.M o a r Than a Wo m an.

So I get this weird text from a co-worker who tells me she's on the bus talking to my ex. "Oh geeze", I thought. Somehow, from that one text, I knew this serendipitous meeting between the two of them would come back to me. I texted back something like "wow...I'm so sorry". My last break up, much like the one before, was a dirty affair in which I ended up not being able to deal with the insane behaviour I apparently have a knack for sparking. In the end, it was not worth it to even try and reach some sort of amicable understanding; things had just gone too far. In a relationship that had good moments, I was generally unhappy. Like most things, one tries to keep going to see how things will pan out, and in this instance, it was just simply not meant to be. A few days after my co-worker texted me, we were finally on a shift together where she told me of the words swapped between them. As I half-expected, Mr. Wonderful did indeed decide to bring me up in convers

The school year is now in full swing and already I feel like putting the covers over my head to wait for it to end. But, alas, I know that I can't...in fact, knowing that this is my final year of the less-than-real world gives me a contradictory type of motivation, the likes of which I have never seen before. Motivation to have the best year I can, and figure out where to go from here. It's like I'm in an evil lair, hatching evil plans for my future. Where I'm going to start my career, how I am going to live on my own, etc. I even know, to the most definitive degree imaginable, who I am going to spend the rest of my life with. I recently discovered that I know exactly who my future husband is going to be; as a feeling entirely foreign to me, I am both extraordinarily happy and scared shitless. Future, why must you be so unclear? I needs me the Doc and Marty. =( -Tasha xo

Scott Pilgrim vs. The World came out this month, and I've been positively obsessed. As a two-month thing, I saw it with my partner, and we were both pretty impressed. Am I rhyming? Anyway, as far as I am concerned, Bryan Lee O'Malley is a genius, and so is Edgar Wright. That's partly where the title of this blog comes from, even though O'Malley very obviously borrowed the sub-header from the best Smashing Pumpkins album of life. The entire Scott Pilgrim series is so reflective of life and love. Today, I spent a very frustrating 30 minutes or so trying to answer my own security questions to retrieve my password on my York U account. I have no idea why my password wasn't working in the first place (I have theories entirely separate from this anecdote), but one thing I DO know is that my account is pretty damned secure, since I had to like, do RECON in order to figure out my own questions. Anyway, I feel comfortable in telling you about one of the questions since I kno

If there was any one, ridiculous word I could use to describe myself to other people, the word would be "fairy". And no, it's not just because I am short in stature with a tinkly voice and a rainbows-and-cupcakes disposition, nor is it only because I am a gay man trapped in a woman's body. In the book "Peter Pan" (one of my all-time favourite books EVAR on the PLANET), J.M. Barrie said: "Fairies have to be one thing or the other, because being so small they unfortunately have room for one feeling only at a time. They are, however, allowed to change, only it must be a complete change." Tinkerbell is always experiencing emotional extremes- sometimes she's mellow and content, other times she's jealous and bitchy and convincing people to try and kill Wendy. I myself feel like I am only capable of hosting one feeling at a time. Mainly because, at the best of times, a happy feeling will surround me and wrap me up in a warm blanket of muffin-y lov

I wasn't defined by how I was with you. So why is it that people expect me to be something I can't be? How is it that we got so far that I now can't be me? This is why we had to stop in the first place... If I "don't deserve" you, I must be doomed to something more terrible. This week is exam week. Social networking event was fun. Met a reporter who tried to get me to profess my love for Corey Haim at his funeral. Aawwwkward. Summertime is coming soon. Summer time is game time, in more ways than one. =D I'll keep you posteed.

March is not my month, folks. I dunno if it's ANYONE's month, really. Deadlines, deadlines and more deadlines. The Communications Studies Student Association Networking Gala is tomorrow. I bought a damned suit for the occasion. It's very, very...suit-y. We get to meet pros in the communications "biz". Wish me a potential internship, won't you? I can't wait for my life to not consist primarily of school and work so that I have something more interesting to blog about. It's not that I don't, it's just that there's no real time anymore. My poor daddy's dog passed away today. I remember being ten years old and going with Dad and my little brother to pick her up from the breeder's. She was the CUTEST. Puppy. Evar. Dad named her Jackie; I liked to call her "Jaquila" like tequila. She was occasionally a brat, but overall pretty much the sweetest little person anyone could possibly meet. Ugggggggh. Why must we ever suffer heartbre

And alas, my message to Shaun (White) becomes lost in a sea of hundreds of others of comments. Related: VANCOUVER 2010 BABY!!!!! <3<3<3 CANADA!!!

BAH. I always, always do this. Plan to go to bed at 11p.m. and then not. Until 2. It's almost 2 now. Too much to think about. So much to dooo. I'm a communications major, so obviously, in my program, we talk about the many ways in which people communicate with each other. Lately I've been confronted by a lot of theoretical discussion about the internet, and how anyone can blog. We watched this vid where this guy describes a theory called "mass amateurisation". Well, without getting TOO far into it (less I go cross-eyed), this theory essentially says that literary merit will eventually go to shit with the fact that anyone can publish themselves on the internet. Which is kiiinda true, no? I am at an impasse- with myself! It's true that ANYONE can say they write because they have a blog. But then ANYONE can create a blog. What's the point? It's not like we're more important or something. And it's not like people read it, either. Well, except for m

Time to try this out again. The inspiration? The gazillion minutes a day I spend in my own mind, thinking I should write things down but don't. There's not enough time in the day. I'm back. Again. -Tasha xoxo.