phylum Thallophyta

Who's a thallophyte?

A Beautiful Message

Getting ready for the garage sale that we'll be having over the next couple days, I found The Little Mermaid and The Snow Queen in our boxes. I pulled them out, because as a kid I loved the images and the original stories by Hans Christian Andersen. I want to keep the books for my children so I can share it with them. Anyway, rereading The Little Mermaid today I came across a passage I thought worth sharing.

"The little mermaid grew to love humans more and more. She wished she could live among them. Their world was much larger than hers. Their countries stretched over forest and field farther than she could see. There was so much she wished to know. Her sisters could not answer all her questions, so she asked her grandmother, 'If humans do not drown, do they go on living? Do they ever die as we do here in the sea?'
'Yes, they must also die,' answered her grandmother, 'and their lifetime is shorter than ours. We live to be three hundred years old, but when we die we have no graves among our loved ones. We become foam on the ocean. We have no eternal soul which can go on living. But humans have a soul which lives forever. It rises through the air to the shining stars, to unknown, wonderful places which we will never see.'"

Pessimism 101

An introduction to pessimism through analogies, which will convey to the student how being pessimistic can help them put reality in perspective.

A little bird visited me in the morning. Through the transient webbing of leftover sleep, he told me how dogs got hit by cars, how men committed suicide, and how the world was united in it's bloodshed. I listened patiently, focusing past the glare of light pouring through my screen on the silhouette of a well-spoken sparrow. He explained how men would always try to tell each other to accept each other's differences, but that they would always disagree and someone always had a gun license that they weren't afraid to misuse. An optimistic light always brightened someone's day and sometimes it even stilled a trigger-ready hand, but an angry glare always skewed things and mistakes always broke the brightest smile.

Broken teeth, bleeding gums, wide-smiling lips falling into a tangled mess of error. No one could ever maintain such a brilliant smile.

I tried to retort his message with hope. No matter how ill life became hope always prevailed. A little light continued to glow that could lead to a smile, which could save a life by stilling that man's gun. But the little bird only stared sullenly, an understanding in his bright, round eyes. I was in denial. I knew that the murder-greedy fingers would always kill and that no gentle mind or heart could ever mute that powerful call.

Somebody will always die by someone else's hands. No motivational speaker or whisper from God will ever smite murder altogether until there are no men left to kill.

I was forced to get up by a voice in my head, which mimicked the black-rimmed sparrow from which my room was now vacant. I carried on with my empty life, tempted to leave it completely but resisting the desire to prove the little bird wrong. A car took a wrong turn. A main artery in my leg was torn. Bleeding organs, coughing, spitting. A hit and run. A hit and run. The sparrow was staring out at the futile situation, tucked into a weeping willow with his body cast in shadow from the hanging verdure. Sometimes, proving someone wrong wasn't worth your energy. Good day, little bird... good night. Flight, my spirit, his wings, apart but together in the network of understanding.

Down to Business

Hopefully, if I'm able to get a seat in the classes of my choice, my timetable next year will look something like this:

Monday, *Wednesday, Friday
9:30a-10:20a - World Religious Studies
10:30a-11:20a - English Literature and Composition
11:30a-12:20a - Sociology
*1:00p-4:50p - Painting

Tuesday
7:00p-9:50p - Biology

I'd have Thursday's completely off, and only an evening class on Tuesday, giving me Tuesdays and Thursdays to work on portfolio/homework things. Afternoons (all except Wednesdays) will be off; I'll be able to set my availablity at work to decent hours so that I can work enough to maintain a decent (per say) income while still going to five university classes (a "full-course load" [university lingo]). I'm going to be so busy it won't be funny, but having lots to do makes me feel productive and content... so if I'm able to get into all of these classes, I will be happy. You know what's extra-fun? My brother is in the same Religious Studies class! Heh. We could be riding the bus and going to the same first class together. And I'm excited about this? Hell yes! Haha.
* indicates that the Painting class will only be on Wednesday.

Interesting Journey

A new twist on loving your enemies.

In elementary school, I was scorned from grades five through eight. I remember waking up with dread and loathing in my heart for school because of how my peers treated me. I became a quiet person, smiling little and talking less. I felt miserable about myself and everyone else. I refused to accept that people could be good and decent for what they'd done to me. The most popular girl in my grade hated me and turned everyone, including those who were my friends, away from me. I remember sitting alone, and when I tried to approach them watching them purposefully turn aside and walk in a different direction, leaving me with an even emptier and deeper hole than I'd started with. The most of this torture was reserved for grade five and a portion of grade six, after which my friends allowed me back into their circle... but only to backstab me mercilessly for the next two years. I was unhappy.

