Selling Dreams
03/08/2004 02:29 a.m.
Ever open up a Westworld magazine? "Travel and Active Living from BCAA." I'm flipping through it casually, and it dawns on me.

We are selling dreams, or using nightmares to drive us into waiting jaws. All of them. Everywhere. Seventeens little capris and Maxim's "How to please Your Woman" and Martha Stewart's tips on how to make little chocolate truffles the kids will enjoy and the whole like of it is just one big churning media world trying to sell us a beachfront view from our cubicles in calenders and desktop backgrounds. Isn't it funny how the default windows XP background is a stunning view of rolling green hills and popping blue skies? From a computer. And it never really screams "You should be here" to anyone, ironically. You think it would as we all sit at home and type type type away like I am right now. Selling dreams. Selling dreams. Dreams dreams in every goddamn unpurchased photoalbum with pictures of little blonde kids who will always remain nameless. Their pictures in those frames don't count at all. You chuck them and fill them with your own memoirs of summer holidays and winter ski trips and everything else you'll miss when you're old and grey and weathered and your grandkids are off continuing the cycle in a world that changed faster than most hairlines. Westworld magazine is selling dreams, curtesy of BCAA. Quaint English houses with moss on the roofs, the same moss we pay people to shuck off our own shingles. Put them in a nostalgic setting and theres another cute little memoir you can photograph and show to your kids. Page 21, groups of people in masks doing drama and theatre and other surrealistic things.Page 24, "How would your family survive without you? (BCAA insurance)" and a close up of a beautiful hand holding a beautiful diamond ring with each one labeled "Clothing." Food." Mortgage". Page 44-45, huge green lawns and an old, preserved building. Tourists, blue skies like always, some clouds- and a man on a little green lawnmower keeping it all looking like amillion bucks (ha. ha.). Some unknown cultural treasure immortalized in black and white. Page 47, people with cameras in groups surveying gravestones. GRAVESTONES! Places where peoples remains are burried to rest in peace, and "oh, oh my how clever, how curious." these frozen people in the picture crowd around to read the message engraved for the person. Page 73, the classic. A deserted beach island. A hammock. Sunshine. Sun sun sun sun sun. A cruise. it screams "Get away from the boring! The ordinary!" We offer relaxation as what? A once a year trip into what's real in life? A brief hiadus from the tall slabs of concrete we imprison ourselves in, in homage to the one true god: Economy.

How do we keep our God happy? Slam us into boxes with artificial lighting, the calendars, the desktops, the pens and pencils and paperclips, paperweights, stacks and stacks of computer paper and printers, scanners, cameras, emails, voicemails, hatemails, whatever it takes! Fill us full of the artificial sweeteners and artificial pickmeups and alcohol to lose the inhibitions and be the children of the Earth we're all too afraid to be without intoxication as an excuse. IF YOU CANT LET LOOSE WITH OUT IT YOU'RE ALREADY DEAD. Dig yourself a hole or get out. God. GOD. We keep ourselves in these boxes because we need money. Our lord Economy fills us with all the necessities of life, doesn't he? All for the paltry price of keeping ourselves cooped up like those cows in metal trucks with their prized hides frozen so cost-ineffectively to the sides like bad leftover in the freezer tupperware. And oh, just alleviate our pain, to make us feel like we should be grateful, lets give SOME people big fat holidays and videocams so when they're out late at the office missing their kids grow up and furthuring themselves from their spouses they'll have that one last summer in Tahiti to replay-

over
and over
and over.
I am currently Detached
I am listening to nothing.

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Spain just got really sleezy.
03/05/2004 10:22 p.m.
Wow.... So much for sweet, innocent, darling little tim, lol. He used to be all "Oh yeah, I've only had sex once and I was drunk and I feel bad because it didn't mean anything." ... Oh yeah *scrathces head* then why'd you go and do the *cough* eziest*cough* girl in school.... hmmm... he's not with her... he ignored her the next day, and he didn't breath a word of it. lol. that should be on top ten ways you know you're not proud of your latest screw. I feel kinda betrayed... I don't know why... maybe because I tell him stuff, and he acted like he trying to keep me from knowing. Well the world knows now, lol. He kinda ignored her when I was around, haha... poor girl... I dunno... it must be tough. She's gotta have some daddy issues to do that many guys, and just switch, and switch and switch. What if she actually likes him, and he's just thinking she's an easy lay. Or vice versa... I don't know... so what was I when he liked me? was he just waiting so that maybe if me and Jordan broke up I'd be the easy lay? He probably just got fed up, knowing I wouldn't be leaving jordan anytime soon.
I am currently Bothered
I am listening to juliana theory, jordan on guitar

