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?


Tuesday, March 10, 2009


The craziest series of coincidences happened to me today. It was almost like a day to be superstitious, because little things kept pointing towards a bigger message today. And I took notice of them, today.

So here is what happened:

1. I had a dream about a boy, Andrew, my best male friend whom I desperately want to be with, who lives in Halifax. (A bit of a back-drop: I wrote Andrew a letter, which he received around last Thursday, telling him my feelings for him and that I want to be with him. He was gone all weekend to Percé, Qc (sort of close!), and his phone is disconnected, so I wasn't expecting a call from him yet.) I have been wondering over and over what he is thinking about the letter, and so in my dream, he was on his way from Percé to come visit me, to speak to me. Sometime after or during waking, I heard the sound of a doorbell. Being semi-nude, I took a minute to look dressed and then trotted towars the door. There was no one there! A ghost. A Coincidence, considering I was imagining Andrew's arrival at my door.

2. I continued on my day, feeling a slight pang of electricity in the air, like something was sort of shifting things. Movement. Flashes of memories. Andrew.

HAHAHA how corny is THAT?

real 2. I decided to go on the computer, and sat there considering whether or not to go on MSN, which I rarely do, and neither does Andrew. So something persuades me to say yes, and as soon as I come online, a box pops up: Alison. Andrew's girlfriend was speaking to me. Blinding flashes on the screen, all sent in 10 seconds.

"Hey, it's Andrew.

I'm so sorry I haven't had the chance to call you. My phone is disconnected until Wednesday, so hopefully I'll be able to call you then...


I mean hopefully it will be connected Wednesday :| ...

So I'll call you then :P ...


WHAT THE FUCK? You might be thinking to yourself, if you were me, and really fucken stoned.
How can I decipher this message? What does that (L) mean? The "I'm so sorry..." OH GAWD.

Anyways, I try not to obsess, but I'm fucking happy that at least he doesn't hate me for fucking things around and loving him, and possibly (L)s me too! So now I wait... til Wednesday?

Okay I sort of forgot about our point here, which is Coincidence. So here it is: How strange that the odds were very low that I would be on MSN, nor that he would be on MSN, nor that he would be on his girlfriend's account, nor that all of these things would Coincide at ONCE!

3. The last Coincidence: I was standing outside, smoking a joint, looking at the round moon, and for once in every year or so said a small prayer to God-if-He-Exists, and that prayer was: "God-If-You-Exist, please let Andrew want to be with me right now. Let us be together."
Corny, corny, I know. Forgive me. I was alone. I didn't think I would be telling you guys about this.
And I kept staring at the moon, because it was so fucken full and high, and what happened?


So then I thought of that Disney song, "When you wish upon a star, makes no difference who you are, when you wish upon a star your dreams come true." And I only realised that those were the real words as I wrote this out, I was fideling with them, and saying something like "... wish upon a shooting star, your wishes come true."

So that was a major Coincidence, that I was actually praying to God, and that a shooting star then flew by, which I then believed was part of that Disney song. So for me it meant that my wish would come true.

4. I lied, or rather I just discovered the real last Coincidence of today, so far. The day's Coincidences come around full circle, starting with a dream about a boy and then ending with a song about a dream come true. A dream about a boy come true, perhaps, on the night I saw a shining star. A shining, shooting star.

(I'm sorry that got so M.J. but I am so high and the possibility of love with the man of my LIFE is making me feel elated. In a hopefully ironic way.)

So if I were superstitious today, I would believe that those 5 Coincidences meant something.

Maybe I do, a little.

A girl has gotta hope. ;)


Thursday, March 5, 2009

High, how are you?

So I basically realised some shit tonight about weed.

You start smoking it casually, maybe once a year or two at a crazy party. Then you move up to every couple of months, and then that turns into weeks. But then something happens and you stop smoking, be it a boyfriend against it, loss of interest, whatever. And then somehow that little plant sneaks up on you again, growing right underneath you, poking it's spiky head at your toes and pinching you until you smoke it. And then the weeks turn into days, and days turn into hours. And then you are in and out of your high state, knowing it will come again soon, not quite wanting it, but still craving it. And then it just somehow works out, and you acquire the weed, you roll it, and you smoke it. You are probably with a friend when you buy it, and so you share it with them, and then you find yourself an hour later, high as fuck and ready to go home. So much for quality time.

It is so strange that the weed smoker craves this alone time. We dread smoking in some ways because we know it will start off great, and then drop us into a zombie-like state for hours. You can fight the feeling and do something, but it is always pulling at you. It is like a semi-paralysis; your body just tingling and shutting down, but very slowly, until the drug mellows.

But if you can fight the meltdown, at least for long enough to make it worth it, it's great. You become extremely creative; your thoughts train off onto a million tangents and you can somehow grasp them all at once and this makes your head semi-explode, in a good way. You can take these tangents and use them in conversation that spirals into itself, in song, in written words, and of course, in sex.

Sex when you are high, that is something. You feel like your whole body is melting and burning and bursting at once. I heard it through the grapevine that weed plays with your emotion centers in the brain, and I am sure that is connecting to the pleasure center, which is why we so enjoy pleasures like food (munchies), laughter, song, sex.

But then you get a little brain burn, where your whole intricately strung train of thoughts just *POPS!* out of your mind, and you feel sort of cross-eyed, and your mind is completely blank.


Tuesday, March 3, 2009

You probably often hear unemployed people complain. At that point, you or the person next to you probably tells the unemployee to their face or behind their back that being unemployed is easy; the Life: you get paid to do nothing.

At this point, I will bring up the fact that not all unemployed people are collecting any sort of money. Myself include.

See, I am not technically unemployed. I have a job... last month I worked 15 hours. So for the other 657 hours of February, and now the unworking hours of March, I spend my time:
1. Watching movies.
2. Getting high and watching movies.
3. Listening to music.
4. Playing music.
5. Getting high and then listening to/playing music.
6. Scrambling up $1.54 for a Tim Horton's Vanille Français.

This sounds WAY more fun than it is. Imagine waking up with absolutely no responsibilities, no plans, aka no goals or purpose. Almost every single day I wake up and stay in bed. This is not only excruciatingly boring, but it is bad for the body, mind and soul. No stimulation!

I hang around and wait for my friends to get home from work, and sometimes we chill, sometimes we talk. I then spend my evenings doing what I do in the day, all fucking over again.

This is the ideal life for some; the lazy life. I despise it.

"So do something Anne. Walk your dog."

First of all, my dog is a wild hooligan who cannot be controlled outside the fences that surround my backyard.

Second of all, it's fucking cold in Montreal right now. And icy.

I might be motivated to walk somewhere, if I had money to go buy something. Consumerism really makes the world go round, doesn't it?

So I am just sick of staying at home, alone, for the majority of my hours. Don't worry fair readers, I had a job interview today. Hopefully that will produce something.

I'm just fucking annoyed of being sedentary. I just want to go take a run. Thank you Winter.


big P.S: Booty Call Mike called me tonight. I didn't answer. :)

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