Just Because I can...

Happy Last Day of January! Woo! No... I just wanted to write this to let people know that contrary to what you may be thinking I am good. Actually feeling really decent in spite of my last blog. What can I say? I was having a bad day. We're all allowed to have a bad day. It's what happens when I start thinking about certain things. Like what is going to happen in April... and other things that I will leave be for now. Meh...

Also... here's to number 10 this month! Woo! Double digits!

*lurves* and thanks for reading!

Semi Charmed Life: Living a Lie

Some days I would just rather jump off a building than actually consider doing my homework. Why? Not because I dislike my homework. Not because I do not know how to do my homework. I consider it because I am tired of doing homework. I am 23 years old and I am still in school. STILL in school! Are you fucking kidding me? Why the hell am I still in school? I honestly couldn’t tell you. I have been in school since I was 4. 4. I’m turning 24 this March. That means that I will have been in school for 2 decades. Or a large, huge, giant, most of my life. Yes. Most of my life. And I’m sick of it. I want to be done. I want to not be in school anymore. Or at the very least I want to be in school that doesn’t make me think, I want to be doing school that I enjoy unequivocally. I would kill to be doing my BA with a specialisation in Religious Studies. It never mattered how hard the work was in my religion classes. I love it. I was there 110%. And it didn’t always make sense. I had to work for it. But I loved it. It made me happy and I was glad to be doing it. The shit that I am doing now... yah, I understand it. I get it. Hell I’m mostly really good at it. But I just don’t care. I don’t want to care. I don’t want to be doing what I am doing anymore. It’s not fun. It’s not what I thought it would be and most importantly I don’t really think that I like any more.

How exciting!

What I wouldn’t give to be anywhere but here. Doing something that wasn’t this. I hate my life. I mean actually hate my life. I just don’t care. A person should not be this unhappy about the thing that they are supposed to be doing for the rest of their life. What I wouldn’t give to start all over again. I’m thinking hard about it. I think that the best way to do that is to take a couple years off, pay off some of my huge debt (let’s not talk about it ok?) and then start in on doing something that I enjoy. You know what I really want to do with my life? I want to get my BA, get my masters in religious theory and then get my PhD. That’s what I want to do. I want to become a professional reliogiousity type. I want to be able to tell you everything little thing there is to know about what I think is the coolest thing ever. I want to become a fucking expert on Christianity. Why? Why the fuck not? Hands down, the best two classes that I have ever taken, and the two that I will always remember stuff from are my History of Christianity class and my Science and Religion class. Why? Because the content interested me. I wasn’t the best at it, well ok, I got my one and only A in my history of religion class but that is beside the point. I worked for the fucking A. I deserved it. My Science and Religion class... I think I got a C. Not my best effort but admittedly I understand more about the material in that class then other classes I got higher grades in. I can apply it and make it make sense to other people. So what if I can’t regurgitate it? I can’t regurgitate half the shit that I’ve learned, but I know it, and I can apply it. What is the more important concept here? That you can regurgitate the knowledge or that you can apply and understand the knowledge? What does it matter that the best mark I ever got on a paper was not one that was expecting me to spew knowledge but the one that asked for my educated opinion and the information to back it up? It doesn’t. And it doesn’t because society expects people to be able to create testable results. Testable Results. We need to be able to prove that we know things. Who fucking cares if you know what it means, just prove that you know it! God I hate school.

I suppose it is less that I hate my life and more that I hate some of the circumstances of my life. It would be nice to be rich and be able to go and do whatever pointless schooling that I want. It would be nice to know that even though I have officially wasted six years of my life for two different programs that I absolutely have no care to be in I still have more than enough money to roll around in. Yes, it would be nice to know that after I am done school finally I would not be in excess of 52, 000$ in debt. 52, 000$. And that only the tally after this latest school year. I know, I know. Money doesn’t buy happiness and that apparently if I had money it would only serve to make my other problems that do not revolve around money come to face, but let me tell you, I do not have problems that I cannot link back to the fact that I am poor as fuck, and will be for quite some time, that I have not either dealt with or are more trivial than spilt milk. And on the concept of other problems, the major problem that I willing to fess up to, at least to myself, I would be more willing to deal with and look at if I had the time to. And by time I mean the ability to take time out of my schedule so I can deal with it. And really... time is money when you don’t have it. If I’m not working during the summer I wouldn’t be able to live. So I’ve decided that I cannot afford to take the time off to go and talk to someone about my mental health. Money is more important than my health. How sad is that? I mean there is a damn good chance that I suffer from some form of depression/anxiety disorder or possibly even bi-polar disorder. (I do have really high highs and very low lows and my mom worries.) But I just cannot justify being able to go out and figuring that shit out and I really should.

