rotten.

i’ll begin at the place where the relentless chainsaw inside my head had been reduced to just a dull roar- an after thought, a pile of firewood beside an empty jerry can.  a tolerable agony. the medications my doctor was administering had began to take effect,  and while i was finally able to trust that the inside of skull wasn’t infested with cranial termites- i couldn’t close my eyes at night without feeling them in my eyes and my ears and the bends of my knees. the fine print didn’t tell me these things,that the aches and the pains and the voices and the terminal too lates will take up residence somewhere else when the pills kick in.  ‘just a dull roar now, doc. i’m feeling much better now. i can hear myself think. couldn’t be better, really.’ and you lie through your wooden teeth because if you told the doctors the truth, they’d infest the hearts of every single thing you love- from your dog to your mother to your favorite childhood memories. so you’re asking for a definitive starting point?  i’ll suppose i’ll begin at the place where they started coming out of my shirt sleeves mid conversation while i counted back  three dollars and sixty five cents in change, my hands shaking the sickness off.

nikki armstrong offends the entire internet 2011.

oh hi! it’s been awhile, i know. (really!? 2 months!? jeeeeepers!) i will first start by admitting that i neglect this blog like crazy. it’s not that i’ve abandoned it or the novelty has worn off. the truth is, when i’m faced with the opportunity to say absolutely anything my little heart desires, i get stage fright.  there are few things more intimidating than a big, empty box and that smug, flashing cursor indicating you should be writing more.   i could fill this blog with the details of all the boring stuff i do on a daily basis and see how long it takes before even i unsubscribe. at the end of the day, everything i post in here is for my readers (and maybe a TEENSY bit for me) and if i don’t think i can entertain them with my random nonsense, i’m not going to waste their time or my own. so while i sat typing out everything you just read, i’d accidently stumbled upon something to talk about… and it’s probably going to be offensive as hell.

‘Maybe you should put that in your diary/’

my number one (sometimes enforced) rule for this blog: DO NOT LET IT BECOME A WWW.DEARDIARY/NOBODYGIVESASHIT.COM… i’m gunna be honest- i hate reading the play by play of another persons boring day. i have my own day full of my own mundane goings on’s, and the last thing i want to hear is the recap of someone elses. maybe somewhere out there, magical brains do exist that are ONLY stimulated by reading about ordinary days in ordinary lives, but i’d like to think that if they did exist, they’d have better things to do, like giant, magical brain stuff.  in case you  missed it; i started this blog as an exercise (of sorts) in hopes it would encourage me to start writing again. i’d consistently maintained online journals, but nothing beyond that. so i pushed myself to start writing entries in hopes that people would read through them and be able to relate, laugh, listen, learn, sing along or just read, at all. so it turns out it worked and people dig hearing what i’ve got to say (or so they tell me!) and that makes me feel like the cats pajamas.  and while i might have bitched about people who choose to blog/journal like it’s an intinerary, there is no right or wrong way to blog, really… (except for my blog, which is perfect in every single way!)

my grandmother has been keeping a daily planner since daily planners were invented. every single day she makes a short and sweet point form list of what she did that day as well as the weather conditions and temperature. why?  because it’s all stuff that is important to her and she probably knows nobody else would give a shit about it, otherwise she’d be a world famous author and you’d all know what she did on december 8th, 1976.  for the love of  god people, learn the difference between details that ONLY mean anything to YOU and the ones that everybody else finds relevant. sometimes i’ll stop myself mid-thought for re-evaluation and lose interest before i even finish thinking it over… crisis averted.

so- i want to talk about the facebook app foursquare. so, in case you don’t know, it’s basically some sort of an app (or something?) that you use to ‘check in’ to places (i’m assuming through your phone) meaning it automatically posts your location to your facebook wall with an alert that says  something along the lines of ‘bill cosby has just checked in at wrongbar’ as well as directions/a map. i personally have just under 500 people on my facebook, and i’ll be honest- i wouldn’t want 3/4 of them showing up outside my house or joining me for dinner.  if i wanted hangouts, i’d just get in touch with my friends. so,  AT THE RISK OF OFFENDING EVERYBODY ON MY FACEBOOK: do you REALLY think that anybody CARES that you just checked in at your friggin house or where ever else you happen to be?  do you check in places because you might forget where you are?  do you like random people showing up where ever you go?  … if there is a logical answer out there that i am unaware of, let me know. otherwise, i’d like to offer some advice: UNLESS YOU’RE FAMOUS, A MISSING PERSON, CARMEN SANDIEGO, WALDO OR POLKAROO-NOBODY CARES WHERE YOU ARE, kay?

