Blog Archive

Thursday, December 24, 2009


Merry Christmas Eve one and all :)!!


Wednesday, December 23, 2009

The End-poem

I will never leave you

Know that—

When you’re facing the light, or the darkness, or the abyss—whatever describes
the other side
in your tangible dreams

Remember at that fragile moment
when Nature’s too big to fathom
and She drowns you in sensory overload

You’ll feel my hand on your heart,
my voice vibrate on your skin
you’ll see my eyes when you close your own

You’ll know

Your mind will carry the key to our

and despite all Her fury,
Nature will revere this bond,
step aside,
and lay the path for us to embark on

At least that’s what keeps my
heart beating
on this plane of human confusion
when I see the tidal wave threatening its

I believe you’re waiting for
me, too

Saturday, December 19, 2009


I shot the words—
deflect them if you wish
but you can’t deny the point de facto
I hold the Trump to blast this memory to
holy dust

Your lips hold the ammunition with the kryptonite ability
to collapse me onto the Egyptian cotton battlefield
where we waged countless wars before

I can see you’re unsettled, agitated, and ready
my eyes try to penetrate your shield of false affection—
I know I’ve succeeded once you’re on your
but the fall is so long, we’d be fighting forever

so take it out on me
get back at me
avenge the violation

I stripped your armour,
threw it out with stale memories
of all the times we sat and bitched with no substance in

I’m standing, you’re struggling—it’s the most we’ve done
in relationship-ages

Take it out on me
because I can finally take it
and turn it on you
to teach you what I’m made of—
and not what you want me to be.


I'm trying to find you in other people, other places than from where I see you.

I still don't know why you put us through this.

I miss you.

Thursday, December 17, 2009

Self-therapy: "Into the woods"

Sometimes, my mind is my enemy and tormentor. It won't translate my sensations, thoughts, memories, emotions into words that flow like Appleton Jamaican rum. That's my favourite rum: smoother and more potent than any pirate can muster. See? This is silly. I want to write something deep--something complicated and intricate to reflect all the f***ed up things going on in this cranium. I feel things wildly, obsessively, then when I try to transcribe these things to paper (or screen..) it seems pointless or petty. But, not many people read this anyway, so this seems like a decent space to vent--no shrink's couch required.

I'm frustrated with the notion that you can miss what was and more infuriatingly, what could have been. I've been told not to think "what if." It can be dangerous. You can fixate on something that will never be--or will never likely be. Yet, the curiosity still burns and prods at you constantly. I miss what could have been. The longing makes me angry. But I know I'll let go. Ever feel this way? Stuck on something, and just wanting to release? When does that precious moment happen, when desire becomes action? When the weight is off your shoulders finally after trying to hurl it off?

How much can you actually protect yourself? I have a gift for diving into things and making associations with corny things like songs, jokes, tv shows...etc... etc... blah blah blah. It's amazing how things can become tainted so quickly and drastically. Once you practice the art of possessing those songs, jokes, tv shows as yours in the end, you can dissociate things you enjoy with the memory (i.e. person) you don't enjoy quite as much anymore.

This sounds like a bad country song.

I believe a recent diasppointment hit me harder than expected because of everything else going on. You know how life can snowball, taking you down with it and toss you into a firepit mercilessly? Yeah. There have been some fantastic things happening, too, do NOT get me wrong. My life is pretty great. I'm just disappointed in a few things.

That aside, back to this journey through the thicket of my mind.

I don't know why I torture myself. I look for clues, signs in the trail and evidence of what was between an "us"--me and someone else--to understand what went wrong or if it was ever "right" at all. This time, I honestly feel like things shouldn't have ended this way. Then again, if you're a fatalist, then everything happens for a reason, n'est-ce pas? I believe in that for most things. My life is too weird and peculiar to not believe it a lot of the time. Yet, I want to understand why things played out as they did--why certain things in my life just aren't functioning the way I want them to.

My health and my (figurative) heart are below par at the moment. And have been for some time. Things'll get better--they always do. That's one vital lesson I've learned in this messed up thing called la vie. Thank God, right? But someone please educate me as to why things aren't plugging along smoother than they currently are, and why when I finally start to really let my heart get into something, it sublimates into vapour?

Thanks, Universe. I know you'll return the favour some day.

Until then, I've got my girlfriends, writing, chocolate, dancing, and a night out tomorrow night that I'm greatly looking forward to.

Thanks for..."listening." I hope this'll help me move on. Writing usually does. Onto other things for the day...

Wednesday, December 16, 2009


I heard your voice through the crowd
I could have sworn it was you, and tried matching it to the figure
whose back infuriatingly wouldn’t turn to reveal
your smile beaming at me

I saw you from a distance—and felt the fluttering nervosa
forcing my heart to beat faster, to ascend to my throat
my breath ceased and quickened all the while—
you’re the alchemist of chaos mixed with sweet serenity

I tasted you on my lips, licking them once I felt the melting
snowflakes floating tantalizingly from the heavens
descending to a plane
where weaker creatures roam

I breathed you in while we swam through bed-sheets
counting the threads to stall and keep you there
falling prisoner to you
with every time I inhaled your spell

I felt you tonight,
last night and likely every night—
I can’t tell when you began and I ended
except when your hands pulled away from my skin

I heard you—though it was only the wind
I saw you—though it was your shadow
I tasted you—though it was saccharine love
I breathed you in—though it was the perfume of Winter’s arrival
I felt you all over me—though it was my cruel neurons’ trickery

I knew you, and not at all,
for you left before you came,
shut me away before embracing me
all with the finality of a few broken words

And despite this assault on my weakened links to reality,
my heart’s still beating fast,

My heart’s beating still.

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Dear Life,

Get with the program.

Cut me a break, please?



Sunday, December 13, 2009


I thought you left me
I thought I could move on
I thought the moon could shine
even on the darkest of nights—
even when the sun never seemed to make an appearance

I thought you left
then I felt your hand on my neck,
squeezing the air from my lungs
squeezing the life from my soul into a bottle
of regret
that you tossed out to sea
for me to find

I thought you left—
you and your poison,
you with your death
and numbing embrace

I thought you left,
until I glanced into a mirror, and
saw you staring back at me—
from these eyes that shine
no more

Candida Chronicles: last day

well, it's the last day of a diet that didn't really do much of anything. yay.


I’m afraid to cry
(someone might see)
I’m afraid to laugh
(someone might hear)
I’m afraid to scream
(someone might run)
I’m afraid to fear
(someone might console)
I’m afraid to be
(someone might notice me
in all of my selfish glory
in doing this thing called

Friday, December 11, 2009



I can’t feel through this darkness anymore
I’m working through a dream with no light
in a tunnel-envisioned life
full of wondering what will be
and every other cliché that could plague
my imagination

you’re not my friend—and I do not wish
that the chains binding you to me are a friendship-shade of grey
I want you in my veins—to paint my vision red with the blood
that should pound through the shackles binding me to you

if you kissed me
I’d submit
if I kissed you
you’d throw away the key

at least I hope you would

but all these “if’s” don’t light the way
they give false hope of foresight
in a life poisoned with what was

play me the music of your heart
the beating plays me to a reverie,
guiding me through the abyss of now
with the echo of your presence
making my hair stand up

Do you feel like making a fire—
so I at least can see your calculations?
is my libido flammable to you—
have you been stealing the oxygen from my life
to douse me, forcing me
in this darkness of your indifference and visible absence?

the sun won’t shine again unless
I grow some wings and fly northward—
believe enough in the legendary strength
in this composure of mine
to shatter the ceiling you constructed with your
stone and cement blending all your tales
into a how-to manual on burying

you lied to me with a key, a kiss
an embrace at 2 am that felt like business
at 5
no key means no lock means no blood
to share in the sacrament of voluntary

what a show, what a dream

here’s the moment—
I stole from your agenda
to take a chance and begin my ascent,
phoenix my way out of your ashen world
and reunite with—

there it is, the answer to the question of what the hell
were we doing, losing you and I in the
telescope of what could be
while we couldn’t agree—

the answer’s in the way it ended,
for you know what they say about tunnels

Tuesday, December 08, 2009

Candida Chronicles: Day 23 ish

I'm almost there....Sunday is my last day. I've been a bit bad with having soy milk and NSA chocolate (without dairy in it, though).

I'm a bit (ok more than a bit) peeved that I'm not feeling well yet. I have my good days, but I have a feeling my lack of sleep and some other complications are still plaguing me. Do I still have a virus? Is itin fact still candida bugging me?


Anywho. I also need to get my body back to what it was. I used to be strong, have great I feel like a huffer and puffer when I workout. It'll change. I'm determined.

Things WILL get better.

I need to post more poetry on here. I was on roll there :).

Peace out, world.

Wednesday, December 02, 2009

Candida Chronicles: Day 17ish

I can't believe I'm almost there. I'm actually not feeling a whole lot better, but I think I'm getting there? I think maybe whatever virus I have/had is still working on me or really just messed me up. I wonder if my Candida is actually acting up or not. I'm supposed to keep in touch with my Holistic practitioner, so we'll see what happens.

Christmas holidays are almost here!!! WOOT! lol.

There are MANY people I need to hang out with, lots of skating to do, lots of eating to do, baking, and maybe sleeping???

