Friday, May 1, 2009


I just had a great night. Band practice, went really well, I have been popping out songs like a 16th century Christian, and I might not even be accurate about that analogy. What I mean to say is, a lot had been getting done. Progress.

At the same time as progress, I am growing closer to all the band members. Here's a description of each's personality:

Grace (vocals): Awesome, crazy and a little off-the-rocker Romanian soultrain. 
Rose (violin): Still a lot to learn about Rose. So far spunky, determined, and has strange pet peeves, like that clicking noise Snoop Dogg uses in that song.
Rodrigo (guitar): Chill, adorable, amicable. Looks like Jimmy Hendrix.
Eric (bass): Just quit band, but I'll tell you anyways. Cute when you are really hammered, strange when he says more than three words in a row. Shared a bed with Grace and I. Nothing happened, except for Eric asking us if we were still awake over and over at 6 am. 
Betty (drums): Left the band. Can't say I am not happy she is gone, no matter how mean that is. But I can't apologize for simply not being able to stand someone for no particular reason besides her slack drumming skills and eerily resemblant personality to the annoying girlfriend of Andrew, my best friend that I love.


Pierre (composer/keys): Now here is a more pertinent character to discuss. Pierre is the "band leader", because all the songs are his, and the project is his idea and he is directing everything. And he can't seem to let a day pass without us remembering that. I saw my friend John tonight, at the train station, and he came to meet me while I was outside smoking a doob with Rodrigo and Pierre. As soon as John got there, Pierre went all alpha-male and became a huge douche. I can tell he is attracted to me, though he has a wife, but I am not going to get tangled in that situation. Besides that being a horrible idea on its own, I would never get involved with someone like him. He is the kind of guy that is really good at fooling people into believing he is the shit, but I could see through that right away. The thing is though, since I believe this project could take me someowhere great and the music is stellar, I would not back out for that sole reason, I can suck it up. And I look for the positive things about him, and there are many positive qualities, but overall, I see right through him.  And even worse, I cant tell he wants to sleep with me, not that he would, but I can tell he is attracted to me, probably for the sake of his own ego, a conquest. Trust me, I will NOT be conquered by him.

Now that that's out, I have some way more pressing matters to discuss. Andrew and I haven't been in contact for about 2 weeks, maybe a bit more, which is rare. I was getting pissed about it, and I almost caved and called him a few times, but I just told myself he would call me when he wanted to talk to me. 

And that's exactly what he did. He called me today, and I didn't answer. Here is his word-for-word voicemail:
"Hey shithead (for us, a term of endearment)... Just wanted to let you know my phone doesn't work at all anymore, it gave up... on life. Umm.. give me a call back at home if you can tonight... we have lottttssss to talk about... many changes in my life at this point. So I'll talk to you in a bit. Love you. Bye."

So here's the thing. Either he broke up with his girlfriend, or she's pregnant. And I swear to God, if that girl has Andrew's babies instead of me, I WILL need professional help. 

And I also swear that if Andrew's "changes" and many things to talk about aren't something fucking important, I will kill him for leading me on.

So nervous. We played a vicious round of phonetag after that. So hopefully we'll talk tomorrow. The suspense is going to slow time so much!


Wednesday, April 15, 2009


Over the last couple of days, I have been worried about my voice.

If you are a singer, you know what I'm talking about. If not, it is hard to emphasis just how paranoid a singer is about their voice. We become maniacal, obsessive, superstitious, and on-edge every time vocal problems lurk. And when vocal problems are nowhere near us, we are still maniacal, obsessive, and superstitious about those vocal folds.

I just spent about 2 hours googling things from Vocal Strain to Effects of Anti-inflammatory Drugs on Singers. I haven't had voice lessons for about 4 months! Holy shit! Longest time I have gone without them in my life. I have to get back to it!

Just a couple of problems: 1. The only teacher I trust teaches classical and that's not what I need right now.
2. I have no money.

But I am in dire need of some direction. After singing for so many hours last week, tired to body's end, after months of minimum singing (and any other activity), I let my voice slip to the point of "unsupported". Thanks to my improper technique, I have spent two days drinking water like a camel in a desert, barely talking, trying to avoid singing if I can help it, paranoid as fuck, and having nightmares about vocal polyps.

I will be okay. I will be okay. I will be okay.

I even bought a mini-vaporizer today. I decided that if I am going to ingest weed, I am going to do it the healthy way. And no weed before I sing, because pot, like most other things in the fucking world, changes the way the body (and vocal chords) function, react, sound.

Alcohol to be avoided also.

I am going to buy a humidifier for my room as well.

Oh yes, it is time for me to become the Ultimate Paranoid Singer (according to non-singing folk around me), or as I like to call it, the Ultimate Cautious and Healthy Singer.

