I'm a thief.

I didn't say it first, but I'm saying it now:

If you think being in a relationship is a trap, you lack vision and creativity.

Eat that.

Wash the Rain

Sometimes there are so many things wrong. Too many to deal with. I'm only one person, I counted, so there's only so much I can do.

There is too much weighing on me; responsibility, guilt, anger, love, possibilities, mistakes, embarrassment, eating disorders, relationships, a plant, a cat, laundry, patients, patience, books, music, talent, my body, my ganglion, my hair, my room, dishes, the litter box, blogging, old friends, new friends, letter writing, story writing, impressing people, confronting people, contraception, he said she said, miscommunications, boredom, insolence, money, money, money, waiting, wanting, changing, staying the same, words, memories, plans, dreams, drinks, dances, phone calls, emails, lent, apologies, waking up.

One night, as I was trying to fall asleep, someone said the last straw (though I soon found out it was only one of the last straws) I don't remember what he said but I threw my mind somewhere it doesn't often go: I prayed. But I didn't pray to someone with a name, I didn't pray to someone at all. (Let's not make this what it isn't.) I immediately started hearing this old, horrible song loaded with nostalgia called "Wash the Rain" by World on Edge (how convenient!) and it swelled inside me until I found myself whispering "wash it all away, wash it all away..." Quickly, tears started streaming down my face but I kept repeating "wash it all away, wash it all away" and just as quickly, the tears stopped. And I fell asleep.

I'm hoping this wasn't my personal version of "serenitiy now, insanity later" but "wash it all away" has been my mantra since that night and it at least keeps me from crying or even frowning. It allows me to feel cool, calm, confident (like Aladdin) along with the frustration.


One by one we fall to the ground
We turn our heads and start from where we were found
On our knees
Hold your head from moving round
Your eyes are fixed on something that you have found
It's not for me
And if you say wash the rain
Do you mean wash the pain from me

Ode to Darlene

The Lady of the Lake, The Priestess of Avalon, The Mother Confessor, The Headmaster of Hogwarts.

Director. Teacher. Actor. Student. Singer.

Patient. Dilligent. Determined.

Always loving, she easily sees you through your eyes.

She can never really be hurt even if her mortal coil can be bruised.

No one has ever inspired me more--inspiration that stays with me at the front of my mind.

Feel better, Darlene, and live for a thousand years!

Haven't you always wanted a monkey?

Here's what I'd do with millions of dollars (and I invite you to come up with your own list):

I'd give a hell of a lot of money to my mom. I'd buy stars for people who are special to me (yeah, you can buy a star and name it after someone!). I'd start a theatre called Bottom's Dream with Kate and Tanya and every summer, I'd put on Midsummer Night's Dream and every winter I'd put on Twelfth Night and no one would get sick of it. I'd also put on The Importance of Being Earnest because it's awesome. And I'd pay Darlene and Greg millions to direct. And I'd pay my underpaid actor friends millions to be a part of it. I'd give so much money to Mollie to start up any charity she wanted and do amazing things with helping people. I'd start the TV show about the Travelling Warior Princesses. I'd dress like a princesse. I'd hold masquerades. I'd have one kick ass wedding. I'd buy my cat a house. I'd get my castle...

which leads me to my castle wish thing. the thing with my castle is that you can have anything you want in it or on the grounds. And please, don't limit yourself to one thing, pick as many things as you want. Get creative. Someone asked for a marble fountaine that you could swim in and find jewels at the bottom. Someone asked for a big rock that she could lie on and look at the stars. Someone asked for a roller coaster. I'm the most creative so far, though. I've come up with the best ideas for secret rooms through the library, secret passage ways to secret gardens and even secret hideouts inside trees. Most of my ideas are secret...

I have to think about these things when I feel like I don't have much. I mean, I know I have a lot. More best friends than I know what to do with, a free trip to Switzerland coming up, left over chinese food in the fridge and a really great mom. But I don't have any money. I don't have any self control. I don't have any energy. I don't have any cool clothes.

I have to have my dreams.

Fever in the morning, Fever all through the night...

Would you light my candle?

It's what I've been saying since I first cried like a baby in the movie theatre watching RENT.

Leap of faith, leap of faith, oooooooooooooooooooh...

That's what I've been thinking for about three months.

Well take my hand we're gonna howl out tonight!

And that's what I've been belting in the shower every morning.

I hum Santa Fe on the subway, I whistle I'll Cover You at work, and I sing La Vie Boheme at every chance I get.

I wanna be Mimi, no Joanne, no Maureen! I wanna be with Benny, no Mark (I am with Mark!), no Collins, no Roger!