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Deedermdeedermdeedidleydumdeederm
03/05/2004 04:04 p.m.
soccer becoming less a fun sport I want to do and more a chore I drag my ass out for for no particular reason. Nerm doesn't acknowledge anything I do right, which brings me to two conclusions. 1) Maybe I'm not doing anything right, and 2) Maybe he's just a jerk. I'll ask him a question on the field, or call his name to ask him a question, or ask him to watch me do something so I know if I'm doing it right, and he ignores me. Flat out. He'll joke around with the other girls, but with me its either negative feedback, neutral feedback, or no feedback. GRRR!! And theres a compbell river tourny on sunday that I don't want to go to. Is it bad that I'm hating this team more and more? Well not the team, just playing for it. I went from being appreciated to being mud on the cleats. And ever since he's been here I've been doing terrible. I freak out cuz he gets pissed when I dont do things his way, but I've been saving goals all along till he got there.

In other news, the German guy I met on my idaho trip looked me up and called me the other night, which was pretty cool. We talked about easy classes and how woodlands doesn't like barsby, but hates wellington more. Me talking to him on the trip lead to more "Oooh, Trish and the German!" comments. *smiles* meh, I love my geek.
I've found that I have an easier time talking to guys than I do to girls. I mean, once I get to know the girls its fine, but until then guys are alot better to talk with. I wonder why that is.

Tomorrow I'm going to courtney to my friends acrage. Aw it's so gorgeous up there (when it's not raining, lol... but even when it is it's nice). They have a full blown rive down below in what is a huge part of their back yard... I swim there in the summer and it's so nice. Plus I get to see her baby again. Alex is gonna be a totally ladies man when he grows up.... and a smart boy too. He's got a mom that loves him more than anything. She's only 19.... I think that must have been tough. She was fine with having the baby, and the father was going to stay, but he refused to go find work and was freeloading off of her so she kicked him out and dumped him. THAT must have been tough, considering they've been together a while and he's the dad. But she's doing alright. She's happy so long as her mom and her dad and her baby are happy. I've still gotta ask Jordan if he wants to come with....

OH! my combo got thrid place in Idaho at the festival, which is QUITE rad... we met people and I got to play the black saxophone in the window of the music store that i've been drooling over for ever. The concerts were just phenomonal. I can't wait to kick more ass next year.
I am currently Content
I am listening to tv in the living room.

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Lionel Hampton Jazzfest
02/24/2004 10:37 p.m.
Yup so I'm here in B block once more, watching the time tick by. I leave for Idaho tomorrow... yay and nay, cuz I'm gonna miss everyone. Well, everyone being Barbara and Jordan, lol. I'm hoping to see that fellow today after school, kiss him bye before I go. I have to be there at 6:00am because I check everyones ID. I packed yesterday, being the organized girly I am. It's 15 hours travelling time, but I shouldn't be too bored. I've got plenty of chem work to keep me busy (oh joy of joys...). who am I kidding? "I'm gonna do chem" turns into "I'm gonna switch up the songs on my mp3, then I'm gonna write in my journal, then I'm gonna check pathetic, then I'm gonna sleep..." I'm captain procrastination. Thinks of a song ***So Call me Captain BACK FIRE....*** lol. Mmmm... John Mayer Geetar faces. Matt's in Ottawa right now on reading break. Wonder how he's doing. I always feel selfconscious writing on pathetic in class. I don't like thinking that maybe someone is watching what I write. Creepy stuff. It's like when I write in my journal at home. Nobody's supposed to read that stuff.... some people do, *smiles and shakes her head at him* and I tolerate that. Lol, only because there's alot of stuff about him in there, and there's not much I wouldn't say to his face. Haha, that book just has the things I DON'T say to his face. *Shrugs* ah well. I won't be writing in here until about monday, when I get back.... I'll probably have some good words out when I come back.
I am currently Feisty
I am listening to music from the comp beside me.

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This Depends
02/23/2004 08:48 p.m.

This depends
on whether all the words that we've been saying
mean a single thing that any of them say.

