anyway, if you're ever in the mood to avoid overt grey-matter stimulation, please join in on the War on Boredom and waste some time with me...

Very Necessary Introductions

2005-03-25T16:15:00.000-06:00

This is Monika. She likes to be called Monold. She is my inspiration. I was her # 1 fan until she got busy aka boring (shhhhhhhh don't tell her)

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This is Olki from da block. Her 'real' name is Alex, but she doesn't like being called that. Really. Try it. She's my tried and true homie. She's got my back. And she knows Judo (or the other one that I can't spell). So watchyaself!

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This is JoannaandRaf. They are supercool. Trust me, I know. They enjoy canoeing on lakes at midnight, long walks to Tim Hortons and each other.

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To Those in the background...

2005-03-25T15:13:00.000-06:00

There will be many more to introduce, as I will begin touting a digital camera everywhere from now on. Really. I promise. Eeeeeeeeeek! SO EXCITED