EMMJAY

As many words that I have floating around my head, as much as I can pour out from my mind right about now, all that I feel needs to be said can be put aside. For now, I present to you the current TL;DR humming about my conscience. No style, no prose and hardly any respect for syntax. As soon as I type this, I’m going to bed.

Statements about the people I go to school with and any other commentary I feel relevant:

1. My perception of who I used to think was the intellectual, respectable portion of my peers from grade 9-10 has completely changed. I now think of them as the most grading, irritating portion of people I know seeing as every time they don’t get what you want scholastically, they turn it into everybody else’s problem, including the teachers’. I especially hate it when I try to articulate something of interest or expertise of mine to them and what do they do? Shoot down my points because they know everything.

2. When you volunteer, do you do it to make a difference in the community as a selfless act of your civility or do you do it with pencil and paper in hand, tracking your hours to aggressively collect scholarship bounty? If volunteering counted as nothing more than volunteering alone, devoid of even recognition, would you still do it? Think about it. I for one have a line blurred between “volunteering” and common courtesy. One may think its selfish to have a “do what you care about” policy but upon further inspection, I give because what I do is something I love and I accomplish one hell of a lot more than if I were doing it simply to fulfill a certain time-caped requirement for some sort of compensation.

3. Next person who I hear complain about how [drunk/stoned/high/fucked/behind in their homework they got because of any of the above/many classes they missed in substitution of any of the above] they got, GETS PUNCHED CLEAR IN THE FACE. Ingesting any mind altering substance is not the matter of “Oops! The wind!” These are all personal choices one makes. Some choose to make them, others don’t. I thought it was beat into people’s heads since grade two about taking ownership for their actions but it appears that elementary education has failed its purpose if some who engage in such activities come out of what they perceived to be a fun experience, flat out whining.

4. Is it just me or is there something morally wrong with teachers telling kids what bars to go to after school?

5. I don’t see why having a cell phone detecting device for exams is such a controversy. If my phone rings in class, Grandma has died. If you can’t go two hours one afternoon without your umbilical cord to the social grapevine, GOD MOTHER-FUCKING BLESS YOU.

6. The demeaning comment made towards GATE at the grad ceremonies was unacceptable. I’m not saying that GATE is the perfect program but by no means is lesser to IB. GATE was designed to be an enriched curriculum whereas IB was meant to be a rigorous international curriculum where students are given the option to pursue university transfer credits. TWO TOTALLY SEPARATE THINGS. Sure, there are a lot of kids who had a high IQ in grade 4 who still stick it out in GATE to grade 12 even though their intelligence has expired but there are individuals in IB who just happen to have exceptional study skills, not necessarily creativity, wit or exceptional talent outside of what can be “learned”. GATE is also not a fall back option for people who don’t succeed in IB. No former IB students have been granted this privilege and even some GATE to IB, prospectively back to GATE students have been denied. Would you not think that this is a reason? I have 30 IB credits and 55 GATE credits. Consider my opinion informed.

7. Piggybacking off my last point and point 3, if you knew that all you were going to do was bitch about being in IB, did it ever occur to you that maybe you shouldn’t have been in IB in the first place? I listened to the same IB orientation speakers as the rest of you did and they pretty explicitly said “If you are in IB, you will have no life.”

8. Congratulations on choosing to pursue a career as a [lawyer/doctor/engineer/stockbroker/faceless, high-ranking business executive]. Don’t you dare look down on me for pursuing a career as a fashion designer. I’m going to University just like the rest of you and for somebody to lower the letter count in their words as soon as I mention my passion is outright diminishing. Bring the subject up with me in another ten years; that is if I can hear you through my fat seven digit annual wage.

9. Starbucks was not worth being mentioned over 9,000 times at grad- it is simply a place that smells really good and has Wi-Fi where you can purchase moderately overpriced luxury beverages which are usually served cold. I’m not a true cynic- I buy Chai tea there when it is convenient because that stuff is hard to make but it is by no means the product of my uncontained worship. Refer to the end of point 5 for what I think about people who show up late very day to class with Starbucks.

10. False political advocacy is worse than not doing anything at all. I’ll bet you that nine out of ten times I ask someone at our school why they hate George Bush, they will say “because he is stupid” or “because he is making his own citizens die in a civil war half way around the world”. Congratulations! You have cable and have watched CNN and got 1/4 of a joke on the Daily Show! People who blindly stand up for things sound familiar. Oh right, that uber conservative archetype easily persuaded Liberals hold of the redneck with the flagpole outside his trailer, rifle at his side and takes everything in the Bible out of context. False political advocacy is no better. Good to know you joined some Facebook group which claims to aid the current status of Burma, glad to see that that bag you’re carrying has abstract green friendly wording scribbled all across it. Shame to see that if you had really bothered to read the groups information, you would have noticed that the group is no more than a social badge and that bag is 20% rayon.

11. Just because Encyclopedia Dramatica hasn't deleted all of your updates, doesn't mean you'd last 10 seconds in my neigh/b/orhood.

TL;DR - OH HOW I CAN NOT WAIT TO DISASSOCIATE MYSELF FROM ALL THE STUPID FUCKS WHO SURROUND ME.

Everybody else my age can't be pulled away from their mental calendar as they count down the days until their education draws to a close. I on the other hand, wouldn't be able to give you an answer past "Ungh... Sometime this month?" This isn't because my legacy transcends nowhere past my Facebook page or because I have no plans for my future (Although I do on occasion partake in such carnival squander in the tongue-in-cheek way I approach 90% of the rest of my life's happenings) I've pretty much known my destiny to this point since I was in the eighth grade without any real road map to where I was well aware I'd land up. Pardon my flirting around the point. My point is, I'm shutting myself out to how much school is left for me because I don't want it to end. School ending would imply a deadline for assignments which I am slowly cranking out. I can't get out of this miserable pit fast enough and yet I hang around anyway.

On the topic of "Out of my graduating class of about 600, I'm probably one of about 50 who actually has their shit together and will probably achieve a comfortable and permanent life", Professional Development in the Arts 35: What a joke that has turned out to be! In short, I think the idea was that it would be a class to encourage students to pursue postsecondary education in the arts by crediting their lengthy, rigorous portfolio preparations. In reality, like most other classes I've had the misfortune of being in, it turns out that all that work I put into getting to University can be thrown right out the window in substitution for hour logs, research papers ("What influences your art?" Nothing. My art isn't reactionary. Its revolutionary. I am uninspired and happen to act on it. And don't dock me marks for being a smart ass), job shadowing (Remember how I was supposed to go work fashion retail for a day but that fell through because the teacher didn't want to have to organize it any further? Yeah, because thats why I'm going to University all the way across the country, to get a degree in fashion design so I can fold clothes in a sweatshop at the mall. I just happened to have an extra $70,000 kicking around my bedroom and a bizarre urge to waste four years of my life.) and a "What this course meant to me" paper (Which I'm sure, as you can see I will have no problem doing). Once again, I'm cramming my effort, my gift to the world into a metaphorical ice cube tray known as the curriculum, cutting around the edges and pouring leftover ham fat into the rest of the slots.