This depends
on how strong you can be
and I can be
and who we are
and how we love
and what we know that love can overcome.

Most of all
this all depends
on whether she shows up.

I am currently Safe
I am listening to The train

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I (almost) hate him.
02/11/2004 03:17 a.m.
I don't know how long I can take it with them.... I just don't know. Ling feels trapped and frustrated. She cried for the first time I've ever seen today infront of me. She doesn't know what to say to dad because she doesn't want to make him angry or seem ungrateful when she isn't. She just feels so stuck. I completely understand. I don't know what to do to help her. I don't care right now if they change my rules. I'm 15 and they SHOULD apply to an extent, but she's not 15 like me. she should have more freedom than I do. 3 years worth. Her other homestay friends can be out on school nights past 6. My parents want her home on school nights by 6:00, at age 18. I keep thinking God god god is this how it'll be when I'm 18? It was her friends birthday, and she stayed up last night with 2 friends at our house baking a cake for her pals 18th, and today my parents say she's allowed to give the cake, then go home. That's it. She can't even eat dinner with Winnie, why? because she was out alot last week. well last week was HER 18th, so of course she was out alot. ARG! My dad says the stupid shit all the time and I'm so sick and tired of fighting withhim1!!! At the dinner table ling says she doesn't want to go to van for the john mayer concert with us, and she wasn't to stay with winnie so they can celebrate then. Well dad goes "Fine, but then I can't go to van." and makes a big miserable fuss about it. Ling says nothing, but she's not deaf or blind. What he said she heard, and how do you think that makes a person feel (when you find out, inform my dad). Now she feels bad because she's the reason why he can't go. God I sympathize with how she feels. Her friends think she should change homestays..... I don't want her to go, she's like a sister to me now.... but I'll understand if she does (she doesn't want to). If I was gonna be a year in some place I would want to get my money's worth right? ARG! And again, at the dinner table, when dad says he can't go, he mentions there's no point in taking the car. I said "ok, well what about Jordan?" And right then and there he goes "Well Jordan has to learn to do some things for himself." And I'm like "What the hell?! I was just concerned because YOU were the one that said we could drive him to and from wherever he needed to stay considering theres a HUGE risk if he stays in the same house as us overnight. That's the only reason I said anything! If it had been barbara, I would have said what about barbara?" and he says "Well we shouldn't have to do take him around everywhere just cuz you bought him a ticket! You know I'm [tired/frustrated/stressed/overworked/underpaid/old] and I don't need this kind of shit." and at this point my moms like "You're both making a fight out of nothing!" And Dad's like "Well I'm not, she's the one thats doing it." Classic dad, way to sound like a 4year old on a tantrum, you idiot. Oh, and at one point he said "Well we're gonna start having to put down some hard rules." otu of nowhere. I ask what he means and he fixes his deathglare at me and says "you KNOW we've been pretty flexible about curfews...." I'm beginning to think he dislikes anything that comes out of my mouth that is my own opinion. I hate being at my house. I want to cry. Flexible about curfews? the weekday curfews aren't fit for someone who is legally an adult in canada, year 2004. and my mothers the one who's even stricter on the curfews.... god I hate it. It pushes people away. It's part of what pushed Jordan away before. God I feel so embarrased, even though I know that I really dont need to be with him. It's not like last time. I'm not afraid he's gonna run because of my rents. I love him so much... this time it's like he understands how i feel around it, not just thinking about what my curfew makes him feel. He was so supportive and reassuring today.... I think I would have gotten into a screaming match with my dad again if he wasn't there to calm me down in between. It helps having someone to vent to right there who's not just gonna say "oh, too bad" and change the subject. Jordan, I love you. But my parents push people away. I feel the way ling does. Trapped. only with me it's not so much the curfews. It's dad. It's like my moms stress gets put on dad, and dad takes that and his own stressand puts it on me. So I carry moms, dads and my own stress. I'm super super stressed this month for other reasons, I don't need his stress. I need to practice a completely new song for adam as well as perfect the first one. I need to keep up in chemistry, which is killing me, and math, which is boring me to hell. Or vice versa, both work. Yesterday this guy jason in my chemistry class was throwing shit in my eyes for no reason. I got so pissed off I freaked out loud in front of the whole class because he did it like 4 times. I was like "COULD YOU JUST FUCK OFF!! Does it make you feel like a bigger man now that you've thrown shit in my face without me expecting it?! Do you feel like a bigger, stronger, more dominant male now that you've pelted an innocent female in the face? Is that what you think? Do you feel better about yourself and your low sense of self esteem now that you've succeeded in pissing me off or do you just feel low now knowing that you haven't made me feel any smaller? PISS OFF." Mr.Pistor pretended not to hear. ARG! I can't stand it. I hate being in the same room as my dad. I hate it. I want to say that I hate him but I suppose it hasn't progressed that far yet. I hate the way he has to try to assert himself and intimidate me. I hate the way he stares and yells and makes everyone pity him and I hate the way he makes me feel about myself. He makes me feel like I amount to nothing at all..... I swear I'm going to crack. He makes me feel so much less than human it's unbearable.
I am currently Pissed Off