so. there you have it. my first entry in 2 months and it’s probably pissed a few of you off. i have a habit of censoring what i intend to say for the sake of the people who might be reading and find myself left with absolutely nothing to say. perhaps i need to find some nice, safe chunk of middle ground where we can all hang out and talk nicely with one another? or maybe not. the sometimes questionable opinions that i have are a big part of what makes me who i am, and the people who love me do so despite the fact that at one point or another, i’ve probably made them cry (:P). so hurrah! here’s to the end of my hiatus, and the hope that the warmer weather is gunna give me some slightly less cynical inspiration.

<3nine.

all those flashing lights.

so, as some of you may or may not know, i just got back from the biggest place i’ve ever been in my entire life- new york city.

now, i know that you’re probably thinking ‘well DUH nikki, everybody on the planet knows that new york is big, you idiot.’ but let me tell you this- unless you’ve actually been dwarfed by the enormity of EVERYTHING there, you have no friggin’ idea, pal. new york made toronto feel like that tiny little town where your produce comes from.

we did the typical touristy stuff- times square, a small corner of central park, the statue of liberty from the other side of the river, the brooklyn bridge from a subway car on some other bridge, empire state building from outside, ground zero from outside the tall walls that now surround it. being a very successful tourist in new york city would require a lot of money, or the proportions of king kong. (i get why he climbed the empire state building now! he didn’t want to pay $50 to take the elevator!)

we arrived at roughly 9 30 am  after a shitty 11 hour bus ride over night. we took our stuff right to the hotel and then found the nearest convenience store to acquire cheap alcohol and energy pills. (GOD BLESS YOU, AMERICA!) we made our way to times square within a few minutes and found  a suitable watering hole called charly t’s shortly after 11 am.

 

the rest of the day was spent walking around and taking more pictures than an Asian bus tour. we visited the bb king bar for a really good dinner deal ($10 for a 10 oz burger and fries plus a pint. then all pints thereafter were only $2) and  did an awful lot of walking around. we eventually ended up back at the hotel where i tried to drunkenly fall alseep but got (quite literally) DRAGGED out of bed by scott who insisted i was coming swimming. the view from the penthouse of our hotel was absolutely beautiful, a vast expanse of twinkling lights and buildings as far as your eyes could see. the enormity of it was truly awe inspiring and made you kind of realize that this was all here before you, and it will go on just the same after you’re gone. new york city is the perfect place to go if you want to disappear and be anonymous.

saturday night scott, aron and i headed out to check out a place that had been recommended to us, it was called rudy’s and turned out to be close to our hotel. the place had all you can eat hot dogs and everything was covered in duct tape. ALL YOU CAN EAT HOT DOGS?! why aren’t people in canada this creative?!  turns out there must be a lot of poor, hungry people who had the same idea as we did and the place was rammed, so we chose not to stick around. however, i’d definately be into checking it out the next time i visit.  we just ended up at some generic little sports bar where i took over the juke box and got a bad case of dance in my pants. sadly, i was the only one feeling the vibes and we ended up back at the hotel after one drink. BOO!

when i woke up on saturday morning i remembered OMG WE’RE IN FUCKING NEW YORK CITY! and made everybody get out of bed. we headed out for breakfast and then went to check out the hells kitchen flea market. it turned out to be a pretty sweet place- completely vintage and something i would have been super into ordinarily, except i didn’t want to have to bring random dusty knick knacks back over the border in my already over stuffed bag. i did pick up a pair of furry boots to replace the only pair of shoes i’d brought with me… they were causing me more pain than the city had starbucks. (upon further inspection- i think they could potentially be real fur. ew. 😐 if so, they’re getting sold quickfast)

saturday afternoon was spent revisiting times square and making our first attempt at taking the very intimidating and large subway system. the subway system there is dirtier than ours is and instead of seeing mice you see rats, but it runs like a well oiled machine. all fares are kept on metro cards which you can reload and purchase in the stations. fare is only $2.25 and you can literally go ANYWHERE. their system is so gigantic it’s unbelievable. i think we went about 40 stops to get to the party on saturday night. however, the doors close without warning and scott saved my life when the doors closed ON me. nickie and aron are very good at figuring out what’s the tail and what’s the head, and we didn’t get lost once!