I should have come to expect this by now. I'm almost done and then I can at least attempt to piece myself together without my introspective conversation being interrupted by a normal curve yelling at me to find its derivative.

In other news, OtaFest happened a few weeks ago. I didn't win anything in the competition but I won 2^nd runner up, Ms. OtaFest which was nice to be recognized for all the effort I put into my Eternal Sailor Moon cosplay. I'd attempt to write a more conclusive synopsis to balance out the 60,000,000,000,000 photos taken of me that weekend but there really wasn't much to say about OtaFest this year. I think two photos will have to suffice:


Eternal Sailor Moon!


Eternal Sailor Moon lookin' up Audrey's skirt...

Far further down on the list of importance is that I graduated. Graduation is all pretty ridiculous. I think its more so a (now) customary passage of rights in combination of a celebration for all the kids who had doubts as to whether or not they would even graduate in the first place. Less long than the banquet for Benson's grad last year, but just as boring. What I liked about mine was how much everybody just blatantly talked through the banquet instead of making any efforts to conceal their dissatisfaction. Pictures ensued:


Princess Serenity and Tuxedo Kamen. Would you really expect any less of me?


Apart from me cheating the dress to look more interesting than it was and extreme impromptu back lighting, this isn't a very good photograph.

For the first time in as long as I can remember, when people have been asking me how I am, I've been answering something other than "Fine. How do you do?" and rather "really really super stressed because of University Portfolio crap". This is so emotionally tolling one me and I'm sure I'm bringing a lot of it on myself (I'm sure somebody has applied to Ryerson with pajama pants and has gotten accepted to their Fashion Design program) but the workload from Social Studies and Math kind of prevent me from making any substantial progress in Fashion Studies or Art. Also, my IB Office examination is April 14^th and as far as Ryerson has implicitly told me, I should know whether or not I got accepted by the specific date of "early May"... Uh, thanks?

On top of everything, I got my diploma marks back yesterday and I got 80% in Physics (Giving me a course mark of 78%; not bad considering I was just taking the course for the sake of it, not really ever needing to calculate the magnetic fields of solenoids anytime in the near future) and 69% in LA... Um, is it just me or is there a slight discrepancy between that and my course mark of 88%? And the kicker is that I got 78% on my multiple choice (I got 59% as my highest mark for that in class) and 60% on my written portion (I never got a grade lower than 98% in the course) I worked my ass off in that class and Cancilla sure as hell didn't give away free marks where they weren't due. Worst of all, this puts my mark at 79%- 1% off of meeting the Rutherford scholarship standards (bye bye $1600!) I think I'm going to pay $20 to get it remarked because I thought I kicked the snot out of the written. The marker probably didn't even read Hamlet.

But on the bright side, my Sailor Moon cosplay isn't giving me much hassle yet. It was somewhat euphoric holding up the skirt's layers today and being able to see how much it looked like Sailor Moon.

I may possibly have to have my University portfolio done in less than a month. Even so, I only have until early April to finish all of this for the Art 31 IB examination. So basically, until then, if you're trying to carry on any kind of remotely intellectual conversation with me, expect an answer like "1.5 CENTIMETER SEAM ALLOWANCE!". I haven't been sleeping. Not only because I've caught my cat's infectious disease but because I'm thinking about bloody sewing ever waking moment I'm spending away from my projects. I didn't even know there was school yesterday and the day before. Thats how bloody in to this I've been.

Anyway, for my sake mostly, here is a list of all my projects for my portfolio:

GARMENTS
- Eternal Sailor Moon cosplay
- Plaid pants
- Grad dress (Princess Usagi dress)

FASHION ILLUSTRATIONS:
- Women's evening wear: Cyber-style kimono with Hiroshima bombing imagery.
- Men's casual top and pants: I'll think of something. It just won't be very casual...
- Swim wear: Strawberry bikini. Really cute (but mostly because I don't fancy swim wear to begin with)
- Children's wear: Sweet lolita-style dress.

Aurngh.

As anybody who has ever had the displeasure of going through this knows, university applications are such a mega bummer to have to fill out. Sure the information you're looking for is on the website two or three times but is never the same between the cases. Not something favorable when you're looking for something like, oh, I don't know- the date that everything is bloody due for! But my cousin is helping me though this and so is my aunt. My aunt knows how stressed out I am about this portfolio thing so she has even offered me that for however long it will take me, so long as I'm working on my portfolio or something to further my education, she will pay me what I would have made at work that day. Finally, somebody in my family is reasonable!

Also, I'm applying to the U of C too just in case. Because I already will have my first year of university art, I'm going to try to finish my second year there if I don't get into Ryerson or maybe I'll just take most of my liberal studies courses there to get them done and over with for when I move to Toronto.

In terms of where I am now, school is pretty good. Surprisingly enough, drawing on my L.A. teacher's white boards every day, reenacting all of West Side Story in five minutes and constantly mentioning the word "cooter" in and out of my assignments has yelided me a 90% in ELA 30-1 GATE. Nice contrast to last year when I coasted with about a 40% for most of the 20 level class.

Same kind of story with Physics. I had failed the course in epic proportions last year but since the only unit I really understood was all over the exam, I managed to pass that but my final mark was only 49% once the exam and course mark evened out so my Physics teacher passed me out of sympathy, basically. But in Physics 30 I've managed to get 77% in the course portion (which is good... for me) but I'm kind of worried for the exam because most of the concepts look close enough to each other to be each other and I could only identify to use a certain concept in a certain circumstance when we took those sub-unit quizes where if you can do one question, you can do them all. Emmjay babbles on. Case in point, I'm getting like 30% higher in this course too. Oh, and I think you should watch my Physics project I made over the break that wasn't due till last week:



And then there's art. Ah, yes... art. How is it that my art mark and my ELA marks are the EXACT SAME? For the firs time, I'm sure as hell not the best artist in my class so what do I do? I back up my art with philosophical B.S. much in the way that I've always backed up my LA with artistic B.S. For example, me teacher says that my "signature piece" of my collection is my project "REQUIUM": every day I draw on a sticky note. The subject matter is irrelevant and can be in an abstract or realistic style, possibly supported with text. So now I have this series of about seventy little 3.5 x 3.5 papers with things like a dolphin that says "I love preteen girls", or a collage of hams or a guy with polio laying smack down on the pavement with the quote "POLIownd". The idea is that randomosity is relative and biased. But the real meaning is that I honestly have no idea what I'm doing in art- I guess what ever it is, its working.

I think I might spend the $100 credit to Barbie's today that Benson gave me last year for my Birthday...

I do apologize for not posting as much as I had promised [myself] to. In the fashion of Emmjay-ism, I hereby drop an excuse which is that I'm endlessly busy with Summerstock and when I'm not doing that, I'm watching Sailor Moon S. So this about that and that about all of this: Come see the show! Come scoop up the sweet, sweet guacamole of our labors and caress my ego with it, please and thank you!

