tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63619314527601759212024-03-13T13:45:10.104-07:00.M o a r Than a Wo m an.:: the life of your average, ordinary, everyday superstar;moarthanawomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06473238161467822083noreply@blogger.comBlogger29125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361931452760175921.post-67644961305940231192022-01-20T18:40:00.004-08:002022-01-20T18:40:47.666-08:002022<p>As a teenager, one of my biggest fears was an airborne disease that would wreak havoc on the world as we knew it. </p><p>Back then, SARS was a thing, and some other weird things that I can't remember happened that year that brought me to my naiive, self-absorbed and dysfunctional little knees one afternoon while watching CNN. </p><p>I was overwhelmed. I asked my mother why it felt like the entire world was collapsing. The drama.</p><p>...and now, look where we are. It's 2022, baby - literally any fucking thing goes.</p><p>- T.</p>moarthanawomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06473238161467822083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361931452760175921.post-56848519567376213842017-04-24T14:07:00.002-07:002017-05-06T15:14:04.992-07:00Establishing S h ots.<p>For some reason, I have this vivid childhood <i>something</i>- I feel like it was a dream, obviously it was a dream. But then why does it feel like a memory?
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<p>It goes like this. Suddenly, my eyes open, and I start to pitter-patter around my house. I know I must have been very young, because I was in the first house I had ever lived, and my parents were together.</p>
<p>I had started in my old room- maybe there was a wooden crib and maybe there wasn't, but the real anchor to this almost 30-year-old picture in my head was this small, stuffed dog. A German Shepherd named Nero, because I called him that after my grandparents' dog. </p><p>The stuffed version of Nero had a blue, 1st place ribbon on his chest. He must have been a showdog. I have no idea where he came from.</p>
<p>As I pitter-pattered, I carried Nero in my hand. Room-to-room, exploring and examining the surroundings, the sound of my parents' and my big brother's voice coming in and out of focus. The part of this memory or dream or completely imagined event that makes me question its validity is the credits.</p>
<p>A first-person perspective, establishing shot, and credits rolling purposefully in yellow letters across the bottom. No memory of what they said, perhaps something like "and introducing Tee". </p>
<p>That would be me, and this has since been the perceivable start to my life. The beginning of a film from a third person perspective, with a running time of however long. </p><p>Here I am.<br></p><p>xo, Tee.</p>
moarthanawomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06473238161467822083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361931452760175921.post-69524805039078183332014-12-16T08:22:00.001-08:002014-12-16T08:24:14.696-08:00L i t tle T h ings.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-cqJAsYKe6lI/VJBcVm_ig7I/AAAAAAAAAMw/B_14_qpLtHk/s640/blogger-image--463926852.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-cqJAsYKe6lI/VJBcVm_ig7I/AAAAAAAAAMw/B_14_qpLtHk/s640/blogger-image--463926852.jpg"></a></div>I want to blog again. But I always seem to be stuck.<div><br></div><div>Re-reading some of my old posts the other day made me realize that I always write about the same things. The worst part is that these things are things that I dislike about my life. Even more terrifying, as indicated by the timeline of my previous posts, these things have been bothering me for a very long time. </div><div><br></div><div>So now, I want to tell my "voice" to grow up. The only crappy relationship I would like to address now for the first (and hopefully last) time is the one I have with myself.</div><div><br></div><div>What I needed previously and still need to find for real, is my self-respect. My esteem. My ability to just "be". </div><div><br></div><div>And these are my new principles for blogging. No angst-fuelled rambles. Just life, as it is from day-to-day. It's time to take control, and indulge in all experiences, whether they be big or small (someone brings you kiwiis in an attempt to make your day brighter. Definitely worked).</div><div><br></div><div>If only I could bottle such a mantra and take it out to have a sip every once and a while.</div>moarthanawomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06473238161467822083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361931452760175921.post-24115151318163878772014-07-15T22:37:00.001-07:002014-07-15T22:37:30.110-07:00Purging- A L i st.- Less Facebook posts<br />
- Less junk articles (no money to pay for extra data; see first item)<br />
- Less obsessive phone-checking (see first two items; besides, your relationship with your phone is now borderline unhealthy anyway)<br />
- Less falling asleep with the computer on (studies show this is terrible for your sleep)<br />
- Less impulsive spending<br />
- Less jaw-clenching<br />
- Less ranting about your relationship<br />
- Less taking work personally<br />
- Less photos of your face, or your cat's face (with the imperative for more photos of the world around you- for posterity and the appreciation of your life)<br />
- Less nail-painting (yikes.)<br />
- Less hair-washing (double-yikes)<br />
- Less fear of the future unknown<br />
- Less comparison of your physical appearance to others (nearly impossible)<br />
- Less dread of getting out of bed in the morning<br />
- Less wish-making at 11:11 (for wishes you are too lazy/stupid/intimidated to help make come true)<br />
- Less fidgeting while listening<br />
- Less sugar (obviously)<br />
- Less cynicism<br />
- Less assumption<br />
- Less discontent<br />
- Less fear of losing control.<br />
<br />
- T.<br />
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<br />moarthanawomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06473238161467822083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361931452760175921.post-43588173392583939202013-12-02T20:51:00.002-08:002013-12-02T20:51:36.195-08:00101 Ways to Deal With DisappointmentI would definitely be the biggest liar if I said that as a person in her mid-twenties I have learned everything about who I am and am entirely confident about it. I know there are many people who maybe don't feel the same, and if this is true I am envious. I have found that trying to reach that end-all, be-all of solidifying my identity in this life has been a consistent struggle.<br />
