dolour

i think you killed me. my heart no longer beats. i cannot feel anything. i am so very cold. my skin is tinged blue. there is nothing left...so empty.

and yet - someone told me this is not the end. it is so hard to believe, i can practically see the signs. someone told me that this was meaningless, utterly meaningless. there will be bigger battles to fight. someone told me, "you can't be more than you are," which was what you were asking of me.

I can hear voices in the distance, they are voices of laughter and joy. if I try too hard to listen, they disappear. but i think they are still there. at least, i cannot give up hope.

jenna

the score

Staircase of death (3)

Jenna (0)

Now that I've gone on my rant about blogging being too mainstream I've decided, regardless of whether I have any cool stories or not, to blog with a consistancy of sorts. I often talk to myself (big surprise there). This is one of the more recent exchanges:

"self, all the others have epic tales, you haven't contributed anything in over a week."

jenna's personality 'take two': "but I can't think of anything to write about..."
jenna's personality numbero uno: "that's rubbish (apparently this personality is both spanish and british)! it's about creativity!! creativity!"
jenna's personality #3: "...i'm hungry."

and thus one of the recurrent conversations I have with myself. I will now issue a warning of sorts. Just because I've decided to write more frequently, doesn't mean it's going to be good. It's just going to be...more frequent.

And now, I must tell you all about my music lesson today. It was the first of it's kind. My teacher's name is Lane. He is in his late twenties and is, as it turns out, very attractive. Good-looking and musical. It is going to be hard to concentrate I'm afraid...

Torn between yesterday and tommorrow...

I went to a wedding this weekend past,
where there I met my past
Faded memories almost clear again,
as if it were still yesterday.

Although only a year has passed
since these memories were my friends,
they seem just as strange
as the strange new place I am in.

In the ambivalent existence that I have carved,
nothing seems familiar
caught wandering between
yesterday and tommorrow.



I moved to Edmonton because I wanted change. The ironic thing about it now is that the change that I sought before is what I am sick of now. Now I want what I had. I suppose you have to be lost sometimes to find home. I have to admit though that God knew what he was doing in bringing me here. I could not have changed if I were still living in yesterday. Who knew that I would be frequenting a Humptys once a week eating revolting food and drnking cold coffee, and that it would be my favourite place in Edmonton because of who I meet there. I absolutely hate Humptys. I feel dirty just walking in there. The food is terrible and the washrooms speak for the whole restaurant with vending machines featuring condoms. But it is Humptys that is geographically located about halfway between me and Jenna, so it is there that we meet.

Humptys reminds me of the 2004 summer olympics. Why? because it is there at 5:30am while watching olympics that I laughed so hard that Bacon came out up and out my nose. Never was bacon so painful. For hours bacon came out. I breathed and it came out. I sneezed all day. I still can not eat bacon.


Good night dear Jenna. I must go to bed.

suddenly the thought of having a blog seems a teensy bit ridiculous to me. I mean, everyone's doing it right? Isn't this just another crazy fad?
It's the new slap bracelet or pink and black combo of internet communication/expression. Everyone wants to be a blog-master. It seems I have sold out. And yet...all these blogs are so darn entertaining. I love reading about other peoples lives. It makes me feel okay somehow.

my friend once made a comment that the word 'blog' doesn't sound anything like what it really is. It would make more sense if someone said, "oh I feel queasy, I think I'm going to blog" or "is that a blog on your shoe?" It could be an infectious disease or something you fall into when you are walking through a dark and scary forrest. Also, if you say the word 'blog' too fast, too many times you get dizzy and start to sound like the cadbury easter bunny...who really just sounds like a chicken.

in conclusion, i like blogs. i also like beef (mmm...supper).
I also like death cab for cutie but it was friggen sold out in the first ten seconds and i couldn't get any tickets which, if I thought about it for too long, would make me want to put my face in my pillow and scream. but as it stands, death cab isn't all that important and i still have everything i need to happy - including blogs.
and once again, the world is an alright place.

Jenna

what not to say when giving a suppository...

"it's a little uncomfortable, I know, but I'm hoping that it will rectify our present situation..."

It's true...I said that.

J.Wilgus

ahh valentine's day...pink and red in every shop window, people walking around with flowers, chocolate boxes, and infatuated looks on their faces, and a full parking lot at the ever-so-dodgy love stop. I went to a job interview today (not at the love stop) and the lady interviewing me wished me a happy valentines day. I didn't quite know how to respond. First off, I didn't know you just wished anyone a happy valentine's day (I thought that sentiment was generally reserved for more intimate relationships), and second, um...off, I have never given the day much regard. Truth be told, it seems to me to be entirely frivolous. I am not just saying this because I am jaded or bitter about relationships (because I'm really not), but because - I just find it all very silly. There is nothing you could buy me that would elicit any sort of swooning response. But then again, that is just me, and there has been much discussion as to whether or not I am emotionally dead inside. I personally think that is a little far-fetched, at the very least I am in emotional coma. I blame it on my british mother...the brits were never much for outwardly emotion.

