My Dietary Habits

LISTEN to my chipmunk screamo!

I like
olives on my sardines!
With banana peppers
and bleu cheese!

I like my olives
SATURATED
I like my sardines
SALTY AS HELL
I enjoy banana peppers
ORGANICLY PRODUCED
and my bleu cheese...
I FOUND IN A SEASHELL.

(insert long, grindcore interlude with distorted electric guitar and basic but weirdly-timed drum beats here)

(sudden break, softly plucking acoustic)

I cry myself to sleep every night,
You know why, you know why?
I cry myself to sleep every night,
I'll tell you why, I'll tell you why

(grindcore)

Those are the nights
I can't enjoy my olives
between two fat sardines!
With banana peppers and
BLEU... CHEESE!

RRRAAAAWWW FISH.
RRRAAAAWWW FISH.
RRRRAAAAAAAWWWW.

(hits a few dramatic chords with the electric and lets the distortion carry on and fade with the ending of the song).

Qualm: Atheism

Atheism. In reflection, I don't believe it should exist as a word or a view. Is that narrow-minded of me to say? I'm not attacking any atheists who may read this. I'm stating my point of view. Believe what you may, I won't try to convert or change you. You are who you are and believe what you do for valid reasons, so I highly respect you for that. Now then...

To be a better Hindu, Christian, Muslim, or Jew, you have to delve not only into the knowledge and perception of your own religion, you have to extend your research into other religions. Make connections, build bridges, notice similarities; respect and relate to the differences. Not only will it improve your own religious perspective, but also it will help you understand what you're worshipping better. As a Christian, you worship one God. True as that may be, there are millions of gods recognized by other cultures around the world. It's difficult for me to conceive of how someone can be atheist after recognizing that within all the different religions, there is an Almighty force. It may not be a god, but whatever it is it unifies, creates and establishes order. It is there, whatever it is. Otherwise, all religions wouldn't share this one integral characteristic. Four thousand years ago, people knew this. Four thousand years later, people still acknowledge it.

Deny it as much as you may; there had to be something (or multiple things) that created earth. Logically, yes, we may have evolved from chemical compounds reacting to produce organic substance. But how did the universe, our non-living chemically saturated earth, everything, come into existence if not through a 'force'? It may not be a 'god' so to speak, it could've been something like Brahman in Jainism and Buddhism; a living force that unifies existence and establishes order through the life and death cycle.

As human beings, comprehensive and analytical, we crave purpose. There isn't a single person alive who can claim they don't desire purpose. How can someone, as an atheist, still claim that whatever purpose they have, brings contentment? Someone who can't acknowledge the fact that something is beyond our ability to understand? Without an origin, we flounder and don't understand how to achieve a destination. If we don't at least have an explanation of how we came into being, how can we live and be content with our lives; live happily until we die?

We aren't all-knowing. We are the most intelligent creatures on Earth, but our knowledge doesn't encompass everything. We're still learning. As long as humans exist, they'll learn new things. But we didn't create the world. Something(s) else did. We can't know that something else didn't. No scientific method can ever reveal that. So, that's why atheism, as a word with a definition, shouldn't exist.

:( Notice

Because I've had fucking bots decide to rain on my parade and advertise shit on my blog, I've changed the comment-settings to only registered users. I apologize to those that requested anonymous posting rights, but I don't want to have to filter through it and delete every other post because it's a bot.

The end. I'm tired. My boob is itchy. I'm going to bed.

1 of 107 image(s) saved.

Niki you beast. Ahaha. I heart you. Technically, there were 98 pictures taken at the blog party. And about four of them were taken by me. But the 94 others are all Niki. I heart you lots, baby.

No, I'm not going to post 98 pictures here; most of them are repetitive Jenganess. If you ask nicely and really want them though, ask me over MSN and I'll e-mail you the entire file. That's right. The entire file.

Thanks to all who came. I had a killer time! You all make my life. At least, a significant portion of it. I'm exhausted, but I had to make a post today because it's the one-year anniversary of Llama Drama. I'm going to edit pictures now. Hopefully, I'll have them up before 12. Ehhhhhhhfuh.

Growed up.

I made a decision today about something.

I'm a growed up.

I ate cookies with my coffee this morning. I have paint on my fingers. I saw tarantulas get fed yesterday. After I use up my excess paint on an unorthodox painting, I'm going to draw a template for my llama cake. In two hours, I'm going to buy apple juice and go to Dairy Queen with my llama picture. After I'm done drawing the design for my cake, I'm going to begin my English essay.

I'm full of knowledge. ASDRLwq. I'm also full of sugar. And guess what? I'm a growed up.

Self Assurance

I get restless. With it comes a necessity to shed the anxiety. Over what? Preconceived notions, dwelled thoughts, aggravated emotions; everything is pent up. So I vent. I walk. I walk far enough that by the time I get home I'm too tired to care anymore. Too tired to be restless, too spent to know anything other than the desire to calm my palpitating heart and ease myself into a delirious state of sleep. Where the dreams come, the restless dreams that I wake from to feel more spent then when I fell under the covers the previous evening. It's hard to understand why I feel this way. I never felt this way before. But now that it's here I don't know how to get rid of it except to walk. Walk, forever. Anywhere. Everywhere. Somewhere, just to get away. I leave it behind in a catwalk linking two crescents together.

This catwalk is full of memories.
The month-old puddle cradles algae,
Broken, fragmented, and grey-green;
An indication of the grudges I keep.
The fruit of my emotions lay in disarray,
The people of my life come and pick them.
One takes a bite and discards the bitter core,
Another pulls the juice inside their eager mouth
Carrying it with them to savor the aftertaste.
Either way, fruit is left behind to rot.
Anyone walking through my catwalk
Tastes it in the air; the overripe decomposition
That describes how sour my feelings have turned.