You know what’s unhappy? Thinking about shit like this makes me very anxious. I can feel the panic building in my chest as I sit here typing it out. I can feel my breath getting shorter and my heart rate accelerating. The first tell tale signs of a panic attack. The next is the weight that settles in on my chest making it hard to breathe as well and the breaths just get shorter. Before you know it you’re hyperventilating, there’s tears streaming down your face and you don’t know up from down. And you cannot figure out for the life of you why you have completely lost control. Nothing makes any sense at all and if you don’t calm down right fucking NOW it’s going to get really bad. You start hyperventilating so bad that your vision swims in front of you. You’re light headed from a lack of oxygen and it feel like you’re going to throw up. You stand up to move closer to the washroom just in case this time you do and everything goes black. Seconds tick by and you wonder for a moment if this is the time that you’ll pass out. You stumble from your bed and collapse to sitting in front of the toilet. Stick your head between your legs and debate on calling someone. But who? Who do you call? You don’t know. Your mind is a total blank... You run through the list of people that you trust and find it empty. The same list that only minutes ago was full of people that you would tell you’re deepest secret to has collapsed into nothingness. There is no one and it only serves to increase your panic. You think to yourself that if only you can get a hold of yourself everything will OK. It won’t be alright but it’ll be OK. How do you get a hold of yourself? You’ve spiralled completely out of control. You’re breathing is so erratic that standing would cause you to collapse and you’re sobbing so hard that you can’t even see you hand in front of your face. How do you get a hold of yourself? You fixate on how to get a hold of yourself. You chant a mantra to yourself to try and gain some semblance of control, some iota of bearings on what has just happened to throw you into the deep end. Don’t think about the deep end, chant that mantra. Chant it. It’s what keeps you sane. It is the only thing in the whole world that makes any lick of sense and yet it still doesn’t seem to work very well. Slowly very slowly you realise that you’re not crying anymore, that your breathing has slowed down and you can see again. Your head hurts. Your eyes hurt. Your lungs hurt. But you can breathe again; you can see again; you found that control you were looking for.

And if you’re very lucky this whole experience took less than half the day. If you’re not, who knows? There have been times where it was like the whole bloody week was a panic attack. You get very good at hiding just how insane you really are. You laugh and smile with the people around you while the whole time you are completely falling apart. You are crumbling and no one knows it. Secretly you hope that someone notices that you are not happy, that you are not alright. You hope that some confronts you, and confronts you until you break down. Until all that insanity breaks out and takes over. But with each time you get better at hiding it, you get better at not showing it, you get better at faking what you are really feeling. You get so good at it emotions become empty. They’re not real. They are something to be produced for the public, friends and family and everything you really feel is empty. You are a void. You live life on autopilot: you laugh when you are supposed to, you smile when you are supposed to, you get angry when you are supposed to, but you never cry. Never cry. Because then the whole carefully constructed balance of lies would come tumbling down. You never cry. You are devoid of emotion. You never cry. You never cry. You never cry. You go home at night and cry, because it’s all that you can do. You never cry.

On a Happier Note...

"Listen here you little spazoids, I know where you live and I've seen where you sleep. I swear that your mothers will cry when they see what I've done to you."

I love Mitchell... I think I'll have to remember that line and use it on some little spazoids myself. I love Tommy Boy.

Assassin's Creed: I have to wait until March! Fucking March!

Assassin's Creed

I'm pissed off. I have to wait until March 25 for Assassin's Creed. Fuck. I knew that it was delayed but I was hoping that it wasn't going to be that late. Fuck, it days like this that I wish I had a console... *grumble*

Fucking March 25. I better fucking get it for my birthday or something... Fuck. Why didn't it come out with the console version! Seriously! It's been out since November! NOVEMBER! NOVEMBER! I hate console gamers right now. I hate them so much.

Yhar! There be cold Weather afoot; Zen and the art of Snowboarding.