we went to a pub that we randomly stumbed into that had the most extensive beer list i have ever seen in my entire life, hands down. and from what we all concluded- none of the beer we tried was good, not even mine which was misleadingly dubbed ‘pretty things’. i don’t personally reckon the lingering taste of horse piss in the back of my throat to be particularly pretty, just sayin’.

we made the trek down to see the statue of liberty, but the ferry to get to it from the shore wasn’t cheap so instead we opted to admire it in all of it’s inch high glory from across the water for free. from there we went to check out ground zero which was close by. it’s really strange being there, and even almost 11 years later, the feeling of standing right there and thinking about the devestation that happened underneath your feet was very overwhelming. i remember watching the footage of the twin towers falling from the hallway of my high school, a world away. all i could think about was the people jumping out of the windows… it was really surreal and incredibly sad being there. you can still feel it.

from there we headed back up to central park, where we decided to only explore a corner of since it was dark and we know better than to hang out in parks at night. it’s very large and park like, and i’d very much like to go back there in the summer with my longboard. the area around there is very very pretty, the architecture throughout the whole city is a mix of modern sky scrapers and beautiful old buildings. it reminded me a lot of montreal. at the bottom tip of the park i recognized the circle road that i saw on the ellen show once. lol.

we headed back to the hotel where we napped and then got up and got dolled up for the party. the subway ride down to coney island was SO long- 40 something stops. however, we had some guy with an ipod and speakers to entertain us with his music along with amusing stop names like sheepshead and neck road. coney island looks SO friggin’ awesome… like an old amusement park from a movie, kind of shabby and very carnival-y. another definite must see in the warmer months.

before the party i went into a seedy convenience store on my quest for 4loco and FINALLY found it. it’s been banned in new york so most places didn’t have it, but i suspect this place was a back woods kind of convenience store and still stocked it cause it was kind of in the middle of nowhere. my review of 4loco- i shared it with scott, nickie and aron, but i still got drunk. i don’t understand why there is so much hype surrounding this one particular brand of strong, fruity malt liquor considering i’d been drinking other stuff that was also 14% alcohol called tilt and joose.. but whatever.

we got to the party just in time for angerfist to go on. the crowd wasn’t nearly as large as i expected, either. i was having a great time up near the front, taking pictures, jamming out. people were all super nice and surprisingly not as underage as i am used to at similar events here. when i looked back down at my little purse for my phone, i realized it was gone. i panicked. people around me started helping me look for it but the only thing that turned up was the front of the shell. i found aron and told him what happened and then the drunken water works started. i ran to the bathroom to be a girl and cry about it when nickie followed me. she saw how upset i was and bless her soul, she knows just the right words to say to cheer me up- ‘DON’T CRY! DON’T CRY! I PUNCHED A GUY IN THE HEAD BECAUSE HE SPILLED MY DRINK ON ME!’ which made me feel better. a very nice girl who was very high on e came over to make sure i was okay, then asked me if i wanted to see something awesome and then proceeded to show me her vibrating glove. oh ravers. i wiped my tears away and decided to follow arons advice and just try to have a good time after that. i bought myself 2 beers and i went back out to the dance floor and drunkenly flailed and got my moneys worth out of the trip- afterall, we were there to see angerfist. it was somewhere around that point that i started talking to the most attractive person that i’d seen on the entire trip (and no, thats not an exaggeration. i see more attractive people in PARKDALE than i did there. so don’t take all of our beautiful people for granted). i believe my opening line was ‘you’re the most attractive fellow i’ve seen on this entire trip.’ which was meant entirely as a genuine compliment.  we chatted for a few minutes and  i told him my terrible story about losing my phone. he asked me what kind of phone i had and i told him a palm pre. well, that is right about when a ray of light came down from heaven (or maybe it was just a lazer) because that most attractive fellow i’d seen in new york, who also happened to be very nice, pulled my phone out of his pocket and handed it back to me, telling me he’d found it in the mosh pit. $&^%^(&)&&$!@!!!!!  that would NEVER have happened at a party here, EVER. so the rest of my night was saved and all was well that ended well and we left right after angerfist ended.

