What It Feels Like For a Girl.

Every time I think of you
I feel shot right through
with a bow of gloom.
It's no problem of mine,
but it's a problem I find
living a life that I can't leave behind.
There's no sense in telling me
the wisdom of a fool won't set you free.
But that's the way that it goes
and it's what nobody knows
while every day my confusion grows.
Every time I see you falling
I get down on my knees and pray.
I'm waiting for that final moment
you'll say the words that I can't say.
I feel fine and I feel good
I'm feeling like nobody should.
Whenever I get this way
I just don't know what to say.
Why can't we be ourselves
like we were yesterday

I've been emotional since 3am this morning. PMS always catches me like some sort of masked avenger... takes me over and makes me seep sad. It also makes me remember at this very moment - as I sit here thinking how it makes me emotional and like I want to jump out of my own skin but I just can't figure out how to - I forgot to take my happy pill today.

Shit.

God help me if I ever have to take any form of anti-baby medication. I'd be barefoot and pregnant more often than I sneeze.

We have a racoon living in the atic. I have named him Rocky. I thought by being obvious I was being not obvious. Meh, it was worth a try. I have a feeling he has been there for quite some itme now. At least for the past 6 weeks. He sleeps directly above my head and at 5am I can hear him trying to dig his claws through the celing above me so he may tumble into my bed and bite my face off.

No, I'm not making this up. It's true, I swear. Ask my mum.

I've also given up on "Hands Im My Pocket" for "'Coon in the Atic". I was ready for a change.

So Canada Day weekend is upon us, and accompanying the high gas prices that I will now have to pay since driving to school is no longer a reason to get my daddy to buy my gas, comes me and work. Ah yes, spending two days out a three day weekend being bored out of my mind and couting down the minutes seems like it should provide for some interesting stories to tell my friends. I was thinking today what it might be like to have a job that I actually look forward to going to. Having a boss who's voice doesn't drill holes in my brain. Then I thought that maybe the only job that could fill that description is a house wife. Ah yes, a soccer mum in training. Dressing my kids in cute clothing, putting their hair up in little bows, sending them off to a pricey private school then spending the rest of my day baking pies and watching day time televsion.

It is rather scary that the part of my job I love the most is the cleaning and doing laundry part. I suppose because it provides me with something to do other than colour in a Barney colouring book (what colour is Barney again? "prune", "lilac" or "violet"?). I can't help it if I find a neat pile of clean laundry and stacks of clean dishes rewarding. They give me that warm fuzzy feeling that a fully coloured page never can.

But for now we will see how nursing pans out. Somewhere in the back of my mind I always feel like I am just filling time until I can get married and make babies.

Maybe taking an anti-baby medication won't be such a problem after all.

Hands Clean.

























Jane, divided, but I can't decide what side I'm on
Jane decided only cowards stay, while traitors run
Jane, Jane

I'd bring her gold and frankincense and myrrh
She thought that I was making fun of her
She made me feel I was fourteen again
That's why she thinks it's cooler if we'd just stay friends
Jane doesn't think a man could ever be faithful
Jane isn't giving me a chance to be shamefu

I spent the last half hour bitterly reading my former classmates myspace.com's. No one I would actually care to read about actually has a myspace, so instead I squint my eyes and shake my head at those who do have ones. There is the boy who once posted on a website that he wouldn't have sex with me because I have no eye brows. And the girl who thinks that simply by being Jewish she is a kind hearted person.

I'm allowed to be bitter. Because despite how far I have come in this world and how much I have changed, they are the ones responsible for those tiny moments of insanity I have when I think that I am just not good enough for this world.

Not matter how much it irks me to say it. They are responsible fro a big part of the way I am today. They are the voices in the back of my head that say things like "I told you so" and "did you actually think you had a chance?" when I fall on my face... again.

But what bothers me most is that they appear to have it all together. Their blogs never talk about feeling like Frank Grimes or struggling to deal with an ailing grandmother. They live in big houses, have friends that look like they just walked out of Laguna Beach and drive "nice rides".

Am I the last living person who actually blogs something real.

I think all of my friends are cool, but they are also as geeky as I am. None of them look like they just walked off the set of Laguna Beach and one of them wears black and navy blue together quite frequently. I drive my dad's '99 Grand Am fully loaded with two car seats and half a dozen old parking passes. I rarely look like I just walked off the set of a music video and can go two days without taking a shower. I enjoy hanging out with my mom and have quite frequently done homework on a saturday night.