And on the subject of Sailor Moon, cosplays for OtaFest '08 have been decided:
Emmjay - Eternal Sailor Moon
Sid (Ex Pudding) - Princess Kakyu
Bree (Ex Dance slave) - Black Lady
Benson - Prince Endymion

But of course, the higher power which inevitably dictates the course of my future (or rather enforces the most ridiculous rules in order to revoke me there of) has decided that no, there will not be any sewing for anybody next year so that I can get good grades so I can not pass on the desired post-secondary institution of my choice because of my cadaver of a portfolio which need be infused with the life which can only be derived from cosplay; what was once my one opportunity to create and WRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY. And it's not like this year in fashions where I was taken in as a special projects student who finished four out of a maximum five credits (one of which was half way finished and I still managed an 89% for) in half the amount of time as all the other Fashions 20 students and still managed to get a 97% for the whole course which if I am not mistaken is the highest mark achieved by anybody in the program next year. Next year I have a whole semester AND a spare and we all know where I will be spending that. That and Art I.B. 31 is all self directed studies and my field of study just so happens to be the culture of Japanese Fashion. But still, the woman who unfortunately breathes the same air as me insists that this is not what I want to do and that JUST LIKE HER (God knows I'm the SPINNING IMAGE of her) I'll change my mind (Because like her, I'm obviously going to university on Mommy and Daddy's budget taking a course just for the hell of it so that I can join a sorority- YIPPIE!)

But on the bright side, the portfolio requirements are quite stupid.

I think I may need a new LiveJournal layout. This one is depressing. Wave bye bye!

So it starts off like so with the usual cast of characters: La mama, and I.

I’m sewing away at Pudding’s cosplay in my basement on my sewing machine (2006 model) just as I had been for the majority of my afternoon between making periodic rounds upstairs to replenish my waning aspartame to body matter ratio. About two hours into this, mama totes up her sewing machine (1979 model) to sew some frumpy interior décor item upstairs.

As my luck would have it, on my next escapade to the refrigerator I was so warmly greeted by the woman who brought me into this world with a statement which was as full of sarcasm as it was lacking in intelligent syntax: “Thanks a fucking lot Maryjane. You fucked up my machine you fucking little spoiled brat.” Now me (being both naturally classy and anything but in the mood to put up a common quarrel), humored her by pleading my case which was that I had indeed not seeing as a)I have had my own sewing machine for over a year and a half and would thereby hinder any desire to even touch hers, b)her sewing machine is almost thirty years old or c)maybe she never sews and just forgot how to.

Despite my suggestions for her to find success in something, she then starts flirting with concept of engaging me in a battle of wit (or in her case, empty and meaningless threats and character insults strung together by four letter utterances) which I stress again for emphasis, I have no interest of pursuing. So she starts off the typical routine with a bit of “You’re such a fucking selfish little teenager” and then starts into how good her life was before having me and how I “leave a bunch of fucking shit all over the fucking house and I’m so fucking tired of seeing all your fucking shit Maryjane” which at the same time I’m countering with a stand-in for my debatory zeal (“I’m sorry that you feel that way”) all at the same time of finishing what ever task I was engaged in at the time to go back downstairs to where I had hoped to linger in the more favorable (and solitary) alternative. Keep in mind that nothing I say is in rage or passion from this whole “argument” (well that was what she was looking for; whether it was achieved or not is still negotiable) and that everything I said was as an immediate response to not provoke any further argument. Then she brings in to the whole squabble that I don’t wash the dishes (you see, she really is just trying to pick a fight with me here for some extra power points. It has sweet NOTHING to do with the sewing machine at all) and as I say with unconcealed sarcasm “Nooo, because that’s women’s work.” and next thing I know I have an angry slobbering woman pinning me into the couch, trying to bring a hot iron towards my face to scald me and then she pulls out her lighter even closer to me and starts lighting sparks to intimidate me or something.

So then she starts taking privileges away from me because she wants her power back and has no control over her life and therefore seeks to control me. “If the transit workers go on strike, I’m not driving you” Okay. “And you’re paying for your physics tutor too you stupid little bitch!” Fine. ”You can buy your own medicine now. I'm taking those pills so you can’t waste my fucking money any more” I can live with that. “You aren’t getting your fucking hair done tomorrow- I AM” That’s okay, yours probably needs it more than mine anyway.

BAM. Coat hanger thrown at me.

BAM. Pinned up against my closet door and the window while getting trusted against them as she tries to make some baseless point clearer to me.

Then of course she revokes the trip to Japan that I’ve been saving up for to go to for the past year and looking forward to going on since grade seven. Oh as well as my phone revoked for getting such a “bad” report card where I improved by at least ten percent in all my core subjects (well actually more seeing as the latest assignments weren’t included and I pretty much owned the snot out of those) so I told her that I would surrender my phone under the condition that she would listen to just one sentence I had to say instead of immaturely mocking my voice every time I had something to say (such an animated gesture really does exist so it seems) What I wanted to say was something around the lines of “I think you need to see a counselor or at least talk to a neutral third party because I understand that you have a lot of stress but conveying all your pent-up anger towards me is not only extremely degrading to both of us but creates a lot of unnecessary tension that neither one of us needs right now. Please talk to someone.” But instead, I get my arms jerked around as she tries to pull the phone out of my hand until she has me in something of a submission (I become overpowered by her tremendous girth in other words) where she pretty much snaps my wrist thus making me have to surrender one of my few connections with the life outside of this one.

She needs some self control before she tries to control me by revoking privileges and constantly reminding me of them so that she can get me hot and flustered so that I do something regrettable so she can hold it against me. I know better than to play her little games but at the same time, I’m getting things I feel I have earned taken away from me. I know that all the things she excretes about me are not true (she doesn’t know me at all although she claims that after tonight, she does) and the fact that I’m not an emotional wreck over her petty insults and paltry attacks like she wants me to be drives her crazy. For once in my life, I’m happy despite all she’s put me through and I fear she will stop at nothing to try to revoke it from me.

There is something very wrong with me.

Two nights ago on my first day back from school, I came home and cried myself to sleep around five where I slept until Benson called me for about half an hour and then returned to my slumber where I laid until about seven o’clock the next morning.

Emmjay never sleeps for more than five hours let alone leisurely. Keep that in mind.

Last afternoon, my mother picked me up from school half way through the last period from school to go to my wisdom tooth check-up that actually never existed as it isn’t until the doctor gets back this Wednesday. Got blamed for that. Not my fault. Then as we got back from the office, I noticed that my mom’s rear-view mirror was left hanging from the wires. The lady who accidentally clipped her was around and had left a note on the windshield with her insurance number and all that and we have a new mirror but ever still, I was blamed for something which I so obviously did. Just as I was all the way to the doctor’s office, I was yelled at all the way back from the doctor’s office about being a failure and a disgrace and a whore and all that.