So... It's -28 and Baby starts. Took a little persuasion but she started. I was proud of her. However, I am going to leave her in her warm garage for the week while I bus it to school. Just seems like the smart thing to do. It's not like I have a place to plug her in while she waits out in the cold for me, because I don't.

Went snowboarding this weekend. It was awesome, minus Sunday, which was too bloody cold. We did get to leave early so that we were home early, so it wasn't all bad. Friday and Saturday were awesome though. Actually, they were more than awesome. I'm so sore but it was all worth it. I love snowboarding. It clears the mind and I can think without anything crowding my head. It's my Zen. Went with Amber. It was lots of fun. Good times and hang outs.

I have some awesome pictures that I'm going to post later of the weather, and LOL that was drawn on Amber's windshield. But that's a whole n'other story. A short but good one. All I'm going to say is that they were cute guys and they were flirting up a storm with my travel partner. Wooo!

Deadline to decide if I'm moving is in T-4 days and I have no clue. I should move, it'll be cheaper, but I really really do not want to move. I hate moving. It sucks balls. And besides all that I still don't know what's happening to Sam's stuff if I do move. She hasn't said anything yet and I don't know what to do with it if I do move. Gods help me.

Anywhoozle, that is my mini update. Nothing really much happening in my life so it's short but sweet. Keep it real y'all.

P.S. Comment. I'm lonely.

Mini Rant: The Great Blood/Organ Boycott

So in case you don't know what I know: CLICK

Now if you were too lazy to read the above link, and I know I would be, here is a summary. The Canadian Government and Health Ministry have decided that gay males organs are just too risky to use and thus need to be not used because they are classified a "high risk" group for HIV/AIDS and other STIs. (Sexually transmitted infections, its the new STD. We quit using STD because it's a misnomer.) Now while I'm a little put out about this new policy, I can understand why it was put in place. It's simpler than having to test every gay man that walks through the door to say, "Hey, I'd like to donate my organs." But this isn't what this blog is about, and furthermore my beliefs on this whole currfuffle are very involved... so let's not get into it. I'll just spark an argument.

The point of this blog is that some people think it would be advisable to boycott organ donation until the government and health ministry rethink their current opinion and change it to the demands of the belligerent and morally sound opinion of the ignorant majority of Liberal Canadian Protesters. (Ugg.) Now... I'm not saying that maybe this group doesn't have a point. I think they do. But like so often they completely seem to lack the mental capacity to understand where the other side is coming from. And as I have said before, and will say time and time again, before you can adequately protest about your side, you first need to understand the other side. But... again I am getting side tracked.

Boycott Organ Donation.

Yes. That makes complete sense. I'm so proud of the person who come up with that one. And the guy who said that he cut up his organ donor card and sent it back to the health ministry. Wow. That'll really help the issue. What issue is that? That we don't have enough organ donors as it is. I don't know the exact statistics, and frankly I'm not in a mood to look them up (how's that for a change) but the wait lists are stupid long, and if memory serves me correctly many people on them die before reaching the top in order to receive the organ they need. Now, admittedly saying that all gay men who have had sex, regardless of the kind: protected, unprotected, within a monogamous relationship or with multiple people, in the last five years cannot donate their organs removes a significantly large portion of the population that donates. But like I said this blog isn't about my issues with that. It's about my issues with the morons who think it would be great to boycott organ donation.

Wait... The government policy has now removed a significant chunk of our population from donating organs so the belligerent public is going to remove another significant portion to protest. Does this make sense? Aren't there already enough people dying because there aren't enough organs to go around? Do you really want to contribute to the death of another person because you're put out that gays can't donate their organs? The key issue is not that gays can't donate, it's that regardless of that, people will die if people don't donate. The majority of organs are turned down because the donor is classified as unsuitable for some reason or another. And there are many, not just because they were gay and weren't abstinent for five years prior. People that are too fat are turned down because their organs are usually overworked. I'd be turned down because I've had tattoos done in the last twelve months. The list goes on. So why are people thinking that it would be such a great idea to boycott donating their organs, when it is hard enough to get good organs, just because they are put out about some new government policy?

Be put out. But don't be an asshole about it. Jesus. Be smart people, there are better ways to protest then killing people.

