the empty inkpot

once again, i have come home from an amazing choir retreat with NO LIBIDO. and i'm loving it. who needs a sex drive when you're basking in the afterglow of 2 and a half days filled with singing and partying, at least 6 massages, and too many hugs to count? not me. i'm on cloud nine...

ugh. i hate diplomacy.


*pulls on the kid gloves*

i love grade 3's!
so, i may have had the class from hell for my first art gallery tour this season, but i finished the job with 22 angels...thank goodness. all intelligent, well-mannered, polite, attentive listeners who were genuinely interested in the art on the walls. what more could one ask for?
*sigh*
i'm just going to go float off into happy teacher dreams now....

so, last night we were out driving around at twilight, and i look out the window to see a group of people playing soccer on a field...and i was completely overtaken by this URGE to play on a women's beginner soccer team. those of you who know me know that this is...unfathomable for me. tanya? running around in shorts in freakishly cold weather chasing after a little ball? tanya?

despite these glaring contradictions, i immediately informed my parents in the front seat that i was going to join a beginner's soccer team. to which, (rightfully so), my mother worked herself into a giggling fit. "no," i declared, "this is what i want to do!"


thank god i woke up sane this morning.

here's to the most wonderful (girl)friends a girl could ever have... i haven't laughed this much in months; you are truly balm for the soul. it's something i really miss about high school, having you within arm's length all the time, and i miss you all already!

i am currently sitting under my speakers with beethoven's choral symphony completely engulfing my synapses...it rocks. this was my favourite piece when i was little, and i feel like i'm seven years old again, watching beethoven lives upstairs for the millionth time. ahhh. to be seven again.

all i really want to do is play in the sun....but....there is no sun....

i'm so bloody antsy...this is what happens when i study math. i hate studying math. especially when i don't understand it. i can't focus and end up wasting massive amounts of time trying not to waste time. 

besides that, i haven't written anything non-academic in positively ages. no lyrics, choral music, poetry, letters (shinji's letter is 4 months overdue)...nothing. so i'm hoping that binge-writing right now on this page will make me feel more studious. maybe i just need to get it out of my system.

i need a distraction. cameron, where are you? i have this craving to go see another sotw show...i want to dance and jump and for hours and hours until i look like i've just crawled out of a swimming pool. and you are the perfect person to do this with.

sigh. but not now, for presently, i am shackled rather unsexily to a mound of statistics notes. ah, there's nothing like mathematics to make you feel like you've just eaten a tub of butter.

WE NEED TRIFLE.

wo(men), we put forward the idea at the last party. of glass bowls layered with cream and fruit and custard and lady fingers and sponge cake. the ultimate cooking-eating-movie watching-more eating-get together. all this science stuff makes me want to scream and do something...domestic. with a wild streak. 
raise your whisks, kindred spirits!

last night was the first belly dancing class of the year...my hips have informed me that, despite being swung exotically outside of any natural range of motion, they are quite content with the state of things. there's something about that class...you come out feeling just a little sexier than when you came in. *chuckle* pity shinj isn't here to reap the benefits.

you know those 1920's wooden tops with the string wrapped around them? where pulling the string creates a gyroscopic effect and the top spins out across the table?

that is me. the cord has just been ripped out, and i am spinning. spinning fast, but not quite yet out of control; i have this thread of...something...to pull me towards an indiscernible pole. unfortunately, for the amount of centrifical force i must be producing at this speed, the thread seems far too thin...i know where it leads, but i can't see the end.

friggin' hell. isn't that just the lamest metaphor? tell me about it. *sigh*

I am thinking it's a sign
that the freckles in our eyes are mirror images
and when we kiss they're perfectly aligned
~iron and wine



i am content, so perfectly content.
i am voluntarily split in half, split open, contentedly incomplete.
perhaps patience isn't unattainable. perhaps compromise isn't really compromise at all, but a promise disguised.
who knows?

do not touch me
do not reach out for me
do not tempt me, for i will not respond
i am encapsulated,
insulated by promise
i hold it to me so dearly
it will be pulled into my skin

the saddest part of a broken heart
isn't the ending, so much as the start

how fitting it seems.
how can one have a broken heart in advance? that is the question of the hour, the month, perhaps the rest of this life. 


*pulls blanket over head*

the glue in the windowsill
seems to shift
slightly
as your pen falls to the floor
and i wonder
why we don't have thicker panes.