Or pretty close to ultimate. I can't give up ALL my vices now, what would I write songs about?

Turns out this band is whipping me back into shape!


Monday, April 6, 2009


Do you ever feel like your the whirlwind of your life has suddenly stopped, and all you are left with is silence and your thoughts?

Now that my life seems to be going back on track, a new band, more hours at work, I somehow still look for holes to fill.

And my friendship with Andrew is now becoming a hole. I thought things would go back to normal with us after we had talked it out. Maybe that whole conversation we had where we decided everything was okay was the result of wishful thinking. Because I feel like things have changed. I can't just call Andrew without it seeming like I'm calling him because I have feelings for him. And he hasn't called me but once, to return my call yesterday telling him about the band. And I was in band practice, so unfortunately I didn't pick up. I tried calling him back tonight, but no luck.

And Facebook has once again proved it's evil, allowing me to find out information that I didn't want to know: Andrew doesn't think he will be making it to Montreal this summer (which means he isn't coming). He had talked to be before about possibly visiting, and I guess now he has put that on hold. I see that he is putting his girlfriend first. I understand that that is what he has to do for now, but I wish it weren't so. I wish it was the way it was before in so many ways, before I brought about this new wave of shittiness. And above all, I hope that things don't stay like this for too long... or forever.

To distract me from all the loneliness and holes, I have been receiving past-midnight Saturday night phone calls from this guy Percy, who I had a one-night stand with around October. The morning after we slept together, I realised that it wouldn't be going anywhere because I wasn't interested in my sober state. Luckily, he didn't call me for about a month, so I figured it was mutual. Instead, he suddenly started calling me sporadically, always really late on Saturday nights. Excuse me, but how insulting is that? The only time you ever hear from a guy after fucking them is on Saturday nights when they are drunk at a bar? I never even picked up, instead got a trail of loud, inaudible messages from the chap over the months. 

So this Saturday night, he called me again. (Didn't get the message after I didn't answer or return his calls the first 5 times.) So instead of hoping he would stop calling, I decided to pick up and give him a piece of my mind. I answer the phone, and get this, I can't even hear what the fucker is saying, and he can't hear me because wherever his drunking escapade is taking place is too loud. So at this point, I am livid. So I decide to end this once and for all.

I text him: "Yo. The only times I hear from you is late on Saturday nights. I don't appreciate or want that shit. You're ruining a good memory."

He responds: "Oook well im sorry i just wanted to see you again but just didnt no if u wanted watever its ok......... goodnight."

Cold-hearted-bitch me, didn't respond.

Percy: "Watever im sorry."

Me: "It's okay. Goodnight."

Percy: "But if anytime ur free would you like to do something? in all seriousness?"

And once again, I didn't respond.
If you are somehow confused as to my anger at this blubbering idiot, please listen and learn:
If you want to see a girl again, you call her in a sober state, when the sun is still shining, somewhere inside 2 weeks of sleeping together. You don't wait until you're drunk, horny, and expect her to be in the mood to plan a nice 2nd date. Women are not stupid, I am not stupid, and all that kind of behaviour says to me is, I.Only.Want.You.For.Sex.And.I.Forget.About.You.All.Week.Until.I.Am.Too.Drunk.To.Even.Get.I

So fuck you, Percy. I don't have time for immaturity.

And fuck you, Andrew. That's right, I said it. For not loving me back, for being whipped by your Oatmeal-Personality girlfriend, for not calling me anymore. I don't care if my anger is irrational, I am just so annoyed by the way things turned out. More than annoyed. It really upsets me to the core, that our friendship is changing for the worst.


Saturday, April 4, 2009

Music, Finally

After all the Men & Mary J, we have barely discussed the Music aspect of my life.

Reason being, Music was on the down-lo... aka not taking up a nearly significant enough portion of my life.

And now, I have found a purpose again. I've joined a band.

The process was so simple and yet I had never attempted it before. I kept complaining that I don't have large enough networks with people who play music, when it was right there, accessible by this box known as my computer: MontrealMusicScene.Com.

(Yes, I am endorsing them, because they just might have saved my life.)

I came across the site on one of my random Google searches the other night. I scanned it for a couple of hours, looking at wanted ads for singers. I came across only one that I felt worthy a reply. 4 days later, and I am part of the band.

Thank god. It is going to be such a great project too. Fusion of Indie and Jazz, geniously composed by a classically trained pianist. We are going to be 7 musicians, including one other singer with a child-like vocal inflection, a Betty-Boop appearing drummer, some Spanish influence on the guitar, a Violinist, Bassist, and the brains of the project on keyboards, splash of vocals and Ukelele.

And the sound is exactly what I would spend all day listening to. Which makes it a dream to sing.

So we are starting off by practicing, a lot. 4 days a week. But the show is going to be on the road... we hope. Ambitions: Gigs in a couple of weeks, touring this summer, and recording before year's end.

