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2005-06-14 - 12:56 a.m. Daily Fuck Yous If I did a Daily Fuck You on this blog (a la J.B.) (which I don't, because really, Where's The Love?!?) today's DFY would go out to my developmentally-disabled clients at work, most of whom have fairly severe emotional addictions to soda pop. Because for whatever reason, when I got home tonight from an orientation at a new group home, I really REALLY wanted a cherry pepsi. So now I'm all hopped up on cola, unable to sleep, and my stomach lining is crying on the inside. And if you're still with me after something that politically un-correct... Burning Man Plans Because it's that time of year and I'm slowly becoming diagnosably OCD about Nevada... As much as I love, adore, cherish all my dear friends at Kamp Kanuckistan, I've decided to camp elsewhere this year. So I've hooked up with a beautiful camp full of flaky hippy-dippy-woowoo kids (all healers) to work in their kitchen and help out with a few yoga classes in exchange for a peaceful grounding place to come home to every night. This was a pretty huge decision for me and I'm super incredibly excited about it. More than anything, I'm glad that I was able to make the decision totally on my own -- because, despite appearances, making this choice was HUGE for me. Huge as in empowering, huge as in wonderful, huge as in one of the easiest and most natural things I've ever done. Huge as in perfect. Speaking of wonderful I just spent one of my last free weekends up in Edmonton with some of the most beautiful people the city has to offer. Emo night at Suburbs on Friday (and all the guys came out, as well as a few of my favourite ladies!), kisskissbangbang on Saturday night, Sunday brunch at Mosaics, tons of baby time all weekend long... but the slightly-more-chill Saturday afternoon Take the Beach to the Street party rocked my world. To (kind of begin to) explain: A group of us smelly (well-dressed, beautiful) hippies claimed a parking space in front of the Marble Slab on Whyte Ave, lay down some blankets and a couple pails of sand complete with seashell accents, pulled out some drums and a didgeridoo and some hemp twine for necklace weaving and the obligatory vegan apple crisp (dreamer say I love you AND your cooking, B!) and plugged the parking meter for four peaceful hours of chilling in the sunshine. Cars stopped at the intersection commented out their windows on the sidewalk-chalk-scrawled More Beach Less Cars motto we'd drawn up around our pseudo-sand-bar. It was magnificent. C-light and I were mocked just a little for spending so much energy checking out all the beautiful ladies and gents walking down the avenue, but what else do ya do at the beach? And besides, we convinced a few of them to come talk to us, and they (of course) proved to be bewitching of mind as well as of face. Yum. And magic all around, all weekend -- I partly blame the magician whose house I crashed at. So many roads are pointing towards him, except the one that will be taken by my feet come August. California is looking beautiful but I fear a part of me will be staying in Edmonton.
So there are these two super cute 19-year olds on the C-train tonight as I'm bootin' it home from work. Disgustingly young, really really cute. The guy is telling the girl about the book he's reading, J Conrad's Heart of Darkness, and how it sucks cuz it's all depressing and dark and, like, the last person who took it out from the library must have been an English major cuz every reference to darkness is underlined and it's, like, every second word. I, the English major, bristled, but let it go. Then the guy got off at my stop, so I decided to offer a little unsolicited literary advice. It went well. I got him excited about V Woolf and J Winterson. I will make a feminist out of every boy in the universe. Someday. < insert wistful sigh > The End? Already? No links, oh well -- tough toodles for all y'all. The cola is quickly draining from my veins and I'm feeling slumbery despite myself. Might also be due to the hour (01:25). I fear it'll be evening yoga tomorrow, as I don't expect I'll be bushy-tailed five hours hence. I'd love to leave you with a poem, but the newest one is a bit umm... yeah. Nothing I'm gonna post here. Sorry 'bout your luck. --mopheaded is listening to her surprised feelings living
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