Re-Cap

Considering the crap job I'm doing of updating lately (what do you want I don't have that kind of TIME anymore, but I will try harder I promise), I've decided that I should do a little re-cap for those who may just be tuning in, and also for myself as a sort of fresh start blogger-wise.
While trying my best not to sound like a personal ad or a lame ass profile of some sort, here are the details insofar as I am willing to divulge them:
I am a 22 year old Canadian in my last year and a half of university. People get pretty confused when I say year and a half, but it's simply because I spent last year travelling and took a semester off, leaving me with 3 semesters to finish my degree rather than just 2 (grumble grumble grumble). Also I don't want to be confused with the third years. I am a film major, which does not necessarily mean I'm going to be a loser; my best friend is JHR, who has much more direction than I do although probably more stress as a result of same; I have a boyfriend, DE, who lives in Germany, much to my great dismay, but who might just be amazing enough for me to overlook that fact; I live with three guys: Av, and two characters who will make their first appearances here, TM and MHs. We're considering starting a new sitcom entitled "Three Guys, A Girl, and a Tiny Space." Too bad Ryan Reynolds wasn't available to take part...
I just got a job at a bakery, for which my roommates are eternally grateful to their various Gods.
I'm a confirmed cynic (obviously), a reluctant poet, and a complete a/v geek.
On the darker side, I have a minor Buffy the Vampire Slayer obsession which is becoming more and more difficult to admit to as I get older, but I stand by her; I am allergic to antibiotics, which makes me feel like one of those bubble people, and terrified when I get sick; and I suffer from an anxiety disorder which I'm making progress towards getting in hand.
I read dooce everyday as part of my daily de-angsting. For some reason she calms me down, which is weird for someone I've never met.
And finally, this weekend while the Queen's rats were rioting, I was definitely asleep on my couch. Just for all y'all who saw it on every national newscast and were worried about me. Never fear, I did not get slammed in the head by a horse, a beer bottle, or a police baton. So that's cool.

Basement Dweller

So far, I've been living in our new house in Kingston for two and a half weeks, and I have not yet ventured down into the basement. Why? Well, I'm not normally terribly skittish when it comes to basements, or attics, or other routinely haunted areas of buildings, but honestly our basement resembles the descent into hell itself. It's a dank dark grey tunnel down those stairs, leading to a dirt floor, and I have yet to locate any lightswitch. I took one look down there and announced to my housemates that whensoever someone should need to do ANYTHING in the basement it would not be me.
Well today at 9:30, the meter man knocked on our door and being the only one conscious, I let him in and into the basement where the meter is apparently -- or so he said. I have a tendency in this city to presume that every city worker I see is probably an ex-con who is casing our house, though obviously this cannot ALWAYS be the case -- but in Kingston it definitely could sometimes. Anyway, this guy came tramping through our living room (stepping over two coffee tables and an errant plastic bag, much to my female embarassment) and down into the basement. He too found no light switch and proceeded with a little pocket flashlight. Down down he went, and I heard him falling over Av's various plastic bags which he may or may not have thrown down there from the top of the stairs, and then silence. I stood in the living room waiting awkwardly for him to come back up so I could let him back out, and realized that I was sort of expecting to hear a shout of horror. I mean, that basement, it's not possible that there isn't SOMETHING scary down there. There's gotta be at least a raccoon or possibly the spectre of some long dead hooker whose bones are buried under the dirt floor. Something like that.

Dooce does it again

hilarious

Head Space

Okay so I'm finally sort of possibly back in the swing of things here. I'm home for the weekend to get my head organized, have some quiet reading time, have another poke through the attic to find the rest of my stuff (and then vacuum the mouse shit off of it), and quietly deal with having to say good bye to DE this morning at the airport. I think my parents are relieved that I'm not moping around the house, lying morosely in bed, or hiding in dark corners (some may want to see the companion reading on this...), and my mother has already hopefully put forward her "don't tie yourself down" argument, which she always does, regardless of the guy or the investment I've made in the relationship.
Anyway, so I'm at the point after the first week of classes where I start to make crazy perfectionistic charts to stick on my walls of all the assignments I have to do for the semester (with little boxes to check when they're completed) and calendars and colour coded week schedules... Happily this weekend I can do so without COMPLETELY freaking out my roommates, who already think I'm slightly insane because of my propensity for apologizing when things are not really my fault.
So, yes, couple of days to unwind and maybe put up some pictures that I meant to put up a couple weeks ago with my last post, but never got around to.

Here's to getting back to blogging.

Cheers

Guys, I get blog spam now

I don't know whether to feel proud that I'm this popular, or really annoyed.

Happy Birthday to Me

Well this is a bit late, but it was my birthday on Friday. I turned 22, and gee, let's see -- nope, don't feel too different.
When I was little, my birthday felt like Christmas to me -- except it was Christmas JUST FOR ME. I used to try and finagle my way into a birthday lunch or even breakfast just so I could have my presents earlier.
Then, around the time I turned 13, my birthdays started to SUCK beyond the telling of it. Early September, as so many of my friends also know, is an incredibly shitty time to have a birthday, and yet, thanks to its 9-month proximity to Christmas and New Year's, more babies are born in September than any other month.
My 13th birthday was spent in France, without friends, and, I might add, against my will. I did NOT want to be there. On top of it all, I had to share my birthday with this horrible mopey teenager named DE. haha
My 14th birthday was the first day of high school... nuff said.
My 15th birthday I had no friends, as sometimes happens once in said high school.
My 16th birthday AGAIN was shared with DE, although he was slightly less horrible at that point.
My 17th birthday was spent at my Great Uncle's wedding.
My 18th birthday was spent on a train from Montreal with some hungover hockey players talking loudly about disturbing... disturbing things.
My 19th birthday I moved into residence at uni.
My 20th birthday no one had really showed up to school yet... again it was a bit lame
My 21st birthday we went to an extremely expensive Chinese restaurant in Kyiv where the Russian mafia were having a confab. Every time there was a loud bang from the kitchens the big scary men in black suits with shaved heads (yeah, the Transporter) reached quickly under the table to finger their guns.

This year I had a bit of a change of pace in my birthday. First of all I kept completely forgetting that it was my birthday -- every time someone reminded me by saying "Happy Birthday" I was like, "Oh yeah!"
My mom took me to Winners and bought me new clothes.
I cleaned my room, and did laundry.
I went to Harvey's for dinner with JHR.
And then she and I drove to the airport and picked up DE (no longer horrible, quite the opposite in fact), who spent his birthday on Thursday in a plane en route to see me. And then we went out and partied long into the night...

Hurray for no more sucky birthdays.
Hurray that I'm old enough now not to be bothered by them at all.