Monday, November 30, 2009


I remember diving into you
the comfort of your darkness, your frozen embrace
your endless abyss
where I got lost
in a coma where time and lucidity snuck away

I wasn’t happy, but hands of tragedy hadn’t completed the
task that your smothering took on to bring me to

once reason parted my lips to allow
your draught to assault my tongue
I tasted my addiction

My heart pounded again,
panic flailed my limbs to search for the surface
to cut the mass of tangible obsession
and win back my breath

I tasted your poison

I tasted your power,
that I made more potent with every single
dream, nightmare, thought, memory, word, glance, heartbeat, breath—

I remember diving into you
and feeling comfort in the cold
for you’d stock me like this for always
and keep me inside ‘til death do us part—
though, as the diver, I guess I’m the swan

I remember diving into you
out of choice, and all the while knowing
a masochist would blush from the emotional
whirlpool you preserve me in

I remember diving into you

I remember drowning

until I remembered it’s not safe to dive
when you can’t see the bottom in an unreliable ocean
so I built a bridge, crossed over

I remember looking back at you

Thursday, November 26, 2009



North and South live up to their titles
they freeze and burn when I deviate from
the core of my rational, average centre—
my bridge above the pool of bubbling anger,
below a sky of blinding apathy

Me and You lived up to our titles
making an “us” from two skeptical

We stood on this bridge,
the experiment of stability
standing on feet that once ran but could
with a hint of affection from

Time’s an enemy I can’t ignore
wearing on my balance—
raining on my vision
so I can’t tell the future from the
maelstrom below

Time won’t let me die,
or breathe in this Wonderland
where you wrote me into existence
in this tragedy with no

Time won’t intervene
while my heart pounds and slows,
stealing blood from my imagination
weighing my feet to concrete below

North pulls me to frigid heavens,
South to smouldering saunas
where sins burn free from the flesh that wanted
gravity to pull you through me
until nothing’s left
but air’s memory that love once was

I can’t feel my feet
my heart won’t beat
the storm’s calming to a stubborn shower
washing away the heat from below
washing away impending frostbite
Then Time wakes me from my trance

Lust and Love live up to their titles
you touch my hand, usurping my chemistry—
sensation lying to my sensibility

And I could touch your face tonight,
if I only knew how to break Time’s sentence
if I only knew how I could let myself free
from the shackles of a nightmare
that never let me walk beside you
but threw me to the mercy of the ravaging magnetism
of ruthless, warring

Candida Chronicles: Day 12

DAY 12!


I'm starting to feel like ACE again.

That's all I wanted to say.

Oh, and that I need to update more poems on here... it's been a LONG time.

Happy surfing, cyberworld.

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Good Intentions

You need to know

all that’s in my heart

while you’re collecting what’s left

of your own,

re-arranging the pieces to find who remains

after hurricane Me

tore through.

You need to know

I’m fully empty

and starving for what wasn’t.

You need to know

it won’t last long—like all loyal dwellers of our village

at the base of Mount Tomorrow,

we’ll rebuild our organs, without

splitting an Atom.

You need to know

so my mind can set free

the dove that was shot with my mistake.

You need to know

I’m not trying to be selfish,

and I know trying at all buries selfless


You need to know

I thought it was true,

that it could have been and Life called our


You need to know

the peace will come

after this affective tempest halts.

You need to know

I’m doubting myself,

for I hear an echo of these words

from all four walls.

Candida Chronicles: Day 11

I'm almost out of the woods. For the hard part, anyway. Something's still off with me, but it could be the fact that I still have a virus (that's what my HP told me on Fri, anyway). It could also be stress, lack of sleep (i.e. going to bed at 3:30am last night, and waking up at 6:30-7am for school), stress again... who knows. I'm not doing too badly, though, and tonight, I plan on getting some sleep!

I've also started to incorporate exercise back into my life. Zumba and TenMinuteTrainer vids have found their way into my week. i tried to do pushups early on, and am not that far off from where I was before I got sick now. I don't know what I"ll be able to do today, and may not do anything since I end tonight at almost 10pm.


It'll be nice to incorporate: rice, potatoes, some grains, all veggies, all fruit, back into my diet again. I may add soy milk, but not until the final week. There's too much sugar in the stuff you get at Starbucks and stores in general.

Another assignment has been knocked off my list, and another will be done tomorrow, too. This weekend's gonna be another assignment weekend. I have a relationship with papers these days.. We're going steady for sure. I should really be doing two of them this weekend, but we'll see how much gets done... lol

Well, cyberworld, hae a good Wednesday despite this icky rain.

Monday, November 23, 2009

Candida Chronicles: Day 9

That's right...DAY 9!

I can't believe it, either.

That means I'm nearing the end of the death sentence portion of my AC diet. Starting Sunday, I incorporate all veggies, rice and potatoes back into my diet. I'm excited lol!

Things are going pretty body is still not at full capacity. I'm going to Zumba tonight, for the first time in a LONG time. Boxing, though, won't be attempted for another week or so (out of time's sake and because I'm still not my ass-kicking self yet body-wise). Finances is the only thing giving me hell....oh Christmas shopping and debt lol. What a bad pair....

I'm still on a high from seeing my holistic practitioner on Fri night. I feel like things are going to get much better. It'll take work, quite a bit of work, but I'll get there :). My lil' future is getting brighter and brighter.

As sick as this is, school is actually helping me. The massive workload isn't great, but my program and the people in it are just... wow. I love it all :).

Saturday, November 21, 2009

Candida Chronicles: Day 6

Week 1 = DONEZO


Onto a weekend filled with group projects! Woot!

In all seriousness, I'm actually not doing as badly today. I saw my holistic practitioner tonight and damn. She's amazing. Put things into perspective and balanced my energy. I couldn't ask for more.

I have a lot to look forward to, and I'll be working out again in a few days. I'm excited :).

Life is gonna get better...I can feel it.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Candida Chronicles: Day 5

Sorry for not posting a Day 4.

I'm happy to be one more day through this ordeal.

Today, though, I really feel stuck in the mud--hopefully it's not quicksand. My health is still not where I want or need it to be. On a positive note, I'm going to see my family MD today to request to get some tests done for some things that are bugging me; and tomorrow, I'm going to see my holistic practitioner! I'm excited about that. She always gives me peace of mind and her energy balancing techniques will be of great use right now.

I stayed up until 4:30am last night to work on a paper. I got up at 7 today. I'm exhausted. This isn't good in any circumstance, but with my body already run-down, it's dangerous. However, I don't have time to catch up on sleep. I still have one more assignment until I'm caught up with school. I just need to be patient, and hopefully get some sleep tonight. One thing at a time...

Well, hope everyone else is doing well. It's a tough time of year for all, and we just need to keep Christmas time in mind as a light at the end of the stressball tunnel!

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Candida Chronicles: Day 3

We're gettin' there....3 down, 25 to go! Well...11 to go for this crazy version of the AC diet.

Woke up feeling like I needed to stay in bed (oh wait...that happens most mornings :P). Joking aside, my die-off symptoms are definitely there. Felt sick last night, and my energy went away in a snap. I went to bed far too late (damn papers), and am pretty tired today. The sun's out, though, and that makes things better :) (as corny as that may sound).

Late morning, I was feeling a bit better, but eating lunch made me feel sick. And now, I'm starting to feel a bit better, just really tired. I'm a yo-yo, my friends.

I want to work out so badly, but the tiredness, on and off nausea, and copious amounts of homework won't let me. I tried to do some pushups and squats today...didn't do many but I guess it's something?

I'll get there. I know I will. It's just another day...

Monday, November 16, 2009

The Candida Chronicles: Day 2

NOTE: there is no Day 1 entry :).

That aside, I've decided to chronicle my battle with candida albicans/candidiasis over the next couple of weeks. My plan is as follows: go on the strictest form of the anti-candida diet (AC diet from hereafter) for two weeks/14 days, then go on a non-strict AC diet for another 2 weeks/14 days. My end date/the light at the end of the tunnel emerges on December 13th, which is the last day.


I've suffered from candida overgrowth for most of my life. My holistic practictioner has told me many times how to keep candida in check, but I never had the willpower or drive to stick to her advice to the T. I'll provide some info on the diet later on. Most medical doctors and the general public have zero idea what candida albicans is and how debilitating it can be, and has been for me.

I just got over the flu, and I still don't feel well. Actually, I feel quite gross on and off and never healthy. Because of school, and the drive to want to live "normally," I threw up my hands, said "enough is enough," and decided to try the true AC diet for a couple of weeks.


Candida (yeast) is in all of us, and is a natural part of life and of our GI tract. However, overgrowth can cause the candida to mutate into fungus. This lovely mutation causes an ugly laundry-list of symptoms in sufferers.

To name a few:
-typical symptoms of IBS
-brain fog
-chronic fatigue
-other embarrassing symptoms (see the links below if you want to learn more)
-depletion of energy

No cure exists for this condition, and it masquerades as other conditions (IBS, for ex.). Hence, doctors mis-diagnose it all the time, and people sometimes never know or find out what's wrong with them.

The treatment is lengthy, a pain in the ass, and difficult as hell. I'm not gonna lie! You have to temporarily adjust your diet drastically, and/or keep it modified possibly for the rest of your life. To me, it feels like a death sentence, because I LOVE food and going out to eat and cook with friends and family. The death sentence includes the AC diet, and use of anti-fungals and probiotics.

Now, there are tons of resources out there to learn about candida and treating it, and some of it conflicts with each other. Oh joy! In the section following this one, I've taken just one very small, comprehensive list of what to eat and what to avoid. I'm not doing some other fancy steps and what not that other resources suggest, because this is hard enough--trrrrrrrrrrrust me. I am undertaking some, though.

THE ANTI-CANDIDA DIET (i.e. the bane of my existence)

I've taken just ONE example of the diet. It's as follows (from

The GOOD foods:
"Vegetables -
All vegetables, as much as you want at each meal, except potatoes, sweet potatoes, corn, winter squash (acorn & butternut), beans (green beans are okay), and peas which all contain too much sugar. After week #1, you may add the disallowed vegetables in moderate amounts.

Fruit -
Fresh is best; frozen only if unsweetened. Serving size is indicated. Do not have more than one serving per meal--limit 3 times a day. No dried fruit or fruit juices allowed.
Apple - 2
Applesauce, unsweetened - 1/3 cup
Apricots - 3 small
Avocado - Unlimited okay
Banana - 1/3
Blueberries - 2 cup
Cantaloupe, cubed - 1 cup
Cherries - 7
Grapes - 2 cup
Grapefruit - 2 (3 2" diameter)
Honeydew Melon - 2 cup cubed
Nectarine - 1/2
Peach - 2
Pear - 2
Pineapple - 2 cup
Plum - 1 (2 1/4" diameter)
Raspberries - 2/3 cup
Strawberries - 1 cup
Tangerine - 1 (2 1/4" diameter)
Watermelon, cubed - 3/4 cup

[NOTE: most other diets do NOT let you eat fruit at all, or at least not pineapple or watermelon!! I'm just not eating much fruit other than apples and berries.]