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And you know, I used to feel angsty about this, wondering why in my twenties I should be as stunted as a fifteen-year-old, feeling confused, awkward and much of the time alone. Cue the Taylor Swift and let me daydream about Edward Cullen or whatever it is these days. And shamefully, it took me up until very recently to figure out that actually, the secret to this continuous internal battle really <i>does</i> come in the form of the redundant, cliche and somewhat simplistic notion of <b><span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="color: #ea9999;">being yourself</span></i></span></b>. I also realized recently, through a series of both successes and disappointments, that the most important component to being yourself is to also <span style="color: #ea9999;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"><b>know yourself</b></span></i></span>.<br />
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And yes, this all seems like common sense to anyone with half of a brain (which I never implied to have). Because we have been thrown this phrase all our lives, in every medium and by practically every person ever. For every possible life problem, this is always the proposed solution, like a magic wand that with one sweep can take ALL the lame away.<br />
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BUT, when someone tells you to "be yourself", it becomes counterintuitive because someone else is telling you how you should be, without knowing what your "self" is. Only you can determine what your "self" is.<br />
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So then it follows that being yourself is actually just to <i>know </i>yourself; and in knowing yourself, it literally doesn't matter how others perceive you. This of course doesn't hold in particular situations in which social standards are implemented, as in with work, etc. But DUH once again as long as you know who are at all times, you never need to truly lose yourself in lieu of these things.<br />
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The flip side is that, if you DO allow outside influences to dictate who and what you are, you risk believing in things about you that aren't even true! I have had people tell me I am incapable, I am inadequate, even that I am selfish (which, let it not go unsaid, everyone actually IS to various degrees). And the difference between how it affected me before and how it affects me now, is that I realize that I KNOW I am certain things and not other things.<br />
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The point is that it took a very long time for all of this to come to me naturally. I have absolutely allowed so many times what people have said, thought or implied about me outweigh what I already know to be true about myself. And to come to a point in life where such a phenomenon is laugh-able has brought me that much closer to being my true self. So YA, just KNOW it and BE it and all that because the alternative is just plain dumb.<br />
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And now let me blog about things that have nothing to with boys or other such sad musings.<br />
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Love,<br />
<br />
T. xoxo.<br />
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<br />moarthanawomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06473238161467822083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361931452760175921.post-10440921206523988042013-01-06T16:11:00.000-08:002013-01-06T16:11:59.089-08:002013 and We're Still HereAnd so, because watching indie films on Netflix+ a bottle of wine + cleaning out one's closet equals a brief moment of clarity, I will finally be composing a blog entry that has been about six days in the works. As in, I wanted to say something profound regarding New Year's, but ended up not for various reasons such as:<br />
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a) writing and then realizing it was shit.<br />
b) other people reading it and realizing it was shit (which, eff you, my resolution for this blog is to just write what's really there, sans sugar-coating)<br />
c) being in situations where although my brain is thinking about writing, my body is physically unable to conduct such a feat at the time.<br />
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To be honest, my intentions for how to proceed with the New Year are very vague and not really itemized. Typically, I am one to take every opportunity for new beginnings, with things like my birthday becoming pinnacles for new progressions towards self-improvement and a change in attitude that will eventually make me happier. This is manifested in a literal list, written in one of my many notebooks, and of course never reflected upon again until it is too late.<br />
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This year I haven't written down a single ambition. In a culture where we typically endeavour to lose weight, make more money, find true love and harness the meaning of happiness on a year-to-year basis, I have only decided that I need to be more of me, in every way I know how. Five days in and it's already been hard, but in this brief moment of clarity, I feel (and hope) that it's just around the corner.<br />
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- T.<br />
<br />moarthanawomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06473238161467822083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361931452760175921.post-90210473706289881122012-12-19T23:08:00.003-08:002012-12-19T23:17:07.682-08:00The Night Owl and The Brief Boys of Our Lives.It's weird, most nights I figure I can't sleep because I'm stressed or depressed. And yet, tonight, although I do have some things weighing on my mind, I can't sleep because I am enthusiastic about myself, and generally happy with life despite everything.<br />
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I know so many of my blog posts are either vague or superficial, and that's because I want to tell you all about me without giving too much away. Seriously, I know, this doesn't make any sense because a blog is meant to not even be shared, but rather...<em>exposed</em>.<br />
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And so, that is how I will try to approach it from now on.<br />