Take that bitches.

I would have never had sex with him anyway. You know what they say about short guys who over-compensate with their cars.

In My Place.

We've tried to wash our hands of all this
We never talk of our lacking relationships
And how we're guilt stricken sobbing with our
Heads on the floor
We fell through the ice when we tried not to
Slip, we'd say

I can't be held responsible
She was touching her face
And I won't be held responsible
She fell in love in the first place

For the life of me I cannot remember
What made us think that we were wise and
We'd never compromise
For the life of me I cannot believe
We'd ever die for these sins
We were merely freshmen

I'm feeling a little more Frank Grimes than Paris Hilton today.

No, not this Frank Grimes:


Or this Frank Grimes:


And not this Frank Grimes:


Nor even this Frank Grimes:


This Frank Grimes:


Didn't you ever wonder if its possible to never feel jealous? To be so completely and utterly thrilled with your very own life that you never for a second contemplated what it would be like to be someone else.

To never once think that life is just not fair.

To never ever want something more than what you already have. And to never wonder if you will never get what you've always wanted.

To never have second thoughts, make second guesses or take a second look. To never wonder what anyone else is thinking or what someone else is doing while you do nothing. To always have something to say and a story to tell.

To never be sad because you're not the best, but be happy because you did the best for you. To never long for anything or think that just one more thing will make you happy.

To feel like you get everything that's coming to you and avoiding what comes without invitation.

To feel like you may actually be something to be jealous of.

I guess what im trying to say is that it still really hurts sometimes. And I cry about it, still, by myself. Because I don't want anyone to know how much it still hurts. And all I really want is tell someone and for someone to hurt with me.

Its so hard hurting by myself.

Crazy In Love

















I need a lover to give me
The kind of love that will last always
I need somebody uplifting
To take me away babe...oh yeah yeah
I want a lover who knows me
Who understands how I feel inside
Someone to comfort and hold me
Through the long lonely nights
Till the dawn
Why don't you take me away

Dreamlover come rescue me
Take me up take me down
Take me anywhere you want to baby now
I need you so desperately
Won't you please come around
'Cause I wanna share forever with you baby

I don't want another pretender
To disillusion me one more time
Whispering words of forever
Playin with my mind

I need someone to hold on to
The kind of love that won't fly away
I just want someone to belong to
Everyday
Of my life
Always
So come and take me away

Dreamlover come rescue me
Take me up take me down
Take me anywhere you want to baby now
I need you so desperately
Won't you please come around
'Cause I wanna share forever with you baby

Why did disco ever die? Better yet, why am I the only one who seems to listen to it now? Is my iPod the only one this side of tacky country weddings to joyfully pump out McArthurs Park and Ring My Bell?

One day I am certain my pod will find another, just like itself and then the planets shall align.

The best episodeo of Bervely Hills 90210 was on this week.

Yes, I just said that.

I'm not sure which day, because I have been so uhh busy... yes busy... this week that I havn't had a chance to watch them the day of. It was the one where Dylan is over to work on Brandons car and Brenda comes home... wearing very short jean shorts. At which point Dylan rolls out from under the car and the camera pans up her gams. Then back to Dylan coyley smiling at her.

And teenage girls everywhere came in their pants.

At that very moment, then and now I wished I had a twin brother. With a hot friend. No wait, I just wished my brother was cool.

The episode continues with the three ("Bran", "Bren" and Dylan) chuming around town, going to movies, listening to the latest C&C Music Factory hits on Dylan's dad's kickin' stereo. Then, suddenly and out of no where poor Brandon comes down with the five minute flu. And poor Brenda is forced to go to the movies alone with Dylan McKay.

And teenage girls everywhere had heart palpatations.

For some reason, for which I can't remember, they don't go to the movie but instead back to Dylan's dad's house. Where in Dylan and his father have a screaming match about nothing in particular. Dylan tries to drink. Brenda screams "but your dirivng me home!". Dylan leaves in a huff. They end up in the lobby and Brenda screams for cab. Then Dylan screams for NO CAB! Then they have a lovers arm wrestle. And Dylan picks up a flower pot throws it with all his might and it shatters all over the sidewalk.

And the pieces scatter everywhere in slow motion. The dirt spewing forth like the passion out of Dylan's heart.

Okay so maybe I made that last part up.

And teenage girls everywhere were forever cursed to unconditionally love the bad boy.