the rest of saturday night is kind of hazy, save for a very vivid memory of vomiting on a subway platform and drunkenly throwing all my money at aron for a reason still unbeknown st to all of us to this day.

woke up sunday morning feeling less than stellar, obviously. i dragged my ass out of bed and packed my stuff and we headed out for breakfast and to catch the bus home. not much more can be said at this point except the bus reeked of farts and new york city is a LOOONG fucking way from home and while i do want to go back for my birthday in july, i will sell my body for air fare before enduring that stanky bus ride again.

/c’est fin!

the year of the WHOLE damn bottle.

since we are smack in the middle of prime hibernation time, i spend a lot of time at home overthinking just about everything. just last night i heard a strange noise coming from some other part of the house while i knew i was home alone. i laid there for a few minutes, my heart beating out of my chest, listening, imagining. it most DEFINITELY had to be a person who broke in through a second floor window… or possibly somebody who’d scaled the front of the house and was now in my livingroom, stealing my precious computer as i laid there in the fetal position. i contemplated how i could manage to hide in the giant pile of laundry in my bedroom while keeping george from giving us away… the likelihood of this seemed improbable, at best. in the end, i poked my head out of my bedroom door and down the hall, george following behind me, his snoring echoing through the eerie quiet. though i could see no sign of a burgler and my computer was still in it’s right place, i opted to lock my bedroom door before getting back into bed. crisis averted… for now.

now as exciting as having a chronically over active imagination can sometimes be, it can also be a complete and utter drag. i play out every possible scenario to any situation that could possibly arise in my head. these inner dialogues take up much of my time and in real life i never usually get to act any of them out. (real life is so much less dramatic. *sigh*) lately my mind has been consumed with the topic ‘ things that i do on a consistent basis that do not fufill my needs, aka- things that make me a giant chump.’

my life up until this point has been a pretty consistently unfulfilling existence, and i think it’s safe to say that it’s just  become ‘normal’ to me to continuously do things that leave me feeling unsatisfied and pissed off. i can’t blame anybody else for this since drawing the short stick is what you get when you agree to leave things up to chance. the point being- if you wan to be in control of anything in your life, you’ve gotta grab that gigantic bull by it’s big, pointy bull horns and tell it (quite expressly) to get fucked and then stop answering it’s calls and agreeing to send it nudes (what?!). however, as good as i am at making things seem so rational and easy, i really suck at following my own advice.

this year, i hope i can help myself to make better choices by considering the following analogy- if i ordered a bottle of gin and i was given a shot- would i be okay with that? NO. i would not. i would send that goddamn shot back and tell the server that if i wanted a shot, i’d have poured myself one from my BOTTLE. I WANTED THE WHOLE BOTTLE, DAMMIT. and in the same way, i can apply the same logic to other areas of my life and hopefully be able to deduce more easily whether i should be sending that shit back to the kitchen or not. is it EVERYTHING i wanted? is it what i expected? am i being hosed? am i getting as much back as i put in? is the bottle of gin using me for sex? i know this is going to require being more of a bitch than i am normally accustomed to, and i guess that’s okay. it’s easier than being nicer. because really, even 10 nights worth of bad sleep spent on your own is better than one spent beside someone who couldn’t give two fucks about you in the first place, right? RIGHT.

because you know what? I WANT THE WHOLE FRIGGIN’ BOTTLE. i DESERVE the whole bottle. i might not necessarily NEED the whole bottle and it will likely end in tears and passing out eating corn chips.. but that is a risk i am willing to take!  i’m tired of wasting my money on  shots and mixed drinks and remembering everything the next day. 2011 is the year of the WHOLE DAMN BOTTLE and whatever that glorious bottle may bring, just you wait and see.

four legged best friend.