What more could a girl ask for?


Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Down Under

This blonde hair has been the emblem of change. I guess tampering with my own hair, reinventing myself if I want to get a bit dramatic, has actually allowed me to finally move forward.

On Saturday night, I went to a bar in Dorval (west of the island of Montreal) where my friend Shauna works as barmaid. She recently started this job, and I went with her a couple of weekends ago to keep her company and party it up. So this weekend, Shauna and her boyfriend decided they would hook me up with a friend, to be more accurate, an Australian.

Did I mention how weak in the knees an Aussie can make me? (Aka that tragically hopeless affair in December).

So Aussie Boy and I hit it off really well, in between bar chatting, smoking, drinking, slight PDA (aka him kissing me at the bar), and constant gossip from Shauna and her boyfriend everytime Aussie Boy's back was turned, telling me to "Go for it!" "He really likes you!" etc... Like my own personal cheerleaders.

But I didn't want to take him home.

Okay, that is a lie. I did want to. With his charm, his looks, his sense of humour, and let's not forget that drool-inducing accent and icy blue eyes. But I didn't want this to end up like it so often does, with a one-night stand when I may want something more.

A quick interlude: You may be thinking, "Wow. This girl really got over Andrew fast." And the funny thing is, it is sort of true. It was as if his rejection totally burst the bubble that was holding the fantasy of what might have been. It is liberating to know that although I won't be with Andrew like I might have hoped to be, we are back on the same page, on equal grounds, where we can both live our seperate love lives without any expectations from each other. And sometime in the future, if the time is right, maybe things will align, but it is okay if they don't.

Back to Aussie Boy. So the end of the night comes, we have kissed a couple of times, and it is clear not only from Shauna and her boyfriend's indications but from the way he looks at me that he does like me, and not only for tonight. So I decide I will take him home, but first I tell him that we will not be sleeping together. And he agrees to come anyways.

And if you are rooting for my self-restraint, I am sorry to dissapoint you, but we had sex. And it was really great.

And I don't regret it... unless it has been categorized as a one-night.

But I don't think it has. So now, we will have to see what happens.


Friday, March 20, 2009


So I decided I would die my hair platinum blonde tonight.

I didn't care that my hairdresser would go balistic, nor that my Grandmother wouldn't approve of the "unnatural" shade. I almost didn't care that I might be making a horrible mistake, which would need professional correction, because doing my hair was about self-liberation this time. Coming out of a catastrophy reborn, in new skin. New, imperfect, but self-made skin.

I didn't really think about it until today, but everytime my life undergoes a Natural Emotional Disaster, usually involving a BOY, I decide to cut my hair. I decide to cut my hair NOW.

Sometimes I will call my hairdresser, taking the more hesitant and logical approach:
"Yes, Anne..."
"I was wondering if you would be able to um... streak my hair."
"Okay sure, when do you want to see me?"
"Uh, do you have anything open today?"
"No, sorry Anne."
"Okay... um... how about tomorrow at 6?"
"Nope, can't then either sweety. I can only see you... Next week. Tuesday at noon?"
"Uh... I will check and call you back. Thanks."

After this first step, I will then proceed to the Pre-Impulsive Action step. (This is becoming more and more frequently the first step.) After the seeds of my "new look" obsession are planted, I use whatever way I can to find out the minimal and dire facts about how to attain The New Hair. Google Search, my friend Tara, Cosmopolitan...

Next step comes in 24-48 hours after the seeds have been planted. It is the Impulsive Action. (Cutting bangs, dying my hair...) In this case, it was the dying of my hair.

And it always turns out less than perfect, this time being no exception. I didn't know exactly who I was trying to look like or what I was trying to look like with this new color, I just knew I wanted it to be dramatic and new. Really, really blonde. For myself. Not because I think a certain guy would like me to look a certain way, or because I want a general population of admirers... just because I wanted to be different, a silent rebellion against everything people think they know about me.

And how did it turn out? Less than perfect, platinum blonde, but still smashing. And when I looked in the mirror, I thought I would like to be as sexy and unapologetic as Marilyn Monroe sometimes. And maybe now is a good time to channel that. A new look, a new outlook (even if it is just trying on someone else's shoes), and a way to move on. An attitude to try on that might lead me to find myself again.

Kill me for being corny, I don't blame you. I just feel like I am strong enough to move on from the Andrew situation. Like a new wind is picking up.


Tuesday, March 17, 2009


I have some really bad news.

I have discovered, yet again, that being your own personal cheerleader and believing in the power of love and soulmates, that all my wishful thinking was no more than wishful thinking. That all the arguments I have built to persuade myself that Andrew has feelings for me, all those puzzle pieces I have put together was not built on reality, but rather on fantasy and misinterpretation.