The Life and Times of a Sexual Deviant

So I was reading this post again and I’m still caught up on it. I don’t know why, but I am. Apparently this is something of great importance for me this year. Maybe it’s a sign that I’m finally growing up enough to be in a “mature responsible adult relationship.”

That’s a scary thought right there. I’m all for the mature, the responsible, and the adult. It’s the relationship part that kind of freaks me out. I don’t think that my brain handles the idea of a relationship very well. It’s annoying and it begs the question of why. Why is this such a conundrum for me to wrap my precious little head around?

Simply, I don’t know. With complexity, I know less.

Who wants to explore the dark damp recesses of the mind to divulge why they have difficulties with forming mature, responsible, adult relationships? I know I sure don’t, however it seems as if I do not have the choice in this matter. It seems that I am intrigued more and more by the concept regardless of how much I would really rather explore the dark damp recesses behind my toilet instead. Cleaning is gross, but it washes off in a shower. Discovering why you are incapable of feeling like you can form a relationship does not wash off. It stays with you and you have to learn to deal with it like a mature, responsible adult. It lingers. You have to fix the problem before it can be re-shelved, and even then you can’t forget the memory of it or it’ll come back to haunt you.

Admittedly it’s already there, but a person is just not fully aware of it yet. They have to discover it, seek it out. Unbury it from a mountain of other issues that may or may not have something to do with the entire concept to begin with. Creating, as it were, a make work project. First you have to deal with all the other issues before you can deal with the issue that is driving you up the freaking wall! Well that sounds like a barrel of fucking monkeys. Please, please! Can I be next? Please! I absolutely love exploring my deep set issues! It’s so much fun!

(This is why I doubt that therapy would ever be a good choice for me. I’m entirely too willing to be a sarcastic bitch about the whole god damn thing.)

I’ve been mildly pursuing this task, mostly in the confines my own mind, where it is safer and I can deny anything that I feel like, but occasionally with friends. It’s with the friends that I unearth the actual truth though. Friends are great for not letting you hide from yourself. And believe me; I’m getting really good at that. If you ever need the lessons... I mean, NO. Bad Friend! No hiding from yourself!

So... where was I again?

Riiight. Deep set issues. Wow. It’s like a conversation killer. “Hey, want to explore my deep set issues with me? It’ll be fun!” “Sure, George sounds like a freaking blast! And by blast I mean horrible painful event, and by sure I mean No fucking way!”

What are my deep set issues? I guess the biggest one, and really it’s a hindrance to everything that I do that involves relationship period, whether they are romantic, platonic or professional, is my lack of the trusting of people. I’m the reverse of the legal system. You’re all guilty until proven otherwise. Wha-hahaha! Suckers, didn’t see that one coming did you? Unlike some people, I don’t outright test whether people are trust worthy, I just assume that you’re not. That way nobody gets hurt, and by nobody I mean me. There are people out there that I trust, and as to why I start trusting them, I really couldn’t tell you. More often than not it’s an automatic thing. I meet them and automatically assume that they are trust worthy. It’s odd but it hasn’t failed me yet. The others have more than earned my trust and respect though trial by fire. Not one of my own creation but one that happens to occur naturally in nature/life.

As to why I don’t trust people, that is a simple answer and a complex answer. Boiled down to the core is that while I was probably one of the most trusting individuals as a young child I was ruined by my peers. Elementary sucked donkey balls, junior high was worse, and high school I managed to squeak through without too much hassle. And there have been a few key people in university that have kept the torch alive so to speak. They were great people really. Gotta love ‘em. I guess it was a lesson that I was suppose to learn, though I think that the better lesson would be that people are trustworthy but remember that they are also fallible. I just got the “people are not trustworthy, trust no one. They will all burn you in the end.” Good times.

Secondly, for no apparent reason, I’m against commitment, kind of but not really. Does that make sense to you? Because I know I sure as hell get confused when I think about it. I’m all for committed relationships, and I think that commitment is a positive thing that the world could use a shit-load more of. I feel that the divorce rate would be significantly lower if people didn’t walk into marriages with the concept that “well if it doesn’t work I can get a divorce.” You are supposed to be making a commitment to this person, make it. There are always deal breakers, but Jesus Christ, at least pretend to realise that a relationship is hard work and requires effort on the part of both people to make it work.