it began as a night not unlike every other for georgie and i- i read a book while he snored from beneath a body pillow before he decided to stake out new real estate at the end of the bed. when i got tired of reading, i put my book aside and i coaxed him to take his spot under the blanket beside me. while looking at his weird little mug looking at me looking at him, i was struck with a thought- this little creature i have become so used to having around all the time has an expiry date just like milk or pills or those condoms from sex ed in highschool. this thought could have been planted by a woman who decided she wanted to spend the entire street car ride (and i don’t say this in an exaggerated manner, either. she started jabbering on from the time i got on until i got off, which is PRECISELY how i want to spend my first time alone in 6 hours) talking about dogs- her dogs, my dog, my dogs hair, her dogs boots, pitbulls and lockjaw, rottweilers ripping off her exes calf… you know, usual dog related conversation. at one point she asked how old he was and i replied by saying ‘5 or 6’ and she quickly replied with ‘oh yeah, interbred dogs don’t tend to live very long. it’s a shame.’

what is a shame is the fact that looking at my dog right before turning out the lights resulted in me petting him while crying like a recently divorced man in a seedy bar after last call.

i love george like other people might love their children or their significant others- two things i lack. don’t misinterpret what i just said there, though- our love is completely platonic- i assure you. george spends literally every waking hour with me- he gets out of bed when i get out of bed (though he’s notoriously less of a morning ‘person’ than i am and he usually saunters into the livingroom about 15 minutes after i do), he eats when and what i eat, he comes to work with me and he goes to bed whenever i do. hell, he even hangs out with my friends as much as i do and shares a bed with whoever i happen to have over. we’re pretty much inseperable- if you’re not down with george, you’re not down with me.

there have been very few days since may that george hasn’t spent my shifts in his bed behind the cash, and on those few occassions, i’d look over expecting to see him but get an eyeful of garbage bags and a blanket covered in as much hair as george has on his body, instead. (his bed is a box of garbage bags). and as lame as this is going to sound, i get pretty stricken for a moment before i become overwhelmed by how much i miss him.

we’ve learned to read each other by this point, as well. i now know the difference between his ‘i have to pee’ and his ‘i’ve got to number two and i’m giving you the chance to take me out before i do it right here on the floor in front of you’ dances. and he’s learned to walk pretty well sans leash, go to his bed, take food nicely and to get into bed for the night. sure, he can’t shake paw, lay down or sit, but he can sing songs with you and play fetch like it’s his job.

on the occassions that i do have to go somewhere that doesn’t offer kibbles and bits on the menu and i leave george at home, i come home to a dog that is SO happy to see me i expect him to do a back flip or something. i honestly think that every time i walk out the door without him, he thinks i am never coming back. having another living creature that is SO excited just to have you around is a really awesome feeling.

so now i am going to attempt to get back into bed without the dramatics this time. george doesn’t seem to be too concerned with how much time we’ve got together, just as long as i share my cheeseburgers and let him sleep on my stuff.

greedy guts.

i have always been what you might call territorial. you might also call it jealous or possessive, however, i feel those terms are a bit harsh. when it comes to the people that i hold closest to my most vital organ, i’d crack skulls in a heartbeat.

it began when i was a very young baby-  it was the mid 80s  and my mother was pregnant again within 2 months of squeezing me out. when she had to stay in the hospital for longer than anticipated because timmy was born with a cleft lip and palate, i was as pissed off as any 11 month old could possibly be. she left me! how COULD she?! instead of greeting her with obligatory kisses, she received the full extent of my cold baby shoulder, something i’d perfect in the years to come. but as much as i hated my mother for abandoning me, i hated my new brother even more. the first few months of his helpless little life saw many bite marks and bruises revealed only after he’d be undressed. i hated him with every fiber of my 11 month old body… i might have even used what few teeth i had to bite the words ‘I HATE YOU, VARMINT’ into his doughy little arm.

years passed, bruises faded and by and large, i grew to love my little brother with the same ferocity that i felt for my mother. but you get the point- whats yours is mine, and whats mine is mine and you better stay the hell away from it or i’ll rip your arms off.

