No Diggity























Ooh la la doo-wa-diddy (Woo-woo!)
Cause I got the key to the city
Ooh la la doo-wa-diddy (Woo-woo!)
Can we go somewhere and get busy?
Ooh la la doo-wa-diddy (Woo-woo!)
You're lookin kinda pretty
Ooh la la doo-wa-diddy (Woo-woo!)
Can I get close to the kitty?

Didn't Coolio change his name? El Cool Magnifico? Magnifiso? El Coolio Magnifico? When I was eleven he was so hard core. I used to daydream about living on the Esplanade (near the Spaghetti Factory) and livin' the gangsta life. Don't laugh, I'm being serious.

I can't help it. My parents kept me sheltered. I had to hide in my closet to listen to my TLC crazy sexy cool cd (probably the second disc I ever bought) and the Simpsons was reserved for visits to granny's or when my brother was babysitting.

The first cd I ever bought was Ace of Base - The Sign. I was introduced to their infectious beats by a churcy mcgee who couldn't go out for halloween. We would rush back to her house after school to sit in her room and listen to "The Sign". She had an older sister who was so cool. She went to highschool, had a boyfriend and got her... gasp... period. My mom hated Ace of Base. She thought "All That She Wants" was about getting pregnant. I can still vividly remember my brother and I convincing her that it was about a boy. I used to think that "Wheel of Fortune" was infact about the gameshow.

It's as hot as a flapjack outside... and I'm wearing my "nifty pants". I'm starting to look like I just walked out of a music video. A JoJo video, but still, a video.

Well, it's official. I got my letter from the UofG yesterday telling me they are finally going to let me go. And (!!!) with disctinction. Or... as the letter said WITH DISTINCTION. That was the only part of the letter that was in bold. It's like they were screaming it.

And so the hunt for an outfiit commences. My grandmother wanted to argue about that too. And even though I will be wearing a robe I still have this great fear that someone else will show up in the same outfit. And so... I will venture to Richmond Row and pay an excessive amount for something I will probably never wear again. On second thought... maybe I should buy something a little more Paris Hilton, a little less JoJo and wear it again in the Fall.

I asked for a new cell phone for graduation. Every good rockstar can't be seen with the Walmart special.

I have a bigger graduation fear though... the roomate. Oh wait, I'm not supposed to blog about her am I.

Fuck it.

If I never have to see her again it will be too soon. I literally want her to think that I dropped off the face of the earth. I plan on giving my parents strict instructions that should her or her family be spotted that no words shall be spoken of my future plans. I was so relieved when our last phone billl arrived and was only $4... means I don't have to contact her to send me cash.

She doesn't deserve to have any further contact wtih me. As I was driving back to London last night I contemplated why I wasn't even tempted to cry. I cried every single time I drove back to Guelph. So what was missing from this new equation? Her.

Okay, thats it. No more talk of her. She makes my brain hurt.

I think my grandma washed my sheets in regular detergent. I'm so itchy!

Early In The Morning

We didn't think it'd last beyond summer
I met her father she met my mother
We didn't have anywhere else to go
She said to me when we grow older
Will we still need young love on our shoulders
Does it just fade away, will we ever know?

She touched my face and called me her lover
I never thought that I'd need another

Your cool suburban sun
You're foolin' every one
You win some you lose some

Now it's gone, now it's gone,You win some, you lose some
Now it's gone, now it's gone,You win some, you lose some
Now it's gone, now it's gone,You win some, you lose some
Now it's gone, now it's gone,You win some, you lose some

Win some

I got angry at my grandmum last night. Then I felt terrible about it. It was literally like a gigantic zit of frustration that just exploded all over creation.

My grandmother complains about everything. Everything. Nothing makes her happy, she doesn't like anyone, she doesn't want to do anything. Nothing is good on tv, the weather is never good enough, nothing is ever good enough to eat. That last one especially. It seems like every meal she tells me that food doesn't taste to her anymore. Why bother eating?, she asks me. I try to ignore her. But then last night I just couldn't take it anymore. I asked her why she didn't talk to her doctor about it. And she told me that he would just get some crazy idea. Then I told her that if it bothered her so much she should talk to him about it. Then she demanded to know why I thought it bothered her. So I told her. She talks about it. All. The. Time. She then wanted to argue about how often she talks about it.