Then when I got home around five, I fell asleep. Didn’t wake up until eight when I got up, took about my twelfth Tylonol of the day and then went back to sleep until a quarter after twelve where I habitually took more medicine after having woken up in a pool of my own sweat, took my temperature and then slept until noon today. This is when I couldn’t sleep anymore because my stomach was in so much unexplainable pain which I would normally just drown out with more medicine but my mom had put that in the bathroom which was about ten and a half agonizing paces too far for me to travel. When I stand up, I can’t see. I was having a lot of problems with that last year when I guess I had lost a dangerous amount of weight in a short period of time and when I found that I had even more dangerously low blood pressure but they said that I would grow out of that so I’m utterly dumbfounded as to what the problem could be this time. Anyway, after about an hour of wallowing in pain, I literally crawled down the stairs to have my first meal in what just struck me had been well over forty-eight hours. Then, you guessed it, I went back to sleep until four and then I went to the medical clinic and I could barely stay awake through the doctor talking to me and trying to make some diagnosis. He sent me out for a mono test which I just got back from (and we all know how highly I regard needles, yippie!)

I thought I may have had mono a week or so before having my teeth out but maybe what happened was that I had masked my previous fatigue behind the side effects of the drugs and because I’ve just recently run out of proper pain killers, I am noticing my unjust exhaustion once again. That and I’m sure my having rushed my recovery had some how catalyzed this.

I doubt I’ll be around for school tomorrow either which is quite unfortunate seeing as I’m already so far behind and after having met for the first time with my Physics tutor last night (which seems like a good week ago because of all my napping), I’ve come to the realization that I won’t pass the course unless I get at least 75-ish% on every test from now until the end of the course. In other words, I’m already pretty doomed as far as my academics go. Luckily I almost finished my cosplay skirt in one (cut short from a teacher’s lecture which basically detailed how un-devote the class is to the big end of the year fashion show (which if you’re interested in, I can get you tickets for $5 or something, comment if interested)) period and am holding my 100% average in that class (great because I’m still half assing myself through seeing as courses that actually are relevant to being a fashion designer such as English are mucho crampin’ mah style)

Anyway, I feel like I’m going to go pass out again so off I go folks.

Gads, a happy post? But to make a post of glee and delight is to show weakness! To not shut yourself out from the world by refusing to accept it gives one a false sense of momentary power over all! To enjoy is to be vaunrabl- kay, no. I’m making with a happy post right now. Well, happy that is after I get those pesky formalities out of the way first about the few things which do anything but dampen my mood but still contribute to a better understanding of my present situation.

So shortly after having made those last four DDR videos, my second control box for my half-ass'd dance pad goes haywire like it’s predecessor so it looks like another trip to Edmonton will be required to get another $60 control box from the ferociously overpriced video game "boutique" that pretty much makes all their dance pad equipment in the backroom of the store. Um, I don’t think so. How about you mail me out another one so I'll never have to be this inconvenienced for the rest of my life as a Dance Dance Revolution player? Oh wait, it seems that the products you keep selling me are complete rubbish. How about you refund me every cent back so I can buy a high-end pad which I wouldn’t doubt would cost the same amount as my initial purchase as well as all the "upgrades" put together? This isn’t even factoring in the emotional trauma I've gone through. The social humiliation, the endless ridicule by my peers, etc...

Other than that, the only thing which could put me into even the slightest state of malaise right about now would be that my demented mama overfilled the fountain in the front hall so it expelled water all over my possessions by the door at the time which, luckily, included nothing of monetary value however the four pages of notes I had taken thus far for my report on the novel Lolita were ruined and I now have to read the first half of the book (143 pages) within the next 48-ish hours and take "[impossibly] clear and decisive notes which could be understood by the reader in your absence". There are millions of starving children in Africa right about now but I don’t care. I think that right about now, I’m just a wee bit more doomed, wouldn’t you think?

BRING ON DA FUN.

Summerstock. Oh, Summerstock. My only love sprung from what was once my only hate (you have no idea how long I've been dieing to use that phrase in a real life scenario). The first hour and a half was predictably blan seeing as all the boys had to do vocal, my few remaining female friends were for the most part of this timeframe bussy elsewhere but I made the most of it by playing Phoenix Wright Ace Attorney: Justice for All which is, let me tell you, blowin' mah mind right outta mah follicle perforations.

Anyway, the boys came back so I laughed and frolicked about with and then before I knew it, I noticed that all the girlie squeals from the halls had gradually subsided and that I was supposed to be in vocal. Oh… WHOOPS. And I intended to have gone, of course I did, but I figured that by the time I got in there, our director would have ripped me a second so I thought I’d pass and chuck grape filled condoms at the complete Asian population of our cast instead and write it off as productivity. So after the vocal rehearsal was over, our vopcal director found me (hiding behind a couch no less…) and explained to me my wrong doing and for the first time in my life, I felt bad about my wrongdoings and wanted to make things right. Oh wait, no I didn't.

Next came the dance rehearsal (or rather, the part where I sit around for a good three hours, attempt to braid my hair, make mid-range vocal noises alone with Sid, reap some havoc, steal adhesive medical strips, catch up on sleep, not read Lolita like I should have been, wait for Benson’s return and the like) but Benson seemed to have knocked his head in a way that made him unable to participate on account of his inability to not experience what I perceived to be abundant quantities of pain every time he tried to stand up (quite the diagnosis I have going on here, ne?) so unfortunately enough for me, I had to spend the next three hours in his company. Ungh, I hate it when such curses cross my path! Then Sid joined us with her egg sandwich which both she and Benson managed to torment me with from afar but then the tables turned and Benson ended up with his feet tied, taped and finally chained to a door hinge and arm (non-plural) bound to a low hanging pipe. Surprisingly enough this was Sid’s doing and not my own. Isn’t life funny that way?! And that's all I have to say about that misadventure.

Then came what is slowing looking to be a weekly dinner excursion where Sid joined the previous cast of dinner-bandits. Salt drawings on tables got more intense (and later included pepper, spices and parmesan cheese) and my ongoing craving for shooters anything but rekindled it’s self. Meat continues to be an unwanted surprise when it migrates from Benson's pizza to mine because I like my pizza how I like my women- not with greasy salami all over.

And then I got dropped off at home among other things. My failure to elaborate is for dramatic emphasis.

Was on the phone until 3:30. Yeeeeeeee!

Today I worked. Tomorrow I don’t. Man, I wish I had a social life to fill this day with (even though this sounds like it contradicts all that I had just said about Summerstock which is strictly business ladies and gentlemen of the jury. Why else do you think I missed vocal?)

So I’ve figured out how to make my life the most manageable as far as the English homework versus Live Journal dilemma goes: hand in the unrefined, handwritten notes you took two weeks ago in class (and completely without the discussion notes which were supposedly taken throughout the literary seminars last week) and commit, oh, I don’t know, a good hour or so to the update I promised the lot of you yesterday. After all, I get more fulfillment on doing this sort of thing rather than providing commentary of a frivolous nature to some mediocre short story published in a high-school text book. I am brilliant- hear me fail.