Meat & Eggs -
All meat and eggs are allowed except bacon, sausage, ham, hot dogs or luncheon meats (they all have sugar added). Servings may be as large as you wish. During the 2nd week, you may add cottage cheese, but not hard cheese, as a protein.

Beverages -
Water (drink 8 glasses a day); sparkling water, Club Soda, diet caffeine-free sodas, Herbal Beverage natural coffee substitute

Nuts, seeds & oils
Oils, Unprocessed
Canola, Olive, Safflower, Butter, Nuts & Nut Butters, Almonds, Cashews, Pecans, Avoid peanuts & pistachios (may have mold)"

The BAD foods (from the same source):

"Foods You Cannot Eat (Not Even Once!)

(If you break the rules, the 14-21 days start over for the diet & the supplements)

[--> lovely, eh?]

Antibiotics: Call your Nature's Sunshine herb specialist for natural herbal remedies if you begin to get sick. Antibiotics will cause a massive growth of candida!

Coffee & Tea: Regular coffee, instant coffee, decaf coffee, herbal teas (may contain fungi).

Condiments, Sauces, Fermented Foods, & Vinegar-containing Foods: Mustard, ketchup, mayonnaise, salad dressing, Worcestershire, Accent (MSG), Soy sauce, barbecue sauce, chili sauce, pickles, relishes, green olives, sauerkraut, horseradish, tamari.

Cheese & Dairy: All cheeses, milk products and foods containing cheese and milk. Sour cream and sour milk products must be avoided. Once a day you may have plain yogurt with live culture and no sugar added to which you add a serving of fresh fruit.

Flour, Rice, Corn, Oats, and Products Made from These: Bread, Rice Cakes, Oatmeal, Tortillas, Pastries, Bagels, Cake, Pies and Popcorn all turn to sugar in your system and feed your candida.

Malt Products: Malted milk drinks, cereals, and candy.

Moldy Foods: Any food that has mold on it such as left-overs or sprouts

Packaged & Processed Foods: Canned, bottled, boxes, and other packaged foods usually contain yeast or refined sugar.

Vegetables: Potatoes, sweet potatoes, corn, winter squash (acorn & butternut), beans (except for green beans), and peas.

Sprouts: Often contain molds

Sugar & Sugar-containing Foods: Avoid fructose, sucrose, maltose, lactose, honey, molasses, maple syrup, maple sugar, date sugar, and turbinado sugar.

Yeasts: Brewer's Yeast (check your vitamins, Nature's Sunshine vitamins are all yeast-free), bakers' yeast

How to plan a meal while on the Candida Diet:
1) Choose a protein (meat, chicken, fish, tuna, eggs)
2) Add as many allowed vegetables as you wish with butter & salt for flavoring. To make salad dressing, combine olive or canola oil with fresh lemon juice and desired spices.
3) Add one serving of fruit
4) Add nuts, avocados, and other sources of fat, as desired
To break the diet, (no sooner than on the 15th day) add one off-limits food only. Start with the unallowed vegetables. Next add additional fresh, unsweetened fruits. Then add dairy products. Add only one new item every three days. Three days later add another. By adding slowly, you can determine which foods you must still stay away from (if your symptoms return). Sugar, vinegar, and yeast products should be the last items you add."

Who wants to join me???

Didn't think so.


No, this doesn't mean people with candida die. Well, they do eventually, but don't we all?

Die-off can be equated to the same concept as Withdrawal for drug addicts. It's not NEARLY as severe, except in rare cases. Essentially, when doing the AC diet and taking anti-fungals, you're starving the yeast from what it loves (carbs and sugar) and what it thrives off of (moldy environments), killing it. The yeast then releases lots of toxins into your body. Die-off affects everyone differently, and can last from a few days to a couple of weeks. It can be minor, or severe.

Whether minor or severe, your symptoms from candidiasis worsen or are more pronounced, or you could see some new symptoms. Again, this can include: nausea, fever, chronic fatigue, depletion of energy, IBS symptoms, rash, headaches, depression (!), and lots of others.


Today, on my second day of the AC diet, I'm experiencing die-off already. I experienced it last night, and it feels like it's burning a hole in my stomach right now. That was blunt. The thing is, this is tough. And I feel alone, especially since I feel like being alone when faced with this. I know my family's there for me and a few friends, but they're dealing with their own lives, too. I feel exhausted, nauseous, grumpy, anxious, headachey on and off, depressed...I feel like a walking medication side-effects list. I'll pull myself out of this--I know I will!!! There are other steps I'm taking, too, but that's all complicated and personal stuff.

Also, I used to be fit. I still sort of am, but once the flu hit me just over a week ago, I've lost some muscle, energy, endurance, and I'm not breathing properly. I want to be able to box and dance again. This is a HUGE trial of patience for me. Huge.

[This too shall pass, this too shall pass, this too shall pass...]

School + work + candida = YUCK.

There is a light at the end of the tunnel, though, and whether or not I'm fully better, I know some time off the "junk" (although I wouldn't call most veggies and fruit "junk") will make the candida suffer. My body's going through a civil war, and I hope my sanity and well-being wins this time!


and there're lots more on good ol' Google!

Friday, September 25, 2009

I'm not angry--just disappointed.

Ok, that's a lie. I'm both. But "it" is partly my fault. Quelle grande surprise!

I need to vent. It's begging to come out like the aliens in well...Alien. I didn't feel that my friends and sister should be burdened with my stupid anecdotes, so, Cyberworld: here you go!

For once, could someone please just grow some kahonas (sp? I really care about the spelling?) and be upfront/honest/truthful/brave/thoughtful/see Thesaurus for more? I was ... notified/reminded recently that I really mean nothing to someone who meant something to me. Even though said person deserves no more of my attention than a fruit fly. I kid not. In Logicverse, said person has a negative score in being tolerable and compatible with me. In Feelingverse, whenever said person used to walk in a room, my heart would stop. (Well, there's a sign right there.... he's more likely to kill me than to make me happy....I digress.)

I realized that after 3-4 years of torture and emotional abuse by the brat, that I need to stop letting him into my life to fester like a virus. Yet, I saw him recently. I told myself and was convinced that my feelings had vanished. When ...."interacting".... with him, I did manage to separate my feelings. We were just having fun, and I knew that. I knew that I'm not his dreamgirl, but I thought I had at least a little bit of respect cut out for me from his moldy cake of selective respect.

However, the crash cart needed to be brought in once I found out just how little I mean to him.

I shouldn't care.

But I do, so deal with it. Yes, I'm angry.

Yes, I'll get over it.

There are others like him--not with the same history, but with similar tendencies. Sweet words, amazing chemistry...I know deep down that all the he's probably just want something to wink about, but be straight about it, you know? Just say that's all you want. Enough with the top hat and fog and mirrors. I'm a big girl, I CAN handle the truth (contrary to what Jack Nicholson might think!).

Enough is enough! (I say that to the universe and to myself.)

I banish all of you cowards to suck on your own poison and spit it out once it becomes too strong to bear--once it becomes a memory that haunts you and humbles you. Humility, for crying out loud. Get some.

I'm not unhappy, but I'm also not a brick wall, or made of steel. I'm a strong girl, and really don't have it bad at all, but let's face it: I care about people, and I care about how people affect my life. So sue me. I've been used enough, and done enough to myself, so all I'm asking of the great thing called the universe/God/Buddha/Yoda/whoever/whatever, is for a breath of fresh air--for peace.

NOT someone who cares about me and I don't feel the same way about,
NOT someone I adore and who thinks me nothing more than another girl in another city on another weekend filled with cigarettes and booze.

"Patience, young one." (I know.)
My frustrations are just building and eating away at my composure at night when I'm supposed to be dreaming. *sigh*

With all of these stupid little nothings piling up, there better be something fantabulous on the way. Someone "upstairs" is teaching me a lesson, I think.

For once, can I please be the frigging teacher? Or is this all supposed to help me build my résumé?

Thursday, September 17, 2009


I need to see it all
The first glance of the glittering, luring face
distracting from the darkness
lurking inside
that hidden place you yearn to explore but
lampposts pull you away

I need to see it all
so I can claim I’ve missed nothing
and find you watching me all along
while I absorb the night,
absorb the sun,
burning my mind with memories
of missing you

I need to see it all
your danger and your armour—
you’re my labyrinth, and my gravity,
my bridge of cognitive dissonance—
you give less than you take then carry me across
dropping me off then siphoning my life
from my lusting veins

I need to see it all
before it’s too late
before the palpable ecstasy of finding you, waiting for me on the precipice
evolves into a numb

will you jump? carry me again? beckon me? run?

I need to see the possibilities
before my heart bursts out of my chest
or my mind implodes from road-runner what ifs

I need to see it all
for my dreams are insatiated,
unsaturated with memories,
but drowning in fables of how you reached out—
I saw the effort—

I need to see it all
to ease the pain of blood droning through my limbs,
urging me on through the darkness of your pathways
feeling my way, feeling your walls closing in—
clear my eyes of the frigid dew settling in after a night spent with you—
I need to see—to reach you,
I need to see

Monday, September 14, 2009


It’s coming from the inside,
needing a release, clawing at my skin
to let it all out-
burning the tissue to weaken
my armour

It tickles as it gropes
for a way out into the light
or the dark—I doubt it really cares
so I laugh in spite of myself
in spite of the logic that should be

It’s into me—
and it has me wishing I was into you
like this thing inside of me
taking over my sanity
taking over my vision

So all I see is you and scenes of us
and what we could be
when the lights go out, and day has fled
to let the moon usurp the sky
shed its glow upon my deeds
desperately waiting to unfold

It wants to spread like a disease,
Bursting from my core to enter yours—
but wait, this isn’t a nauseous process—
though it sways me like vertigo with a pleasant,
drunken wave

Is this my demon
waiting to possess my reason,
my flesh and yours?