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In late September, I ended a two-year relationship. Like, REALLY ended it. Things were about a year past being frustrating, and though I tried very hard to remedy the feeling, I felt stuck. At a "dead-end" to be the most generic and unoriginal as possible. I told him to give me back my apartment keys and leave. And so he did, and never looked back. The only time I saw him after that, he had his headphones in and stared at me blankly as he so often did, giving me back my copy of "Love Actually" in exchange for a frozen rat he had left in my freezer the day we had broken up.<br />
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Most people I have told about this found it weird that there was no official "this is the end" moment. The truth is (as he likely wouldn't have told anyone), is that we had this moment once before already. That, and also that we had already said so much in previous "debates", that there was nothing left to say.<br />
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I feel slightly terrible to say it, and realize I SOUND like a sick fuck to say it, I felt a tremendous sense of relief when he threw the keys down on the table. Something inside me said that this was the end of some sort of era, not of the relationship itself but of me as a person. I can't say exactly what that means yet, but since late September I have learned too many lessons about myself in relation to the way I conduct my romantic relationships. Things I never would have figured out if I really did go through with marriage and settling down in a couple of years, which is sincerely where I thought my life was headed.<br />
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Since then, I have experimented in few ways with how I decide to indulge in romantic relations with others. That is to say, none of them could actually be considered romantic thus far, as the wide world offers an array of shitty hands dealt to that generation of twenty-somethings people are now paying attention to and being fascinated by (and trust me, it can be a fucking jungle).<br />
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So far, I have been:<br />
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1. Confused by the phenomenon of the Hey-come-over-and-I'll-make-you-dinner-and-tea endeavour, which, after many renditions finally climaxes with what one would call a "Happy Ending" (and not the fairytale kind, see what I did there?), becomes a case of "oh fuck, you actually dig me? yeah...I think I left my oven on".<br />
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2. Confused by the one-night-only-but-let-me-have-your-number phenomenon which turned into a thing, but not a total thing, until it became a complicated thing and then not a thing at all. Like a literal cease in communication.<br />
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3. Confused by the I'm-going-to-slowly-integrate-you-into-my-life-and-visit-you-all-the-time-and-whisper-sweet-nothings-in-your-ear-but-dude-I-don't-want-us-lock-ourselves-down phenomenon which is actually the most fun I have had so far but am still experiencing due to my own idiocy, apparently.<br />
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Despite each of these being hideous, nightmarish scenarios in their own right, it's becoming easier for me to realize that these sorts of things, this aspect of my life, is not the end-all and be-all of ME. Enjoying myself as just myself and remembering how fun it is to hang with my friends above all Lameosaurs has taught me that.<br />
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On the flip-side, in "The Perks of Being a Wallflower", Charlie's teacher explains "we accept the love we think we deserve". Could the above examples of my recent experiences be telling me that maybe I'm only enduring what I think I deserve? How do you know what you DO deserve? I keep telling myself that I deserve as much as I have to give. <br />
<br />
<br />
...and really, that's a lot more than I have received so far.<br />
<br />
-T.moarthanawomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06473238161467822083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361931452760175921.post-48444525238689464522012-11-02T18:27:00.001-07:002012-11-02T18:27:04.350-07:00This Month.WHAT I WANT MY 25TH BIRTHDAY TO LOOK LIKE:<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-byCL02Jd3L8/UJRvl5kekeI/AAAAAAAAAGg/4knO4YlWacY/s1600/Blog_Sixteen_candles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-byCL02Jd3L8/UJRvl5kekeI/AAAAAAAAAGg/4knO4YlWacY/s320/Blog_Sixteen_candles.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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One Dreamy McDreamerson and a birthday cake.</div>
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PLUS </div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rXyUY9IQ0g8/UJRxoNSwKkI/AAAAAAAAAG4/ox0nSPQaCdc/s1600/skins+party.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rXyUY9IQ0g8/UJRxoNSwKkI/AAAAAAAAAG4/ox0nSPQaCdc/s320/skins+party.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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One party of irresponsible, British teenagers? Well, not quite. But you know what I mean.</div>
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WHAT MY 25TH BIRTHDAY MIGHT *ACTUALLY* LOOK LIKE:</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DsY9nfQHfVc/UJRxLVWKzVI/AAAAAAAAAGw/3ktlsv7yKSs/s1600/C2hfhwppqC-4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DsY9nfQHfVc/UJRxLVWKzVI/AAAAAAAAAGw/3ktlsv7yKSs/s1600/C2hfhwppqC-4.png" /></a></div>
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Self-explanatory.</div>
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PLUS</div>
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POP AND CHIPS, YO!</div>
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Love, T.</div>
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xoxo</div>
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<br />moarthanawomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06473238161467822083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361931452760175921.post-38042285165878169952012-10-16T04:14:00.002-07:002012-10-16T04:14:50.588-07:00morning conundrum.It hardly ever makes sense to set my alarm for 6:30. Though a logical time for me to wake, in order to shower, style my hair, do my makeup and go through the pain of choosing today's sad excuse for "business casual", I will most likely reset it for 6:45. Then 7:00. Then after that I'll lay in bed and listen to the news, if I'm lucky.<br />