i feel the same way with my close friends- i’m terrified to lose anybody that i really, truly love. i tend to have friends drift in and out of my life with varying degrees of intensity,  i think it’s mainly because i can’t be bothered to put out too much effort most of the time. i am the type of person who prefers a few very close friends who i can tell my deepest, darkest secrets to without fear of them calling the police on me.  i mean, i have 2 friends i know i could rely on to help me dispose of a body if need be, and i figure that is just enough to help carry the dead weight. (har har har) but for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, we’re going to remain friends the same way people remain married while living with new lovers in opposite towns because they can’t afford a divorce- we’re stuck with each other for LIFE.

maybe it’s the weather, maybe i’m just high on life- but lately i have been feeling incredibly lucky for the best folks i have in my life right now. having really solid friends makes you feel like you’ve got all the companionship you could possibly need..  now if only they put out… 😉

 

here is a very tacky picture to commemorate the mad love i have for my friends.

 

 

worms.

this is a short story i wrote a little over a year ago that i just re read tonight and i can honestly say i really dig it. *high fives self*. so yeah, enjoy!

 

it tastes like rain. like earthworms. like dark, wet black soil. it smells like when you’re on your way to school after a good rain storm. you walk on worms that have been washed out of their worm holes the entire way to your elementary school. it tastes like playing god or the closest you’re gunna get when you’re eleven years old. everything looked like it was shades of gray- the trees, the grass, the houses, the streets, the air… all monochromatic shades of concrete and metal. i didn’t ordinarily see everything so colourlessly, let me assure you. there was just something so cold and lifeless about that particular morning that even an eleven year old could feel. i sat on the big front steps of my house in my yellow rubber boots and my blue spring jacket waiting for fun to come and find me, or at least inspiration for something better to do. i think my clothes may have been the only colour i could see, just like in a black and white movie, where you only ever noticed red and blue. i had a ball that i found outside my school. i took it and i knew it was wrong of me but i didn’t care. it wasn’t mine. but i took it, just the same, and i hid it in the right front pocket of my blue spring jacket and i walked home with my guilt/liberty well concealed. i got it home and i hid it under some rocks beside the porch and i kept it there because i liked my first taste of defiance but i feared the repercussions so i buried the ball. i think that was the first time i knowingly did something that i knew was completely wrong, yet still did because i was eleven years old, and i was beginning to try things MY way, which oddly enough was the complete opposite of the way i was told. i toyed with my stolen ball and watched the street for nothing in particular. i remember the hedges at the front of our lawn right next to the street. they were tall and thick and reminded me of a fortress from a castle. i remember seeing the top of what looked to be a mans head walking on the sidewalk on the other side of the hedge. he must have been a giant to be taller than those hedges. i was terrified of this person even though i hadn’t even seen the man. yet i watched the gray head walking past and past and past the gray hedges against the gray sky and the gray grass and gray gray gray, only getting closer to the place the leafy fortress and the driveway met, revealing a cement driveway and no place to hide. my body shrunk up and i hid my face in my lap and kept only my eyes visible. the man stopped where the hedges stopped and he was the biggest man i had ever seen. towering, even from that distance, with these small black eyes peering at me from beneath thick, furrowed eyebrows. his hair was thin and flat to his head and nose was big. he was ugly. his hands looked like baseball mitts hanging at both his sides like weights in a pair of stockings. he had a blue coat like mine. colour. his coat was the only other colour i remember that day. the man began to walk. but not across the driveway and back behind the hedges on the opposite side away away away from me. he walked slowly. he walked up the driveway. he didn’t break eye contact with me, it was like even though i was as small and invisible as i could possibly be, he still saw me there behind my arms and my knees and he knew exactly where to find me and he would. the vacant look on his face didn’t change and he walked in a straight line, head forward, eerily slowly towards me with distinct purpose in his eyes. i was too terrified to move, maybe partially too proud because i was 11 years old and big boys don’t scream or cry or run away. they hide the evidence and dig it up when their parents aren’t around and they appreciate it like a grown man appreciates an expensive cigar or a porno magazine. invisibleinvisibleinvisible. the mans feet were bigger than any feet i’d ever seen. the kind of feet they’d use to make the fake bigfoot footprints at tacky souvenir shops. his eyes. i couldn’t breathe. who was he. why was he coming towards me why wasn’t he saying anything graygraygray. i closed my eyes as hard as i could and wished that it would end. i wished i would open my eyes and the colour would suddenly come rushing back into the world like when you hit the top of an old tv and your picture fixes itself. i wished i was 6 so i could yell and scream and somebody would come and save me and it would all be forgotten by the time i was old enough to understand. i could feel him nearing me, i could feel his gaze burning through my defenses. he was so close. i braced myself for something i didn’t know how to brace myself for. he was so close. waited. i felt… nothing. still nothing. nothing. still nothing. it felt like forever and i knew something happened that altered what seemed to be my imminent fate on my front porch that dismal day. even within that thick nothingness that might ordinarily imply things are ok, i knew they weren’t. i could taste it in the air, the taste of top soil and walking on worms all the way to class. i knew that something big had just happened. i knew the silence meant worse things then what sounds would. sounds are for dramatic effect. this situation didn’t need it. i opened one eye and then the other and peeked over my arms hugging my knees. the gray man was lying on the cement in front of me, motionless not more than 5 feet away. his head twisted to the side, his skin looked the same colour as the cement his arms bent twice beside his head. his eyes were open like i’d never seen before. widegray. eyes open so wide you know it can only mean that the person saw their life flash before their eyes and by the time you find them, they’re already gone. but their eyes are watching that same reel until somebody can turn it off. the kind of dead eyes they put coins on in movies. this is what death was to me at eleven years old- black and white movies and coins and bigfoot and baseball gloves for hands. that was how i understood what was happening…this is how i made it real. eleven year old associations for a situation that i still could never explain. he didn’t move. he fell to the ground silently- the world was an old black and white opera and the volume didn’t work. he took his final bow and the volume didn’t work. i didn’t move. i didn’t know what to feel. it smelled like soil and earthworms and rain and everything was dead quiet and and those were things i understood at eleven years old. everything was in monochromatic shades of gray except his blue coat and my blue coat and my rubber boots. and i don’t know what that meant.my ball fell from my hands and bounced down the big wooden stairs, thump thump slowmotionthump step by step until it came to a stop against the mans still body. the ball was gray. his coat was blue. he was dead in front of me.his life ended a stolen balls toss away from me and his coat was blue and i was eleven years old and the world was gray that day.

