Monday, October 18, 2010

Here Today; Gone Tomorrow

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 conversation.

He had seen me with my new boyfriend. He was happy for me. But he wished we could stay friends...after all, he sacrificed sooo much to be with me.

At first, I was fuming. My new boyfriend is not his concern, and I could really care less if he was happy for me or not. As for the bit about sacrifice, I'm pretty sure I had no other real friends aside from him and friends I met through him. I also rejected many social opportunities for the sake of his comfort and wavering self-esteem.

But then, to further analyze his behaviour, I realized I was only acting in the way he wanted me to. My co-worker and I are pretty good friends, but as a person who had hardly ever exchanged two words with her, it was rather odd that he should be sharing his feelings on a ruined relationship with such specificity. Of course, he knew it would come back to me. Still long over, he was continuing the very petty games I had resented him for.

Upon this realization, I just shrugged my shoulders at the entire incident. What's done is done, and if I were to go back to that era in my life, I'd only be ignoring what I have in front of me now: a wealth of self-achievement and someone I'm pretty sure is the love of my life.

I guess the point is, long and serious relationships take a while to leave us once they are over. In the end though, don't worry about spending so much time being angry or hurt about what has passed, and for Chrissakes, don't revisit it. It won't be worth the time and effort you put forth. I have a choice to just be glad that I am on a new chapter in my life "saga", and I am going to take it.

Love, Tasha

xoxo

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

you're so f*cking special.

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

Monday, August 23, 2010

.The Infinite Sadness.

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 know there is no possible way you will be able to answer the other two (HA!). After finally breaking my way through the first answer like Harry Potter with that damn devil's snare in The Philosopher's Stone, I got to my very own "Flying Keys" question that read: "What was the first and last name of your very first boyfriend/girlfriend?"

I snickered to myself, as if the answer was obvious. I typed in "David Tucker", the name of a boy I was "on and off" with in the fifth grade. Last I heard, he served some time in jail. How charming.

Nay, that was not the answer. I typed in a bunch of other names, even though I knew for a fact these people were not my first boyfriends ever. I thought, considering the answer to the first question, that I must have been on crack the day I configured my security settings; at this point, any name was possible.

Finally, it hit me. The face of a young boy popped into my head and I immediately thought "Darren".

Darren was a guy I knew in the sixth grade, the year I moved to a small town in Eastern Ontario. I can remember his voice, his smile, his hair and even the way he dressed, as though it was just yesterday that I was 11-year old Tasha. I remember he also had a man-eating twin sister who broke the hearts of all sorts of sixth-grade boys back in the day. Disclaimer: I'm sure she's not that way now. ;)

I do not recall how we started "dating"- back in those days, relationships were always a schoolyard matter of asking "will you go out with me?", only to carry out a fruitless, two-week relationship where all you do is tell people to tell your boyfriend or girlfriend that you "love" them. I just remember being quite taken aback by his sweetness. One time he brought me candy; another time, a single, red carnation flower. My dad picked me up that day, and made fun of me for having an "admirer".

Knowing for a fact this was the answer to the second security question, I could not for the life of me remember Darren's last name. It finally occurred to me that Marko, one of my oldest besties from public school, would know his last name. After all, he was one of his sister's little flings.

He texted me back, reminding me that their last name was "Wallace". Darren Wallace. How could I forget?

As we continued our happy, little and foolish so-called "romance", the news came about that Darren Wallace was moving away. At the time, I knew I would miss him, but it didn't really occur to me how big a deal it would be. I had been moved around and separated from my most favourite people so often in my young life that I just figured eventually I'd adapt; I never thought about the moment right after he was gone that would suck so much.

Our first real and pretty much final date was a movie. We went to see Tarzan, a perfectly wholesome Disney film. My mom drove us there and back...I'm pretty sure she felt sorry for me.

When he left, or rather when I had knowledge of the fact that he had left, I cried and cried. It sounds so melodramatic as I write about it now, but it kind of felt like the end of the world.

I think I made his name the answer to the "first boyfriend" question because, even though he was just a high-pitched sixth-grader back then, he was the first person to ever make me feel special in that capacity. As the first boy to go out of his way to do anything for me, it was inherently the first time I ever felt like I had what was called a "boyfriend". I also think it is both Disney's AND Darren Wallace's fault that I have the expectations that I do for relationships eleven years after the fact. Luckily, I have someone that seems to suit said expectations quite well so far, so I no longer have a reason to cry like a baby when I hear Phil Collins' "You'll Be in My Heart".

I did see him once when I was in highschool in Chapters. He was with a tall blond, typically, but still as sweet as ever. When I thought he was out of earshot I started rambling about how nice of a boyfriend he was in the sixth grade. It was one of those "annnd he's right behind me, isn't he?" moments. EMBARASSMENT, LOLZ.

Such is a tale of a young idiot girl's love and loss. Both luckily and unfortunately, it wasn't the last.

-Tasha.

xoxo

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Tashybell.

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 loveliness. At the worst, negative feelings will consume me until all that's left is a sad little nymph that no one wants to be around, all shreds of hope so far from reach.

Why is it so difficult to find a balance between the two?

Change is possible...but it has to be for real.

*shrugs*

-T

xoxo

Monday, March 29, 2010

Tell Me What You Know About Dreamin', Dreamin'

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.

Monday, March 22, 2010

Jaquila.


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 heartbreak? A rhetorical question of course, but valid nonetheless.

Gotta look ahead. <3

-T.

Monday, March 1, 2010

Wowza

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!!!

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Arghity Argh.

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 my dad. Daddy! <3

AHEM. I dunno. I get real cynical about blogs. And yet I still make entries? Whyness?

Arghity. Sleeep time? Mebbe

xoxo

-T.

P.S.- Bedtime storiiiesss. --> Coast to Coast Radio

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

What is the Current Stardate?

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.