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Sometimes I have to go to the washroom, though, or the cat is begging to cuddle me to death behind my malfunctioning bedroom door. Much of the time, the reasons to stay in bed and close my eyes to the world often outweigh the reasons to roll out of the warmth and dreamy-ness. Go to work, check my phone neurotically, wonder endlessly about the direction my entire life will take. It helps, perhaps, to approach every day as the first of the rest of your life.<br />
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-T <3 p="p"></3>moarthanawomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06473238161467822083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361931452760175921.post-23797258335241266962012-08-28T19:55:00.001-07:002012-08-28T19:55:17.779-07:00Hey. It's on nights like these, when there's no one left to talk to, that I take to my blog. Only, most of the time I don't publish, because what I want to say, I ultimately decide to keep to myself. Currently, I feel snuffed out. I think I'm either on the verge of breakdown or alternatively, revolution. It's certainly tense. Anyway, I'm back again, in the most unceremonius way possible.<br />
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Based on a simple recommendation from a friend, I share with you a song from my top ten. Top ten with lyrics that is, since instrumental would require yet another list. Don't ask me to explain the vid. Just listen!<br />
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-T.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/7T1E1aI95Ro?fs=1" width="459"></iframe><br />
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<3 p="p"><br />
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</3>moarthanawomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06473238161467822083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361931452760175921.post-749901638355096782011-12-14T18:30:00.001-08:002011-12-14T18:52:52.014-08:00Looking Backwards.When it comes to looking back<br />It's a terrible habit indeed<br />When you reminisce about he who lacked<br />and could not suit your needs<br /><br />It's a terrible thought to ponder<br />That you let him(s) get so close<br />And you really begin to wonder<br />Why the fuck it was he(s) you chose.<br /><br />He(s) said you were a different person<br />And perhaps this fact became true<br />Particularly when he(s) spoke of ANOTHER person(s)<br />Instead of focusing on you.<br /><br />Why should he(s) deserve who you really are<br />When this whole time you tried to be you,<br />He(s) imagined others with which he'd go far<br />Not giving a shit about what he could lose<br /><br />His('s) easily swayed attention<br />was less than a desirable trait,<br />Affecting one's own self-perception<br />And breeding an impeccable hate<br /><br />You don't get to see past the gate<br />When you're too busy with your head up your arse<br />Altering my psychological state<br />and treating my feelings as farce.<br /><br />but alas, it was all over ages ago<br />Dark times and lame lads behind<br />My real self now only will show<br />To the real man I happened to find.moarthanawomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06473238161467822083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361931452760175921.post-23907659891077989302011-09-20T18:34:00.000-07:002011-09-20T19:28:35.688-07:00Back again again again again.Alright, it's time to start this shiznit up again.<br /><br />In part, it's because I am currently infuriated by the complete dysfunction of my current living situation. In another part, it's because one section of my life is coming to a close and almost as quickly another is beginning. Any kind of creative outlet might help to alleviate some of the anxieties that come along with not being a student and being forced to become an adult. Growing pains. Cleverrr.<br /><br />So what do I think about finally putting on the classic pencil skirt-blouse-blazer combo and marching out the door only to be stuffed onto a public vehicle nose-to-nose with other people who had no idea their degree would lead to such an undignified mode of transportation? It's not bad.<br /><br />I still have trouble getting up in the morning, particularly because I'm blinded as soon as I turn on the light. I don't get it, because I used to have to wake up at 6am every during high school just to catch the damn bus.<br /><br />I feel mildly awkward in my new office. I have this everywhere I go though, so I guess that's not really new.<br /><br />I'm running out of things to wear. Yet I need to save money. Instead of putting my well-earned (yeah right) birthday funds towards something awesome, I likely will be hitting up a mall to make some more business casual combos. =/<br /><br />October and therefore Halloween is coming soon. October 1st is the last day of my retail job, which is so complexly bitter-sweet that I can't tell if I will love or hate leaving. A little of both I guess. <br /><br />I loooove Autumn and Halloween for the colours and the snuggle-time weather and the gloomy days. <br /><br />I think the fact that I am no longer a student is a perfect excuse for not having to complete this entry coherently.<br /><br /><br />Stay Tuned!!!!<br /><br />Love,<br /><br />Tasha.xoxomoarthanawomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06473238161467822083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361931452760175921.post-4810709070566759662011-06-27T20:36:00.000-07:002011-06-27T21:21:58.816-07:00Sweet, Sweet Sundays.Definition of SWEET
<br />1
<br />a (1) : pleasing to the taste
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<br />2
<br />a : pleasing to the mind or feelings : agreeable, gratifying —often used as a generalized term of approval <how sweet it is>
<br />b : marked by gentle good humor or kindliness <a sweet disposition>
<br />c : fragrant <a sweet aroma>
<br />d (1) : delicately pleasing to the ear or eye <a sweet melody> (2) : played in a straightforward melodic style <sweet jazz>
<br />e : saccharine, cloying
<br />f : very good or appealing <a sweet job offer> <a sweet sports car>
<br />3
<br />: much loved : dear
<br />4
<br />a : not sour, rancid, decaying, or stale : wholesome <sweet milk>
<br />b : not salt or salted : fresh <sweet water> <sweet butter>
<br />c : free from excessive acidity —used especially of soil
<br />d : free from noxious gases and odors
<br />e : free from excess of acid, sulfur, or corrosive salts <sweet crude oil>
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<br />Sundays are my only days off as it is; I work a few times during the week, and when I'm not doing that, I'm on campus, learning things about Shakespeare most people will probably never know or even care to know about in their lifetime.