 

 

 

using alone as a noun.

so i`ll be honest here- i`ve  become quite comfortable on my own. now, `on my own` in this context is referring to a number of things.

1- actually physically living on my own. i`ve been in the same place for 3 years, all the while enjoying the freedom to walk around in the buff, watch porn in the livingroom and the ability to entertain any number of guests at any time i so desired. not to mention the leeway to decorate how i want, which is the biggest factor in my belief that i am going to die a lonely old spinster in a house SO full of my old treasures that there wouldn`t have been room for a significant other, anyway. i can`t imagine what it would be like to share a place with a partner, to have to get the go ahead from another person before hanging a picture on the wall. and the thought of having to put up with somebody elses terrible taste in decor makes fear resonate from the depths of my being. yes, you may be right- perhaps i AM just being neurotic. i have never lived with a significant other in the past so maybe the ideas i have formed ARE completely unfounded and skewed, but the fact remains- i like being the king of my castle, and finding a fair knight who is willing to settle for being a lowly page in my kingdom might be asking too much.

2. being without a real `significant other.` i admit it- i do like the freedom that comes with having no binding ties to another person. it`s nice to be able to hang out with my friends whenever i want free of worry or consequence and i appreciate never finding myself in the role of the annoying friend who disappears once they find a new mate. yup, it`s easy peasy being me.

nobody has become a constant source of companionship, nobody calls, nobody is around when i want somebody to be.  i guess it`s just a matter of shifting your perception to realize that you CAN be all the company you need if you just get used to entertaining yourself. people become so reliant on the presence of others that they panic when they find themselves alone… you know these people- the people who are constantly in relationships or the incredibly needy friend.  silence is deafening to these people because it just reminds them that they can`t stand to be alone with themselves. and to me, that must be an incredibly sad reality to live in because really, if you can`t even keep your own attention- what are you going to have to offer somebody else long term?

and so people keep hopping and jumping and moving from one other lonely soul to the next just long enough that they don`t ever find themselves alone in their own head.

and me?  perhaps i am the opposite- too enthralled by my own internal dialogue that i don`t even give anybody else a second of my precious time because really, after this long watching the same show- nothing else feels quite as right. i`m sure i am missing out on a whole world of opportunity by not opening myself up, and i`m working on the whole concept of `putting myself out there`because realistically, my bed is big enough for two- it`s just a matter of kicking nobody out and letting somebody in, if you know what i mean.