A sewer drain, too high to take the puddle,
Stands dry and desolate; an analogy for the
Strain with which I try to harbor my grudges
While ignoring the fact that inside me I contain
The ability to dispel them completely.

Fuck, how I hate this isolation in the catwalk.
Because of my rotting fruit, people are put off.
They don't pick the delicious ripeness, which drapes
And tries to tempt fingers, lure them to wrap
Around a hearty apple. The smell, heavy
and hearty, is at odds to my perfect fruit.
The apples of my eyes. The keys to my soul.
They will ripen on the bough and inevitably,
Fall and die with their kin.
On the ground
smeared,
brown,
ruined,
& rotten.

Even the most delicious of memories,
Can decompose with the promptings
Of a begrudging heart.

I'm so tired right now. Not because I walked all through the north-end tonight, but tired with myself. I can't wait for tomorrow so that I can prepare for the next week. I will study, finish my assignments, and buy everything for Tuesday this weekend. I will prove to myself that this restlessness can be driven aside. I won't let these feelings control me as they have before. I'm not weak. I can and will be strong.

HOORAY!

I pause between my ravaging lapses of diarrhea to make an important announcement:

One week from today is LlamaDrama's One Year Anniversary! What does that mean!? I invite my blog friends to have a blog-party with me. Yes: Jorbrugund's late-crew is invited as well. We will drink apple juice and likely play board games until we vomit. I'm going to make invitations today. I'm sorry that Vanessa can't come. :( If I could mail apple juice, I would. She just has to promise that she'll drink apple juice that day for the blog and then her spirit will be with us. Same with Grahamaim. Drink apple juice on the 27th. But the rest of you have to be in my physical presence or I'll mail you a knuckle sandwich after you apologize for being unable to come. I'll hold a grudge for a total of .3592222 miliseconds. Then you'll be back in my good graces. But for that portion of a second, I will despise you in a fitful passion. So don't say no. :)

Prospective Student

Hello,
I'm a prospective student from Saskatoon, SK. I attempted calling admissions regarding the open house and portfolio days but couldn't get a hold of anyone. My mother and I are interested in attending a tour of ACAD on the 28th or 29th as well as get my portfolio assessed. Since I'm not from Calgary, I would like to get a timeframe for when I should be at the college so that I don't miss this opportunity. When will the tours be held on these days? Could we either book or get joined onto a group-tour? Will the portfolios be evaluated alongside the tour (in other words, should I bring it along with me during the tour)?
Also, I am currently attending the University of Saskatchewan with a full-course load of five classes, which will be an accumulative of 30 credits. Will I get the opportunity to meet with someone from student services to discuss whether my courses are transferable during that Friday or Saturday? Thank you for your time, I look forward to hearing back from you!
Arwen Savage

YAY 4 PUMPKINZ

It's never too early or too late to figure out designs for pumpkin-carving.

I'm just a little over-eager for Halloween... yes.



I can't wait to Beta Test Zero 1.0, muahaha.

Intro: Kevan McDerman

I wrote this when Duchess and I got home from a walk. I don't know where it's going... stereotypical beginning, but I get a solid-feeling from the main character. So we'll see. Please offer up your opinions on this.

I tried not to rasp, but it was hard. Eleven solid years of smoking half a pack a day does superfluous wonders to your entire body. But I casually flicked the burning ash from the tip of my cigarette and let my corroded vocal cords sing their song. I was standing outside of 7-11; I had just bought a package of Canadians and was having a relaxed conversation with Roxanne outside. She was a cashier at the store, an acquaintance of mine, but not dear enough to be considered an actual friend. She flirted too much anyway, and had a bad taste for and firm grip on sweet-flavored liquor. It’s not that I didn’t care; it’s just that I don’t believe in trying to ‘evangelize’ people into a ‘better’ life.

How would I know what a better life was, anyway? I’m twenty-nine years old and have a degree in education that I attained but never used. I went through job-placement and almost became a second-grade teacher for a good public school that was a simple ten-minute drive from my house. Instead, I kept my barely-above-minimum-wage job at the Mohawk gas station. Why? It must be that I have a fear of commitment. I’ve heard that song before.

I decided something as I watched Roxanne saunter back into the store when a customer came ambling inside. I wouldn’t try to control the rasp in my voice anymore. I can’t control the fact that I enjoy supplementing people with over-priced gas. I can’t help that I spent over half a million dollars on tuition fees that may never be reciprocated with a well-paid career, well paid within reason… as people who understand the elementary-education system know. Tied to this, I can’t control how much I enjoy the rolled paper between my index and middle finger. The draw of nicotine into my dilapidated lungs, and the slow exhale which propels toxic tendrils into gnarled fingers over my tongue or through my nose. I never tried to stop smoking, despite how much my family and friends had ceaselessly encouraged me. It was because I liked it. I know it’s killing me. But I don’t care.

September 18, 2003

I'm lost and unknowing,
Drowning and consoling;
Crying to a teddy bear,
Who cannot understand me.

I'm fighting and losing,
Cursing and spitting;
Failing to live up to,
The expectations of God.

I'm wanting and needing,
Hoping and praying;
Trying to salvage,
My memory of you.

I'm laughing and living,
Breathing and bleeding;
Searching for meaning,
And turning to you.

It's absolutely insane how something I wrote two years ago still acutely relates to me. In fact, I think it relates to me more today than it did back then. I've changed so much since then that I take it for granted how wise I was back in highschool. Over the past while, I thought I've changed so much that little of who I was still remains. However, by reading this I still felt her. She's still here... and I'm glad for that.