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<br />The main issue with my lack of blogging is that week days strike me as mundane, uninspiring and exhaustive. It's Sunday where I actually have time to relax, interact with people I truly care about, and feel alive again. Sweet.
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<br />Yes, I do believe these past couple of Sundays can be described in a nutshell by the definitions above.
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<br />Last night the Mister and I saw Woody Allen's Midnight in Paris, the deliriously inspiring conclusion to a day downtown in the CN Tower. The film involved a man going back to 1920s Paris only to meet some of the greatest modern writers and artists. The Parisian atmosphere was alluring all on its own, unless of course Rachel McAdams was in the scene being a damn banshee.
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<br />Two Sundays ago now, it was Father's Day. Although it also happened to be the one-year weekend for myself and the mister, I did spend the day with Dad and his dog:
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<br />Cisco, formerly known as "Puck", came from Taiwan. He's small, hyper, adorable and has a thing with glomping the cat, which part-way explains the cone of indignity as he wears it in this photo.
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<br />This Sunday was Mister and Tasha's day for our one-year triumph, and so it was fitting to do something "touristy" I guess, as my friend Leena pointed out. Indeed, we did do touristy things among tourists, but it was the most amazing experience to me after a week-long march through non-stop life experience.
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<br />The cutest, when all the boats on the lake looked like little toys. How's that for alliteration?! =p
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<br />Tasha and Mike's feet on the glass floor. Note how his feet are cautiously placed on the beams.
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<br />My life's goal should be to bottle sweet feelings.
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<br />Love, Tasha.moarthanawomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06473238161467822083noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361931452760175921.post-17612826956770094702011-05-14T06:50:00.000-07:002011-05-14T07:04:09.155-07:00Daydreams.While I was out killing myself in an attempt to jog yesterday, I was listening to the radio on my ipod. There was a commercial for LottoMax, a sweet-ass lottery whose jackpot was 25 million.<br /><br />I'm convinced we all do the same thing when we start to think about what we would do if we won the lottery. We think of the immediate things we'd take care of. Then we think of all the things we want to do, but never really imagined possible without money. We run away with the possibilities, we lose ourselves.<br /><br />As I head to work for my evening shift, I stop at the mall for a few of my basic things. Body wash, razors, bus tickets. And while I contemplate how on Earth I will afford myself after I graduate, I buy a LottoMax ticket.<br /><br />Suddenly, my mind fills with something not quite euphoric, because I haven't won my $25 million yet. Instead I slip off into a cozy world where a warm and fuzzy feeling fills me up. I've paid off my university tuition. I've stopped living with family members and I've moved out into my own lovely apartment (or maybe a house, since I would need my own swimming pool). I have a *car*. A Cooper Mini, even though my mum once told me she'd never let me buy one of those.<br /><br />I have a dog, a cat, a HEDGEHOG! <(o^_^o)> I have the nicest, Queen-size sleigh bed covered in beautiful linens and pillows (I like nice beds, what?!)<br /><br />My boyfriend and I are going away for a while. We've planned an erratic trip to various places all over; all the spots we've always wanted to go.<br /><br />My parents can safely retire without a care in the world. My grandmother can sell her house and go and do whatever the hell she wants. I can spoil my older brother and bribe my younger brother into finishing highschool.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Riding on the pleasant feeling such a daydream gives me, I finish my shift without being too irate. Of course, I check my ticket on the internet, and none of the numbers match.<br /><br />...Would have been pretty cool, though.<br /><br />-Love, Tasha.moarthanawomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06473238161467822083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361931452760175921.post-17834053273848214272011-05-10T20:06:00.000-07:002011-05-10T21:03:58.744-07:00Strange Things That Exist on the Internet.And believe me when I say that I understand it is impossible to encapsulate all that falls under this category in one, or even one THOUSAND posts. Even in my hearing about and stumbling upon the strange things that exist on the big and scary interwebs, I'm sure I haven't even come close to the ugly underbelly that lies ahead of those who actually SEARCH for these things.<br /><br />Subject of focus? 4chan. I know this is nothing new for many (ye be judged!), but what in the world IS this?! Well, according to the description one finds on Google after typing this curious term into its search engine, it is merely the "largest English imageboard on the web". Ah! But it is SO much more than that. Is this where internet <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Internet_meme">memes</a> are born, or is it where they go to die?!<br /><br />Upon clicking to the site from Google, the "recent images" I was subjected to consisted of: One white girl in a native headdress, one half-naked anime girl (99.9% of this site) AND one transexual woman bent in such a fashion that her less-than-womanly MAN parts are brilliantly exposed for all the world to see.<br /><br />Categories seem to boast some sort of ability to pander to all sorts of interests, with Japanese niche words like (WARNING: NOT SAFE FOR WORK OR OTHER PEOPLE IN GENERAL) "<a href="http://boards.4chan.org/i/">oekaki</a>" and "<a href="http://boards.4chan.org/e/">ecchi</a>"<br /><br />I guess the most odd component of the site would be the users. One interesting and seemingly hypocritical example: <br /><br />"Are video games and 4chan the only thing you are going to do for the rest of your life? You pathetic sedentary eunuchs. Go outside and meet someone. If you're ugly as fuck, which you most usually are, there are plenty of fat and ugly girls around. You stupid virgins, at least read and educate yourselves; end this squalid beardnecktedness that has consumed you. You make me fucking sick.