I have a Rent Mix on my computer which consists mostly of movie versions, but I added in Happy New Year and You Okay Honey. I like the original Over the Moon much better and I love the intro to Today 4 U on the Broadway version, so those are in there, too.

I'm looking up the prices of tickets to New York just so I can see it live! I'm asking for nothing but that trip for my birthday, my entire wishlist is completely forgotten.

I cannot get enough of this show. It reaches way down deep and tears you inside out til you're blown apart! Even as I'm watching it, I'm sad about the times I won't be watching it! That's a little scary. I just hope that all of this inspiration is getting soaked up and that I will use it for good and not just dreaming.

To think I hated it! To think others might still hate it! All of the parts I used to find cheesy are now deep and have an enormous impact on my life!

I am officially a Renthead! Well...I don't know about officially, I guess it's not official unless you were in the line up in 1995...

Well, I'm officially an obsessive loser with a fever that won't break.

Everything is RENT!

Before I write the actual blog, I'd like to Claire-ify the fact that I don't reallycare this much about the way I look. I'm not shallow at heart, just superficially.

My roommate and I watched RENT a LOT this week and we both really wanna look like Mimi. I don't think it's fair that I will never have legs like hers when dancing is one of my favourite things ever! And it's not really good that as I'm crying because of her horrible disease, I'm thinking about how I wanna be thin.

Having said that, I totally kicked ass at the gym today! I didn't feel down, I didn't feel like I couldn't do it, and I didn't even get bored! Know why? Because I was watching the Simpsons the whole time! People don't watch TV because they're lazy, they watch because their minds are lazy! I didn't have to think at all, I just enjoyed Homer's crazy antics and before I knew it, the machine was beeping saying I was done! Go me!

And for those of you who don't know, the showers at Goodlife rock! You get shampoo and conditioner that smell really good! And they have blow dryers with defusers! I don't know what the defusers are for, but I used one! I feel good.

Now I'm going to eat (a reasonable portion of) pasta and watch RENT again.

I promise that my next post will not have anything to do with the gym or being fat or eating.

Joke (and weight) on me.

All you people who I was talking about in "What's the deal," are you guys good at going to the gym?

You can now make fun of me because I am not at the gym, I am eating oreos.

What's the deal?

I'm really starting to notice the fact that people don't know how to speak or write.

use to?
would of?
supposably?
supposuvly?
who are you people? where did you go to school? I don't blame you at all! I blame the idiot who was in charge of your progress and didn't tell you that you were COMPLETELY WRONG!

I mean, I admit I get things wrong now and then, but I know the differences between their, they're and there and you're and your and I know it's used to and would have and supposedly.

I also know that this sentence is wrong: If you would have told me, I wouldn't have gone.
It's "if you had told me, I wouldn't have gone."

I don't know the rules, to tell the truth. But I know the way something is supposed to sound.

It's also annoying when Stacey on What Not to Wear says "You've paired it with a beautiful pinstripe pant..." or "Let's see the shoe that goes with this..." She even went so far as to say "It's got this fabulous line in the arm..." As if it's just the concept of "pant" rather than a pair of pants! I don't know if that's wrong, it just bugs me.

I don't mind if you say "like" or "you know." I do mind if you say "basically..." and then go into further detail on a subject.

I believe it is important to be able to communicate. If English is your second (or third or fourth), then it's cool, you can say whatever you want as long as you learn how to pronounce the word "scissors" when you're in a bar that serves "ceasars." If English is your first language, we must all speak the same!! I sound like a creepy nazi. I apologise for that. But you're not communicating unless you know what you're saying.

If you write "If they're mom would of told me, I would of told you're dad," then you are a moron.

You get by with a little help...

I love my friends.

I had some bad experiences yesterday. One was that this man rushed into the bar and said "gimme ceasar!" I was taken aback by his rudeness, but I had already made like 4 ceasars that day, so I was totally good at it, so I was excited. I got to work. The dude was tapping his foot, fidgiting, tapping the counter with his hand. I looked at him and he said: "I got a friend waiting outside..." and I was thinking, you can't take your drink outside. I stammered "but" and when he saw the half filled glass, he said "NO! I didn't order! Ceasar!" "Yeah, a ceasar..." He started moving his index and middle finger "ceasar, ceasar!" "Oh, scissors?" I found the scissors, handed them to him and he took off. Asshole! Who are you? My boss has a lot of friends, I know, but when I meet them, they say "Oh, are you new? I'm so and so, I'm a regular, you'll do fine!" They don't storm in and demand "a ceasar!" Asshole.

Then, when I went to class that afternoon, the children were their usual devilish selves, but worse! They were ruder, meaner, stupider, louder. I almost cried and I had to tell all of their parents and I'll have to kick some of them out. When they're teenagers and adults in therapy, they'll be telling stories about the bitch teacher they had who ruined their lives when they were little and made them believe they were worthless.