Thursday :
I was hoping on put, put, putting over to the blessed kingdom in the sky of Bishop Carol High School while I was on my half day from school in order to plaster a smile across Bridget’s face but she was scheduled for a vet’s appointment instead (this is a most unacceptable circumstance for future reference) so by some series of events that I can’t recall correctly for the life of me (and therefore won’t even bother as much as I love hearing myself type), Jordan and I had an excursion to Westbrook Mall where we took in such quality shopping attractions as As Seen on TV, WAL★MART, the Source (Where I found a PS1 to USB converter (or was it the other way around?) for the everyday suspicious price of $16.99 but didn’t buy it in fear of blowing my dance platform’s overpriced converter box yet again) and finally EB Games where I hadn’t been in a while mainly on account of imports being superior to their domestic counterparts if only for the prestige of having something that nobody else does (Like how up until 6^th Style, the interface for the beatmania IIDX series is pretty much the same in every game and rivals the quality of even the internet’s only known beatmania simulator BM98. Bummer…) So once we arrived there via rusty, tetanus covered shopping cart we found twenty blocks away, Jordan battled many a conscious battles over what games or gaming accessories to spend his birthday certificates on and I made an array of snare comments at just over the allowacated ‘indoor voices’ level about how Final Fantasy isn’t a very good game at all should any Otaku folk come flinging their fat rolls through the doors, all as an elaborate attempt to shut down their impending fandom rants mindless pleas for psychological intervention. More importantly I boughtPhoenix Wright Ace Attorney: Justice For All. I’ve had my DS Lite since the pre-release and only now do I own a game I can call my own for it. Still havn’t gotten around to playing it mind you because Animal Crossing: Wild World continues to be all the crack I need as part of a balanced breakfast.

Then I returned to my dark fortress where I proceeded to do a sloppy ten minute paint job of my Spanish project which was to use at least ten adjectives and full sentences to describe your ideal prospective lover. I having not wanted to take this class in the first place and being of the mindset to reap gradual havoc on the Calgary Board of Education’s moral standards, decided to make a mockery of the assignment through making what is both an homage to Space Channel 5 and a one-point-perspective disaster… But quite the hunk no less.


Yeah, I look for that in a man. Right there. Taco in panties. Sour cream on face. May the ta-la-la touching commence. I just hope you know how serious this is seeing as if you knew the first thing about the language of Spanish you could see right through my pink penning and see that I use words such as ‘offensive’, ‘arrogant’ and list red hair as a turn on. AH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA NO.

Friday :
Somebody alert the press, another half day for Emmjay! And once again I employ my almighty powers of manipulation to get Jordan to escort me to 17^th avenue so I could get another pair of Tripp pants with lots of fagatory straps to hold my keys on. Their selection was nothing too far out of the ordinary (well, in comparison to their stock the last half dozen or so times I’ve visited) but then I came across these bitchin’ threads and eatsed ‘em up on the spot (you see, my other ones cut themselves almost at my ankle which I simply will not have)


CLICK FOR BIG.

As usual I apologize for the fantastic quality of my still broken digital camcorder with bonus (and hardly reliable as it seems) camera feature. Get used to it.

So next after recovering various E-ROTIC songs on the street, out in public, Jordan heads home and I head out for a nice hour long walk up 17^th until I reach Phoenix comics to drop more large sums of money which I’m surprised I even have on more manga which I may not get down to reading ever really (just in case you’re a creep and want to know, this newly aquired manga just so happens to be Trigun 10, Trigun 11, Jazz 4, Passion 3 and Yellow 4. Obligatory nasel hemorrhaging here.)

And then of course came Summerstock which in all of it’s dramaturgical glory went pretty well (even better though because I don’t see Sid or Benson nearly enough as it is) but then along came mister fire alarm and threw us all into what I was more or less hoping to be a state of adrenaline induced chaos or possibly even anarchy. Somehow though, a sub-conclusion was drawn that maybe the alarm was pulled as an attempt for the group of bandits who have been robbing the school of all their fancy electronics to, well, do their thang. Too bad I didn’t have any rock-solid alibi as to where I was at the time seeing as I was alone when I heard the alarm and didn’t see anybody for two minutes following. Is this what I get for being antisocial? Oh and Benson can stick two thirds of my DS Lite down this throat. I thought that was pretty cool!

There was so much more to that bit of my story but nothing outside of just descriptions of where we got pulled around to in order to receive further interrogation into the whole whodunit. I’d describe in graphic detail but I’m not about to lost the attention of all the readers (should I have even bothered to pluralized that?) who have made it this far into tonight’s post. But just for the sake of it, I’m going to dole on about the rest of my night after Stock as if it were important to you anyway.

Benson’s dad offered me a ride home so I took it because I’m all for getting the most bang for my buck even when it’s a free deal so there’s no money required in the first place. This however ended up turning into going to Boston Piza where delicious pizza was consumed, napkin origami was made and I was left once again yearning for the simpler times of my life when I could drink the thick syrup they use in orange pop as a beverage on it’s own.

Saturday :
Mom had her birthday party and as usual left no alternative to Greek food to the unfortunate gathering of guests. Luckily spanakopitas were still Greek as of last night around 7:00 so I was pretty much set for life. I throw my arms so high in the air for such delightful spinach filled pastries. Yummy in my tummy, etc…

Sunday :
Yeah, what did end up happening today other than consuming about 500% of my daily recommended intake of sodium?

Despite having posted a mere two days ago, there’s still a fair amount of catching up needed to be done on my behalf in order to provide you with only the finest quality journal entries that you (the masses) have come to love over the past three or so years. Funny that I should mention that because the very reason which I hesitate to provide you with the Coles notes version of the happenings of my life (or in other words, lots of pictures depicting the glorious consumer products I’ve bought recently accompanied by some ten syllable synopsis of my excursion wherein I purchased said things) and even if I were to add such “frills” to the contents which I’m about to spew at you, the only comments I would get in return would be “OMG! I love your pants! I wish I were you!!” when you either clearly missed the point of EMMJAY: The Tragic Hero of our generation or that you’ve become accustomed to just clicking what ever pops out at you as an LJ-Cut.

Man, I need to stop it with all these introduction sections.

As it goes, I think that what I’ve been going through for the past couple of months could be construed as artist block and in turn has been getting me down. Although Art class showed a promising potential to be of use to me as an outlet for getting ideas out of my system, I somehow ended up playing by the rules for five months straight without really stepping into the zone of normality for what I consider to be above-par, portfolio worthy art. And aside from doodles of tentacles on numerous worksheets which have been thrown at me over the course of the year, I haven’t buckled down to produce any leisure or otherwise well representing art pieces. School and my already poor time management are undoubting factors to my failure to reach my ultimate goals of ultimate ultimateness but at the same time, it’s just occurred to me that right now, what I may be experiencing is a hazy phase in which I’m determined like mad to reach my career-orientated goals but have no new ideas. What a shame too because I have tightened up my technical skills to a more dazzling caliber but have nothing to really present using them. Anyway, I hope this isn’t me just getting too high headed and losing my touch with what I hope would make me famous in the first place. I hope this isn’t the end of my interest in a career in the fashion industry because it’s not like I really have anything to fall back on. I guess you could say I only have a knack for a small range of talents, all of which fall into the artistic range so I guess I only have one basket of eggs to crack in the first place.