<br /><br />Thanks and good night."<br /><br />Beardnecktedness indeed.<br /><br />On the flipside, who am I to display a weariness towards the people who indulge in such INTERNET appendages? If 4chan is what makes you happy who am I to cry "what the f***?!" Besides, there appears to be categories even *I* could be interested in, like the academic stylings of the "<a href="http://boards.4chan.org/lit/">literature</a>" categ- oh wait, nevermind. =/<br /><br />Love, Tashamoarthanawomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06473238161467822083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361931452760175921.post-23267179231324776432011-04-17T21:26:00.000-07:002011-04-18T22:33:53.946-07:00The Possibilities are Endless.What would you do if your personal abilities were limitless?<br /><br />Today, like most Sundays, my boyfriend and I spent the day together. Movie, lunch and me and him times is pretty much my ideal day, albeit unproductive in other aspects. Still, <3!<br /><br />ANYWAY, We decided that we would watch the film "Limitless", based on some recommendations and some comments floating around the web. I feel like the film itself must have been poorly marketed or whatever, since it's not in the top five this week and I also didn't really hear much about it until recently.<br /><br />What this post is REALLY about, however, is the central concept of the movie. Edward Morra (Bradley Cooper) is presented with a clear pill that opens up the percentage of the human brain that usually goes unused. Even though this statement was immediately debunked by my boyfriend (a connoisseur of miscellaneous information), Edward the bum of an unsuccessful writer becomes motivated, tidy, clean, successful, highly intelligent and even talented in the span of thirty seconds. <br /><br />And so, the film presents to its audience the exceedingly tempting idea of a drug that taps into all of our unused potential, ambition and perception. Despite all of the crazy things that happened to Edward Morra as a result of his using the drug, I was definitely sold.<br /><br />I'd learn languages. Retain and build on what I know of English, Mandarin Chinese and French, and move onto Spanish, Italian, Dutch, German, Japanese, Bulgarian, Swahili, you name it.<br /><br />I'd break into any field of expertise I wanted. I've always had interests in literature and media...but with a pill like that I'd be able to overcome any intellectual flaws, thereby being able to do math and inherently biology, zoology, marine biology...and act in Shakespearean plays on the side since my confidence and ability to tap into emotions would be uninhibited.<br /><br />I'd become more wealthy, according to my own new-found resourcefulness, and work on retiring both my parents early so they'd never have to work again. I'd settle my grandmothers into dream homes and care for them in any ways needed as time went on. <br /><br />I'd learn instruments, like Edward Morra. Piano, drums, violin. I'd become a virtuoso.<br /><br />With those kind of abilities, nothing would be a mere attempt anymore. Everything would be a complete success, a triumph and not an effort, just another ordinary thing you can do, like eating, sleeping or breathing.<br /><br /><br />And yet, the movie inspired me. If Edward wasn't so lazy and unkempt, he could have been capable without the drug. The movie seemed to imply that much of the knowledge that emerged were things he'd already encountered in his life. Sure, there are some things (that I don't want to give away) that were impossible for a regular human to achieve...but languages, organization, self-respect...these are all things that we can have. <br /><br />That's what got me to finally update my blog, and from now on there will be nothing but me bullying myself to get things done. Wish me luck!<br /><br />Are you just as unsatisfied with your own attempts at self-improvement sometimes? Shouldn't we just make the most of who we are? Would YOU follow in the footsteps of Bradley Cooper as Bradley Cooper, but on drugs?! <br /><br />Afterall, the possibilities would be endless.<br /><br />Love, Tasha.<br /><br />xoxomoarthanawomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06473238161467822083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361931452760175921.post-30799857686256314042011-04-16T23:28:00.000-07:002011-04-16T23:42:25.629-07:00What I Do in the Shower.So, aside from the obvious, I find that my time in the shower tends to be devoted to the contemplation of life's most complicated matters.<br /><br />For some reason some of the deepest thinking I do takes place under a stream of hot water, almost like a state of hypnotism; I soul-search, I ponder, I resolve!<br /><br />Sometimes a thesis for an essay will pop into my brain and I will then curse because I have no pen and paper for which to write this fleeting moment of brilliance down. Other times, I will mull over a world issue or some sort of controversy with someone I know and formulate a strong stance on the subject for which I can later present.<br /><br />Today, I was thinking about myself in a very psychoanalytical type of way. Stemming from thoughts of my adorable boyfriend, I got to thinking about past relationships and their effects on my psyche. Sometimes I think about this when I wonder why I have the insecurities that sometimes plague me.<br /><br />The main problem, or at least what *I* thought was the problem at the time, was the level of expectation I had for past relationships. I had an idealized vision of what it should be like, and this was backed by skeptical input from friends and desperate internet searches that only seemed to support an indifferent stance on what is considered commitment in a relationship. I began to try and pick apart this internal conflict between what I want and what the status quo claims I *should* want in a relationship.