Thursday, May 3, 2007

Ice cream, percocet and magazines: How I started my summer vacation

Alright, alright, I promised I wouldn't complain anymore about this, but the novelty of being able to relax, pop heavy prescription drugs and consume copious amounts of ice cream is beginning to wear off... I don't really know what all the fuss about Percocet is about; I just feel slightly dizzy and lazy. In all fairness, it does alleviate the pain for about a solid hour and a half, but then I need to wait another six before I can take another. I know that having your wisdom teeth extracted is by no means a big deal. In some ways it's a painful rite of passage for many. I usually have a pretty high pain threshold; but FUCK, this has been a little more painful than I thought it was going to be. I kinda hoped I'd be one of the lucky few who felt slightly woozy, but then bounced back in no time, by-passing the dreaded chipmunk cheeks stage.

On the plus side I did manage to eat some pasta last night (1/4 serving over the course of an hour) which was heavenly, but unfortunately today my face is so swollen that eating anything but ice cream hurts. Boooo.

I can't even imagine what it would be like to have major surgery, break a limb, or (gasp) give birth. What about people who get face lifts? I don't hold any judgment towards those who decide to enhance their looks, but I can't comprehend recovering from something like that. My mum's friend who had a full face-lift once told her that it was the most painful thing she has ever experienced and had she known she would never have done it in the first place. Although she does look pretty fab. It took her a solid week in an expensive recovery clinic before she was able to go home and begin to actually heal. That seems all too much for me.

I must admit that I was a little nervous about the whole thing because I'd never been knocked out before. I thought that they would make me count down from 10 or something, but instead they told me to make a fist and then all I remember is the nurse telling me to open my eyes and that my convulsions were normal. That's right, VIOLENT shaking, pure seizure styles. Luckily, it was short lived after they gave me an oxygen mask. All in all, I couldn't believe how fast the entire thing was. The surgery was about 20 minutes tops (which felt like 5 minutes to me), plus another 20 minutes sitting with my dad in the recovery room. The scariest moment was when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror on the way out the door (side note: Why do they have a mirror on the wall by the door? No one wants to see that.) I looked ridiculous. My teeth and sides of my mouth were covered with dry blood and I realized that what felt like my tongue hanging out of my mouth was in fact a frozen, droopy, cracked bottom lip covered in drool. Hawt.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in bed watching movies with my dad, brother and step sister Nathalie who was an utter gem and went out to buy me some Baskin&Robbins. By the time they had to leave, Lorne was over with another movie and some more delicious ice cream (my favourite gelato!). I kept falling asleep, but it was nice to have him beside me.

Today I woke up in agony and realized that my face was huge. I did manage to do all my laundry, clean and scrub the bathroom and read most of Nat's magazines out in the sun. Now I feel exhausted, nauseated and increasingly stoned as my second percocet of the day is beginning to set in. Time to end this pathetic blog and have a well deserved lie down.

peace out.

Thursday, March 22, 2007

mobile blogging?


Is this really necessary? I barely have the patience to send someone a text message (I blame my man hands for this). When I clicked on the instructional thingy to see how/why one would use mobile blogging I found a little cartoon comic strip explaining possible scenarios that might cause the impulse to blog from your cell phone. The comic strip follows a girl in a restaurant who spots a UFO, snaps a shot of it with her cell phone and quickly posts it on her blog via cell phone. That seems like a lot of work to me. And I can't really say that if I were to see a UFO my first instinct would be " I can't wait to blog about this."

In other news,

I happened to stumble across a blog which I probably shouldn't have been reading. I couldn't help it though. It was so fascinating. Entry upon entry upon entry. I felt somewhat connected to this person who barely knows me. Am I creepy? I mean, I suppose one blogs in order for people to read what they are writing. But I felt like I was reading some one's diary.
But if you are going to post personal shit on a live journal, then I guess you understand that people you don't really know are privy to more information about you than they should be. I guess that's the point?

To be honest I began to feel a little connected to this person. I feel like they are in the head space i was in last year, humming and hawing over the same things and people I was. It was also weird to see the overlap between our lives; to read an entry about a situation you were both in through their perspective.
At one point I wanted to lend a helpful comment, but for obvious reasons I didn't. Also, thinking back to where I was I know I wouldn't want to hear advise from someone like myself. Besides, it's none of my business.