Right about here I would be ramming a funnel into your ear and forcing more words and self concerns into your brain meats however I’m pretty much dozing in and out of sleep here so this post is going to get cut short for now. Like I said, you will hear everything that needs top be said eventually.

Just to make this worth my time for the now, no- I’m not going off and ODing on Vitamin C or trying to kill myself with ink poisoning if you so chose to draw these conclusions based on my previous entry. Self pity is like wallowing in a bed of your own defecation; it can only make you ill. And my having chosen to share a slice of my life events with you, served with just a touch of wine was by no means an attempt for sympathy or attention or what have you. To clarify, 95% of the time I’m using Live Journal for myself as a method of archiving my life because there is a certain satisfaction which comes along with knowing that you were on your computer at this time on this date avoiding doing anything profitable. The other 5% is all the times I just don’t want to answer “how are you doing?” honestly twelve times an hour in MSN conversations (Who am I trying to kid?! I hardly ever talk to three people in a whole day on that dang-blasted service) Case in point: archival purposes. Coments are just shameless ego boosts.

Kay, you know what? No more talksie for tonight. My 3301 characters have been spent. Try again tomorrow.

Word on the street suggests that I haven’t updated in a while. This is entirely true. Why ever would this fact of my life have come to be? Because should I post, it would suggest that I have better things to do than select projects of the now (which in all honesty, I count pretty much anything as better than said methods of sucking the youth right out of my, well, youth) and would therefore make anybody who is in anyway involved with my educational success explode in a gooey ball of rage at me for “slacking” (which I’m not really because I can justify within reason why keeping this here Live Journal is actually a more valuable asset to my future than school it’s self) Anyhoo...

I really like my new hair cut. It’s short like it was when I was cosplaying as Wolfwood but violet in a way which it has never been violet before. I still find it hard to believe that I went six months without doing any maintenance to my hair because I guess it’s one of those things that I have a problem living with mostly because of my constant need to re-invent myself (even if it is only my appearance)

Actually, now that I mention it, I’m a lot happier right now than I was even a month ago. I don’t think I can entirely credit not being in such ‘memorable’ (to say the least) classes such as Biology for my newly acquired contentment, even though that course almost single handedly raped me of any remaining pride and dignity and then spit me out with a fat 48% (later modified to 50%) Just my outlook on things seems to have changed. For example I’ve lost that thing I had hammered into my head about remaining neutral with everybody around me instead of investing into positive relationships with unlike the previously mentioned others, actually housed the potential to reap benefits for both parties. Just by purposefully distancing myself from a handful of people in my life who I know to have perpetuated ridiculous little spats on a regular basis, I feel as if I am more able to express myself around people who can appreciate my existence rather than question the motives behind my actions on a fairly routine basis. Not only that but now I have the will to actually socialize myself instead of turn to degrading introspective activities for my kicks. And blah blah blah. You aren’t really reading this anyway.

See, maybe there wasn’t that much to update about after all?

Oh and also I really do enjoy it when people call me right as they’re about to get into the shower. THIS IS WHAT ICES MY STRAWBERRY-CREAM PIE OF A LIFE.

First day of the second semester, my hands are dry and bleeding from all the hand washing, all I’ve had to consume today was a can of pineapple juice and it's so windy outside that my face pretty near blew clean off my skull! Those are all the important headliners, now for all the rest if the knitty-gritty which has been passing through my life as of the late.

Yesterday I attempted to put a dent into this sewing cosplay thing. I've started with Sid's Pudding gloves. The experience so far has been comparable to being raped through your eye sockets by a python covered in Plexiglas strands. This doesn't say much about my sewing skill because I'm following the pattern with fabric which is reasonably easy to sew and am still managing to make the glove look less than perfect. Maybe it's just the scale of the project? Or maybe it's because it's one of those stupid vogue patterns where the seam allowance is 1/8” which I'm too lazy to measure out. I don’t mean to sound vicious but at least I'm starting with her gloves and not mine.

Soon after I proceeded to clean my clean my basement which easily falls somewhere under the most useless wastes of my time possible in every way category. For Christ sake, I'm the only one who even uses the basement and I know exactly where anything important is located. Please tell me that this is all that matters because if I’m wrong here, than I don’t want to know what is right.

Then after several attempts I managed to convince my mother that I needed to attend a very urgent Summerstock rehearsal from 6:30 until 10:00. Of course there was a lead rehearsal… it was just for actors from scenes 1-5 which does not include me and my tablespoon full of lines from scene 6. However that did include the Benson who was also late but despite having been so, still decided to spend the rest of his three hours there with me doing sweet, recreational, hardly anything. Damn, I must be developing some mad manipulation skills here. I can set people’s priorities entirely out of whack!

Which brings me to today, the first day back at my school; the cesspool of too much disposable income, hormones and scandal. I never realized just how doomed we are until I set foot into my Spanish 10 class (the one I really didn’t want to take but ended up being put into only to complete the first half of the week’s work in fifteen minutes which is great seeing as I don’t even know Spanish) where my first contact was with some girl who asked me "Duuuuuuuuuuuude! Is you name really Maryjane? Do you like smoke up on weed and then like, when the cops pull you over do you say that that's your real name?" so I made it quite clear to her that I have no intensions of smoking marijuana EVER or even associating myself with those obsessed with the culture surrounding the drug and then she made some remark about how I sound like her friend who patronizes her for being stupid by always using 'big words'. It was then that I sealed my fate as 'the smart one' because thereafter I was being pestered for the rest of the class to explain how to do the worksheets which were clearly aimed at children at a first grade level. The rest of my subjects seem like blow-offs as well (well, not so much Physics but I can always use Spanish to catch up on that).

And I passed bio. YEA-YUH!!

At last my final exam of the semester is over with! Now I can be free to frolic about in my current state of euphoria (well, as soon as I finish cleaning my basement but yeah, like that’s going to ever happen...) Speaking of which, I have been awful cheerful lately even for being out of the school setting. Spring is anything but in the air and therefore does not fill my lungs with all giddiness which comes with it. Perhaps it is that my life is now showing signs of… promise? Is that the right word? Fufufu, you will never know but nor will I! Now onto the comprehendible segment of my post!