<br /><br />But THEN I realized that I have exactly what I want now, which leads me to think that there was nothing really wrong with me in the first place, which means that I can send out a collective "screw you" to all who ever a) couldn't meet my needs and b) thought I was crazy for having such needs. XD<br /><br />As I stood soapy and wet and bedraggled in the shower, I also wondered why my leg was bleeding. As it turns out, deep thoughts and leg razors are a terrible combination!<br /><br />...think about it.<br /><br />Love,<br /><br />Tasha xoxomoarthanawomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06473238161467822083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361931452760175921.post-58510030827151674862011-03-23T15:22:00.001-07:002011-03-23T15:22:53.726-07:00:: Wounds and SuchThis post is about scars. <br /><br />Today, at some point, I was thinking about scars.<br /><br />Everyone has them. <br /><br />One scar is from aimlessly tumbling down a ditch in childhood.<br /><br /> Another one on my knee was acquired from falling on ice. <br /><br />My favourite knee scar is comprised of three parts- 1) the long remnants of a botched incision, 2) a hole in the kneecap and 3) two little "x" shaped things above aforementioned incision.<br /><br />The story- at the age of fifteen, I was having the time of my life. My friends and I left school property to hang at a park. I ran and ran and laughed and laughed and rode the swing and jumped and soooooooared through the air and then landed, hard. Nothing about me has ever been the same since.<br /><br />They reconstructed a ligament in my right knee. I like to think the scar signifies a sort of bravery- repeated needles, an epidural, a night in a lonely hospital bed, hallucinating by way of injected morphine doses. How badass.<br /><br />There is a small scar on my eyelid that only *I* can notice, when I put eyeliner on. A reminder of firsts- first time in the ambulance, first and only time I seriously contemplated the idea that I might be blind.<br /><br />I got it from my cat, who was apparently not in a good mood that day. Again, it happened when I was a teenager. With my eyelid hanging down on my face, I asked my best friend at the time via MSN to call the ambulance, as blood leaked into my eye and clouded my vision. It luckily only required a couple of stitches and I can still see, so that's the positive to the story. Here is a picture of the aftermath (obviously don't look if that kind of thing grosses you out):<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FChtVwZ8-VY/TYpuRPK5cLI/AAAAAAAAADk/ZvSpVFLIVq4/s1600/eyenew.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 258px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FChtVwZ8-VY/TYpuRPK5cLI/AAAAAAAAADk/ZvSpVFLIVq4/s320/eyenew.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587399530115592370" /></a><br /><br />Re-reading my own words, I feel pretty jaded and abashed at talking about my physical imperfections. Someone who has met with some sort of unfortunate accident will read this and be offended. Don't worry, I recognize how...irrelevant this all sounds.<br /><br />BUT:<br />What kind of scars do you have? They don't have to be physical; they can be emotional ones too. The old saying always goes "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger". Embracing traumatic occurrences builds a compendium of experiences that will fortify you for life ahead- and also make great stories to tell people, unless they make you look stupid. Then you usually just keep it to yourself. =p<br /><br />Love, Tasha<br /><br />xoxomoarthanawomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06473238161467822083noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361931452760175921.post-60544177403321972011-03-21T20:51:00.000-07:002011-03-21T22:16:22.568-07:00A Little Girl Stays in a Little Girl's Place- My Path to Becoming a Force to be Reckoned WithIf you're anything like me, you might find yourself struggling to show people who you are as opposed to being pushed over.<br /><br />With a few crazy days at work and a handful of unnecessary complications at my post-secondary institution (not to mention just life in a general sense), it is becoming more and more apparent to me that I actually do have to "raise my voice", so to speak- in order to be heard.<br /><br />Now, I guess I can see why people have a hard time not being condescending in my presence- being a woman of short stature and youthful appearance (oh, you!), it is not unusual that I face everyday difficulties ranging from a customer questioning my validity as a cashier to being I.D.'d when ordering a Caesar (my FAVOURITE!) at a restaurant or bar or what have you.<br /><br />Even so, the truth is that I am a 23 year old WOMAN who is literally on the cusp of venturing out into the big, bad world of so-called reality. There should be nothing holding me back from taking life by the balls.<br /><br />One of my bosses always tells me that I shouldn't let the things disgruntled customers do or say get to me; but it's much more than the initial insult- it's the simple fact that there are many people who don't take me seriously.<br /><br />Well, I'm no professional at this whole "I'm here and can legally drink beer- get over it" thing, but I've decided that by practicing my man-up skills, I will eventually be naturalized in the ways of self-assertion and the age-old act of holding my own. Here are some things I do that I like to think are working, as applicable to the workplace, school, career searching and casual scenarios...maybe you can do them too:<br /><br />1. "Bodily Functions"<br />- literally stand up tall- they tell me that posture implies power. HUZZAH!<br />- eye contact- constantly looking away really does give people the impression that you are either shady or f*cking scared.<br />- relax! making one's self into a ball is not going to make complicated interactions with other people go away. Also, you look like a tool.<br /><br />2. Climate Control<br />- this week alone, I have been yelled at by like, 3 customers for things that I literally am either bound my employer to adhere to, or simply cannot control. speaking calm and rationally about these facts keeps you from curling up instinctively into a fetal position, and makes other people at least partially aware that you do in fact have a firm position.<br /><br />3. Always be SPORTIN' or ROCKIN' something<br />- Some post-modern theorists assert the idea that we are becoming "cyborgs"...extending ourselves through the things we use/wear- I say the future is now!<br />- yeah yeah, it's not all about your external appearance...but it still helps!