Will I fall, condemned in the pit
of endless tunnel vision of lust
in love’s clothing?

Or could this Force give me wings,
fly me to sanctioned bliss
so I can meet the sun, and never burn,
never lose my flight despite the pull of
sin’s gravity on my tired frame?

Is the answer worth knowing?
For knowledge can strip what dignity,
shelter, and armour I have left—

keep me in the dark,
keep me in the light,
I don’t really care
as long as it’s inside,
and willing to knock logic down
to let sweet anticipation rise
and commence your release.

Friday, September 04, 2009

The Game-poem

Your move;
Your immobility.
Your silence.
My abyss.
Our precipice on our table with all the cards
laid out.

The hourglass is gone-
my fingernails scream, raw from the sands
that should have flowed from me to you-
instead, they fled far and wide-

I think I got some in my eye,
‘cause there’s a puddle on the table
and it won’t dry.

I gave you time
though it was only a second,
it was more than sufficient
‘cause I’ve heard the parable
that life’s full of moments,
and moments make life
worth living-

living, loving, silence, puddles-
I can’t connect the four.

our life moments are trapped in the continuum,
the infuriating snakes-and-ladders board
in the game of you and I-
I want to watch the corners curl
in the flames of forgetting memories
while I play my turn,
sit in fury,
waiting for your chip to be bet,
to slide, or better yet to climb-
just to move!

so this moment can die

and you’ll live as You
without the I

Tuesday, September 01, 2009

Civil War-poem

my stomach feels what my heart should:
the aftermath of
my insides revolutioning unendingly-
Us argues that I’m good at heart,
Them argues my heart’s a mess-
We can’t agree so I’m left
feeling sick
over what I did to
You and Me

my gut that aches is the same that
persuaded me to halt whatever
waltz we were in the middle of
so on a break, I tried to drown my
confused brain in hops and poison,
trying to kill Our memory
but I resurrected it tenfold,
in the form of this dizzying disease

my eyes are pinned to the screen of
Me and You
mercilessly replaying the scene
when I cut the cord and demanded
these feet
to move

my eyes sting, my core burns, my feet tire, my brain is nauseous-
no wait: I’m confusing mySelf with my Parts-
my body’s at war
with the soul it imprisons
striving for solace, for peace

but will the silence, the stillness be the End
of a Battle
or the War?

Saturday, July 11, 2009


Alcoholics get help. Sex addicts get help. Drug addicts get help. Hell, even people with foot fetishes get help. There's an intervention for everything--but what about help for an addiction to bad relationship habits? Or better yet, why isn't there an intervention for addictions to other people? When you're trying to quit smoking, there are patches, programs, and therapy groups. When you're trying to quit someone, there are bottles of alcohol, tubs of ice cream, and the friends who are willing to listen to your babbling about "what's-his/her-name," but you can drink too much booze, eat too much ice cream, and drive your friends away and yourself insane. One addiction can feed another, and you could end up an alcoholic, fat, and friendless.

But what's the tried-and-true cure for person-addiction--or is there even one single antidote?

We all know the dangers of most addictions in life. Some make you sick, some can kill you--all throw your life off-course and in line for a rollercoaster ride through emotional hell. Even the word "addiction" rallies up a nasty stigma equivalent to having some embarrassing tick or smiling non-stop with spinach in your teeth on a first date with someone you're crazy about. Addictions please you when you're using, but even over-use can get tiring, and we're all familiar with the after-effects of most addictions. You end up with some sort of hangover that makes you want to jump off a building or knock yourself out just so you can sleep.

Do you get over one addiction by replacing it with another? For example, I've become slightly addicted to exercise. It helps curb other cravings and bad habits. What about for other addictions? Does one replace cocaine with alcohol? Sex with food?

If you don't get to or don't want to get to the replacement stage, sometimes you try willpower. Yet, even if you have the best intentions not to "use" and do a decent job for a little while, your substance makes a surprise appearance that takes you back into your initial infatuation with it. At least mine has.

"It" went something like this. I met him, his friend got him to ask for my number with much coaxing despite the fact that he was very interested. He was insecure, as he kept asking me if I was into him (when, let's face it, it was clear I was), and wouldn't really make any moves until he was pseudo-sure. Without his friend there, I have a feeling we wouldn't have talked. He told me he'd call, he'd take me out. It sounded nice, but I had that gut feeling that kept taunting me with "yeah, right!" I still hoped...

He didn't call. He texted instead. Incessantly. We had full-on text conversations for a few days, and he even suggested we hang out (*gasp*). That gut feeling was still there, but she was being silenced and pounded out by "I hope, I hope, I hope." I got excited.

Then he became silent.

I pseudo-gave up...
...then went out to where we met, and texted him with some coy test along the lines of "guess where I am/where the hell have you been?" type of thing. He came. We flirted and hung out. He hit on someone else while I was in the washroom. I got mad, blew him off, he got mad, he apologized profusely and followed me around until I forgave him. We spent the rest of our night out together with my other friends, and didn't part ways until we all did, after 5 am. He texted me a few times saying he was surprised to see me, that it was good to see me, that he wants to see me and what do I think. I told him I had fun, and when he asked me what I thought about seeing each other again, I replied with "I hope."

Instead, more silence ensued.

Déja Vu? F*** yes.

One drunken night, I texted him, playfully reprimanding him for not calling and being a confusing bundle of attractive walking seduction. I didn't use anything close to those words, but finished some petty texts with saying that I like him, but I want a guy who calls. He texted me back until that last one. The next day, feeling guilty for other things and displacing my guilt on stupidly texting him, I apologized to him for my drunken shenanigans. He said it was totally ok, and proceeded to ask me what I was up to. Instead of asking me to do something, we kept texting for a bit then bam. His damn silence. I sent one more text later on as a test, then gave up. Silence equals uninterested, right?

Well, he had the nerve to text me a few days later, and I haven't responded.

I'm not stupid, or pathetic, although the fact that my heart actually beat faster when I saw his number pop up made me blush almost as badly as when he kissed me or looked at me with that longing look that rendered me (almost) helpless. Logically speaking, on paper, he's not what I'm looking for. In reality, the warmth he exudes and the vertigo he inflicts on me tempted me to actually become stupid and call him and forgive him for being a coward. I can almost still feel the ghost of his arms repeatedly pulling me in and covering me, protecting me from the world. When he let himself open up, he was protective and possessive in a sweet way. It puzzles me that a rational human being could consider sacrificing her own dignity, intelligence for that rush of feeling that tingled through every extremity and fogged up my vision. Then again, why do smokers slowly kill themselves, cocaine addicts screw their brain over, and alcoholics plunge into a dark abyss that usually drags their loved ones down with them? Obviously, this isn't nearly as serious or devastating. I'm not making light of serious addictions.

Yet, here're some harrowing points of thought:
-what if I had called him?
-what if he's a complete jerk?
-what if I had gotten myself into a mess that would have been near-impossible to get out of?
-what if he tries to snag my attention again sometime soon?

What if is too dangerous to ask. Even more dangerous than the possibilities of what they refer to. And, he's a coward. He might have his reasons. I have hope that maybe he has some good explanation for not wanting to call a strong, smart, seemingly attractive young woman who was obviously into him.

One more "what if" for consideration:
-what if this is my sick cycle that desperately needs to break? I know the credentials necessary for relative happiness in a relationship, but my body seems to respond differently than my mind too often. I spiral into dilemmas like this, and my head becomes a mess of logic versus want.

So what should I have done? There will always be other possibilities, others who like me and who I like. Do I wait and/or jump on one of those possibilities? Is that the cure? Is it right to replace my addiction with a distraction that may in turn become a new addiction? Can you even heal from the burn marks of past addictions by such replacement? Or do you need to focus on your problem and find some proverbial scar-preventing treatment before moving onto the next possibility?

I could tell you what I decided to do. But it won't make it right or wrong. It just puts it in black and white. And it doesn't remove the underlying questions behind this blabfest.

What do you think?

Monday, July 06, 2009


You burned me on your way out
scalding my veil of weakening flesh
permeating through to the parts of me that once were strong
yet all that’s strong now is this feeling I can’t ignore

I can’t see the fire
but its heat is blinding me to the truth and lies
my line of sight is your canvas for burn holes,
my world is your sauna for smoke

I inhaled and you filled my lungs with
poisoned breath
I’ve been choking on lust-struck air
unable to exhale you from my closing throat
you’re sticking to my memories and tarring my heart
with cravings for another drag

then another

of your lips to mine, sucking in sensation
seeing the trace of your fingertips against my skin
I can still taste you once you’ve gone out
once you’ve crumbled and I throw you away

I can’t get you out of my body
I can’t get you out of my dreams
I crave you when I wake in the morning—
even more when I’m writhing in my sea of bed-sheets
nauseous from your absence
and from taking you in the first place

I threw you out with my empties
of what I tried to take instead
nothing’s working,
I need to breathe you in
or find another who can replace this aggravating
and delicious
you’ve forced me to embrace
while your arms wrapped ‘round me
and I breathed you in

give me someone stronger
so I can let you go

Monday, May 25, 2009

The Danger of Silence - poem

I can’t stand it

I need the music, my thrumming heart
melding with the rhythms drumming out the beat
of this dizzying anthem of the night
the ode to the evenings when the sun sets
in your eyes and the dark pool lingers, inviting me in for a

if I swim for a hefty measure of intertwined moments,
in the enticement of your irises
your blood will usurp my audio space
flowing from veins to my vision, my vibrating sight
enveloping me in your bittersweet, velvety melody

I can’t stand it

your silence is maddening
it transforms the pool into Rorschach’s questions,
no longer the kaleidoscope of dangerous, oratory beauty
but blotches of fluorescent buzzing
and buzzing
inside my throbbing head

I can’t stand it

or stand at all when my balance is ravaged
by uneven tunes and eras of nothingness
where memories of your symphonies accompanied by
masterpieces of impressionist melodies
haunt the canvases of this room
where I lie, shiver, forcing words from my mouthpiece
and they land, on my visual field
as the inkblots of a lunatic

what do you see
in the waters swirling here
in the eyes of a damaged instrument?