Then I had to endure an hour of the TTC followed by 10 minutes of pedestrian rage.

So in a horrible mood, I got to Marcus, pretty much crying, desperately wanting to punch something. I said what was wrong, he gave me a sip of his coffee and we headed out to dinner with his parents. I felt better.

I have one friend who just got to have sex for the first (and second and third and fourth) time and she ran (to her computer) to tell me. She needed someone to listen to, to catch some of the wonderfullness that was her life at the moment and I got to be there.

I have another friend (probably you) who is going through a long distance break up and sent me the break up email. I didn't know what to say. I'm not sure what he needed, but I hope my being there and reading it helped.

I hope when I am experiencing anything that you (and you and you) will be there. I hope that the next time something funny or sad or weird happens to you that I will be there.

This is a very cheesy blog, but aren't friends the best?

Out Tonight

I'd like to sincerely apologise to Ryan Whittal. I won't be harrassing you anymore. Not only did your step class make me want to kill you, but the fact that you don't like me that way really sunk in.

I very slightly hit onby someone who most definately wasn't my type and I'm assuming she thought we had some special connection that would surely overcome any boundaries that were stopping me from responding.

Ryan Whittal, we do have a sort of special connection. You still like my voice, I still like your eyes (and your ass. and your voice, too). And you can still play my soulmate in my TV show. But I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I won't giggle in your presence anymore.

Having said all that, I'm going to change the subject completely.

I'm surprised at myself for going out and absolutely loving it! I didn't even get to sing at karaoke tonight, and I still had such a wonderful time. There used to be someone in my life who would pressure me to go out as if it were my duty as a twenty-something. That's balls. I go out now because it makes me happy. And I stay in now because it makes me happy. I don't like it when people try to change me. It's safe to say that everyone who I've kept in my life wouldn't try to do that.

So take me out tonight, and I'll be happy to be with you.

Winter Warrior

I'm finding it very difficult to live up to the warrior standards I set for myself.

I want a chocolate bar! But I couldn't cut it at the gym today! The pain was too great! When will it get easier?

I want to be as brave and strong as the knights in King Arthur. I want to be the one to pull the sword from the stone. I want to find Excalibur in the middle of the lake. I want to challenge noble "Sir Knight" to a duel and stay on the horse!

What's wrong with me?


Is it just because it's winter that it's too hard to be spectacular?

Shank: a Claire-ification

I have been requested to explain the term. "Shanking" is what a prisoner does. S/he finds a sharp object that isn't a knife and uses it to stab an unsuspecting victim. Note: The shanker must be in jail, the object must not be a blade and the victim must be sneaked up upon.

All clear?

Glad to be of service.

Try to keep up!

Yesterday, I had an entire novel written in my head and I could not find a pen or paper to write it down. I was also walking on the street so I wouldn't have been able to anyway.

I have so much to say! My thoughts are in and out of my head so quickly it's no wonder I...what was I saying? I topic jump like crazy and there's nothing I can do about it.

Oh well. One new thing I learned is that the thing I'm a part of, the way I view the world, especially lately, could be called "the Struggle." I like it! (That's my new philosophy!) The struggle to change the world, I think. Other members include people who aren't racist, people who believe in more than profit, people who don't like killing. Probably you.
And the horrible question is raised: am I doing all I can for the struggle? Absolutely not. But a part of me (the lazy part) understands that believing in the struggle keeps it alive. Another part of me (the cynical part) knows that there's not much I can do because there are anti strugglers. And they are unchangable because they are stupid.

Another thought is that some of you who know me may think that I am in a slump or that I have given up my dream entirely and found a "back up plan." Well, I'm letting you know that I don't know the meaning of back up plan. And my slump ended a long time ago. What I'm doing is staying low to the ground, hidden, alone. I'm getting ready to pounce and no one will see it coming. I'm enjoying not being in the scene as it allows me to see clearly. And what I see is this:

I am spectacular.

The time to pounce is fast approaching. And when it arrives, I'll be ready!

Calvin's Dad

Look, I don't want to build character. I cannot stand doing something if I know it'll be good for me. And I know that it's a problem, but trying to fix the problem would be the most character building waste of time ever!

Of course I want to be healthy, of course I want to be safe, of course I want to be smart. But I don't want to know that all my activities are beneficial. Don't tell me!

I just want to play! Can I play? If I happen to be getting a good work out, do you have to talk about it?

If I don't eat that cookie, do not pat my head and say "good girl" or it will be in my mouth before you can say "Mr. Christie!"

So I am off to my first "Body Step" class. I will go to lose weight, I will go to have fun, I will go to scope out hot personal trainers, but that's it. If you mention one thing about will power, "it's good for me", "you're really growing as a person" I swear, I will shank you and your family.

