Comfort

When I was a little girl my idea of comfort was hearing my grandmum's voice or hugging her tightly, "borrowing" her jammers for a sleep-over on Saturday nights. Camping @ the lake all summer long and the sound of silence falling asleep @ night. The smell of the beach on my sun drenched skin. The smell of spice cake baking in the oven. Gingerbread @ Christmas. The fuzzy feeling of my green poncho. Falling asleep with my huge fuzzy life-size-cub-size bear.
As I grew up, of course things changed. Comfort was a boyfriend's sweatshirt or favourite jeans. My own place when I was @ university. Music. Privacy. Intelligence. Flannel pants & Doc Martens. Seeing my grandmum when I went for a visit back "home".
Later years its owning my own home. A lovers' embrace and snog-fests. Being desired. "A little bit of pain never hurt anyone" heh. Doggies running around the house. Uhmm, make that HUGE doggies running around the house. Music. "Wish you were here" by Pink Floyd. Cozy winter days while the snow piles outside, fresh and cold, blank canvas fields and me in my snow clothes making it my very own work of art. The sound of a voice, warm and loving, whispers of hello, goodbye and everything else in between. Weekend morning snuggles with puppies in the "big bed". Embracing an old friend. Thoughts of my grandmum, her voice and her smile.

My Weapon Of Choice

You use a Battle Axe.

The heavy, double-headed end of a battle axe is not a good thing to stand in front of. The considerable leverage and length of a battle axe make its wielder a force of nature on the battlefield. Fun fact: the double-headed axe called a Labrys is often used as a symbol by lesbian activists. Anyway, your enemies will be cleft in twain by the mighty blows of your axe.

You preferred a weapon with 78% power over speed and 25% range over melee.

Link: The What's Your Signature Weapon Test

phreak

sometimes i feel like a freak...
most times i feel like a freak...
i dont care what They(tm) say, like attracts like and freaks repel non-freaks and thats very fine by me. anyone that can appreciate the strangness of my nature, the chaotic mess that is my brain and the utter confusion that is myself is someone worthy of my love and devotion. if you cant, then fuck you and the horse you rode in on. i would do anything for the people i love and i expect only love in return, nothing else, no favours, no hand-outs, no dependencies, no nothin'! you are loved unequivocably. in my heart forever.
as for being a freak... it isn't by anything that i do but how i am perceived. and you cocksucking maggot of a human being in the silk fucking suit with the hideous shoes and empty briefcase. the wanna-be managerial types with your fucking dim witted comments, boring as all ass social circle and fucking minivan can kiss my freaky ass!

to tipple or not to tipple that is the question...

lately, i admit, ive been tippling. and im not sure why. im not avoiding anything in my life, im not repressing demons or battling monsters of the psychological nature. i have just found that over the last two years-ish i have been enjoying the slight buzz of intoxication. AND not to mention, socially, a lot of functions take place with copious amounts of alcohol that one must ingest!! (ie: BBQs, pub nights, birthday parties, phyrepits, mondays). hmmm, under such circumstances i have been known to be rather... "unedited". therefore making it a cardinal rule "what happens @ the pub STAYS at the pub". i mean, if people at work only knew... wait, these ARE people from work (which is the subject of an entirely different blog)... dude, i see it this way. ive worked very hard to get to where i am comfortable in my life, home, career, etc... and i come to realize that i can be responsible, corporate and mature AND be crazy, slightly insane, childlike, expressive and individualistic at the same time!! embrace the balance. and for goRd's sake, tipple!!!

Disclaimer:
Any reference to the word tipple can be credited to Arjen. Thanks for the word mang. Totally boring blog, but DUDE, wtf? TIPPLE??

fog

my brain processes things rather quickly (for the most part). a friend posed the idea about giving each other words to blog on, i decided to give you a small glimpse as to how i process a bit of my thoughts...

12:19AM
fog. fog is mysterious. enveloping & shrouding. comforting. comforting hugs. a bit vomitous actually. give me harsh whips and uncomforting lashes. whips & chains. shackles on my feet. prisoners. low jacks. puffins with low jacks. irony. subjective. everything is relative. einstein. photo of him sticking his tongue out. mmmm tongue. snogs. brits. bangers & mash. headbanging. \m/. concerts. U2 concert in vancouver. vertigo. waterfalls. erosion. creativity in society. fabulous conversations. comfortable silences. pink floyd. echoes. misty mornings. fog.
12:20AM

Delicious

Dictionary dot com defines this word as:
De-li-cious [adj.] - Highly pleasing to the senses, espectially of taste or smell; Very pleasant, delightful: a delcious revenge.

I found the last part of the definition brought a bit of a smile to my face. A Delicious Revenge. Although, I'd have to say that vindictiveness, revenge and such similar actions are not part of my common thought, there is something delicious about such things. I tend to let the universe kind of sort out its own thing, whether you call it Karma or The Big Round Table, whatever. Nature has its own way of solving these things. But the word. It just slides off the tongue with such ease. Just say it. DELICIOUS. You can't really beat that. Things can be delicious. People can be delicious. Events can be delicious. Sights, sounds, smells, sex, snogs! All irrevocably delicious.

the sound and scent of rain, brilliant red sunsets, cinnamon, ph00d, music that hits your mood just right, thick chunky snowfalls, growling, cool ocean air, a soft yet manly whisper "good morning", sleeping puppies, words, comfortable silences inside strong arms…

Mess...

Sometimes you think you're doing something for the "right" reasons. Your actions speaking for you while inside you're thinking… "Am I crazy? What did I just do?" You look around and see what you've done. The wake in which you've caused and think "What a mess. How could I have messed it up so terribly?" The mess on the inside is worse. The mess on the inside is raw, wounded, throbbing in pain and completely disjointed. What once housed clarity is now a home for confusion and uncertainty. Picking up the pieces and trying to see where each fits is not as easy as it should be. You've done this to make things easier, didn't you? Why isn't it? There are things that remain constant, but where do they fit. Where is their place? You sift through muddle and see familiar things but how should they be glued back together? And the things that were causing you to tear down this house are still there. How do you work around that? Suddenly you know the reason why you're sitting here, sobbing and bleeding… breaking and crumbling. And it wasn't because you wanted to make a mess of what was there. It was because you were trying to clean up the mess that was *already* there. Maybe that doesn't make it easier, but at least you can go on cleaning things up with a different purpose. Has it changed since the start? Is it what you thought it was? Is it what you thought it would be? A mess doesn't have to be ugly and devestating although, seeing the forest for the trees, it might seem that way. In the end you'll come out a better person for it, for knowing what exactly you can handle, what exactly you want, what exactly you'll need and what you might risk to have it all. This pain and this anguish… it’s a beautiful mess.

Yummy!

(photo credit goes to a close friend who thought of me while on a street in Montreal *snogs*)

Dit bier is goed! Ja!

People(tm) Suck!

Someone took my sunflower.
Bastids!!!

vacant lot...

I was taking the bus home from work last week. It passes by these three vacant lots where the houses were demolished to make room for infill properties. The structures are gone, but the holes where they used to be are still there and are becoming overgrown with weeds. Standing tall in the middle lot was one bright yellow sunflower. It made me smile and think. Such perfect beauty among the ruins of old houses. And it was almost defiant as it grew among the weeds. I could see them taunting it, saying things like "You suck Sunflower!" or "You're not wanted here!" Sometimes I feel like that sunflower must have felt as it tried to grow up in a garden of weeds. It just made me feel really warm and fuzzy.