I wonder if that person would even stumble over this.

It's L's birthday this weekend. I haven't seen him in over three weeks and that feels like a really long time. I'd give anything right now to not be in this broken, single bed at 3:44 am restless and awake. I want it to be summer quite badly. I just don't think I have the strength to make it to the end of the year. I still have so much work to do...I don't know where to find the motivation and energy to complete it all. This seems to always happen to me though. I leave everything to the last minute and never do as well as I probably could have if I started earlier. i am so utterly jealous of those who can complete things before they are due. I used to be one of those people.

Maybe it's because I couldn't give a fuck anymore.

Tuesday, March 13, 2007

a gals best friend

This is Louis, btw. The bravest little 'Jackabee' I know. He's got my back, so long as I keep scratching his.

The roof is caving


A section of the roof in our crappy student house crumbled to the floor the other day. Actually, it was around 4 am when I was awoken by a loud banging noise. [Side note: Since my laptop was stolen from inside the house recently (while Amanda was there alone!) I've been a little on edge when I hear creepy sounds inside the house and I've become anal about locking both doors at ALL times]. My first reaction was to check to make sure the doors were locked. I woke up Louis who was sleeping soundly beside me in his little dog bed for back-up. Having no particularly sharp or weapon like objects in my room to grab, I prepared my keen reflexes and fists of iron should I need to bring the motherfucker down (yeah right). I made Louis go first seeing as he generally goes ape-shit if he hears a noise or senses an unknown presence. Luckily, he didn't start barking, although he did stare at me sleepily, looking rather confused. Still unconvinced I made him come with me to check out the dark living room.
Without warning he ran to the corner or the room behind the couch and started vigorously sniffing. I started to feel the blood pulse through me as I tried to figure out what it was he was smelling or looking at. The entire thing was out of a Lassie movie...except slightly twisted.
"What is it, boy? What do you smell? If it's a rapist, bark twice, okay?"

His tired and aimless expression left me thinking that he had probably found some long forgotten food from beside the couch. At this point I was beginning to wonder if I hadn't dreamed the entire thing. I double checked the locks (the backdoor was unlocked...whoops) and then my little friend and I went back to our respective beds.

In the morning on my way out the door I noticed that a part of the ceiling had fallen beside the couch where Louis had been sniffing (smart little pooch). Now there is a giant, gaping, moldy hole in the ceiling. Any character this house once held is now lying in pieces on the carpet.
I called our landlady on Sunday, she has yet to call me back. I guess it doesn't even matter. She is so cheap she'll probably just paint over it and tell us how rough she had it in the home country.

May 1st will never come soon enough.

Friday, March 9, 2007

It's so late it's early and I should be sleeping.

"zoom! - what was that? -"

"That was your life mate."

"Do I get another?"

"No sorry that was your lot"
A friend offered comforting words on the topic of death this evening and I must admit the conversation left me feeling somewhat terrified. Why do I fear death?Or rather, why do I fear death now? I can remember a time when I didn't. I think the idea that terrifies me is that my death is predetermined and definite. It is inevitable that one day (unbeknown to me) I will cease to exist. Of course, I know this and I've always known this, but it never fails to perplex me. Does this knowledge make my actions, thoughts, feelings and experiences hold greater weight? I suppose they are the things that will define my life. Or does it make them as light as air, holding no great significance in the grand scheme of things? I'll be remembered as something of the past in the mind of those left behind, and then eventually as they too cease to exist so will their memory and I will die a second death. Nothing left of me at all, not even the memory. It'll be like I never existed. I am not scared of ceasing to exist. I've done it before. I have 'not existed' before my birth...and that wasn't so scary. I am scared of confronting death and realizing I don't want to die; Not being ready when it arrives. How horrible to get kicked out of the party when you just started dancing.

I don't believe in a Heaven or Hell. It does not make sense to me and never has because it provides me no comfort. I'd like to believe in reincarnation. I'd like to think that I've done this before and I'll do this again and that the familiar feelings and deja-vu that sometimes grab me are a part of something greater, something that's happened before. And that the people I care about in this life have been with me before and will be with me again, even if I don't remember.

Yeah, so no Monty Python schmaltz for me. I'm coming back for another round. Maybe try something different. Maybe come back as an animal. A cool one, like a whale...or a sloth! Yeah, sloths seem like they have pretty sweet lives.