I anticipated high school with such fervor. I believed it would be a reconciling place where I could be exposed to new people and find the person inside that I've stowed away for so many years. Promptly upon entering grade nine, I confidently approached new people and immediately made new friends. I knew that I wasn't a bad person; I had simply pulled into myself for several years until elementary school wasted away and high school broadened on the horizon. In a way, it saved me. It helped Arwen develop into the person she is today. They weren't my glory days in the sense the media has portrayed, but they were some of the greatest days of my life because they helped me get to know myself through other people; through the friends I've made and lost I've understood so much more about myself.

If I hadn't been put in that situation, grades 5-8, I wouldn't be the person I am today. Instead of going on Jenny Jones and shouting into that 'popular' girl's face, I'd like to shake her hand and smile warmly into her face, thanking her for all that she's done for me.

Whoa, like, sex.

Funny story. Scholz brought up Bananas in Pajamas while sitting on my couch, and I thought I heard Bananas in Vaginas. So, my revision of the song goes as such:

Bananas in vaginas are coming down in stairs.
Bananas in vaginas are coming down in pairs.
Bananas in vaginas are chasing teddy bears.
'Cause on Tuesdays they tried to catch them unawares!

Yes. I've forever corrupted your youthful minds, but it was worth the laugh and a half I experienced this evening. 'Tah, my innocent babes.

Lovelorn

Ever felt that what was right was wrong? So wrong and hard that it would hurt more to do it but be the best alternative? Ever felt something so deep and difficult that it hindered your enjoyment of everyday life? What you used to take pleasure in now seems dull. Your smile doesn't naturally extend as far as it used to, your laughter fails to resonate as frequently. The pain isn't always strong, but it's always there. There's no way to avoid it except to endure the fastidious, ritualistic days. Unsatisfactory, tedious days. Unhappy, painstaking days...

I wish I knew how he was. I'm isolated and it's killing me. A piece of me left with him. Unfortunately, it feels like the better part of me is gone and the hard, pessimistic and disillusioned portion remains. I wish I knew how to deal with it. I wish I could be happier. There's so much I want to do, but I feel like a different person so it's hard to pursue anything without hesitation.

Who was I, but an appendage of someone else? Who am I now, except an idle limb without a mind and heart to function?

Self Obligation

To do's over the summer:
· Paint and complete at least one picture that I am satisfied with
· Draw as often as possible
· Work as much as possible
· Attend every inspiring show I'm able
· Go through stuff for upcoming garage sale
· Arrange computer desk/room for first year university
· Listen to every CD that Graham's given me (old, mix stuff)
· Travel when the option is available
» Jan Lake
» Edmonton
» Winnipeg
· Attend at least 3 educational/promotional lectures
· Go to the library frequently, plunder books
» Start a book club and set reading/discussion dates
· Go out with friends often, pillage their affection
· Educate self on Canadian law and doctrine
» Make a petition against Saskatoon child prostitution
· Exercise; start waking up early
» Train self to jog again; go for daily morning jogs
· Write creatively and frequently, work on unfinished projects
· Buy new guitar strings for my acoustic
» Force self to learn 'Push' for Graham
» Teach self more songs
· Help mom with yard work
· Apply to Mackenzie Cole Coffee

I'll be adding more on as I think of them, but this is a start. I promised myself I'd do as much as possible to improve myself as a person so that I can enter adulthood without too much difficulty. 'Not only that though... I want to be a better person for myself. I've put so much effort into my relationship with Graham that I've neglected myself, artistically and personally. I don't regret it, but I do miss Arwen... and she's worth a lot to me, so I figure I'm going to sober her up over summer so she can be better for herself. And Graham.

Monday's Products

I got my dave pierced yesterday.

Coronary Indigestion

I wait for the indigestion to wane and waste away but it only mounts. I can feel the muffin curdling in my system. The acid of my bitter feelings drenches me in masochistic nostalgia. My eyes are dry, I feel pathetic because I can't cry. Subconsciously I believe I refuse to. How can it be subconscious when I 'believe' that's what I feel? My body is listless but I don't desire sleep. I seek a sanctuary that I won't find in a rem-cycle. I know I've found love, because I'm bitten by it. It isn't venom so much as a sedative. I won't cry now. My stubbornness prohibits it. But I know I'll cry later. My hand will reach for the phone and my fingers will itch to touch the appropriate buttons, but I'll fall short.

Fuck.

I ache for the time that will be wasted in pining. I ache for it to be done and over with, but I'm only feeling the premonition before the storm. I know an ancient foreboding that lovers worldwide have felt before. I'm not alone in my yearning for resolution and solace.

So many people ache to know love, and too many struggle to maintain it. Equilibrium is attainable in chemistry; a perfect balance of forward and backward reactions that, if conditions remain constant, could retain it's oxidation and reduction rate forever. Human relationships aren't the same. Love can never find a balanced plane. The frugal nature of its instability is what makes it such a raw, passionate emotion felt by (a precious) few.

It's difficult to sleep when you count down the hours to what feels like the apocalypse. Indigestion sucks. Love can be wonderful. But it can also be hard, harder than a horny stallion's boner.