Actually, as I have had the opportunity to discover this year, Kaarina and I both share a dislike for extreme emotion. Of course, Kaarina's phlegmatic demeanor does serve a larger purpose...she is, afterall, trying to be an evil world dictator. She would not let something as trivial as emotion get in the way of her tyrannical appetite. With that being said, I do not want to give the impression that people like us are devoid of all emotion. It is just that we reserve our emotion for...other things. Inanimate objects such as: snowboards, old sneakers, and (this one is Kaarina's) backpacks. I do hold some emotion for sentient beings as well. For example, I have a fondness for cute old people and little furry kittens. See? That is not so bad is it? You just won't find me gushing over a dozen roses. It could be worse.


valentine's day...who invented this tripe?

Jenna

Like anna, I am also feeling a bit...despondent tonight. Maybe it is something in the air. Perhaps it is due to all that Humpty's food we ate this week (did the mozza sticks look at little sketchy to you anna? better question, do you think those really were mozza sticks?). I am not sure. What I am sure of is that when one finds themselves in this state, one often has a hard time getting anything done.

I was going to try painting to pass some of the time. Anna and I have this little activity we like to call 'paint by emotion.' It is sort of like 'paint by numbers' but has been found to be considerably more erratic and, not to mention, dangerous (many a emotional painter has been known to find certain objects such as, paint brushes and/or easels, embedded in themselves or fellow e-painters at the end of a session). But then again, it all depends on the emotion you are trying to paint. I encourage you all to give it a shot, it is very liberating.

I also thought about taking a jaunt down whyte ave by myself. I figured maybe I just needed a harrowing experience or two of my own (like davey h's) to forget about my troubles. I sort of chickened out in the end, I did not want to get captured by gypsies or hauled off by the angry bikers at the Timmy Ho's. At least, not tonight. Also, I am not as brave as hengen.

I am not certain what activity I will decide on in the end. Chances are pretty good that by the time I devise a master plan I will have tired myself out enough to go to bed. I think my eyes are already starting to droop...

Just in case anyone is interested and so that there aren't any surprises later on, I will confess to you all that Kaarina has aspired to be the next Stalin (she will settle for Hitler though if Stalin doesn't pan out). Perhaps someone should have a little chat with her. I would...but she keeps trying to kill me.

J.Wilgus

"I cannot say that I have gone to hell for your love...but often found myself there in your pursuit"

William Carlos Williams

I think william and I would have alot to talk about

J. Wilgus

I feel melancholy tonight. It has gripped my heart and squeezed it so that I feel a desperation and almost a need to cry. What do you do when the pain you feel is not tangible like a cut on your leg? You know that time and maybe a band-aid will heal the cut. A heart might heal in time, but what band-aid can you put on it? There is no formula for that, no assurance. A close friend is hurting and torn up from heart pain. It reminded me of my own shredded heart that I had tried to fix, until the band-aid began falling off. I want to tell her that it will go away and that it can be fixed, when from my own story I can only say that it probably will not. At least not the way that we would want it to. So to this friend I say I am crying with you. At least someone understands.

A.Wilgus

Here I stand on the edge of a diving board yearning to plunge. Looking over the edge I flirt with the idea of jumping. Years of training to navigate ground have solidified a mastery of its turns and twists, or at least I have a created a compass that never fails in directing me through its traffic. I have nurtured a grid of reasoning and rationalization that I can plot any decision on and come up with the best response. I trust it with my life and use it for everything. This saves me from using the uncertain tumultuous waves of emotion to propel me. Emotionless existence makes life a little more safe. SO why do I stand here wanting to taste something more unplottable? Waves can toss you in any direction under wavering weather forecasts. But I desire the uncertain sometimes. So I climb the ladder to the diving board and wait for something to push me into the water so that I dont regret making the jump myself if the water is a little too cold. After a while I have become bored waiting for the push. I want to jump, but cant lift my foot. i can see others enjoying the pleasures of thre surfaces joys, but i know that there are others riding the waves trapped somewhere underneath because the waves were too much to handle.

A. Wilgus

bus stops and blind people

I was walking down whyte ave today when I suddenly started thinking back to the time in Lethbridge when I was assaulted at a bus stop by a blind man (I am the most nostalgic when I am walking). Sort of a humorous situation actually. I was peacefully waiting for my bus outside of the hospital early one morning after a long night shift when all of a sudden I was interrupted by a semi-loud "WHAP!" followed by a sharp pain in my calves. I hadn't a clue as to why I was in pain at that moment but nevertheless I was filled with an instant rage. "%@#$," I thought. "Why would someone hit me like that? I was just minding my own friggin' business. I turned around to give this inconsiderate jerk a piece of my mind. I had fully expected to see a young punk, probably a teenager, dressed in black leather with a stupid haircut, stupid multiple piercings, and with a smug grin on his stupid face but instead I saw...a man with dark shades frantically flailing a stick around looking a tad bit precarious. I think he maybe thought my calves were the bus stop sign. I quickly jumped out of his way when I realized my mistake because at that moment he was walking very rapidly towards me and still whipping his stick around. I felt very guilty. I almost yelled at a blind guy.

J.Wilgus