anorthe

What a beautiful soul. Yoko just posted this on her website in answer to "what is your favourite childhood memory?"

I was two and half years old in a hotel room. (Yes. I was very aware that it was just a hotel room.) My mother said the woman will be there for me. But the woman left, for whatever reason. The room was getting darker, and darker. I was getting really scared. So I pushed the chair to the wall where the light switch was, climbed up the chair with a great effort, and turned the light on. The room looked bare. But it was light. I always remember that look of the room. I felt proud that I turned the light on all by myself.

http://zeroatthebone.wordpress.com/2009/08/07/they-are-mine-they-are-mine-they-are-mine/


a very long and kindof nice rant about having breasts and how people stare at them. I dont agree with everything this woman says, I've had different experiences, which I'd like to share.

I get stared at every single day. There is rarely a moment when I am in public, on the street, even biking somewhere when half, more then half of the available men look at me, sometimes slowing their cars, to get a better look.

I've gotten pretty used to it. Sometimes it even makes me happy. Usually it makes me frank.

I've come to expect it. That's a little weird. Because then on the off days where I'm wearing less flattering clothes I can tell by the public's approval.

I kindof ...like it. I feel more empowered rather then disempowered by this whole scenario where people, men and women, stare at attractive women. Isnt it kindof nice? You have their attention because you're beautiful. I guess it's a little demoralizing because you are worth so much more then what you look like, but you know sister, we're all animals. We're all flesh and blood and instincts and smell and feelings.

It's ok. It's not the best thing in life but it's not the worst either. It's just a fact of life that seems a little beneath us. Just like looking at commercials or advertisments. Just like pretending that the garbage we throw away actually goes somewhere and disappears. Just like being freaked out by insects.

So go ahead. Look. I'm not going to let you make me feel bad about being beautiful.

you make me feelllllll emotional babbyy

A car door swung open right in front of me as I was biking full speed down Parc. I bike down Parc almost everyday, I've been a cyclist for years, and I've never had such a surprise accident as a car door innocently swinging wide open at the wrong time. The result was pretty disastrous. I remember flipping over and landing on my helmet, and my bike landed two lanes away. My front wheel is warped, and there's a dent in my helmet. That almost happened to my head. I couldnt get up after it happened, someone had to carry me to the sidewalk. If there had been any traffic at that time, I'm sure I wouldve been hit.

The driver took me to a nearby mosque, gave me a cup of tea. I sat there for a long time, just crying and shaking. The shock was what made me cry. My life was just threatened! My body had been tossed around. The worst accident I've ever been in, and I'm so lucky I'm not injured past a bruised body. My neck hurts the most today.

I feel like such a retard. I feel utterly pathetic. I dont think I'm at fault for this incident, I just feel so freaking vulnerable, and I dont know what to do about it.

My first cohesive thought, after "ow." and "my bike.." and "Alive?" was "Cory!"

Yeah. I'm a retard. I cant believe I'm in this fucking mess, where my life is endangered and I want to cry and run to my ex-boyfriend, but I cant. Or I shouldnt. I'm not sure what the distinction is or where it lies.

I'm so totally immature, and I absolutely deserve all his hate and spite. But I dont know if I can take it.

I literally felt yesterday, that the most important thing to do was to settle up with him. It was the first thing that popped into my head outside my own immediate environment as this thing I needed to do in life. It sounds completely absurd, but I think it's the thing I would regret the most had my life ended with a stupid bike accident on Parc.

So what do I do about it?

How are you doing? Really. If you could ask that question of the entire student body, most people would respond with a simple, “good.”

But is that habit, social pressure, or you I hear? Not enough respect is given to our feelings, sometimes we don’t believe they’re worth expressing. However, our emotions are a fundamental part of the cognitive experience, and therefore our mental health.

There’s a study on positive psychology—improving positive mental health as opposed to fixing negative mental health—that shows that the happier people are, the more functional they become. Being happy makes you more motivated, confident and even smarter. You’ll actually be better at your job, or school. Being sad, angry or stressed does the opposite.

Emotions elicit a biophysical reaction; stress and anger actually release potent concoctions of corrosive hormones that cause muscle tension, anxiety and insomnia. Ever felt so upset that you were nauseous? Well, sorry to remind you of it, but read on and maybe next time you can deal with that feeling without losing your lunch.

We’ve all been there, feeling so angry you get drunk with your friends and smash beer bottles in a back alley, or even so immensely sad that you seem to lose the will to live. Our emotions are powerful, and the more intense they feel, the harder they are to control and deal with in a constructive manner.