It was at this point, on a Sunday afternoon, wearing my pink elephant pj's, sitting intently in my grandmum's lazy boy, that I suddenly found the answer I had been looking for. Somewhere in my impressionable youth my poor little puney brain had forever been warped by that episode. And as I watched it again, ten years later it played out like a bad memory. Had I forever been brainwashed by tv to forgive a bastard? Is this who taught me that dating a psychotic, drug abusing, alcoholic, slut of man with a violent temper was romantic?

Except my bastard never showed up the next day to make it up to me by making out and looking sexy.

It makes me wonder what watching all those episdoes of Jenny Jones with my mum did to my poor brain.

The saddest part of this tale is that I fell asleep last night dreaming of a lovers quaral with Robbie Williams after which he became even more infatuated with me and made hot pasionate love to me for days so we could forget all our troubles.

Anyone watch the first episode of Flavour of Love replayed yesterday? Priceless.

Don't Want To Lose You Now

You've got your mother and your brother
Every other undercover
Tellin' you what to say
You think I'm stupid
But the truth is
That it's cupid, baby

Lovin' you has made me this way
So before you point your finger
Get your hands off of my trigger
Oh yeah
You need to know this situation's getting old
And now the more you talk
The less I can say, oh

I'm looking for attention
Not another question

As if my geek-dom couldn't get any worse... I spent last night trying to solve a rubiks cube, afterwhich I played solitare... and lost... followed by a pout/sob fest while watching Laguna Beach.

And if that wasn't bad enough. The cherry on my sundae was an 82% on my nursing midterm. Maybe I'm just not getting it.

One meesley point higher than the average and smack on the median. There I sit.

But being average is just so... average.

If i'm not the smart one, then what? What am I then?

I had this same problem last summer. Without waking up at 7am on a weekend and sacrificing myself to the library all day I was suddenly... nothing. I never felt accomplished. I never fellt proud. Then something changed in my brain and I wasn't willing to try hard, but I wasn't willing to fail either. They told me that taking a pill every day might solve my troubles but its just made me into a blob. A complete blob.

Ninety percent of my identity is my brain and lately we just can't seem to get along.

Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic

You can dress me up diamonds
You can dress me up in dirt
You can throw me like a line-man
I like it better when it hurts
Oh, I have waited here for you
I have waited

You make me wanna la la
in the kitchen on the floor
I'll be a french maid
When I meet you at the door
I'm like an alley cat
Drink the milk up, I want more
You make me wanna
You make me wanna scream

Take a quick glance to the side and stare into the eyes of a girl who just got the highest mark in the class on her anatomy midterm and scored a paintable (!) downtown apartment.

Within a five minute walk to one Starbucks and ten minutes to the next.

Life is good. It really really is.

This is going to sound weird but I finally feel like maybe Karma caught up. Maybe I have been running so fast for the past two years that Karma just couldn't cut it. Here I am Karma, right here, ooo ooo over here!

My grandmums friend from when she was eleven (!) died on Tuesday. I havn't figured out how sad she is yet. I'd be sad. But my grandmum doesn't like to show people she's sad. She didn't even want to cry at her own husbands funeral.

Lets see, what else is new.

Monday I graduated. Yawn. It was okay. I turned into an episode of Laguna Beach when my mum told me she was taking me on a shopping trip to Tiffany's for my gift.

Life is good.

One more week of classes, then one more to go and summer can begin. In August? Then I get to spruce up my new digs and move on in. I've already picked out paint colours, placed furniture, hung pictures on the wall of my mind and walked to the local starbucks about a million times in my day dreams. It's no T-O but maybe its the best thing I never thought.

Hips Don't Lie

I used to be a rolling stone
You know if the cause was right
I'd leave to find the answer on the road
I used to be a heart beating for someone
But the times have changed
The less I say the more my work gets done

`Cause I live and breathe this Philadelphia freedom
From the day that I was born I've waved the flag
Philadelphia freedom took me knee-high to a man
Yeah gave me peace of mind my daddy never had

I desperately wanted to get up at 7am this morning, go for a brisk moring jog and then head off to school. The smart, reasonable part of my brian knew how wonderful it would feel to head off to school knowing that I had already run 5km, had a healthy breakfast and was ready to take on the world!

At 7am, when the alarm went off, grumpy-didn't-get-enough-sleep Laura got up, turned OFF the alarm and went back to bed.