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:D
02/08/2004 05:54 p.m.
Wow..... upon reading certain peoples newest entries in folders I happen to be quite fond of, I'd like to comment that I'm rather stunned at how well some poets blend quirky writing (references to frozen yello deserts and such :)) with sexiness, as well as adding in personal notes to make their work unique to particular people and instances. To you I tip my hat ;)
(hardly drivel)
I am currently Crafty
I am listening to Man on the Side (the hendrix intro)

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urg
02/02/2004 06:36 a.m.
Ack. Today my brain feels dry of poetry. Too bad too. It was the superbowl today. More entertaining than I thought it would be. The half time show was corny. Kid Rock was the best there. I got a black eye today. My parents dropped me off at jordans, then called me back to the car, and as I bent my head to look inside the car my mother opened the door. The corner clipped me nicely in the eye and broke a blood vessel, swelling it nicely. Perfect, the day before school. I sat at Jordan's with an icepack. It was enjoyable though. Went frolfing with him and his dad and this other guy I'd met before.... john? Anyways, it was good. I still suck. I think I'm getting worse rather than better. Oh well, there go my hopes and dreams of being an all-star frolfer I guess. Right out the window. too bad. I wish I could writer poetry right now, but theres nothing. unless I wanted to write out my pissed offed ness at my father. We fought (again) on the way home from Jordans. I don't even know how we get into it anymore. We dont know who starts it. All I know is it's never ever his fault, and always somehow comes around to how I don't give a shit about anything he does. Or so he says. He makes me feel like this terrible kid that doesn't care about anything her father does for her right up until I realize, hey, I'm a pretty fucking great kid compared to the kinds of kids there are out there. I don't drink, I don't smoke, I'm not a druggie. I'm no whore. I'm a straight A student. I was MVP. But it all amounts to the same damn thing. I could spiral back into not feeling good enough for him.... permanently, not temporarily the way it always goes when we fight. That's just the thing. I try really hard to please him. I left Jordans 5 minutes early when I could have left him sitting in the driveway for a while. Instead of that amounting to anything, I end up in tears by the time I get home because we've been screaming at eachother in the car, and not for the first time. It tends to happen on the way back from Jordans. Not that it has anything to do with Jordan at all, it's just at that time we're alone, it's quiet, it's dark, and I guess thoughts just brew. Either way, I got home in tears. My mother tended to my purple eyes and didn't acknowledge the tears until we were alone in the bathroom, which I thank her for. I guess she knows the way dad can be. He never hits me but sometimes I wish he would just so I'd have a better reason to end up in tears when we pull in the driveway. That way when mom said "Why are you crying" I could say "Dad hit me" and it'd mean something. I know that's wrong, and people in that situation reading this probably WANT to hit me. Instead the only thing that comes to mind when she asks is "Dad pointed out everything I don't do for him, everything I'm not, everything I guess he wishes I could be. Dad pointed out just how much all of me doing my best is worth. Not enough." And that doesn't seem like enough to cry over. It always feels like not enough. I give my all and they ask why there is no more. I try to balance everything, school, soccer, friends, a boyfriend, family, time for myself and no matter how I try to balance it feels like I topple one thing or another every way. If one thing is going stellar, another is always suffering. I'm trying to keep getting As, keep saving goals, keep a good relationship with my friends and my boyfriend, keep my family pleased and keep myself sane. Usually it's my sanity I let slack... If it weren't for the recooperating my friends and Jordan offer I'd probably burn right out. You guys keep me going. Sometimes there's just this enormous feeling of fatigue, wanting to let go of everything. It feels like pressure, pressure, pressure.... everywhere I look until it's like I'm not even here. My tired robotbody goes throught the motions and I'm dead somewhere until my head feels like it can cope again. The world goes under, and instead of putting it on the outside for people to see I cram it all in and act like it's nothing. I guess that's the difference. Some people take their swings and cut things with them. Friends, girlfriends, boyfriends, school... me, I take it in and nullify it on the inside until i can breathe again. It's like letting the pressure crush you and slowly building back up. Like letting the undertow get you... It's weird... I know I'll feel better after some sleep. I know in the morning I won't feel like another burnout is on the way. This'll just be a bad mood and I'll be fine. I might even be fine at the end of writing this. You all know how writing soothes you.First day of new classes tomorrow... I need to clean out my binders... I need sleep.