Yesterday I had my math exam which was great because I finally got the extra time that I had applied for, not because I genuinely have a learning disability but because I completely stink at math (but enjoy it ever still!) so the whole test took me four hours to do and I still never ended up finishing it. Anyway, while in the resourcetard room, my cell phone WHICH WAS IN MY BAG and was presumably off decided to ring. No, not ring, play the Russian anthem because I am dirty soviet patriot trash or something like that. Anyhoo, because for this part of the exam my bag was at my desk, I got caught. Now had I been writing in the main gym with more than ten other people who were presumably too L.D. to notice it ring anyway, I would have gotten away scott-free and I would have my phone back just in time to send text messages to everyone I know (I guess you’re supposed to hit ‘1’ and then the area code… I just thought that everybody assumed I was naive and out of province) But no, now it is confiscated and one of the vice principals is holding it hostage overnight so he can fill out forms, recording vital (and presumably personal) information with regards to my poor little phone. Ungh, I’ve had it for a good two months and seldom use it. How should I know how to turn it off? Oh well, jokes on the admin because that phone has been in my mouth. HUZZAH. Ha.

Ah-ha.

Ah-ha -ha -ha –ha.

This week in it’s self also feels rather long contrary to the amount of work which I have completed throughout it’s duration. Stupid week. But tomorrow is not only the day of buying cosplay materials with Sid but also the day in which I get to see my newly acquired gay lover counterpart of the day which is Friday! This is pretty exiting stuff.

There is nothing to post at the moment as although fantastic, my life continues to remain on the uneventful side. Of course I mean this in the predictable way, not so much in the so much time, so little to do way (it's really anything but that) I’m also quite anxious over several other impending (and slightly corny) "new beginnings" if you will such as the next Summerstock rehearsal, getting all the items I ordered from eBay last week in the mail as well as those boots from Barbie’s shop, going fabric shopping for my cosplay outfit, starting to direct the scene which Sid, I and possibly others will be performing while in said cosplay, super exciting math final from the planet of Mars, a whole new semester and of course, well- erm, maybe it’s best that I don’t wave my arms in the air foolishly about this next one just yet...

In the meantime I've been browsing over the finest 'non-fiction' which the internet has to offer; astrology. Now before you assemble an opinion of me sounding like a complete and utter space cadet (HA! That is so punny! I make Joke! Emmjay make joke!), think of it this way: what I'm doing is more or less informing myself on something which in all probably isn't even true (but when it works out in my favor, it totally is) so that I won't have to take responsibility of my own behavioral flaws and instead blame the cosmos or what ever! Oh and did I mention that I can also wish pox upon the destined-to-be-weak organs of all those who intervene with my lavish plans for astrological domination by employing my new found skill swiped straight from the internet? It's true. Notice how you're reading this here entry right now? Well that’s all because I’ve twisted your fate entirely. Spooky, huh?

Or perhaps it was this image which occupies 640 x 800 pixels of your friend’s page which could otherwise be filled by a meme or highly introspective personality quiz result? But no! Instead 'tis that picture that I was working on last week for art class. The proportions are a little wonky (seeing as it was based from a pen sketch that I did last summer) and the ever so reliable Photoshop Elements 2.0 (for educational use only) was not responding to tablet pressure but I’m happy. Mainly because the lighting is consistent at most (which I’m usually detoured away from on account of how overwhelming the canvas size seems) Less talkie, more pixtuar:



Holy-moly! An entry that wasn’t really about my day at all. On second thought, I think I’m going to contradict that last sentence and say that as of today I now know what the words flirt, flirting, flirtation and flirted mean! Until now I had no idea what the meaning of this word was and felt left out of what I can only imagine were highly intriguing conversations in which I never brought to attention my misunderstanding of the word in fear that I would have been socially exiled. I also found out that it can be a good word to create elaborate metaphors with! For example, "Pikachu flirted with his Pokéball". This sentence would not mean that Pikachu is trying to win the affection of the Pokéball through amorous behavior of a playful or frivolous kind but rather that he playfully taunts it or something like that. Wow, I guess you really do learn something new every day!

NOTE TO BENSON: I made’d you get a Live Journal! Feed it with posts because it looks sadder than that one really sad emoticon when it's empty.

At last my Biololololology exam is over. To my complete dismay there were no questions about the absolutely fascinating adrenal system but no less is this sub-par cpurse-a-palooza all done with. No more Bio. No more Bio which is really Chemistry. But worst of all, now I’m bored. So bored in fact that today I was able to get around to doing some things which I actually enjoy. I’m convinced that I’m a workaholic though because even when I have earned my right to rest time, I feel guilty about being less productive. Which is quite possibly why I have a VJ Army account; because just playing Beatmania wasn’t rewarding enough apparently.

Oh, oh- can you hear that? The sound of me shamelessly posting my next bundle of eBay coated joy:

- Beatmania IIDX 3^rd Style ($46.95)
- Beatmania IIDX 4^th Style ($58.63)
- Beatmania IIDX 5^th Style ($56.35)
- Beatmania IIDX 8^th Style ($70.45)
- In the Groove ($28.19)
- Ulala Cosplay Boots ($44.99 USD, that’s like $53.something if my mental math is still good)

And now that I have all that pent-up consumptionism out of my system, I think I’m going to watch some Kids in the Hall.

Luckily this semester is just about over so I can at long last purge myself of the anguish and humiliation which has been accumulating over the course of the last four and a half months. Should I not be checking myself into the third last semester of my life, I would be on the brink of once again lapsing into mediocrity. Well of course, some people have helped me through it more than others. There will always be those who are simply there when I am there and there are those who are actually there for me. Name dropping is juvenile space filler but you know who you are and to you I say thank you.

Another realization I have come face to face with is that I probably will never see Chris again in my life (what a shame too seeing as I found a picture of him from grade 6 today which brings me a great deal of satisfaction in the slightly creepy and obsessed way) Also, that I had come to my senses about how I feel about him around a year ago. This means that I have pledged my love to one person (though wrongfully vicariously through another person which proved to be a disaster) for an entire year. This is a huge “accomplishment” for me though seeing as I’m convinced that I may have loyalty issues (where I seek out change no matter how good I have things) and the worst part of it all is that in this entire year, I saw him no more than ten times. The last I saw of him was I believe at the beginning of March. So all this time I’ve been holding on to this empty dream that someday I could be blessed enough just to be in his presence one more time. And I know I can’t say anything here that hasn’t been said a million times over and I know it’s corny and cliché or what have you but honestly, just for one hour with Chris… And worst of all is that I mean nothing to him any more. For a millisecond in time we were all that each other had and before I could realize it he was gone and now only through seeing his spite and his wrath from the outside (as I seem to have been “locked out” if you will) that I can truly savor the sincerity of all those times he told me that he loved me and I was too damn ignorant to see that those words weren’t from the things that I said or when I ran errands for him out of sheer boredom. The person with the perfect balance of charm, intellect, social inadequacy and beauty loved me AND I DIDN’T EVEN SEE IT. And multiple times now I’ve had the dreams where I find out that he is dead and as if crying almost every night about this (among one other thing but I don’t want to get into that right now) wasn’t bad enough, eventually believing my subconscious is. Because I need to face it- he is dead to me. I will never see him again. Yet I can still devote a year of my life to a memory. And every time I think about him I cry and lose interest in what ever it is I chose to indulge in. Even if my mom brings him up I start to cry and can’t tell her anything past “oh, he was such a good friend, I sure do miss him”. Is what I’m doing not mourning?