 

cockaWHAT?!

before i got into this, i want you to know that i am absolutely mortified about what i am about to tell you and i don’t want you to think that this is an indicator of the way i live because it is NOT. so read on at your own discretion, but promise you’ll still come over to visit in a few weeks time when i am sure that all traces of my recent squatters are gone.

i have never shared my apartment with many creepy crawlies. i’ve been in the same place for 3 years and 1 month as of  today. occasionally i’ve brushed shoulders with a spider who’d taken up residence on the window sill inside my shower and there have been armies of fruit flies who moved in on my kitchen but never stayed long. there have been transient bees who found their way in through my bedroom window. but none of these multiple legged little buggers stuck around very long or very persistently and to be honest, i don’t mind sharing my square footage with them as long as there aren’t too many of them, they aren’t scream inducingly scary, they don’t come popping out of things unexpectedly and they maintain their distance. *shrugs*

recently i have become acquainted by the grossest bug to visit my apartment yet- the cockroach.

i arrived home from my week away to find out that my landlord must have subletted the place while i was away. first two new ‘tenants’ were hanging out on the shower curtain when i went in to take my bath. the next few were discovered scrounging for food in the kitchen, then a few on the computer desk, probably bogarting my internet connection. needless to say, it didn’t take very long for me to express my concerns to the landlord.

i spent an awful lot of time on the internet trying to find evidence to prove that the pests in question were NOT cockroaches. i reassured myself by saying things like ‘they CAN’T be cockraoches because they are squishy!’ ‘they can’t be cockroaches because they are so small’ or ‘they can’t be cockroaches because i will cry if they are’  etc etc.  in hindsight, it’s a lucky thing for me  that i DIDN’T know that they were cockroaches at the time, otherwise i might not have been so brazen in killing them and they might be as big as a frying pan by now.

…no- but seriously. GROSS. absolutely, one hundred percently vomit in my own pocket DISGUSTING. i have cockroaches. i have a pretty good idea of where they came from, and being as they have only really been seen in my apartment i am fairly certain my assumption is correct. i have been telling people they cant come over since i found out first hand how easy it obviously is to transfer the eggs on/in your clothing and i would be mortified if i were to give them to anybody else. i keep my place pretty clean and up until now my place has not been real estate that bugs seemed to have their (many) eyes on.  growing up where i did we never had cockroaches… and up until very recently i’d never even seen one that wasn’t in some crack house on american Cops.

the fumigator came through on friday afternoon and reapplied the gel treatment that takes care of the buggers for a year or so. i was told they’d all be dead within a few days or so and  i thought i was in the clear, not having seen one for a good chunk of time until i did the dishes tonight and i saw one scuttle underneath the kitchen counter. *shudders* i have my fingers and my toes crossed that they’ll be completely moved out within the next day or so and that i won’t ever have to share my place with them again.

here is a random picture of a cockroach and a cowboy twinkie because all the pictures of real cockroches were too scary.

eeeeeyuck.

the couch wizard of kingdom comfort.

aron is sometimes a butthead but he makes up for it with frequent, tangible gifts that temporarily make me forget that i once considered lighting his hair on fire because he pissed me off so badly. when he picked me up in barrie after spending the week at my parents, he presented me with what might be the most epic gift i have received since i was given the gift of LIFE from my mother and father.

 

BEHOLD! TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA SNUGGIE!

that is snuggie #2 for me,  upgrading me to  COUCH WIZARD in my own kingdom of comfort. you can feel free to come over and use my beige snuggie, but keep your greasy little mitts off of my ninja turtle snuggie or else i’ll cut down your entire family tree! *makes a menacing face*