Then I spent the rest of the night thinking about it.

My grandmum may not have any of the normal syndromes of old age. But after only a week of being her housemate and the genetic link is gleaming.

I take a pill every day so I don't ralf in class. I also take it so I don't get fed up and toss myself off the nearest bridge (Which I have been much closer to doing than most would suspect).

But my grandmum is fighting this alone.

She doesn't believe in things like this. There should be nothing wrong with me. I shouldn't have to take a medication. But I do. And if I didn't take that medication I'd be utterly unfunctional. I'm not myself off it and I am definately not myself on it either.

But the me without it was unbearable. I imagine that its umbearable for her too. I want to suggest it. But I don't have to.

I already know what the answer woulld be.

My rafly feeling comes rushing back when I think about how she might be forced to live out her final years, just waiting for some kind of relief. When she thought she was going blind it was the end of her world. It wasn't. She has so much more than the majority of people her age. But its pointless to try and remind her. She won't ever get it.

But not for lack of trying. For lack of the ability to. I would never ask a baby to climb a moutain, so, I shouldn't ask my grandmum to stop complaining.

I spent much of my childhood looking out for someone who was supposed to look out for me. Another six weeks shouldn't be this hard.

Confessions, Pt.2

























You drew a picture of my morning
But you couldn't make my day, Hey!
I'm rockin' and you're yawning
But you never look my way, Hey!
I'm lickin down you darlin'
In every single way, Hey!
Your funny flow is foreign
And a green card's on the way!

What are the chances that two anatomy partners, from the same school, find themselvse in partners again in an anatomy class at a new school?

Apparently pretty good.

AL's in my human anatomy class.

This would also be a good time to tell you that we do not in fact cut up any humans in this human anatomy class. What? Exactly.

But on the plus side my proffessor is kinda cute. More cute than D... and probalby less of a COMPLETE asshole. Maybe his wife is a nurse.

So there we sat, us three Guelphians, who found each other in a sea of Mustangs. As much as I find relief in the comfort of the familiar, I would much rather make new friends. Not that me and these girls were ever friends to begin with. But, you know what I mean.

So far today I have even seen a pregnant girl that looked like she was just walking off the set of Paris Hilton's newest "music" video. Maybe I need some new clothes. I think I'll start with the backpack.

Mmm cute boy alert. Smoking. Yes. But I can deal. I dated a smoker once. A psycho smoker... but yet I still find the smell comforting.

We didn't have boys at my old school.

Anyway. Anatomy was rather dull. Oh. Except for this whole "clicker" thing. Don't worry I am as confused as you. From what I hear its UWO's version of "ask the audience" on Millionaire. Or maybe Judge Joe Brown's ask the audience. Either way I am still lost. I feel like my last four years were spent in the stone-age. Maybe thats what was wrong wtih Prof.P... he was a dinosaur.

At my old school we only had wireless internet in the library, the UC and the OVC cafeteria... oh and Creelman. Here I can check my email and chat with friends in class.

Well, as much as I would love to babble on for hours... I should really go learn how to write a literature review. It's about time I learn. (Can you feel my eyes rolling??)

What's My Name?

I'm so lost.

Suddenly Guelph doesn't feel as bad as it used to.

My first day here and I swear everyone looks like they just stepped out of a music video.

I used to be cool at my old school, I swear!

People here wear Abercrombie and have cool backpacks. Everyone does wear purple. And I'm wearing pink.

Do I really have to wear a skirt on Wednesday?

People wear their backpacks on one shoulder, do I have to wear my backpack on one shoulder?

Last night on my drive into London I took Wellington Road. I drove through downtown listening to "Waterloo!" by ABBA. I looked at all the downtown appartment buildings hopefully. It was exciting. Living in a new place... downtown... near a Starbucks.

Then I came to school this morning. At my old school a parking pass was just a parking pass. At Western a parking pass is some crazy little computer that talks to some other crazy little computer at the entrance to the parking lot to make the gate go up. What's with that?

At my old school the internet worked everywhere in the Student Centre. At my new school the internet only works in certain areas. And you just have to magically know where those areas are.

At my old school there were no boys.

At my old school I knew where to go and who to see. At my new school I find myself having flashbacks to that time when I got lost in the Bay.

But at my new school there is no one to ask to page my mum to come and get me. I have officially turned into a twenty-three year old baby.