Last night, I received an email from Andrew, telling me that "I love you, you are the best friend i have ever had and most likely will ever have... but my love for you has always been and will always be that of a friend."

It gets worse.

He then goes on to say how much he loves his girlfriend, that she is the world to him, and that he is certain that they will end up together.

And then he tells me he hopes I will support him, but now he is afraid that everytime he says "I love you" or asks for advice about his inner relationship conflicts, that I will take it the wrong way.

Then he tells me that our friendship is indestructable, "but what you have for me and what i have for you is different to its very core", and for now, it is better to cease contact until everything sinks in.

So basically, I am a fucking mess of regret, sorrow, anger at him and myself. The way he wrote things, it was as if I would never get over this, and that he could never get over this, and that now our relationship is changed forever. Which is exactly what I least expected from my best friend, who I thought would be more understanding and less scared off if he didn't feel the same way.

So I read the email over and over again, and couldn't sleep. At five in the morning, I wrote him an angry text message, pretty much telling him I deserved a phone call, and he wrote back, coldly, saying he would call me this weekend when he could.

So now, I guess we are fighting.

I have never fought with Andrew. I mean, we have had disagreements, but never to this extent, where our actual friendship is at risk. I never thought this would happen with him. Maybe I was being stupid and naive and too lovestruck to consider all of the consequences. I thought the worst response I would get would be that he was happy now, but he didn't know where things might go with us one day. I just had it so set in my head, in my heart, for the past few years, that somewhere along the line, something was bound to happen between us. And to find out that that isn't even an option for him is just shattering.

It is strange because I don't feel like my heart has been ripped out, like I did last time I went through a break-up. This wasn't a break-up though, it is over before it ever could begin, and the implications of that hasn't really settled in. Once I get past my anger and enormous embarassment, once everything settles in I know I will realise that my whole way of thinking has to change. For years now, I have felt like Andrew is the perfect man, and I always wondered if we would end up married. He was like my plan B, and recently, my hopeful plan A. That feeling of excitement, of not knowing where our friendship could possibly end up, has added so many elements to it. Not that we were trying to court each other, quite the opposite; we were just ourselves, and by not trying to be anything specific, we became the most real, imperfect, honest and raw versions of ourselves when we were together. And knowing that a guy actually loved me when he saw who I was, and knowing that I loved him for what he was, started to make me realise that nothing could ever get any better than our bond. And he felt that way too, until his girlfriend came along.

And so now I am what I have always been to him, unevolved, just friends. But why? What is it that is missing? That is the hardest part, and that will be one of the most difficult things for me to figure out now; if that bond isn't enough to make it in terms of romantic love, what is?

I haven't even begun to try seeking answers to that question yet. But I know that I have a lot of soul-searching to do.

Sometimes I feel like I was just trying to fill a void with Andrew where he doesn't really fit. It just makes sense for us to be in love. And sometimes I feel like I am in love with him, but I know that it isn't really possibly, because for me, love is something that is built together. But the seeds were there. All I needed was a thumbs up from him, and I knew I would probably fall fast.

But maybe in my letter, my tendancy to romanticize and poeticise feelings came out too strong, and I scared him into thinking I was head over heels, which I sort of am, but sort of not. Because as soon as he wrote that letter, I felt like the feelings I did have were semi-extinguished. It is hard to explain. I feel like I can get over the crush, but I don't know if I can get over the fact that we will never end up together at all.

So I am caught between telling him everything is cool, and that I just want to go back to the way things were, without him worrying about the implications of what he is saying. And the other part of me knows that he will be cautious around me, and there is nothing I can do to change that now. But the last thing I want is for him to be cautious. The reason he is my best friend is because we have never had to be cautious, we could always be open and honest. And that is what I was trying to do in my letter. But I guess I blew it out of proportion, and now I am paying the price, by sabotaging his trust in me. By changing the way he views me forever.

And that is the thing I could never have been prepared for.

So maybe I made a mistake. Where do you draw the line between being selfish and selfless? Maybe telling him everything I did was selfish, because it helped me to find answers, but sent his world into turbulence. Maybe it was stupid, because things are so fucked up. And maybe it was right, because now I can stop thinking that every relationship I end up in will be doomed because Andrew is my soulmate.

But I really didn't want to know that. And I can't even tell you how that makes me feel because I am too busy logicising everything so that I don't have to think about the truth, that the things I have believed in for years have been shattered, and now I have to rebuild the fabrics of our friendship, and of my life, because I can't have him in the back of my mind anymore.

And I wonder, has a small part of me been so close to him since I have known him because I subconciously wanted something more?

And if that's true, what happens to our friendship now? The visits, the phone calls. Do they slowly cease to exist because they are pointless?

I don't believe that Andrew and I won't get through this. I know we will. But what will be left when we come out?


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