To make up for it I decided to eat a salad for lunch. I grabbed the "Balsamic" dressing thinking it would be one of the ligthest only to discover that one package is 130 calories (!!!). Half a dozen teeny-tiny drips of dressing later and here I sit eating dry salad.

I'm going to arrange to have my willpower placed on the side of a milk carton.

The thing is, I love to run... when I'm good at it. But right now I am no good. And I know that to get good I have to actually get off my but and go running. But I don't like running when I am no good.

And so the cycle begins.

Ahem.

So, I have self-diagnosed again. This time its endometriosis. And I am so serious about this that I am actually going to go see the woo-woo doctor and have him look at my who-ha. I took on online quiz about my menstrual pain... and the last classification of pain was "delerium". God help us all if there is a woman out there who gets PMS so badly she goes delerius.

Don't you think such people would have already gone to see a doctor and wouldn't be taking an online quiz about their need for midol???

"well now that you mention it... I do go delerius before during and after my excessive amount of bleeding"

Okay, that's it. I can't eat this salad anymore. I feel like a fuckin' rabbit.

There is a girl in my class named Daria and I don't really like her but I don't really have a good reason. I just don't. Everytime I see her I have an automatic voice over in my head that goes "diarhea, cha cha cha, diarhea, cha cha cha".

At the risk of sounding nerdy I probably should attempt to do something productive before the midterm.

Party Train

Yeah..haha..C'mon..we're together
(we're together)
Girl algebra or trigonometry could never equal up
to what you do to me
So let's intergrate
Don't differentiate
If you were in my class,
there ain't no way I could pass
I hate English, gym, and not to mention
I can't even afford to pay my attention
No philosophy could ever come between us
But we'll always have our Calculus

I know my calculus
It says u + me = us
Said I know my calculus
It says u + me = us
We're together forever, c'mon

Well, I've never been good at history
and I don't give a crap about Robert E. Lee
When it comes to cosines,
I know a thing or two
And I kicked ass on the test about me and you

You (U)
Plus sign (+)
Me (me)
Equal sign (=)
Us (us)

I was supposed to read through my anatomy notes 6 times by this afternoon. Ask me how many times I have actually done this?

Once.

Whats that I have a midterm Tuesday? Apparently I would rather rejoice over the fact that Prime TV has now turned into a channel that will air Beverly Hills 90210 EVERY DAY (!!!) and blog about how unproductive I am being rather than actually be productive.

I am assuming that my radioulnar ego will catch up to me sometime Tuesday afternoon. Can we all say "freakout"?

I was also supposed to go apartment hunting, get a haircut, register for a parking pass and buy a graduation outfit today.

Whoops.

Disclaimer: Any boy/man/thing with a penis may want to stop reading this right now. I am going into girl terratory.

I turned into a woman again today. Ouch. The dreaded curse of being a female hits me twice a year like six kicks to the head and a swift knee to the groan. It's times like this that I seriously consider giving up what makes me "woman" (hear me roar?) and either go on that shot that makes me not so woman or have my woman parts removed. Ovaries are for sucka's.

Okay thats all.

My granny and me had a brief discussion today about what kind of nursing I want to go into. I'm not sure what I was thinking but I decided to bring up the idea of working in palliative care the day she is going to visit her dying friend. Eye-yaya. But the truth is that sometime before I myself surcomb to the dude in the black robe with the pointy stick... I want to see someone die. I mean besides my dog.

Does that make me morbid or freaky... or just weird?

I still want to see my own insides too. What does my ovary look like? Does it really have dark slanty eyebrows, an evil grin and a pointy nose? Or was that just a bad dream I had once?

Tomorrow is the annual BB/BS Summer Picnic. Wee! Except its supposed to be cold and rainy. There I will be taiming my herd of soggy, fridgid five year olds. I am thinking they will have some sort of tent-like-facility for the chillin's to take cover. Here's to hopin' anyway.

There is a girl in my anatomy class that I don't like. Okay, there are two. I tried so hard to be non-judgemental but they are really begging for it. They are just. So. Annoying. And (AND!) on Thursday apparently they even used the word "clique". Can't we all just get along? The one girl stares at me alot. What's she looking at? Did I have a boggie from my nose? Is my hair sticking up? WHAT?!?!

Not that I am getting paranoid or anything. Like. Whatever.

Laguna Beach tonight, should be good... oooooh... what will happen next with LC and Jessica???

Before this gets completely rediculous, I'm outty - time to catch some big wheel before my PC white mac.