I wonder if they can smell my stupidity.

I could really go for a coffee right now... but at my old school I had a meal card. At my new school the meal card place isn't even open.

Somebody Told Me.


















If you believe in magic, come along with me
We'll dance until morning 'til there's just you and me
And maybe, if the music is right
I'll meet you tomorrow, sort of late at night
And we'll go dancing, baby, then you'll see
How the magic's in the music and the music's in me

Yeah, do you believe in magic
Yeah, believe in the magic of a young girl's soul
Believe in the magic of rock and roll
Believe in the magic that can set you free
Ohh, talking 'bout magic

Right now I'm living at work.

Yes. Living. At. Work.

And yes, I do get paid by the hour for this.

I like to think of it as being paid for a birth control drug trial. Yesterday, on my way to pick up my charge from weekend-camp I actually thought about what I was going to make for dinner. There I was, twenty-three years old, driving a twelve passenger (!!!) van, thinking about whether or not to make hot dogs or order pizza.

I can be as judgemental as the best of them, but I've been trying to work my way down. It's too easy to judge a middleaged woman raising a grown baby and a loser of a nearly twenty-something son. It's easy to say 'my way's better'. But its not too easy to live her life for even two days. It's not easy listening to children's music seven hours a day, its not easy changng his movie every seven minutes and being happy about it, its not easy putting him in the van, putting him on the bed, putting him on the toilet, brushing his teeth, making him dinner, feeding him dinner or taking him for a walk. It's not easy waking up every hour just to make sure you can still hear him breath then waking up the next morning ready to take on the day.

Its easy to judge a woman who's life hasn't been easy since the day he was born.

And whats most interesting about walking two days in her shoes, everyone I encounter wants to judge her too. The nurse thinks she gets angry too much, the day camp director thinks she is too picky, the bus driver thinks she needs a schedual and her twenty-something loser of a son thinks she has too many rules... she cares too much.

Everyone wants me to agree. Because if I said it was true, while living her life, then it must be so.

The only reason I had him out to the bus on time today was because my life hasn't been easy for a day. Her's hasn't been easy for 18.

You Had A Bad Day.
















Far away from the life so young
That's when you used to know
Many dreams since then you've had have come and gone
The time might show
But stress, don't you let in, don't you forget it
Trust you'll find your way love
Hope is what your heart is made of
And don't you forget it
Don't you forget your way home
For that little girl
Hold on to your world

You've probably never known someone who is exactly like me.

I'm the one who lives through everyone else's worst case scenarios. I'm what you were predicting when you prepared for the worst. I'm the one who gave my all for something and got in return nothing that I had wanted. I'm the one who things like this would only happen to.

I'm the reason there ever was a plan z.

But I am also the one who is learning to carry on.

I've been lost for as long as I can remember. But lately I've gone from lost, to stranded, to doomed. For the past two years I made my life around a goal that I assumed was attainable. But then I found out the hard way it wasn't. Three grad school applications, three letters of reference, three statements of intent and three rejection letters. Suddenly I just wasn't as entitled as I thought I was.

And I had given up two years of my life trying.

I sacrificed friends, family, myself, to get to the point where I was left with nothing, except two rude and one promising rejection letter. A "try again next year" is better than a "who were you foolin'", at least that's what I'm told.

And when that wasn't enough even my plan b failed. They lost my transcript - and just like that my application was tossed from the pile. I could hear the secretary smile though the phone, a bazillion transcripts a day received and mines the one that goes missing.

But what did I expect? After all, shit like this does only happen to me.

And before I knew it, what I had joked about all along, was finally here.

That's when I knew that I had cared too much. I have never been in love, but I can still know what a broken heart feels like.

And the worst part is that no one understands.

Everyone said the last four years of my life would be the best I've ever had but they must have lied. I may have only been around for twenty-three but the last one was the worst. It's the one when everything thing I have been running from finally caught up to me.

But maybe its all over now. 'Cause maybe things are looking up. And as much as it hurts to say, maybe it was meant to be. I've learned that anything is possible.

And if that's true for the bad, then maybe someday it will happen for the good.

I don't know what I'm going to wear tomorrow. I don't know where I'm going to sleep next week. I don't know what this will feel like next year.

Believe what you want and say what you will because the me you assume isn't probably the me I know at all.