Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Untitled










I've been meaning to write about this for a week or so- But life keeps getting in the way. May 5th according to Facebook [the Farmer's Almanac of social knowledge and pop culture spam] was Wear Purple Day; To show support for victims [aka survivors] of sexual assault. A showing of courage; a proclamation that these acts of sexual violence should not be allowed to happen.

Want, Need

May 9

An evil man once said "Don't tell me you need me- Tell me you want me." Or that's how this conversation began. On a lawn, in front of a funeral home, I debated the merits between want and need. The subtle inferences; the gendered perspectives. It made me think about the things I long for...

Sunday, May 1, 2011

Just Lil Ol' Me


One of the first albums I owned was No Doubt's Tragic Kingdom. I remember my cousin insisting it was better than Backstreet Boys or the boy bands that lined my friend's shelves. My favorite song was Just A Girl'. The first line: Take this pink ribbon off my eyes spoke to my mini inner feminist. That's right- I don't need a pink blind fold. I'm strong! I'm independent! I won't hold your hand! & then I grew up. I realized that sometimes burning your bra, just leaves a gross smell and a pile of ashes.

When I Grow Up






When I was a kid, I'd play dress up. I'd pretend to be like the characters I'd read about, my pop culture role models on tv. I'd steal away into my Grandma's room and take her cardigans or just use the power of my ultra active imagination. How easy it all seemed...

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Hippy Hippy Shake






I'm a call girl. I work for a conglomerate with a fairly tight grasp on a certain market. [Vague, I know.] I collect money [or I'm supposed to] for them and, in return, they reward me with two minimum wage pay cheques a month, 10 sick days [six paid] per year and two weeks of paid vacation. I've recently made it to my third year anniversary and feel like the consumerist beast has chewed away on another chunk of my soul. This must be how Prometheus felt.

Return to Sender Pt II

So, boys and girls, I did it. I send the email. [The less romantic cousin of the letter.] It was an edited version. I got my anger out Sunday and now I'm left with sadness. The most blanketing and smothering of emotions. Unlike anger which normally fizzles, sadness consumes. It's been a rough few days.

Despite Max's promises in Sunday's sparring match, the only BBMs I've received are prompted by me. One email. That's what I've gotten and it revealed no clues to how to fix out dilemma. I've heard if it's not broke, don't fix it... But what if it's broken and can't be fixed? The email revolved around Piano Man's life, [a boy she claimed annoyed her and she wanted nothing to do with but now apparently has feelings for] and another friend's pre-audition jitters but little of hers. She says [and has stated multiple times] she doesn't have a grasp on emotions. But she hows how they feel; has sympathy for them. I told her maybe it's just me she doesn't get. And maybe that hurts more than anything.

In other non-Max related news, I finally have a chance to floorwalk at work. So last week in April, I'll be watching the newbies and the rest of the fishbowl. I'm excited but scared. Maybe it's just the exhaustion speaking... Or the Strongbow. Yes, I'm drinking. Scooby doo [Birdie reborn] is on a blind date. She had to go out of Silent Hill to meet him and I, being the voice of caution, said I'd come with her. She dropped me off in a parking lot across the street [at my suggestion] and I walked over to Generic Chain Sports Bar.

I was going to order food but alcohol seemed like a much more appealing option. I'm a can and a half in and I forgot how good of a friend alcohol is. Bad thought! Bad! I promise this is my last one. Then again- A promise is just a lie in a making.

Signing off a lil tipsy, the Call Girl xx

April 13th

Friday, April 8, 2011

Return to Sender



Birdie told me that writing a letter helps... Because of a certain situation in my life, I tried it out. It didn't make me feel better. It didn't help me release any emotion. Instead, I'm in bed crying myself asleep [and not for the first time this week, month, year] and choking back my feelings. Apparently having friends is a good thing but I'm starting to see the merits of being a hermit.