I can’t stand it
so I don’t

without you dancing and singing your beauty into
my line of sight
without you painting my world with the kind of music that permits time to

Wednesday, May 06, 2009


I remember their song
cicadas humming for hours
crescendo of nature then
as Night and Dawn collide
the symphony of spectacles
explodes before my eyes
stinging my mind leaving a mark and
the pain still burns
fire simmering beneath the surface
I can taste it yet
my world lacks flavour
vibrancy fading
my energy wilts into
the cemetery of dearly
departed dreams and
beliefs I remember dusk as
it ravaged the peace
saturating my skin
I used to bask in it
the Ikon of
my Nights painted there by angels from
ancient moments
I hear whispers
knowing it’s of winged guardians
sometimes wondering if it’s something else…
a sinister force, perhaps
then I realize
my worst enemy is
the girl staring back at me
I see myself reaching out
this timeI should take it-
grasp the hand that has
dealt mistakes
yet still some good
feel the song this time
hear no evil in the cicadas humming
just be still and
be still and

Bottom Line--poem

When it comes down to it
it doesn’t really matter anymore.
I can’t find you on
call displays, or hiding in
my pocket, of the
sweaters that kept me warm or
the shirts
you left behind.
I can’t feel your touch
on my shoulders at
the end of
every day.
Do you know-are you aware that
every blink of an eye I
hope will spring you to life?
Do you know that
when it rains, I miss that warmth-
when your arms were my blanket?
When all is said and done,
it doesn’t really matter.
Morning comes again,
night swallows the sun whole.
Dreams still haunt,
life burning eternal,
with you,
no more.

Turn Around -- poem

It’s no one’s fault, but
of course it’s so
God damned easy to
point my finger
(at aforementioned Deities or)
at whoever is poor enough, to
be close to me.

Try not to punish, condemn Me for
asking you this favour.
You’ve always loved me, I know it, I feel it-and,
I can believe you know
I adore you.

When did that point sweep into
my life?
That pinnacle, marking
the Truest Loss, as if
life turned me ‘round,
my back to the Sun.

I remain burning, blind, to Love and
all Nostalgia, belonging to you-
us, Long Ago-
instead I linger,
facing frigid Night.

When did it change? so that
instead of fear, I bask in
the darkness, welcoming its mysteries?

When will I return to face
the golden possibility of
lightness in Love-from
a new Spring?

Would you offer some sign?
Slip into this mortal plane,
defying laws and bounds, to
show me you’re near?

Although I’m not afraid of
darkness and the moon’s frosted rays,
I do fear the emptiness; the
winter of endless, mortal Time
without you,
spinning me ‘round so I bask in
the Sunshine so I sleep soundly in
my night and can freely
give my heart to
a shining, deserving


My Rose -- poem

Petals are calling
tracing fingertips over
the surface at
the same time
touching clouds and
velvet nights in
it heaves then
wanting attention or
to dive onto its
going gently
caressing the air
knowing not to disturb
what supple particles
hold this together
giving warmth and
unbelievable comfort
what a dwelling to behold
to dream in
cushioning my hopes and
kindling my burn
so softly
gravity changes
horizontal pulling until
I fall being held,
kept and
lose myself in
silky arms

Tuesday, May 05, 2009

Altered Replay--poem

After a while it fades to grey-
like raining ash after
the explosion-
How cliché does that sound,
but who really gives a Damn?

If I told you I loved you,
I’d be lying.
Oh, I’m sorry:
did that hurt?
(But the truest lie is that
I never cared.)

Even if I’ve fooled Myself by saying
you’ll call tomorrow or that
you’ll smile
every time you see my face.
You still don’t have the right to
smother my Love all over the pavement
with each instance that
you had to be drunk
to hand me any
semblance of affection.

Spinelessness has run its course
and tired its useSo toughen up, or walk out-
(like you do so well
every day, every time, in every way).

You’re still the same.

You’ve become the Ghost, haunting
my what if’s,
trickling through my every pleasure and

Teach me how to transform to
for you will never
my fantasies of you and I
into delicious reality.

Teach me how to disappear like
you’ve mastered-
time and day and month, year-
enough of the rambling.

Teach me how to
sever all emotion or
replay your forte and
just leave.


You don’t give a damn-
not sure if I did either, but
what’s certain is this:
I wanted what I remembered of
how you felt.

We barely knew the simple but
critical things.
I can recall how you kiss but
your favourite song, colour, story-
remains a blur.

I’ve been walking through life,
with my back to the wall,
my head turned to watch the past and
but now I’m facing
tomorrow head-on, curious
to hear what steps fall behind me.

The burning question, kindling
my consciousness, is whether I’ll encounter
a following or if
my sights will pull me forward,
donning me Pursuer.

Fatigue of the mind, body, and
summons temporary apathy
within me.
All I have in this moment of
acceptance is the drive to
move on with
the clichés of yesterday,
mistakes from the Night, and
the ability to face
the burning desert of
a New Day.

mess -- poem

take some
give some
return, rebound
craving emotion
then loathing the swoon
on bended kneep
stand next
arms to the sky
demand an answer
feeling the weight
as Atlas
holding the sphere
bend again
forever moving
feeling the iron
yearning for numbness
after that rush
after the feeling
die a little
try to live
still quivering
chaotic logic
peaceful insanity
brewing the mind
rushing forward
fade once more
what am i talking about
i wasn't even aware
of my heart
beating still

Induced Familiarity--poem

Have we met before?

I can see the outline of
your strong frame
from the corner of
my eager eye.
I turn to face you,
like a tango spin;
locking my gaze onto

I can feel your arms
exploring my territory,
finding their place of Rest
‘round my shoulders.
I burrow my own
within the warmth
of your hoodie,
so they find your waist,
and your chest invites my cheek to
stay a while.

I can hear your Heart beating
like the Rhythm of
a sultry tune.
In my mind I review trying
to separate Memories from dreams of

Have we met before?

I can barely stand,
reeling from sweet
Your enticing eyes pierce me and
keep me transfixed,
while I run my fingers through
your dark tresses.

I can feel the pulse approach
a new Flavour.
Unsure of whose heart is pounding out this
intensely unpredictable
rock ‘n roll Spell.

I can tell you’re evaluating-
what dare I do next in this
You know me well, and predict
my answer before I even

The slightest incline in the corner of
your Lips sparks
the blaze.
I can hardly control
my breath and reason.

Your lips hold sway over
each reflex.
As the kiss deepens,
I can no longer tell if I’m standing or winding
in seas of warmth or sheets of silk.

Does it matter, really?

You whisper the reply into my ear,
forcing my blood to
every Extremity.

I knew it then, but now
I can not remember.

Have we met before?

Say yes so
the bridge will fall,
I’ll embrace reality and meld it
with bliss-

Haven’t we met?
Say yes so I have
to dream
no more.

Possession --poem

You’ve got me wanting you-
with each turn of phrase,
each sweet thing you say
you’ve got me believing that
you actually care.

Yet the second you scooped
all the substance of
your promises
(and lies)
from my core of faith
in Something Better,
you had me searching
in a chamber of Emptiness
and regrets.

It’s mind-numbing, Love
that Inaction screams at levels that
deafen my heartbeat to a
hollow tone.

You don’t have to act on much other than
your indifference and
you have me Bound-
scraping the walls of
your forsaken Kingdom-
and you have me
wanting you-
morphed into a Memory-
Even more.

Too Bad -- poem

Don’t waste my energy-
even when you don’t mean to,
you wear me out.

Like this blanket draped
half on
half off my tired bed-

I’m splitting apart in
(more than)

Don’t worry, dear:
I’ve got the glue to adhere
and return to
the Balance that was.

I’m no fool and still
you’ve made me feel like
Apathy’s designer,
for everything from
Love to Lust
and back to Common Sense.

I’m not, but it doesn’t matter.

I won’t bitch
and complain,
I’ll just change like
I do so well.

No more rebellion,
I’m just going to be the Woman
I’m meant to be-
and with every step
I dish out,
the She you see
breathes the truth of this
Female’s Business.

I’m done with bull and shackles-
your repression sucks
so I’m laughing it off.

Here I am-
whether you take it
or not
I’m walking on,
smiling all the while.

Wednesday, April 01, 2009

Frostbite - poem

My eyes burned with the passing years,
freezing them agape,

Ice building theLens, masking the pain,
showing the Irises with their uncanny

I repeatedly wonder-
the same dreams replay over
and over and over

Some sick cycle stuck on the
spin-of today and yesterday
and today and

and then-

the f a d i n g v i b r a t i o n s s s .

I am Still.

Yet reeling-forever wondering,
burning inside-but that Fire is deficient
ever more, to melt my disposition;
of the many Yester-hours
and too-long moments ahead.

Carry the torch-
if you dare,
melting each drop of mistake-ridden

Unveil Pandora from her paradoxical,
(un)restful Slumber.

But when I wake,
who will be the audience?
Flakes of falling regret-
sheets of Frigidity-
or two palms with the Warmth
my eyes used to display
(the same as that at the Core)?

Is Love still the same?
Or have my frozen memories
distorted Reality
to the point where everything
I perceived as Good, Fulfilling, Kindling-
can solely caress my skin
with the needles of my
Frostbitten Coffin?

Embedded Tale - poem

if I put this moment to Words,
there’d be only so much
I could Scribe.

