Saturday, November 17

I've been indulging in very stupid pleasures. All I can say is stay away from the sardine-flavoured jelly-bean, k?

You're probably wondering what happened to me, as I haven't updated in what... four days? Meh. That's nothing, I don't even need to update now.

My computer is dying. I know it. That's why I haven't posted in so long. It randomly shuts itself off at MUCH shorter intervals than it used to. The fact that it has always randomly shut itself off is in itself not a good thing... I've been computer shopping. I'm going to send my parents some ideas. Saw a nice one in a store which had a ton of gadgets with it. If I'm gonna get a new computer, I might as well get the gadgets with it! I'd even sacrifice a new monitor (despite the dwarfiness of my current monitor) for gadgets. Gadgets good.

Mmmm.... Strawberry Jam jelly bean.
Posted by hKath at 9:52 AM ()


Wednesday, November 14

Look at the word
Perhaps the Parkette is of French origin
coquette, fillette, barrette...
After such words I imagine the Parkette
with rosy cheeks
and bows in its hair
ankle-socks Mary-Janes daisy-chains
One Parkette painting the other’s toenails.

A Parkette sounds like a creature
prone to engage in such activities as
It doesn’t throw a ball very well
but might enjoy gymnastics
or synchronized swimming.
This Parkette is delicate
a beautiful flower
covered in dew beads,
an alluring female charm deep inside
radiating from within

like the steam from the subway grate
across the street
from the small
of grass and curled weeds
complete with bench and sign
“Mid-Town Parkette”, it says.

Still I wonder about the word.

Posted by hKath at 11:04 AM ()


Tuesday, November 13

It's time for more bitching. What a day. Starting at midnight and keeping it right up. I'm beginning to consider believing in astrology: why would good days and bad days have such distinct borders around them if they were random? Why do things always start at midnight and end at midnight for me? Astrology, my dear.

So... this morning I walked into Mac's Milk after waiting for half an hour for a bus that is supposed to go by every ten minutes. I was late returning my movies, I had forgotten my Discman, I had forgotten my lighter. So I went in there and didn't see any lighters. I asked the guy behind the counter if they had any and he said no, they ran out, so I asked him for matches. He asked to see my ID. I gave him the cursed Health Card of doom. He refused to look at it because God forbid Mac's Milk accept government-issued photo ID, eh. He demanded my driver's license. Demanded. So I told him I don't drive. At this point he was standing back from the Health Card as though it was about to explode. I stuffed it back in my wallet and shouted: "What if I wanted to light a candle?? Should I rub two sticks together??" At this the man standing off to the side snorted as I stalked out of the store. Bastard.

I realize I shouldn't be *hurt* by these people. Most of my friends would tell me I should be grateful that I look so young. But I realized today while looking across the street from the Mac's Milk, why I get so upset at these people. It's that I have been living on my own, trying to be independant for YEARS now. And I know I can survive. I'm convinced of it. Good for me, you know. So then this guy at the Mac's... he takes one look at me and what he sees isn't this struggling ball of independance. What he sees is a high school student who's trying to get away with smoking cigarettes, maybe stealing money from mommy's purse, maybe sneaking in past daddy after curfew. Chrissake, I don't like what he sees when he sees me. A high school student. A high school student in LEASIDE, no less. Is there any worse place to be a high school student? How insulting. I'm treated as an irresponsible child by a business which people my age have been known to run.

Really. I'm in a good mood. Honest.
Posted by hKath at 2:00 PM ()


I would never have thought that the mere mention of a Holiday Inn or a Sheraton would be enough to bring me to tears, but it is, it is. It's true. You can't trust anyone, and I'm an idiot for trying to convince people otherwise, for trying to convince people to take the easy way, which we all assumed was open to us. Ha! Stupid committee! No cookie for you, committee!

Just the idea of walking into another goddamn snobby hotel with fucking Travis sitting there with their sad Manchester groupies makes me want to throw up. Honestly. I feel like throwing up.

I AM SO SICK OF "SAVING THE DAY AT THE LAST POSSIBLE MINUTE"! Can't something happen as planned for once?? And do you have any idea how hard it is to write an email to someone named Hope without overusing the word "hope"? It's difficult. I didn't manage.

More importantly, why didn't I quit when I had the chance?? I won't make the error this time, I won't mistake the high for the drive. Being high off of a good time is one thing. Being a willing slave to a good time is another. I can't take this. I remember now: the hyperventilating, even in November. Here it comes. Full force. Don't I have assignments due or something? I don't need this, I have a job, and school, and... well, I may not have a life, but at least I have SOME free time. Why give that up, eh?

Knowing that I'm going to have to face more women in business suits who underestimate everything about me simply because I'm wearing clothes that don't colour-coordinate with my shoes makes me sick. Knowing that I'm going to have to look at that wincy expression on another just-graduated-from-busboy-guide while I ask whether or not noise is a problem is enough to make me scream.

Oh, please God not again! Not without a fight, anyway. Can't I just yell at ONE of these people and put them in their goddamn place?? Just one. I swear.
Posted by hKath at 1:04 AM ()


Sunday, November 11

I'm currently spellbound by Empire of the Sun. Excuse me while I gawk. I'll be back to earth later.
Posted by hKath at 11:23 PM ()


I'm terribly conflicted, really WANTING to be domestic, yet knowing deep inside how uncool that makes me. In the end, I had to start cooking exceptionally good food for myself. Christ, I was having brownouts almost regularly. Something was not right, so I sat down and said "brocoli has iron, liver has iron, bananas have potassium," etc, etc. and started making good food. But it's not just that I was physically in need of certain combinations of food... Actually I've been fantasizing about slow-cooking a stew or some sort of feast; sitting in my rocking chair all day reading and waiting for dinner to be ready, at which point many people will come and help me eat it.

I find this terribly worrisome.

Also, Fiona and I are getting worried about our "place" in this building. We're feeling abused, actually. A few weeks ago, Fiona heard the landlady complaining to her son, who lives on the first floor, about a pizza box which had been sitting in the hallway for over a month. Yvonne assumed it was *ours*, insinuated further that we are slobs, and her son didn't correct her.

For the past four days, the people upstairs have been either building a boat or installing drywall. Which is fine with me, if a little annoying. I can get used to the sound of a hammer. What bugs me is that they didn't even mention to us that they might make some noise because they were renovating.

And tonight, they appear to be having a party. We saw them hanging a balloon in their window a few nights ago and assumed a party was on the way, but were pretty sure we'd be advised beforehand, as that is what co-tenant etiquette requires one to do before a party. Today I got home to a load of cars and an open door. As I came in, Roger (I think) who lives on the second floor, rushed downstairs. He probably thought I was one of his guests, but didn't *explain* that at all, just said: "Oh. Hi." in a disappointed voice.

Screw that!

The previous second floor tenants took their washing machine with them. Funny, we were told that the washing machine belonged to the building when we moved in. Now the taps leak where it used to stand, the water has unstuck our doorstep and left ugly streaks on the floor. The landlady keeps saying there'll be another washer before long. Yeah, right.
Posted by hKath at 9:52 PM ()