Furthermore, when I am in a relationship, I want it to be just about me and the other person. I’m all for open relationships if that is what works for you, but if I’m going to be in a relationship I want it to be between the people involved and not outsiders. I’m not going to discount the possibility of a polyphilia situation but I doubt that I would be completely comfortable in it. Now regardless of all that, I start to get antsy when I think about being in a committed relationship. It makes me twitchy. I want a commitment without having to say that I’m committed.

I think.

I’m not so sure any more. I’ve really thought this one to death and it’s stopped making sense. It has become a huge jumble in my brain and I don’t know how to sort it out anymore. Glory be!

Finally, I come to what I feel is the most intriguing aspect of it. Why? Because it’s fucked up. Because unlike my other two issues, that I understand for the most part and am more than willing to explore further and all that jazz, I do not want to know why this issue presents itself. I do not want to explore it. I’m scared by it. I would like to forget that it exists and just continue on about my life oblivious and carefree. I’ve been asked if it’s empowering. It was, at first. Lookie at me! I sure can separate the sex and the emotion. Sex without emotion is just fucking. However the more I look at it the more I realise that I don’t know if I’ve had sex with emotion. I mean there’s passion and the hedonistic pleasure of the event but can that be emotion? Is that emotion?

What is emotion? I don’t want to have sex that moves me to tears because of the deep level of emotion in it. I don’t know if I can. I know that I am not a-emotional. I have emotions. But the sex that I have does not. It’s just animistic. I suppose that there are other ways to show emotion to people that you care about. But it stills scares me. And what is at the core of this? Why is it that I feel this way? Why do I act this way? Why? Why? Why? I don’t think it’s healthy. There is a difference between separating sex and emotion and sex being completely devoid of emotion. There should be something, shouldn’t there? It’s not like I’m not there, in the moment. I am. I’m generally not making to do lists while I have sex, that’s just boring sex. I’m there.

But there’s nothing there but the sex and 99 times out of 100 I would be perfectly content if when the sex was over I could just go to sleep and not have anyone there to disturb my sleep. “Thanks for the sex and I’ll see you next time.” I haven’t experienced that 1 time in a long time now. It’s been a good old while where I was happy to have other person there and want them to be there. I’m not going to kick someone out, but I really don’t care if they’re there or not. I’d be content either way.

C’est la vie, I guess. I suppose that one day I’ll figure it out but until then I’ll just pretend that it isn’t true. Errr... I mean... diligently work through it on my own... Riiight... That’s what I’m going to do... totally.

Brainwashed by Fashion

There I was reading my last few blogs, because I generally don't like to "reprint" things that I have already stated but I'm still intrigued by the issues/concepts/ideas (or whatever readers want to call them) I put forth in this entry.

Why?

To be honest, I don't really completely know or understand. Maybe it is because I want to understand. Maybe it's because I find that my blog is better therapy then a shrink would be. Because even though I know 99.99% of the readership I have the illusion of anonymity. Ah... The illusion of being anonymous, invisible, unknown. It does wonders for the soul. I have to bare my soul somewhere, here it's safe. Or at least it is in my mind. I don't have to confront people about what I am saying. I just say it and maybe if I'm lucky someone will comment about it. But either way it's not real. It's an illusion. Nothing is more real and nothing is less so at the moment when I push the button to publish this post. It is everything and nothing. And here you were thinking I was going to talk about sex again weren't you? Pervert.

No... I'll get there eventually. Like I said, I'm still intrigued by what I was talking about before. I'm always intrigued by my adventures in the world of romance, sex and relationships. It can be so entertaining if I try and remember that I'm not actually the one living it. But first... I was feeling philosophical. A girl can be philosophical can't she? I like to think so. Even if it is about why she continually over-share's on her blog. But really... it makes sense, doesn't it? It's like a diary that people comment on. And these comments give you a whole n'other perspective to consider. It opens other avenues and concepts to explore and consider. It gives you something to see how people see you, instead of how you see yourself. Self reflection is all well and good but seriously sometimes it is considerably lacking. Most people are too wrapped up in themselves to see true. To see what actually needs to be address and what doesn't. For example, how many woman and even men, now think that they are overweight? Why? Especially those that obviously are not. Because society has managed to brain wash itself with Fashion.

