Everywhere I go I'm starting a problem. I'm shaking authority in my own quiet way. I don't notice it until someone points it out. I guess there is such a thing as being too helpful, or maybe too involved. People get scared of people who can get shit done right. People get scared of people who challenge their misbegotten sense of entitlement. It's terrifying, really, seeing your job done better by someone unexpected. Maybe, just maybe, the problem isn't me. Maybe the problem is you, your mindset, "the establishment" for lack of a better term that doesn't make me sound like a fucking socialist, the way things are. Maybe the way things are suck. Maybe nobody's happy with the way things are. Maybe no one respects the way things are and those of us who are brave enough to make the first step are the ones looked down on because some people are cowards. It's easy and obvious enough to see that there are problems in organizations. There are fatal flaws within societies that will, and are about to, bring them down. No one is perfect and NO ONE is infallible. No matter how special you think that you are, or how wonderful everyone thinks you are for being part of something "cool", you can be, and always will be at one point or another, wrong. You are human, but you have to recognize it. The rest of us who aren't fucking sheep can see the fact that everything you stand for is flawed. There are regulations on things that do nothing but provide headaches for people intelligent enough to try to get around them. Yes, rules exist for a reason, but NOTHING should be static. As we evolve, our organizations and our rules should evolve with us. Maybe there's a time to evaluate things. Maybe that time is when you're being challenged.

I don't like the bullshit sense of authority that being involved in various things gives people. Being the only person to stand up and take a responsibility on your shoulders is admirable, yes, but it doesn't give you a right to think yourself better than anybody else. If somebody runs unopposed for an office, it doesn't mean that the acclaimed candidate is the most amazing choice for the position, it probably means that someone else was busy that day. Yes, there are accomplishments that we should be proud of, but often I find that the real pride comes at the end of the day, not at the beginning.

I have swine flu.

Wow. Almost a full year since my last update. I'm twenty now. I don't feel it all the time, but when I do, I'm not entirely sure I dislike it. Again, I'm sitting in the library too late, procrastinating too much. I'd hate for anyone to think I'd changed, that would just be silly.

The Library Services are now closed.

Going home late again this year, that should be interesting. Saw the MCS concert on Sunday... so glad I'm not in it. Not sure I could take the extra commitment anyway. When will I stop being a joiner? Probably not for ages. Because god knows I like me stressed. Let's see... tons of weird dreams lately, involving people I haven't thought about in ages.

Recently I realized that I've forgotten the voices of a lot of people I was relatively close to in high school. Still not sure if that's something that should make me happy or not. Still not sure if that I'm not sure should make me happy, and so on. Still haven't learned to play the guitar properly. Still haven't written a song I don't hate. Still haven't conquered my fear of numbers. Still can't drive.

Still not King.

I don't write. I'm not going to play catchup with my life. If you don't know what's going on, you either haven't been paying attention or you don't really need to.

I dreamed about you two nights ago. My dreams are always reality with a twist of what-the-fuck? And this one started no differently. My family, my house (somehow located to a place that was supposed to be New Zealand but looked more like Bangalore...), my family. Plus others. And an attack by a giant bird.

And then you were there. I could reach out and touch you. I could smell you, I could hear you. And it was normal. It was nothing out of the ordinary.

But you're dead. You've been dead since I was 11. And in my dream, the only person who remembered that was me.

How do you ask your grandmother if she's supposed to be dead?

Sadie’s Flowers [Crazy work in progress]


Sadie, your lonely snow
It fell on me today
Your unique petals flurry down
Memorial walls were frozen.

Yellow flowers twisting
From an ironic sky of gray
Your garden it has overgrown
Your arteries, your veins.

Blanket me with purity
Strangle me with cold
Cover up my city
Your flowers won’t grow old.

Can your blood take root
In buildings sharp as knives
Or just inside Old Montefiore
The bushes they will fade.

Sadie, your flowers bloom
They follow me through days
Planes can crash and towers fall
Your pollen lives in everyone.

Blanket me with purity
Strangle me with cold
Cover up my city
Your flowers won’t grow old.

Sadie, your flowers won’t grow old.

http://anthrofashion.livejournal.com/profile

Check it.

I am about to go to sleep in a dorm for probably the last time. Tomorrow at 9 am I take my last exam, and at 1 or 2 pm I leave my new home for my old one. I can't wait for the summer because I know it will be brilliant, but at the same time I'm so sad to leave. I alternate between crying hysterically and anticipating breathlessly and it's given me a headache.

I kind of suck at transitions. I've been doing a lot of soul searching lately and I feel a lot better about myself. I know where my reactions to some things come from now, and I understand my problems with certain things. My trust issues, my guilt complex, and some other stuff that no one who reads this really knows about, but it's becoming resolved. I feel so good about myself but I'm still so uncertain sometimes. I'm opening my heart so often now and letting so many more people in than I ever have before, and it hurts so good. I'm ranting to people I've never met and I have no qualms about exposure about pain because as Ani Difranco said, "here I am at my most hungry, and here I am at my most full."