A Story or Song-both meagre-
and still, here’s the attempt
with a promise of an end
that would put the most Sumptuous
Reverie to a test.

the Look You gave me began the Tale,
foretold my reactions with each
Burning Stare.

You led my Hands and I think You’ll find,
my Skin’s most obedient to Flaming commands.

rising like Steam, my Palms trailed from
Your Sides, to Your Shoulders,
then Your Cheeks, to the Succulent place
where my Lips would soon find.

Winding like Bed Sheets,
Your Arms found my Back,
just after mine Embraced Your Neck.
Nuzzling in, above Your Collar,
(breathing in Enticement)
my Senses were

You Grounded me swiftly with the
Warmth of Your Kiss.
Twisting, Tangling, Pressure Increasing-
my Blood boiled Hotter;
my Vision was Star-Struck.

I dawned on the inkling that
the Climax approached-
Bracing my Fingertips for the Sweet, Scalding

there it was-
the Point of No Return-
the Plot at its thickest-
a Choice hit the forefront of my Creative

Rewrite or press on-then the Choice was

from my blind spot came Crashing,
a Surprise Ending as such:
my eyes opened,
i shivered,
pulled the blanket up tightly to where
Your Kisses
imprinted our Story-
Narrating my

Northern Rule - poem

I sat here waiting-
I’ve been waiting all my life.
I’m restless and tired,
yet I falter again and again.

There’s a fire inside of me;
yes, of the clichéd sort.
Sparked by desire,
fed by insatiated yearning.

As I sit, stare out into the night,
or let the sun blind my unrelenting ambition,
the tears turn to ashes
(I return to myBeginnings)
and it’s my fault-

The fire consumes me inside,
illuminating my longing,
and Memories from Then.

Remember the melody pulsating vigorously
through our veins, as we glided
across the Floor of my youth.

No Walls remained,
just endless skies.

It didn’t matter how the Sun would swelter
or the Moon would freeze-

All that I held dear, was
in my arms.

I’d spin, dip, Fly-
You’d be my wings.

I never knew what
Winter could do.

Watch these arms, floating down to my sides,
like amber leaves in Autumn,
after the life in them is swept by the
Northern Winds.

I’m still waiting, but
not for much longer.

My focus shifts to the
fear of the Currents.

They await the ashes, falling from me-
to carry them away,
before He can come-
to where I belong-

North, and higher still.

To where my Wings will lead,
returning to Warmth,
returning to You.

Judgement day - poem

though I caught a glimpse of Heaven's Bliss,
I fear that I threw my
Wintered heartinto hell; your Dominion.

though whether you'd reign waist-deep in
Frigid Loneliness,
or enthroned, overlooking your
Smothering Sea of inescapable,
Licking Flames,
no verdict's been reached.

you would either preserve my Frozen state,
forever Undead by your Indifference.

or the very Fire that once sparked my Desire
would turn this ice, and with it, my life
to Vapour: forever swirling,
Aimlessly-as the Desperate Crests
of the Infernal Waves.

be gentle, love, for when I see your Face
in my Cursed Dreams,
my lungs Constrict the little air
your Affections bless me with.

like the gnawing Anticipation,
Sickeningly Spinning within me,
I replay a Reverie of you and I,
your body and mine-
Vines of Flesh.

I was safe in your arms until you wrapped
'round my chest-I woke up, uncertain...
did you Compress me to Asphyxiate?
or grasp me, only to
throw measide?

All that I know,
is what remains inside: this Burning Curiosity,
and a prickling memory or fear
of being discarded to Eternal Winter.

I'm dying to know: when you pulled me Close,
Breathed me in, and I Tasted you-
did you mean to Kindle
(my) Desire-to Feed
Our Affection?

or have you planned to push me
far away, yet Close Enough
for the Frost to imprison me,
manifesting Glass Bars,
forever gazing,

at Heaven's Door?

Insufficiency - poem

There was a time…
do you remember those days
when waves and sunburns were our only concerns?

I felt like a Queen in your Utopian Kingdom-
someone important, to whom you gave

I didn’t need gifts, praise,
or recognition.

Your smiles made me richer
than any living ruler.

I didn’t need expense,
only your bear-hugs for warmth.

I swore that I could never feel cold again.

If ever a tear dared stain my cheek,
you would not only be a King,
but a great magician.

My pain, the salt tears would disappear
and sting my soul no more.

We approach the climax of this
insignificant fairy tale.

No monsters or heroes
dominate the scene.

I simply remember waking before the Sun
to embrace you and wish you a fulfilling day.

That you returned home
was a gift in itself.

Now comes the fall.

And an incomplete end.

When I think of you, the warmth is no more
than a dim glow-
Insatiating and maddening.

The fire is gone, my blanket ceases
to exist.

All I have, is the Earth's embrace,
as I lie here at your stone.
And the lingering breeze
caressing my face,
where your Loving hands once used
To roam.

Two Princes - poem

(Would hate to admit it but he)
danced with me, when he passed me by,
locking his gaze on mine-

He held my thoughts with his smile.
So freely I gave my hand to his
(He commented on how soft I felt).

I suppose he believed me to be also
internally soft.
For after pulling me towards
his affections and words, he tested my strength-

Slapped my hand away
(doubly hard than he pulled).

And that was the last step in the dance,
with the Prince who would transform
into a haunting, lingering

After elapsing time,
please allow me to introduce
the Second Prince.

His eyes deemed him both predator, prey
(it may sound cliché).

Déjà vu of the First-I met his stare,
then danced, and kissed-
I was the first to leave.

A yearning so deep, kindness in his heart,
praise with many turns of his phrases-

He's falling for who he thinks I am,
when I know the truthful being he's craving.

He wants an idea,
a Princess with the same qualities he dreams of,
virtues he thinks he sees.

Neither have realized, I'm not what-
or who
they've assumed.

Princes cannot fix a woman broken in two.

I am strong, not

I am no Princess, or Idea;
just a Woman, with a wish,
for not a misguided Prince,
but a (Willing)
man willing
to embrace the real

Symphony, re-written

I wrote a song the other day
then tossed it aside, left to decay.

I grew tired of writing
and bleeding the words
that spoke of you then of me.

There was never an "us"
just broken trust-I'm sick from waiting-
this shouldn't just sit, and stew and strengthen,
when there's havoc to wreak.

You were the words I'd choke on
but never stop saying.

I was the paper; you poisoned my skin.

Only recently did I realize,
to be rid of the memory of what could be
between you and me, I'd have to
toss aside my own pride;

The paper you wrote on-
the passion that died.

Now my words sting of acid-regret.

With a promise to look forward
to someone who'd let the void fill up
with ambitious infatuation.

And a promise for inspiration-
to be a muse for my pen.

And the colour that stains over
what was done-what was said-

And the Music
of your mistakes.

attempt|tseuqer - poem

For a moment, then the beating
of my heart.
Like a symphony,
the strings of our words
harmonize with my heart's

my head begins to drop to my hands that hold it up-
trying to stay awake.

I hit my pillow, surprised.

Craving sleep.

Craving escape.

Dying, yet still reviving
the memories.

Piercing the stillness.

Thrashing, only inside
(outside would look pathetic).

Only to notice I'm clutching the cure.

Stifling-my love,
we can't breathe together.

Fighting for breath, fighting for release.

I tear my arms away, afraid you'll hate to be

But then again
you told me once it had been too long,
and you kissed me.
Held me.
Led me.

I've turned my back.

You'd have to reach out to get me to hold you again.
For I've let go-

Or at least I can say
I tried.

Incomplete -poem

Does it ever kill you-
do you sit there and wonder if I’m ok,
what I’m thinking?

Would it ever cross your mind,
or compel you to pause,
during the lull of the night
that I might be shivering
without you?

The stupid thing, is well…
I know this is wrong.I
know I shouldn’t-

In theory, it makes no sense.
But my heart’s still beating,
despite the needles piercing through.

Can you ever feel the pain,
does any of this happen to you?

Breezes, pillows, blankets, hot chocolate-
nothing can cool my angry mind,
or thaw the ice that’s freezing my life.

At times I want to shake your shoulders and scream,
then at other times, I want to hold you-

Or at least know what it feels like
to be held.

Have you ever died a little?
I’d like to think you have-
because I’m daydreaming my eulogy-

God, how stupid this sounds.

And how you’d scold me for talking so much.

I can only dream you’d care-
dreaming’s all I have.

My frost-bitten heart,
the tears that won’t fall,
the lull of the moon,
the dreams…

And this is life-
at least the version of breathing
that I choke on
day and night, and night and day, and…

Tuesday, March 31, 2009

AI Round 2

Let me just start with this question:
what the hell does it really matter if Adam Lambert is gay? There are articles, websites, blogs, that seem disgustingly excited with uncovering the fact that Adam is not heterosexual. So the eff what? In case you ignorami (ignoramuses? I digress..) haven't noticed, he's incredibly talented, and his sexual orientation doesn't matter. Period. If anything, it gives him an extra flair and potentially bigger fanbase because he does know how to work both the women and the men. I'm included in that bunch...he's one handsome, talented dude.

It just massively bothers me that the media and society in general needs to "expose" something like this as if it's a dirty little secret. Guess what...he's proud of who he is so no one really gets a "way to go" prize for uncovering something that was never covered up to begin with. What do you jerks want: a Pullitzer??! If they spent as much energy and time on finding their brain cells and souls then maybe this world would be a better place.

Moving on.

I've seen some discussions about Scott MacIntyre recently that have concerned me. Because I don't watch actual TV anymore, I've been catching AI performances (only the ones I care about) on the AI website and YouTube. Scott usually does a first class performance, but apparently, some viewers are concerned that he's not being treated very well by the production team and the judges. I've heard accusations such as: the production team or the other contestants not warning Scott that he was wearing pink pants one night, and another time when he didn't get his pick of song because the others took advantage of his blindness and chose over him. (I'm cringing as we speak). I can't confirm or disprove those accusations, but their existence saddens me.