Death to Fashion! The average size of a super model today is 00, while in the 1980s it was a 6. Marylin Monroe was a size 16. Guess what? I'm a size 16. Fuck you fashion. The only different between me and Marylin is that she managed to procure a waist during puberty, on that, I was a dismal failure... well... I don't have much of an ass either. But really... pull the whole thing together and while I'm no "super model" I think that I look pretty damn good. You should see my bride's maid dress. (My sister is getting married in July.) Damn I'm hot!

Err... Ok... so as with almost everyone else in the world there are aspects about myself I'd like to fix. Two to be exact. One: my spare tire. I've had it for as long as I can remember, I don't think since puberty hit full force I've had the "flat stomach." When I'm in shape and what not, it's next to non-existent but its still there. Go spare tire. Sometimes it's a mini sometimes it's a full sized. I've learned to love it as a part of me but that doesn't mean I don't want it to be a smaller part of me. Two: my breast. I'm sick of 'em. I really am. They're heavy, and my back hurts, and my lungs feel like there's a thirty pound weight sitting on my chest... oops... wait... there is! I don't sit up straight, so I cramp my lungs. If I don't start sitting up straight I could develop a dowager's hump, and that's sexy as hell. So yah... It's fair to say that I damn near hate my breasts. I could go with a good small C. That'd be nice. I don't think I've been a C since about grade 9. All I know is I hit D in grade 10. And I'm sure as hell not a DD anymore either. I don't want to get size properly but I do know that I don't fit anything that I can find in the regular shops anymore. And on the off chance that I do find something its the most uncomfortable piece of shit that I have ever tried on. So... Yah... I'm human. But I'm a human in a society brain washed by fashion.

But Bobbi... What about the sex? Weren't you going to talk about the sex?

Pervert.

The Matrix: Reloaded

Most of what I'm going to say here has probably already been said by at least on critic. But then really it goes without saying; sometimes things just deserve to be said more than once.

Whoa.

I think that line more than any really speaks to the awesomeness that is The Matrix: Reloaded. Why? Because it is that one line that Neo manages to deliver time and time again with emotion. It's sad that a CG rendition of of the actor has a greater capacity to deliver a more emotionally moving action sequence then the actual actor has.

Then there is the ever epic dance/sex scene set to what is an awesome techno track I do say. I personally get more enjoyment out of the quasi sex that is happening on the dance floor then is happening in the bedroom. And trust me when I say it I know how Trinity feels. And believe me, sex that vanilla is not as exciting as the music makes it seem. In fact its a lot more like the ending. Sad and emo like, with the strategically placed foot to cover up the Keanu ass that no one wants to see.

I think the only good thing about the whole bloody thing is Agent Smith, and even that gets over done to the point that it soon becomes painful. It starts off cool enough. "I have something for him, a gift. You see, he set me free..." And what with his ability to copy himself, even into living humans that move beyond the Matrix. (A little unbelievable for me but then who's to say what the mind is truly capable of.) It just becomes ridiculous when they all show up and still can't take down a "mere human." Blarg!

I think that worst thing about the whole bloody thing is the constant references to Jesus and the Bible... I mean at least in the Matrix is was subtle. It was there but only to the trained observer, someone who had actually read the Bible with any amount of retention. But in the Matrix: Reloaded and Revolutions it blatant and practically painful. It's so obvious that even the most devote of non-religious types who know even the most basic information about aforementioned historical/religious references can ascertain what the hell they are getting at. Neo is Jesus. And this is just the Bible story made in a relevant media.

Oh and last but certainly not least are the spectacular awesome sound effects. Who ever was the Foley artist would be better suited to making cartoons! The best example is when Neo is originally fighting off the pack of Smiths they all pile on top of him and he, inevitably manages to throw them all off while hanging on to one. This poor bastard he throws in a pack of waiting Smiths (because they are all idiots) and as they fall over it sounds like bowling pins. I suppose it fits though, considering the shoddy job of CG that that managed to scrape together. At least it looks like a cartoon when there are cartoon sound effects.

But... I am at a loss for words concerning this dribble... and uninspired by Keanu's inability to act. Though I must admit he does a pretty damn good job in Constantine. I like that one. I don't know why.

A Year in Reflection...

It's officially 2008 and while I don't really know about the rest of you but sometimes the new year gets me to thinking, mostly about the previous year. What it was like and all that Jazz. And honestly, while this wasn't the best year ever, it was far from the worst year on record. (That was 2006... ugg.)