Defence mechanisms kick in, such as passive-aggressiveness—behaviour characterized by indirect resistance to the demands of others, and avoidance of direct confrontation. Other defence mechanisms include: projection, intellectualization, suppression, repression etc. The list goes on.

I’m seriously reaction-formative. That is when you channel all the emotion into something else with a constructive intent. For example, if I have an upsetting fight with my roommate, I’ll compulsively clean the kitchen, do the dishes, wash the floor, wipe the shelves and maybe bake some cookies. Even writing this article is an attempt at a constructive response to something I’m not dealing with directly.

Intellectualization is a common one for academics, especially when feelings (unless you are an applied human sciences/psychology major) are considered a distinct function from what constitutes mental deftness, such as reasoning and knowledge. There’s an instinct to then cut off our emotions and think rationally about things like interpersonal relations or conflict, but doing that is like trying to walk with crutches because you don’t like your foot. You’re moving along without dealing with something integral to the problem.

Which brings us to suppression and repression, which often makes the emotion turn bitter, or you’ll deal with it at a later date, which is less ideal. Also, emotion and cognition feed on each other. If you feel strongly about something you’ll think about it, and if you think about it, you’ll experience it again emotionally.

Constructive action requires a full understanding. Without proper acknowledgment of how you feel and what you think resolution can be impossible. . A lack of direct confrontation probably means you won’t get what you want, and feelings of dissatisfaction are stressful. It puts serious pressure on our relationships, and can create conflict or a power struggle, which doesn’t make anyone feel better.

Respect and understanding are fundamental to the health of our relationships and they go both ways. Relating to others is one of the ways we support and even define our own mental health and happiness.

We don’t choose our emotions and we can’t change the situations that elicit an intense emotional response, but we can act constructively. This involves being honest with yourself, knowing your weaknesses, not being overly critical, and having the initiative needed to act and work on whatever is wrong. This might mean admitting your mistakes and swallowing your pride.

The more personal and important the feeling, the greater the risk is and the harder it is to express. With emotional experience, our confidence increases, which lets us relax and feel in control. Little things will stop bothering us, like how we always seem to miss the bus, or seem hopelessly swamped in homework. We’ll be more open which makes us more resilient and adaptable to whatever happens in our lives. Higher self-esteem allows us to be more generously empathetic with others, which lets us contribute more to our relationships and get more in return. That’s healthy.

I am a complete fucking idiot.

I dont understand how I keep getting this so wrong. And my mistakes are haunting me. And they refuse to resolve themselves. Maybe my stress levels are making me blow it out of proportion.

...No, it's because it's genuinely really important to me.

You cant outsmart your own feelings. You just cant.

And in my delusional state, I actually believed that if I just waited long enough, and tried to be a better person, I could get you back. Which made me hold onto my feelings for you like some cherished secret.

But I fed so much anger and animosity while I was waiting. I'm sorry, I was scared and repressed and so damn full of myself, believing what I believed. Or maybe it was full of you.

You wanted to be friends. You told me you loved me still. And I cut it off for some hair-brained scheme about how distance would clear our heads and make us realize how valuable our relationship really was.

Well, it did that for me.

And now you think I'm crazy when I try and pretend like it didnt hurt, and be all chummy with you again. aaahahahahah!!!

I'm laughing tears.

I am so deeply frustrated at this situation, and all I want to do is run away to Prague, but I cant, and I know I'll have to face my demons if I'm ever going to have peace. Because those demons are in songs, books, places, and people that are so important to me. And because I'll have to come back one day.

BUT HOW DO I CONFRONT THIS WHEN YOU ARE THIS REPRESSED SON OF A BITCH?


I try so hard to understand that you are doing this out of your own emotional needs, but if I'm ever going to move on and stop feeling judged, depressed, ashamed, insecure and STRESSED, then I need to come to terms with what happened between us, I need to be at peace with it, but then I wait and wait to be able to talk to you again, and do something like express my sentiments to the WORLD and you bully me down. And verbally abuse me. Without hearing me out.

You dont know what's going on, YOU DONT KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON, YOU DONT KNOW WHAT IS GOING ON.

How I feel or what I think.

How then, are we possibly going to do something constructive with this wreckage?

How then, am I supposed to feel? Grow? Act?