About the judges' treatment of Scott, I think that Simon and Randy are too harsh on Scott, but Kara and Paula are too soft. I feel like the women tiptoe around Scott because he's blind, and that is not acceptable. Having said that, Simon and Randy need to recognize Scott's talent and give him some frigging props. He is true to himself as an artist every week, and always pulls off a beautiful rendition of whatever song he chooses. Plus, he plays a mean piano to match his soothing vocals. How can you ask for more?

Sunday, March 22, 2009

Original Sin--poem

You were born with it
(well, we both were.)
But your very skin emanates its glow.
Like amber honey, when I trace my fingertips
over your surface,
it covers, entraps me-
sticking one to the other.
I'm frozen for a moment
yet It is swallowed by
the rushing bliss that follows.
The crucial instant when quickened breath commences,
curiosity morphs into obsession.
The walls don't matter, my surroundings: redundant.
Logic screams for resistance-I laugh at its attempt.
All of my focus burns on your arms
holding me almost too tightly.
Skin and heat blur, into a mess of each other.
I inhale, you exhale, then switch,we fall-
Entwined in cotton, Silk, Satin,(whatever).
Chests heaving, blood pounding,
hypnotic heat shivers,
then a lull.
(a pause.)
My focus lessens.
Curiosity returns.
Will he stay, repeat, delete, or leave?
I know he indulged-
gave in, (damn)
like me.
The honey lingers on my fingertips, lips.
Curiosity turns bitter-guilt, doubt,
set in.
The Act, Dance, Fiasco, Affair
(see "mistake" for more)
is your Original Sin.
But what you don't realize,
(you never did, do not, will never)
is that you're mine.
You're Mine.

Little girl--poem

Little Girl, I can only pray.
Little Girl, I've only words to say.
But what can this mean to a child's heart?
Except some blabbering fool-
where do I start?
Don't ever take a stranger's hand,
or trust your heart to danger.
Don't make the same mistakes I did,
or try to sell yourself for less-
I'm dying here as I watch those eyes,
resting so gently on this cruel world.
Little Girl, this fool is still singing
empty Pleas to maybe an empty Heaven.
But if your heart beats strongly enough for both of us,
let your faith in living pull you through.
And may your God rescue you from forsaken paths
and Darkness
and the nightmares
I've (mistakenly) learned to trust...
Little Girl, take this prayer from me.
Wrap it in some paper-lock it deep within your soul
so that no one can ever see-
you're the One that Night can't control-
you're just a little girl.
Take this prayer,
from Little Me.

If You Say--poem

Pen to paper: the sole way I know how,
articulation seems meagre,
when from my lips, attempted.
I mean not to offendthine eyes or ear.
Simply delivered here,my purpose-
this seemingly tedious, onerous task,
(though writing orconsuming-which isonerous more?)
of exposing words, scribed upon my beating heart.
A formed confession, which I struggle to impart.
"Yearning," "desire" -I tire of such diction.
Yet, may it be offeredthat I am "lacking."
How naked when presented, as such as this:
"I miss you,"but "you" is a fluid term-
pouring "he" of yesterday, or years ago
into framesof a gallery of "what if's."
I fight to conjure a foresought memory of you in future nights
(not suffocating days).
My mind recalls not, what my limbs achingly do:
the sensation of strength wrapped in, around
pressed against this encasement-of physiological lust,
and mental infatuation,
(for "you").
Embrace, kiss, caress-mechanical Steps!
They spark nerves'responses,but do not put
dreams to a test.
Absolve me of the Seven-
for I'm Master of them All.
Or, douse this Burning Paradox of an empty soul
full of Pain.
(and explain how you accomplishedsuch a trick.)
Or, just confirm the Icy Truth, that I,
who Burns truefor You,
is just a passing flame,
easily Extinguished
with the Breath of
One Word.

Silver Lining--poem

I see the clouds rolling in
no silver lining gracing their presence
you're standing alone, sobbing in a field
no bed of roses to comfort your frame
you start to sway
a delicate flower fading amidst wintry winds
how beautiful a soul
you possess such gifts
an inspirationto ferns and green
the colour amongst darkness
what pain is seething here
my heart dies a little watching from afar
I find my arms reaching
wanting to keep you safe
as my heart keeps beating despite the blood
flowing out of it
creating the flowerbed to cushion your slumber
an invisible wall keeps me from you
just a few more steps...
but alas-
only an angel with wings so pure
softer than these Mortal arms
can protect your heart
I can only do so much
but what I can please let me
then I'll plead to the heavens
to send the angel and from my heart
will only bleed a silver lining
and keep you safe
in the warmth
of the new Sun


Catching my eye-
the Black Widow scene
my arms spread wide, pressed to the sill
how long I stooped, remains unsolved
the web of crimson ensnared my vision
weaving tighter, asphyxiating reason
a crux of monstrous proportion;
unable to tear away from window pane, to pane
while gooseflesh burst every pore of my being-
a horrified fascination, as you performed your Skill
your tools of artistry glistened 'neath the Orb;
with every glint a shudder ensued
you became an alchemist, turning blood to ice
I witnessed the frame as you shattered its contents,
peeling layers away with blades of damnation
my heart burned-
Consuming, you devoured my reason
any sanity remaining, defamed whilst bystanding
peeling and peeling, ripping, and desecrating-
exposing vulnerability with brutal performance flair
screams and blood strangled my abilities-
a vegetative state invaded my reality-
staring, staring, the layers still peeling,
until crimson pools licked the Earth-
forever tainted, my transparent skin and fading resolve,
no morals existed evermore-
just Crimson, crimson, the fire of Blasphemy,
your Talents reigned over molecules of innocence-
a broken visage lay in crumbles on the floor
such sympathy, piteous sentiment, reverberated throughout-
disappearing flesh-
the harsh realization of ravaged dimensions,
whisked away my corporeal illusion-
until the collision of your web to my victim
exploded Heaven's chance of accepting-
no soul still lingers just damaged tissue,
disintegrated skeleton-
I became the picture as the frame reassembled,
posted on your wall
of your finest accomplishments.


Sittting on the Sun
distracting rays attracting darkness
time's the Idol
you fall on bended [bleeding] knees
before it, wanting approval
you say you are important
"They" are the bane
the enemy, the unclean
this wreaks with contradiction
hipocrysy--my bane
principles, not people
but I'm not perfect
and you certainly are not
can't you see the blood?
Yours from those damned knees?
From the days of worship
to whom you call "God"
but you're calling false idols
it's Time again
you're bleeding for a moment of glory
your claim to the physical modern-day Troy
that's lasted for millennia
hordes are crying
gunfire drowning them
along with their tears
salt water stinging your wounds
listen, listen
for God's sake, open your soul
let your "bane" go home
or at least see the Sun
the one you're keeping
while citizens of reality
wither die life fades
night invades
let them go home
including your warriors
for they deserve salvation [freedom]
or let me question you
as to what home remains
and when you say you are a united people
you crave for unanimity
yet you divide and dissect
the irony lies in the emerging fact
that you and your rivals are all human
you live on the same Earth
you breathe mutual air
you all bleed red
and your tears can drown each other
until nothing remains but this empty land
for if you murder your enemies
their supporters will avenge it
you reflect each other
you're the same, the same
you're united
isn't that what you wanted?
Now tell me true
tell me now
that you're the better person
and that you're so different
that you deserve others' blood
just so you can block the Sun
while worshipping nothing
but death

Comedy of a Rose--poem

Wrapping hands around the wind
this warped torrent falls onto dust,
no trust will build or soothe this aching heart
rise up to the sun
the light blinds the fool
my folly is my trade-laugh in it,
find joy somewhere to stand up to the day
the night grasps hard
it always seems that darkness is the victor
I lust in its mystery, its unending suspicion
eyes will well-adjust prodding fingers
above my chest into my neck-
it's hard to breathe-
some stupid black hole-
purgatory continuously reaching for heaven
or hell-some change so desired from a paradoxical stability
s fresh air can be delighted in again
I envy the Moon penetrating darkness
having its place so prestigious
could I be the glowing sphere that lights up another's dismay?
Could I be the mystery
the child of night
the woman who's growing,
waiting to bloom?
For a bud I remain in the sterile day
waiting, and waiting for this, for you
for an answer true
for some sort of a key
some gentle light
a nurturing bath-
kiss this rose
and see her as the light

On the Ears of a Ghost

I thought I should tell you
your lips were sincere
but your tongue betrayed
the myth of innocence
I heldYour body
to mine-
I thought I should tell you
you felt good;
In the least I hoped
you would
as I kissed my way
down from our lips
curling toes
I thought I should tell you
iIt's not ok-
Not [never]
just now
the promise I made
to myself
to guard
the whimsical purity
you whisked
and skimmed me off
my cliché feet
the multi-task-
kiss, touch, grind,
taste [blah blah blah]
to skim, scam,
leave me to[o]
with my golden Key-
with trouble-
then sleeping-
dreaming of the road,
the tire tracks,
stains from lips,
the imprints from a ghost
I thought I should tell you
it hurts, but I knew
I figured-and pushed-
I thought I should

The Architect--poem

I have some ideas-
some delicious estimations-
I can imagine your eyes,
how smoky they are in the dimmer lights
while you gaze at me and I can see
how you want…well…
then there is your hands-
they are strong, they are my protection-
you hold my passion
(one day my heart)
within them-
I cannot forget your lips-
they taste bittersweet, making me crave
their firm determination paralysing me
holding me to the floor while I savour my
imprisonment-you arms embellish my need
and hedonist desire to feel as though
the world has halted in honour of this
blissful embrace-
have I told you what story my eyes would tell
if you let me look into yours,
and stop time from disturbing
the exchange-my hands would paint
a picture of a situation, tableau, scene,
whatever the hell you’d want to name
this entanglement-my lips would speak
breathe and sing the secrets
boiling beneath my skin,
anxious to escape and offer a taste of
the True Hunger-
my arms would mesh
wrap warmth around you hold you to my heart
so you can hear it beat, pulse, throb,
making my blood rush, revealing the truth,
numbing my body, so I can only whisper
the epitome of this moment-
the sum of all my craving-
I know you will feel the same,
just one question, love-
because I’d be willing to give you
the ecstasy I yearn-
what are you waiting for?