I left to find myself and I'm getting closer. I'm different now than when I left and I don't want to go back to the life I lead in New York. I think that's where my hesitation comes from. Spontenaity is Montreal, habit is New York. Comfort is Montreal, escapism is New York. I've had more opportunities in eight months than I have in eighteen years just by moving north. I don't want to lose that.

Feel free to skip over this. It's time for me to go to bed here one last time. Good night and much love to you all.

Someday, we will look back on these nights and we were young and we were beautiful. We are always were always beautiful, and looking back will never be tears but laughter. Beauty is joy and light, life is laughter and we are joy. We are blood on the concrete and spins on the sticky matte finish shadowing footsteps, pulling us down as we sway up. Our joy is tangible, almost, a scent rising from the grind of our rhythm, our laughter, our wonder. Our joy is fuzzy, shocking, a regret but never forgetting because when we look back we will smile.

We are always beautiful.

I want to do something. I want to take my initiative and run with it without being mocked. I want to get this started, I want to take something over, and I want to take something down.

I want this song to turn out well.

I can't touch the
sky
But
I can touch
you
If you'll let me.

Rules: Each player of this game starts off with 10 weird things/habits/little known facts about yourself. People who get tagged need to write a blog of their own 10 weird habits/things/little known facts as well as state this rule clearly. At the end you need to choose 10 (5) people to be tagged and list their names. No tagbacks.

1. I cry non-stop in the shower, but no tears come out.
2. The one skill I have that I'm ridiculously proud of is my typing, seriously.
3. Socks are my biggest turn-off. They disgust me.
4. My room is a mess, but I take obscenely neurotic notes in class.
5. I re-read books constantly, and at any given moment am in the middle of 3 or 4 of them.
6. My one true love is my stuffed bear, Der. He was my fathers and now he is mine. He lives in Canada now, too.
7. I hate snow.
8. I'm obsessed with drawing women with their heads angled to the right and down slightly.
9. There are a few parts of my life that no one will ever know because I'm too scared to talk about them for fear that no one cares. I want to have children just so I can pass these stories on in the form of bedtime stories.
10. I'm utterly, painfully shy. You just can't tell.


Tagging... livelove423, toriforte, spritzy, cairnarvon, ffixmaster, and that's it. 10=5, obviously.

In my last journal entry, I wrote about an infected trachea and a boyfriend. This entry, I am single and suffering the aftermaths of an infected kidney. I am still comfortable in my decision to study anthropology, and still enjoying kendo more than the practice before.

My second emergency room visit was no less uncomfortable than the first, but this time at least I had my own room. I was in and out of (not consciousness, per se, as I don't believe I ever was truly unconscious, but due to fevers over 104 degrees I was most definitely not paying attention to every detail around me, nor was I capable of focusing on them even if I did care to pay attention. I guess we will call this) coherence most of the time, and my body failed to regulate my temperature at all. I'd shake constantly for an unknown amount of time and pray for my fever to spike just so I could finally be warm, and when it inevitably did I would burn and fry and feel my eyeballs shrivelling in my head and pray that somehow, anyhow, I would cool down.

I will always hate peeing in a cup.

I have spent the better part of a week living in my room and not interacting with anyone outside of a very small number of people. That number mostly being one person, as Tanner was basically the only reason I functioned at all. The days I couldn't walk he brought me water and dealt with my constant window opening and closing demands without once complaining, and I really appreciate him for that. He picked up my prescriptions, picked me up and helped me get back in my bed (both in Gardner and in the hospital), and stayed with me during fever-induced delusions and hysterias.

Last night I slept at 6 am. My body isn't regulating my sleep very well, and I've got 3 chapters of Human Evolution, a week and a half of Contemporary Moral Issues, and one section of Symbol Systems and Ideologies to catch up on. Not to mention a French assignment and something for music class I should read, probably. Although, chances are I learned it when I was 6 and already did it in the workbook. The only bit about the class that interests me is sightsinging. Hopefully it will get a little more complex. If possible, I may want to do a minor in music.

By the time I am 25, I will be living in a box.

But it will be a box made of unicorns.

"No one wants to play with the gross kid"- Me to Kolya last night.

It's true, though. And not that I blame anyone, I probably wouldn't come to close to me if I were someone else. I feel like over the past few days, I've replaced human contact (any kind, really) with conversation. Because I don't want other people to touch me (or look at me, if I had the choice. Isn't this thing great for my self-esteem?), I've been having some pretty good conversations. I thought that was enough, that it would make up for when Lucas flinches away from me when I go to (for example) scratch my nose when I'm sitting next to him at dinner, or for blown kisses, but I was wrong. I got a hug last night, and it meant more to me than all the conversation in the world.