I dont need you. I used power tools and installed cotterpin cranks today for the first time and it made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

But you are a scar that refuses to go away. In fact, every time I even LOOK at you, you grow bigger. You like making me this ever-changing enemy every time I try and make nice with you. The criticisms shift back and forth like a fun house. But I'm not having fun. What an understatement. You are like a chain that I have wrapped around my ankle that I've been dragging along for so long, and you chafe blood but sometimes I even forget you're there because I'm used to you, but sometimes I notice and try and take you off but just end up hurting myself more, and then walking becomes so unbearable again. And you're content to just get used to it and keep walking, but what if we just took off the chain? Wouldnt that be so much lighter?

it has been so long since we even tried to care about each other.

You know, the wonderful thing about love is that it touches you so deeply. Unfortunately, when it goes wrong, it touches you just as deep.

And you're still around. And you pretend so hard. And you push me away. And you try to act like you're on top of it. And the stupid thing is that secretly you're still licking your wounds, but now you've disassociated me from the solution so you're content to stare at me from across the room and complain to your friends. And run away from me at RTM. I NOTICE.

You're fucked up.

I'm fucked up too. Hey, I'll let you in on a little secret: we're all fucked up. I was a naive little girl when I met you. And you STILL make me feel SO ashamed of that, even though I have THROWN myself into self-improvement, and grow and grow... reading essays, taking conflict resolution workshops, having epiphanies about non-zero sumness, making friends, believing in peace, delving into textbooks for the psychology of emotions... and realizing that it applies. Yes, repression feels like that. Yes, that's passive-agressive. Yes, that's what happens when things arent resolved. Yes, the list is long.

If you make me into some huge villain, the situation is still blown all up out of proportion. And you care, just as much, just in the opposite direction.

I want to let go of you Cory, but in the deepest of my heart and mind, I know that means I have to forgive you, forgive myself, forgive us, and believe in love again. When does that get to happen? Never? Am I destined to be this bitter and abused girl for the rest of my life?

I Loved you so deeply. I really, really did. And I'd be content to throw away almost everything else in my life to be in the magical little world that we created between us again. It's worth so much. It really is. But it's not worth all this STUPID BULLSHIT that keeps coming up! Like our gossipy friends, or the tension in our shared spaces, or all the stupid baggage we've developed... And we cant even agree on therapeutic measures. JESUS, I JUST WANT PEACE. SO JUST TALK TO ME AND STOP BEING SO BITTER AND I CAN STOP BEING SO BITTER AND WE CAN JUST ALL RELAX AND TRY TO ENJOY OURSELVES IN THIS DAMN CITY FOR GODS SAKE.




...



So should I go to Alain's party and see you? And we can do that stupid waltz we do where we oh-so subtly exchange rooms and glances but dont speak?

ha ha.

lol.

lmfao.

Dear you,

You have no idea what's going on, or how much it still hurts (and hurts anew), or why I am doing anything, or what I've thought and felt...etc And probably, who I am has become a pretty fuzzy image to you too.

I guess that goes the same for me.

Dont you want to find truth?


Bonnie

Is this really what this has come to? I cant even believe it and try to read underlying messages behind your body language. I miss you. I never thought it was the end, you know. I thought we needed space, to clear our heads, to be able to start again and change the dynamic that had become stale-mated. It's been a year since I met you, and I still think about you all the time. I wish you knew that. I wish I could tell you. Exchanging words in public spaces feels like waving goodbye again and again, reopens wounds and makes me feel like we let each other down. We let each other down. Overcomplications. We are overly complicated people Cory. We needed to reduce our relationship to the lowest common denomination but I guess we found that too low. Too bad, because I'm pretty sure it's gotten higher since we last said I love you.

I have anxiety about my anxiety.

Everyone has to deal with their own insecurities. But sometimes, worrying about that shit makes you an even shittier person.

I am such a dork.