Correcting Pronouns --poem

I'm not sure why...
I could take a guess...
I could hypothesize
and theorize-
but it's not all about me,
about "I"-
you're in it-
you are it.
Whatever "it" is,
whoever you are-
you could be one of two…of three…
of them all-
but that's not quite true-
for when I dream the nightmares tease-
I see your face and feel your lips like it was yesterday.
Part of me curses while I shiver inside-
I never felt as warm and as frozen at the same time
like I did with you, in your arms.
Damn them, save them for someone,
who can put up with it all, who can put up with you.
I’m craving the new, whoever “new” may be.
I’ll know when it’s true, for the cold will vanish,
melt into a kiss that I’ll hold
till Time cuts in.
I’m your ghost of “what if’s”-
you’ll yearn what you missed.
I won’t try to prove what I’m worth,
what you lost-
when you dropped me on the ground
with all your trash, and you walked away,
as if hurting me was as simple as dropping the needle
after a quick, somewhat satisfying Hit.
But wait-I’ve guessed-Hypothesized-Theorized-The irony-
I’ve proved my worth-
I’m more than a drug,
I’m a bloody dream.
You were my vision until my eyes cleared
and all I saw was you forcing me down.
Look again-I’m not there.
I’m miles away, holding a change,
Creating a fire that could smoulder
my pain, your ways, for good.

The Waking--poem

Into the throes of sleep
where nightmares wait
and shackles burn, craving to scald the tissue
while carving your mark on my wrists
I still taste your name on my tongue
savouring its novelty
then comes the bitterness siphoning my consciousness
‘till the blood thins,‘till I become this,
a Wraith or Fading Creature sucking on Hope
with ensuing gasps-
an attempt to maintain the legendary strength,
that once coursed through these veins
tirelessly, but now you see there’s poison lurking here-
with every word I scribe
you vanish from my eyes-
why you remain in my dreams, my nightmares
distresses composure-
what I have left to count on, is Waking disappointment
and the Revelation that I helped create these scars-
as though each fault, I bestowed on the world
won retribution by gnawing a brand
into my frame-I’m imprisoned here,
the invisible walls, encasing guilt, caging the Anger-
the noose of Reason tightens, darkness floods my Sight-
eerie Peace thunders in-
I wake with memories of You, turning your back,
andWalking away,
far, far,
from Desire’s Grave



Shedding reptilian skin
after moonlit mistakes,
should have bequeathed
a chance to cleanse
my sins from the surface-
Or bestow upon me
life anew.
I am abandoned, exposed
flesh breaking, whilst
rhythms from the night
sickeningly lull
my aching membrane into a trance-
when fantasy’s thoughts thrash at the core
gnawing away at sanity’s embrace
even when sanity has dissipated,
faded from the foreground
morality should reign: a consciousness
of what I used to deem
sensible, or the contrary.
In this moment, this fleeting specimen
of the universe’s glory, I am huddled
on the marble floor.
Crimson pools seep through the cracks,
replacing my crimes that should be buried
with the bones that grasp
remnants of ancestors and all the nostalgia
that six feet of decrepit earth can bear.
The bystander wonders in horrified awe,
why I repeatedly shudder,
why I practically retch,
because of my own misdeeds?
and why I am so confused,
as to the obvious reason behind my scars?
And why this layer of identity
falls with appalling ease
like the shavings of a butchered creature-
why tears are forming-
when I am the perpetrator-
the One still clutching
the blade

Thursday, March 19, 2009


Greetings cyberspace.

I'm pretty sure no one will be reading this any time soon, but alas, I'm using it more like a journal anyway (for now..).

I've been listening to some Demetri Martin. That man is funny! Speaking of funny, I'm enjoying recent comedies, especially from Judd Apatow and any of the actors and writers who have worked with him (or worked with those actors). If you haven't seen "Role Models" yet (not an Apatow film, but ok) I suggest you stop reading this and rent it. Or buy it. It's epic. "Superbad" is pretty much one of my favourite comedies, too. Christopher Mintz-Plasse is a completely newbie to the movie scene, but he's already a legend. "McLovin'" landed him his legendary status. I think we all want to have that nickname. As Michael Cera's character in "Superbad" said, "McLovin'" sounds like an Irish R&B singer's name. Clearly, Ireland is full of R&B singers. Nothing like Vanilla soul.

Now, I'm not completely won over by all of the Superbad-esque, slap-stick, in-your-face-rude and crude movies. Some are just over the top and not my taste. YOU might be into them, but that's the beauty of comedies, ain't it? Different strokes for different folks.

Ok. No more lame clichés. Sorry: that one even scared me.

I have not watched "Dark Knight" in a long time. This makes me sad.

Moving along.

Yes, I watch American Idol once in a while. I'm a patriot, adore Canada, no doot aboot it, eh, yadda yadda yadda, but Canadian Idol just doesn't cut it for me. There is always something sinfully and disgracefully entertaining or stimulating about most episodes of American Idol. The judges can be quite infuriating *cough Simon cough*, ridiculous *cough Paula cough*, but Randy and Kara are doing ok. The contestants, on the other hand, make or break the entertaining part of the show. This year, they've got QUITE a rainbow of talent and styles. Adam Lambert is clearly the most talented and/or well-rounded. He's smart, too, because damn that boy has audiences (and Paula) wrapped around his finger. I'll give some kudos to Paula for recognizing his talent, but she's a bit too flightly for my liking. Simon's just a douchebag most of the time, and called Adam's latest performance "indulgent rubbish," to my horror. Adam did what he was supposed to do: he took a song and made it his own.

Adam's not a country singer (thank the Lord), but country was the theme of the night. Instead of watering himself down and changing his style to "fit" the country genre, Adam, in all of his black nail-polish wearing glory, took a Johnny Cash classic and glam-rocked it. Yeah!

Aside from Adam, there are some other...talented...people on the show. Honest and full props to Scott MacIntyre, who has a beautiful voice, and can play the proverbial pants off of the piano. Oh: did I mention he's blind? Geez. I can see and don't play nearly as well as him. Or sing as well, for that matter. A few of the girls aren't too bad: the two blondes are different. They're not great singers or performers, but they're both strong women who try damn hard and are gorgeous. I'll leave them alone. The other guys have their moments, but just sadly pale in comparison to Adam's ability to make the stage his b****.

*Aggravated sigh*... Enter Lil Rounds, though. And that guy who's name I don't remember but who seems to think he's hot and adorable because he can play the acoustic guitar and looks like he walked out of an American Eagle ad. Not that these two (and a couple of the others who annoy me) aren't talented, per se, they're just such....dimes. There are clones upon clones of them in the industry, and I'm not sure they deserve to be given "the" production opportunity. I'm not the one to decide that honour, though.

Here's what is plaguing my brain about AI (AI? Artificial Intelligence? American Idol? Resemblance? I digress...): Adam "should" win because he's hella talented, or Scott, but what is AI all about? Looking back at past winners, only a couple original singers have made it far. Sadly, even David Cook has vaporized. I had high hopes for that guy. I hope he makes a "comeback." Even though he just won last year. Ouch. The others have come and gone, and we've all forgotten their names. Adam will always be remembered IF he: wins and gets to keep his original edge on his music, or if he does NOT win, and moves onto his own career as an original artist. He will be forgotten, though, if he wins and is "forced" (I use that term lightly) to produce fluffy ear-poison that dominates the music biz these days. He better not become another snuffed out star with boundless potential only to be silenced by red tape and ignorant producers. *shudder*

So, should he win? If AI is about sugar-pop conformity, then no. I don't want Adam to fade. He should make it to the top two, then the crown should go to someone else who can face the "conform or reform" dilemma. I wouldn't wish the conformity curse on Scott, either. I hope he can find some edge soon, too. He's very talented but is only slightly lacking in the "wowza!" factor. Lil Rounds sounds like a wannabe [enter R&B singers' names here]. She's really not amazing. She's ok, but that's it. The judges have praised her--actually praised her--vocal abilities, and that makes me feel like my brain is being ripped out, stomped on, then shoved back into my head.

I need some more comedy.

By the way, I realize that Adam is likely gay, but I swear, if he ever asked me out on a date, I would say yes in a flash. Rock and Roll, baby. I'm letting him wrap me around his long as he remains Adam Lambert and not an AI machine. I wish I had that kind of power!

I love to sing, and have recently become secretly (or not so secretly) addicte to karaoke. It would be epic and exhilerating to command a stage like Adam does. I mean, I've got similar hair to him, a mischievous nature...I guess I just need that thing called vocal talent. *chuckle*. I'm ok, but that's where the bar stops. OK-ness doesn't cut it for finger-wrapping abilities. *le sigh*

Back to comedy. That was depressing.

Someone at Rogers recommended "The Ten" after he saw me pick up "Role Models." Bleh, is all I have to say about that movie. It has a couple decent moments, but it's too ridiculous. Movies like "Superbad" and "Role Models" are "escape-to" movies where you love to get lost in the laughs. "The Ten" is more an "escape-from" movie for me. Not ideal. I didn't finish it, even though I got to near the end. Again, it's probably just a personal taste thang, but it's not tasting so good to me.

Don't you hate it when reality slaps you in the face? Even if the reality tidbit is "good," you still just forgot that it is impending, and you need to prepare for it...My interview for Social Work is tomorrow night. My jaw just clenched tighter. Ouch. I need some decompression time. I just hope my excitement UFC's my nervousness' ass.

Well, time for me to get back to my current reality, and not to tomorrow's--or even tonight's. I'll be spending the evening with my big sister, Spirit of the West, and Great Big Sea, so I really can't complain.

May the Force be with you...and check out Role Models.