Because the one person I truly love is DEAD but I think it’s about time I move on.

The mental break of the now for Emmjay begins immediately and will go until at least Thursday.

This means that I will not be attending school until said date, however will be completing far more work at home that imaginable at that decrepit facility which has been reaping me of my dignity all together for the last year and a half. No worries- I will return sometime this week and not a second too late for my adoring masses (that’s what… two people?) to touch me before I spend my CHRISTMAS holiday alone at my aunt’s house house-sitting as opposed to at my current place of employment (like I had specifically requested) or even better yet, surrounding myself with those who are the most highly tolerable.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Faaaaahhhhwwwwccckkkkkkkkkkuh-kuh-kuh-KUH.

Its times like these that I wish I had a boyfriend. But I don’t. Because statistics show that I fuck them all up; each worse than the last and seeing as statistics don’t lie I should just face the facts that I’m going to be a lonely old coot for the rest of my life who gets their rocks off to Trigun doujinshi- and as much as I’d like to admit otherwise, seeing Wolfwood come all over his face is only indecently hot the first 9,347,923,061,321³ times but then the hot mangoo solidifies into a cold-prickly that looms over me until I realize just how stupid this sounds so I stop typing and feeling so damn proud for knowing how to put Unicode characters into a Live Journal post.

But in any case, I get to think out aaaaallllllll my guilt for the next 2 days because I sure as hell won’t be able to concentrate on the most beloved concentration-gradients of all human-history!

...I wish I knew why I made such bad choices.

So I’m going to give this whole describing the whole story thing a chance. I’m not doing this to make anybody mad, I’m doing this for myself and so that I don’t go crazy or make us some twisted version of the truth up for everybody who enquires about my life. This might make things better, this might make things worse. We’ll see.

A few months ago, I reconcile my differences with somebody who I hadn’t been speaking to in over a year. Now I didn’t hate this person. Rather I ended up hating the fact that they went around filling people’s heads (people who I didn’t know personally mind you) that I was that horrible malicious person. See, its one thing to justifiably hate me for your own reasons, but it’s another to hate me based on the incredibly biased opinion of somebody else who is subjectively feeding you over exaggerated tid-bits. So in attempt for me to clear my name for both parties, I accept this guy back into my life- partially because at this time, I feel that I have no friends (with a few obvious exceptions however the point is that I’m fed up with the selection at my school)

Things are going pretty well. I end up spending a lot of time with this Chris and am reminded of why we ever had a friendship in the first place. He can be a pretty swell guy.

Then about a month into our relationship, I become notified of his feelings toward me that were left over from the ninth grade. However this time I didn’t have a boyfriend, I was particularly needy for affection of any kind and because I just wanted to prove my point that I wasn’t the scum of the earth (as he had previously detonated me as), I ended up going out with him. But from the get go, I didn’t imagine that things would really last. I tried to be optimistic, I tried to be affectionate but I never really loved him. True, I did consider him to be far more than “just a friend” but I think that’s to be expected when this person is one of the few who acknowledge your presence and can enjoy the company of. That and at the time, I really wanted everything that I had with Jacob back but because I knew I screwed that up out of my own arrogance, and because Chris was all that remained of that life before this, I settled for the convenience. Besides if I could make Chris happy, I could seek happiness in that and avoid any melodrama like that which resulted from the last time that he liked me.

After that things were okay. I obviously wasn’t that emotionally connected in the first place and he picked up on that right away but the real slap in my face came for me when I had a conversation with him where I stated that he would never refer to me as his “girlfriend”, as “boyfriend” was the only suitable option seeing as I am in fact a boy. You know all those little rambles I’ve posted here on my Live Journal about how I will never have a happy relationship with a guy because of how gender is defined and that I will never be loved as a 100%, genuine MALE? Well I never actually thought that I would end up in such a situation (also because I was cynical about ever being in a relationship ever again) but despite my emotional bracement for such a scenario, hearing that from somebody who supposedly loves you single handedly defines pain even if you don’t love them the same way back. I don’t like being dismissed like this and anybody who thinks this about me- dating or not, is really not worthy of my time. When you completely rule out MJ as a MALE completely, you’re probably just in denial that people like me are out there and even more so that transsexuals are real people that exist in your life. We aren’t some figure, stat, figure of sience-fiction. Just because our sexual (and human) identities are achieved through surgery doesn’t make us any different from a straight laced, God-fearing heterosexual. No. We’re here, cope.

There after the subject became taboo and never really came up again in fear of more drama. I figured that one day he will see things my way and I guess he thought the same for me. For the next little while I just kind of played along because it’s nice being in love; with being love. I guess I also felt like I had reached what is considered the ultimate goal and that once I’m there, there’s nothing to really strive for any more.

So I let Chris in on that things weren’t going as planed. Disappointment ensured but I also made it clear that he was still a significant friend and that I would continue to value his company.

By now, I admit my stupidity and make amends with my best friend from two years back. Mind you this person has absolutely nothing to do with any of the above events and some how the demise of one relationship (which was really just one relationship which was supposed to grow in the friendship direction) gets blamed on the reigniting of another. Hey look- MJ has a friend to spend some time with and all of a sudden, the time which I had spent with Chris becomes divided between school (because I’m trying to get it together because all of a sudden I’m not allowed to switch schools), Jordan and Chris. Might I also mention that the division is equal (if not, with school composing of the greater portion of my time) I understand the pain of going from all to nothing. I know what it’s like to not be with the person you love most twenty-four seven but nobody has the right in monopolizing me- and if I seem to be swaying entirely in the other direction, it is because I remember what happens when admiration becomes obsession. It isn’t healthy and isn’t very charming. Don’t get me wrong, Chris can be a great person but when you aren’t satisfying his high maintenance needs, he cracks. Just because somebody isn’t with you all the time, doesn’t mean that they don’t like you. In fact it’s a vicious cycle because the more he over reacts, more degrading I find it to be around him. Moderation, moderation, moderation.

Alas, tonight I have been blocked from Chris’s MSN as well as un-friended from his Live Journal (the ultimate in internet revenge as you may know) which I am not exactly thrilled with, nor am I digging my own grave to fill with emotional garbage but maybe for his sake, it’s better to just stay back for a while so he can see things for what they are and maybe take the hint that the more you pull, the rope will break. Wow, that might just be the best metaphor that I have ever pulled out of my ass.

I am also contemplating taking Pure Math 30 G.A.T.E by correspondence if not to get it out of the way when I won’t need it for university but so that I can ruin Mrs. Tsui’s summer.

I'm so done with fucking school. I'm getting my forums tomorrow and then I'm out of there for good.