Stand-up Comedy Assignment

I love Montreal. Dont you? The sights, the sound of people yelling at you from their cars. The whole city is romantic like that. There's even a cross at the top of the mountain as if the whole island was a huge wedding chapel. If French is the language of love, Quebecquois is the language of that drunk guy at the bar who tries to pick you up.
But underneath all the glamourous decadence of Montreal, there's a seedy, filthy underbelly that distinctly smells of body fluids. Yes, the metro. The metro is a world in of itself. You can eat, drink, shop, sleep, hell, you can even piss in the Metro. I know other people have. Once I was taking the metro late at night, barely anyone around, and I notice this guy sitting in the seats in front of me, looking at me with a friendly smile. I smile back, and then I notice that he's idly playing with a flimsy pair of pink panties that look way too small for him.
I used to say, that a small penis, was the new big penis. That in retaliation to machoism, men were starting to become proud of their small penises. My dick is so small, it never gets caught in my zipper. In fact, it never gets in the way at all. I can think perfectly clear without it. Size doesnt matter to me, I'm bigger then that.
Speaking of which, who hates being poked on Facebook? Yeah, I know, I hate it when Facebook enters the realm of real life conversation. But admit that you spend hours a day on it, spying on all your friends and almost friends, and you'll almost be a better person. But seriously, imagine if you're at this huge party, having a beer and someone comes up to you, and you havent spoken to them in years and they POKE you. What the hell is that? That's not friendly. That's abuse. That's like saying, “Hey, you want to take this outside?” Or rather, “Hey, you want to take this online?”
Why do guys yell at you from across the street, and ask you if you want to sleep with them? It happens to me all the time. (loud drunken voice) “HEY BABY, I GOT SOMETHING IN MY PANTS THAT WANTS TO SAY HI!” “HEY BABY, I WANT TO PUT MY SMALL PENIS IN YOU!” Do they actually think (same loud drunken voice) “OH BOY I HOPE SHE SAYS YES, SHES SO PRETTY!” or “I WANT HER TO MEET MY PARENTS!”
This is a real story. Once I was walking down the street in the middle of winter with a chair that I had found in the garbage, and this guy walks by me really close and looks me in the eye and says “sweet.” It was tasteless. A few blocks later, that same guy walks by me again, this time he says something in French, so I say “Excuse-moi?” And he says “How big is this?” And I look down and I see he's got his erect dick in his hand. And I'm holding this chair between us now, upside down, peering at him through the legs and blank out and all I can think of is to tell him the truth, which is that it's "...medium-sized." Then he asks me if I want to sleep with him. And I say no.

Well, it's about a week into the Fringe Festival and I'm getting more and more excited to be done with the Fringe, and moving to M-town.

P.S. I cant find your pants.

P.P.S. Come to my show already.

I cant even stand this anymore, getting emails from the sandy beaches of Fiji, and other amazing places in the world...

I'm leaving, I just gotta finish high school first.

Everyone, I now share a journal with my good friend, dearmrbrett, because we're both too boring/lazy to keep up our own journals.

So if you like me, you'll check it out. debongolog

anorthe out

FOREVER!

Merry grad.

Highlights of the night are as follows in random order.. *ahem*

Getting the coolest ever button-hole flower thing for Chris. He got compliments alll night. hehe, that's my boy!
Realizing I was a useless ball of tulle in the car (my heels kept sinking into the soil outside).
Being able to wear flats after just a few hours of pain.
throwing bread at Geoff. Being the only person not having the vegetarian meal at my table.
Hitting on Sean just like a man, baby.
Being good at blackjack!
Realizing Laura and I would be a happy bomb in the bedroom. teehee.
Simon kissing my hand after dancing.
'Dancing' with Martha. That girl reaffirmed my bisexuality like nothing else. ;)
Colin Deane, period.
Watching 3 other ppl ask the DJ to change the music after I did, and we all failed.. :(
"Hilda, My DAD DIED in an elevator!"
Breakfast & talking politics during it, in formal wear. At Perkins.
Paul Stafford, period.
Nerd-bonding with Chris.
Being hit on by the Canad Inns' staff.. wait, no.
The final song? ish.

:)

Last night was FUCKED. I was amazingly amazingly gone. dont tell anyone. I feel a little ashamed, b/c i was with 'seasoned pros' and it didnt seem to affect either of them at all. but yeah. i have to stop bein in a movie... it's claustrophobic inducing.

oh yeah. and to whom it may concern.. i wouldnt b/c if there's no emotion behind it, it's not fun for me. :P I realized the very best times were when i was... caught up in some crazy romanticized moment... and then i decided im not ever going to do it again unless it's the same sort of romance... or i'll regret it. And have regretted it. and regret is the last thing you want to feel after sex. :P

hhmm... what else... yeah, i dont know. i figure everything's more special if it's rare, you know? and sex is one of those things where i'd rather hold out for a bigger turnout in the long run. (holy smack that was alot of turns of phrases)

But then again.. i'd want it over and done with too, if i were you. :P

Ok, that's it. Bonnie officially has no money. None. Zilch. Nadda cent.

...So is anyone interested in this mesh baseball cap? It says "King Koin Launderette" on it!! It's navy blue!! I only want $200 for it!! I'm practically GIVING it away!!

C'mon, I'll throw in my soul...

How do you deal with people?

I feel I've lost all skill, for the simpliest of social transactions. Tact, etiquette, courtesy, consideration, "common" sense, discretion, understanding and grace have all been replaced with semi-awkward, fully-(un)functional silences and profuse apologizing.

I'n going to go stand in the corner now, and stare.

Still staring.