2007 started out strong enough. I went snowboarding with Care and her family (They are tres awesome) thus missing out on the first couple days of school. Which is always a bonus. I hurt my foot but all in all it was a good time. I mean you can't go wrong carving down the slopes behind the Tamarack chair at Marmot. Sexy. All kinds of sexy. The best part was that I bought a season's pass which I put to good use. I got way more then my money's worth. It was a good year for snowboarding.

Went out to Kimberley for another trip of snowboarding awesomeness. Great times all 'round. Found some spectacular powder, that was totally worth the hike. I'm getting rather good in the powder now. The best part of the trip though was tackling the same track I took in grade 9 and totally acing it instead of being completely being owned my it. I remember it being so much harder when I was in grade 9.

School itself went really well until a spectacular bout of anxiety and depression pulled me through the floor. I can honestly say that I haven't experienced anything like that before. And I've spent a large chunk of my life hanging out in that end of the pool I think I am more than qualified to talk about it. (Didn't really see that coming did you?) I even went to the doctor and got me some fun little pills. While they certainly levelled me out and removed the anxiety they also managed to make me feel like a walking zombie. I wasn't really sure what feelings were anymore. And honestly, I'd rather never feel that completely devoid of emotion again. I'd rather be sad then nothing. It wasn't kosher. Didn't really say a lot about it when it happened. What with the stigma that is attached to a lot of mental illnesses and all. I decided to protect myself instead of trusting the people around me. Which makes absolutely no sense because the people around me are ten kinds of awesome. The few that did know supported me in anyway they could, and I don't really think that I've told them how much I really appreciated it.

Met someone in March right during the thick my depression. He was good for me made me remember that there are moments of joy in the world. It wasn't to last and we broke up after not quite a month. Started my practicum at probably my favourite place to date. The staff, kids and people were awesome. I learned a lot. I even got to work with several special needs children. It was awesome, and completely fulfilling. I've never seen a child that was just that in love with life as the one little boy was. He had his hard days but they didn't phase him. He was still just there in the moment. Kinda makes me wish that I was able to do that more. I even went back and worked there during the summer. Which is huge for me because it meant that I had to quit my other job at another daycare. I wasn't sure if it was the right choice at the time. I don't like change (it cause emotional upheaval. I avoid that because it generally triggers anxiety and depression. Not fun.) And while the emotional upheaval was there, and I didn't get a little anxious, all it all it was the right decision. It was a whole new ball game and I had a lot more responsibility but it was worth it.

After all was said and done I went back to school. In the misted of losing two friend to the world, Sam to England and Care to Japan, I went back with a heavier heart then normal but looking forward to the last year. (That's right I graduate in April!!!) Another friend had battled cancer through the summer and we spent a lot of time together. He told us that he was in remission but it came back. And while I let him dump on me I slipped in school. I missed a solid two weeks of class because while I helped him deal with what was happening I had to deal with what was happening and I just wasn't able to do that while I was in school. My marks suffered (that'll happen when your participation mark is worth more then a major project) but nothing that I can't fix this semester. I just have to show up and be able to participate, I think I can do that. I went into practicum still in funk and it didn't help where my placement was. I wouldn't change it for the world. I learned more about myself during those 5 weeks then in the last five years. Being in that environment will do that I suppose. But I don't think that I am cut out for crisis work. My instructor thinks I am, and she says that I shouldn't give up on it so easy, especially considering my own situation, but I just don't know. I think that I'm too empathetic for it. I too easily take the world's problems on my shoulders. And really... I have enough of my own and other people's without taking on the problems of women there. It drags.

I took time off from Dec 11 until Jan 7 when I will have to go back to school... It was good. Spent time on the farm... caught up on my doing absolutely nothing and with my parents and grandparents. Finished Care's afghan of doom. I won't tell you the trouble I had finishing it... but let's just say that I did a little dance when I found the yarn I needed. Otherwise the trip home was glorious. Came back to the city for hangouts and good times with the friendly type people. (You know who you are!) Went home for Christmas. It was good. I didn't stay long... only three days. Back to the city for more hangouts and good times with the peoples. And it is now a few odd days before I return to the schooling... Well here's to the new year. Here's hoping that it is no worse than last!