Don't get virally infected tracheas, kids. They're not fun. Don't try this at home.

Dear Livejournal,

I have not been faithful to you. My love for Facebook has greatly overwhelmed our drawn-out, flickering affair. I'm sorry, I don't want to end it, but maybe we should just be friends.

- Maia


So I changed my major. Instead of doing a major in linguistics, I'm going to do an Honours track in Anthropology. Also, I have a summer job at Teen Vogue, and a boyfriend. His name is Kolya. He's here for piano and other fun music related things.

I woke up today and the hallway was covered in streamers and balloons. What else can you do but smile?

I am an emo kid.

I have absoutely no idea what's going on in my Econ class right now. Although I'm one of the few people who's actually awake, I can't bring myself to focus on the scribblings on the board I can barely decipher. I feel like I'm really pulling my life together right now. I haven't fallen asleep in a class (not even my 8:30 AM medical anthroplogy lecture) in at least two weeks, and I'm doing readings almost every night now. Hunter might have been harder than McGill is... I haven't decided yet. I saw this quote in someone's profile on AIM (which barely anyone uses, they're all MSN users up here) and I agree with it wholeheartedly: "McGill '10- If we'd known it would be like this, we wouldn't have applied anywhere else". I read the London Times "Top 200 Universities" list, and McGill is #21 in the WORLD. That's higher up than some American Ivy League schools, and makes me feel like maybe in the end, this is the best thing that could have ever happened to me.

No, it's not a maybe. This is the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I wouldn't trade a bad day at McGill for all the good days at any other school ever.

Tonight I made stupid choices, but I'm rather glad of the way the evening turned out. As far as I'm concerned, Montreal is home, and I spent a good majority of my time in NYC homesick.

The other parts I was shopping.

I'm slowly crashing as I sit here, and my hands do not function properly while they press the keys. I think I hear fire alarms but it's Handel reminding me of things I need to do. My room is so dark. Other dorms, other rooms, are all so much brighter. I love the way my room burns stagnant orange when I come home from a hard day's notes at 10:30 before I crawl back down the hill. Even the parking lot looks dramatic. All of my plans are so thought-out and un-realistic and randomly hyphenated. The word hyphen used to mean something to me but I'm not sure what it was anymore. A piece of sexuality lost on the way. The road to hell is paved with vegetarians, too bad I can't retrace my steps.

Too bored to write more.

Vice President of Communications for Gardner Hall.
Rookie in the McGill Kendo Club.
Tenor in the McGill Choral Society.
Reservations person for the McGill Choral Society.
Notetaker for the Disabled Students Office.
Vegetarian.
Linguist.
Anthropologist.
Fasting.
Cooking.
Cleaning.
Laughing.
Loving.

What am I not doing?
Regretting.

I think that sins should be categorized not by what others think, but by what you think. If I have done something I consider to be a sin, I will regret it. It may not be something you consider a sin, or it may be. If I do something you consider a sin but I do not, I will not regret it. I am atoning for my sins but they are not your sins. My sins are my own, and I do not regret them. I do not regret things that teach me. I learn from my mistakes, even if my mistakes are my sins. I will atone for what I believe deserves it, not what you believe.

Today, I have eaten an entire pot of Kraft Dinner (Easy Mac for you Americans) by myself.

I AM HARDCORE.

Also, I use my language lab headphones as my actual headphones.

I AM SO HARDCORE THAT IT HURTS.

And now I go grocery shopping. For vegetables. I kind of full-out want to become a vegetarian. Actually I haven't eaten meat in a while. Ok let's do this.

HARDFUCKINGCORE \m/

Tears stream, down on your face
When you lose something you cannot replace
Tears stream down on your face
And I...

Tears stream, down on your face
I promise you I will learn from my mistakes
Tears stream down on your face
And I...

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you.


Today I feel very grown up and I miss home a little bit, which frankly is unusual. My mom called me at about noon, waking me up, to tell me that she and Dad were on the way to the cemetary. I realize that my grandmother's birthday is coming up and I won't be there to go to the cemetary like I have been. Last year I was the one who remembered. I'm the one who usually lights the candle, and I'm still doing it but it's different.

I think I've pretty much decided on my major and minor. Major in Linguistics and a minor in Anthropology. One is 36 credits and the other is 18 credits. By the end of this year, I'll have 12/36 and 6/18, which really makes me feel like I could possibly be out of here in a shorter amount of time than I expected... but I don't think I want to. Uni is an entirely different world, and it's the world I feel like I want to be in. Everything outside doesn't really exist anymore, which is why it's always such a wakeup call when something like Dawson happens. You realize that there IS life outside the Roddick Gates, not just places to eat and clubs and pubs and McGill students. There's a world out there but it's easy not to interact with it.

I've figured out how to use my headphones for my French class on skype, so feel free to call. Maianide.

PS I miss you.