Nothing ruins fun like finding out it builds character.

Will Power

My lust for Ryan Whittal waning, my fatigue increasing, I'm finding it impossible to go to yoga right now!

Why is it so much more fun to walk around the house naked than do anything?

Well, I'll let the blog world believe I'm gonna go. Here I go! Bye, I'm off to yoga! I'll be thin by the time I get back! that'll be the proof, ok?

I'm a muscle fan.

Dear Blog World,

I had a beautifully written blog in my head earlier today. Something about my mom's life being tragic and how I want to be her but without having to have her life. But that's a problem, I thought, because either her life made her who she is, who I want to be, or who she is created her life. Either way, the conclusion was that no matter how many similarities there are between us, the man I fell in love with at an unfortunately early age is not mentally ill--and that makes all the difference.

Although that thought means a lot to me, it is not what I am thinking about now.

What I am thinking about now, what won't leave my conscious no matter how well it is cleansed, is Ryan Whittal. My (I wish he were my) soulmate's new body has shot itself into my mind so many times and so suddenly that the need to fuck him is becoming unbearable. Yet the more I want him in my bed, the more my chances stay at zero. The ZERO per cent chance of Ryan Whittal sleeping with me is getting bigger and bigger, so big in fact that I think I actually have a minus per cent chance. And I now think this is the cause of my headache.

Some people have called it the forbidden fruit fetish and it seems logical. But I have never thought of anything as actually forbidden. What used to happen is that I would get too anxious in the face of a wonderful thing actually happening, and shy away from it--but I would know it existed, I'd know it could happen with the exact amout of effort mixed with desire and luck. I am less shy these days (read my first blog "Spectacular") and so I am constantly shocked and heartbroken when the zero statistic proves true.

And when I go off on my Ryan Whittal tangents, I'd prefer it if nobody gave their opinion. I am so sick of hearing people say: "he's gay!" as if it means he won't have sex with me!

Mini-travelogue

As I was waiting FOREVER for the VIVA bus to leave the Newmarket Station, I had way too much time to think.

"Do I want a different life so that I can be a mother?" I thought. "Do I want a different life at all?" My defence to the protests in my head was "I don't want babies I want my baby."

Some stupid teenagers (I sound so old! "Those damn kids!") got on talking about stupid things with stupid accents. You know the accent I'm talking about, the stupid teenage girl accent. I started repeating a melody with these words: "Her stupid little jacket, and her stupid big boots, her whole outfit could pay my rent."

Then I tried not to be so bitter about the world.

But those girls were pretty stupid.

Then I noticed I was sitting next to someone from my high school who I didn't know really well, but I knew enough about. A very reserved, so-called goth. A girl who hated my born again friends and practiced wicca. Her hair was covering her face as if she were determined to be Alison from the Breakfast Club. I wondered what she ever thought of me, if she knew about me. I hung around a lot with the born again who she hated the most, she must have known something about me...

Her boyfriend--or creepy magical slave--made me a CD once and game me his number. I wondered if she knew. I mostly wondered if she was really a witch!

Then when I got a really good look at her, I realised it wasn't her.

I resigned myself to the fact that no productive thoughts would enter my mind, so I just went to sleep.

Old entry--should have been blogged.

As I wait for my pizza pocket to cook, I look through my most recent journal. This was my favourite part:

"The sun just came out but I was used to the gloom. Suddenly I was struck with the thought to write it. When such thoughts strike me, I begin to slow down. I was just walking with purpose when the sun came out and my walking slowed. If you knew me very well, you'd have known why (but no one knows me that well). The thing is, what will happen to my writing? Will someone read it after I die and say "she wrote beautifully" and then forget about it? Or will it all crumple away in some terrible fire? It almost didn't get written, this thought! But then a new thought struck me: I will forget. And I liked the idea of the sunlit world being new to me after hours of gloom so much that I didnt' want to forget it. But I will.
I'll forget it until I read this again.
I suppose I should take some comfort in that, but I'm suddenly sad for all of the thoughts I didn't write down. I might as well have written them, and then lost them in a fire, because they're gone. Oh well. There was gloom and now there's sun, that's all."


Heehee, I like it because it's silly. I do understand greiving lost thoughts, but it's funny
that I took it so seriously.

Today was so beautiful.

Spectacular

As a first time blogger, I must say I'm a little nervous. But I'm always nervous. And I don't like it anymore. Many times now, I have had a fake orgasm in front of a huge audience and that never made me nervous. So why in real life do I cross my arms, hunch my back and speak quietly?

No more. I choose to be spectacular.

Be happy blogging world, Claire has joined you.....at last!