<br />- Whether it's my knee-high boots, a delicious shade of nail polish, winged-eyeliner or just a plain ol' good hair day, I always make sure I leave the house with something about me that I can "rock".<br />- This kind of thing can make you feel all kinds of awesome/hardcore.<br /><br />4. You Are the Hottest Person You Know<br />- Oh me! I can be so secretly vain that it's hilarious.<br />- I dunno about you, but SELF-LOVE really cheers me up.<br />- On the rare occasions that I can achieve this mentality (remember, it's the practice that will make it last), I feel like one of the most intelligent, lovely and resourceful people that I know.<br />- you can remind yourself of this by revisiting your favourite goals and achievements...for example, I got TWO A+'s today, ladies and gentleman. I f*cking rock!<br />- . . . okay, so, in execution, it looks easy...but it can take time!<br /><br />These are the things I am trying on for size right now. An honourable mention might be thinking about other people that inspire you. I have a secret crush on actress Keira Knightley- thinking about her confident mannerisms makes me want to...emulate her, obviously! Don't be a pervert.<br /><br />Feeling like you are being talked down to, or not taking seriously, can be a pretty discouraging for anyone. If this happens to you often, take it upon yourself to let the world know you're here! I feel betterrr already.<br /><br />I'm sleepy.<br /><br />Love, Tasha<br /><br />P.S. Happy Birthday Mummy!!!! Hope you had a great day!moarthanawomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06473238161467822083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361931452760175921.post-90937463891022240002011-02-17T18:02:00.000-08:002011-02-17T18:38:13.495-08:00Mikeless in Manhattan.I cannot believe I've been sitting in this classroom for an hour and a half. My bladder is full of coffee and sports drink, my gum is getting stale. I has to pee!!!<br /><br />What have I been up to lately? It's weird, when people ask me that question. On the surface, I can't say "Oh, you know, performing in a traveling circus". Really, the only consistent activities my body has been actively participating in lately is school, work, and hanging with my partner with a sprinkle of yoga classes.<br /><br />Internally however, I am like a roller coaster. I can't be the one only one who endures this daily craziness, where your mind races over all the things you have to do between now and the future. There's also the odd days where my good friend Productivity is nowhere to be found, and I just want to lay in bed watching X-Files all day. <br /><br />I of course want to say that I will update my blog daily or atleast a couple of times a week, but I feel like my attention span is way too all over the place for me to keep such a promise to myself. We shall see.moarthanawomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06473238161467822083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361931452760175921.post-44500074776212244282010-10-18T16:16:00.000-07:002010-10-18T16:38:13.487-07:00Here Today; Gone TomorrowSo 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".<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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. <br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />Love, Tasha<br /><br />xoxomoarthanawomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06473238161467822083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361931452760175921.post-68015503270568795332010-10-05T19:43:00.000-07:002010-10-05T19:54:25.519-07:00you'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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />Future, why must you be so unclear? I needs me the Doc and Marty. =(<br /><br />-Tasha<br /><br />xomoarthanawomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06473238161467822083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361931452760175921.post-9704862702055205602010-08-23T22:34:00.000-07:002010-08-23T23:24:29.220-07:00.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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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?"<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />Finally, it hit me. The face of a young boy popped into my head and I immediately thought "Darren".<br /><br />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. ;)<br /><br />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".<br /><br />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. <br /><br />He texted me back, reminding me that their last name was "Wallace". Darren Wallace. How could I forget?<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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".<br /><br />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.<br /><br />Such is a tale of a young idiot girl's love and loss. Both luckily and unfortunately, it wasn't the last.<br /><br />-Tasha.<br /><br />xoxomoarthanawomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06473238161467822083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361931452760175921.post-66566802348356807612010-08-03T22:36:00.000-07:002010-08-03T23:07:40.158-07:00Tashybell.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.<br /><br />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."<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />Why is it so difficult to find a balance between the two? <br /><br />Change is possible...but it has to be for real.<br /><br />*shrugs*<br /><br />-T<br /><br />xoxomoarthanawomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06473238161467822083noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361931452760175921.post-33436826201455573932010-03-29T16:29:00.000-07:002010-03-29T16:36:12.636-07:00Tell 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?<br /><br />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...<br /><br />If I "don't deserve" you, I must be doomed to something more terrible.<br /><br />This week is exam week.<br /><br />Social networking event was fun. Met a reporter who tried to get me to profess my love for Corey Haim at his funeral. Aawwwkward.<br /><br />Summertime is coming soon. Summer time is game time, in more ways than one. =D<br /><br />I'll keep you posteed.moarthanawomanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06473238161467822083noreply@blogger.com0