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Hold.
01/31/2004 05:18 a.m.
I need a point of reference.
A light house.
A hand.
For some reason I'm not feeling like all of myself.
A hand.
A light house.
I need a point of reference.
(is oddness contagious?)
A point of reference.
Why am I swimming?
Why is fog closing in?
A light house.
A hand.

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Your angst, my angst
01/26/2004 12:55 a.m.
I didn't think that last entry would do so much, and I'm sorry for that. I read Jordans journal... the part about Tim, and it's not like that. At least not in my mind. I'm not with Jordan because of any sort of obligation to anyone, me or him. I'm not with him because of any other reason but the fact that I'm completely head over heels in love with him. Tims cool. Tim's nice. TIM IS NOT JORDAN. Tim is not the guy I've fallen in love with. Tim is not the one who got under my skin to the point where I finally stopped lying to myself. Tim isn't the guy I promised to be there for through anything. Tim is a like a road I could have taken. Tim maybe looks like the easier road, what with everything between me, Jordan and Morganna and all of that (Yeah, i'm saying the names, I'm sick of walking on eggshells with it) but I don't smile for tim. I don't care what anyone says about how 'perfect' of a couple we might look like. I don't care about that. It just doesn't matter. What matters to me is how my last entry made the guy I care about more than anything feel... I'm sorry. I noticed something was off yesterday.... I couldn't point what, or why. Maybe it was the Dylan thing. We saw Dylan in Tim Hortons, Jordan for the first time, and I mentioned his feeble attempt to woo me with his cut abs and biceps. I don't care about his muscle tone. I couldn't care less about his stomach. It was quite sad when he was using it infront of me. I was like, ok, so you spend large amounts of time in front of a mirror working out. Do you do anything productive? I just hate the feeling that Jordan's going to go into his auditions today thinking that maybe Tim or Dylan matter to me as much as he does. Tim's a good friend. I won't lie and say he's some aquaintence. But hey, and this is to the world (well, my world, Barbara and Jordan and the like), if I wanted Tim, that's who I'd be with. And Dylan's an aqauintence. End of story.
But something else that really does cut is Jordan's lack of a muse. Is it all my fault that he can't write? Arg... I try hard not to give in to silly feelings like perhaps guilt for trying to make things work. Is that right? Should I be guilty because he can't write because things are going well? I guess it comes down to what's important in life. What you draw on as your muse, and what you'll do for a muse. Poetry can be like a drug, and what people won't do for another hit of their drug is beyond me. I mean, I understand it if you're the kind of poet that feeds off one particular drama or another. A poet with one muse runs out of fuel pretty fast though, I guess. That's why you gotta keep things dramatic, interesting. Happy isn't interesting, so maybe happy's not enough. What is enough? Is this entry enough? The fact that the waters a little stirred up now? I don't know. Man I sound angry. Maybe I am a little angry. But for what? And to what end? Sometimes I feel like I'm wrong to enjoy things stable, you know? Good... things have never been this good and I'd hate to think he'd throw it out for the sake of pathetic.org recognition and good poetry. ACK, and THAT comment succeeds in making him sound like a cold hearted bastard he isn't. Take note that these are my fears and not necessarily his behaviours. I feel naked even saying the roundabouts of negativity crackling in my brain but I've got to be real. Be honest. I don't know... am I making this bigger than it is. It was just one entry venting about things.... but what he feels matters to me, just like what I feel matters to him. That's the makings of a good relationship. Isn't that the goal? I'm kinda messed up at the moment. I don't want to be the reason he can't do something he's passionate about. What it really comes down to is what is he more passionate about?
I am currently Scattered

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