goodbye

i'm sorry there is anything to apologize for.

today was just one of those days. i found distractions, but none worked to what i hoped. i guess that is what's wrong, right? if you have aspirations, you will fall on your face. i'm just tired of falling.

oh, how i'm tired of getting myself back up again.

i realized today i'm standing alone. that i'm raising myself up. and that was a large pill to swallow. even longer to digest.

i hurt a dear friend and i'm sorry. i know i shouldn't mention it but there's no description of just how sorry. fuck. no description.

i deleted my facebook. just a lot is going on right now and i don't have the brain space or energy to keep it up for right now. i give it a few weeks.

what is wrong with me.

what is in my cup of metephorical berry blossom tea...

starting from upper left corner :

- my precious "baby" sister laurie-ann. a.k.a: my loulou d'amour. she is hilarious, cute, quaint, a riot, and is more of a daughter to me than anything. you should be jealous. i was spoiled.

- two doodles above and below my angel: my favourite results from today's zine workshop. omg. so many ideas.

- tea & writing: some artwork and ideas from the book "the principles of uncertainty". i am really excited to look through that.

- adele by klimt: ditto.

- outline of me: phase one of final project for 2d imaging. slit. wrists. please.

- girl with boxes in the corner: cute and interesting.

- two hunks modeling this stuff: JULIAN CASABLANCAS AND ALEX TURNER.

keep your clothes on, people.

all this to say: all considering and everything i've accomplished, life is okay.

THIS AIN'T NO LOWERCASE SITUATION.

great news: the person who got stabbed is in stabble condition. the stabber was arrested thanks to those bystanders. you're welcome, world.

awful news: the drummer from "you say party! we say die!" passed away in concert yesterday. few know. i am good friends with someone who is friends with the entire band. hopefully, the band will get through these dark days.

this event had me thinking intensely about something that has been on my mind more and more.

i joke around saying i would love to be the female lovechild of the strokes & arctic monkeys' rebellion.

y'know, good ol' new york city cops meets red right hand.

but here are the facts, ladies and gentlemen.

i'm not the mtb i once was.

as of 2010,

i don't drink,

i don't smoke,

i don't do drugs.

it just came to the point where people were doing it to have a blanket excuse for their actions.

and well, i hate excuses.

i'm still on the fence about drinking.

i don't think i'll ever get to the point where i'll be suffering from a hangover ever again.

however, a beer or two from time to time causes no harm.

(however, the thought alone makes me gittery for some reason. so i'll be off it for a good long while).

THIS BEING SAID.

i can't exactly do the whole smoking and drinking until i can't remember my name kind of deal...

so i thought to myself what in the world would i have left to do.

well, dear public.

a zine will talk about just that.

its title?

BOLD.

simply.

i know what you are saying...

"i thought the title was rumble!"

well, things change.

and so did the title of my zine.

it will be my final project topic for my art class.

i'm still tossing up the idea in my head in terms of the actual presentation.

pretty much the rebellious acts or not-so anything that i feel i would like to accomplish in good ol' julienna casablankazz style.

on that list of things that i am willing to divuldge:

- picking up a ballet class again.

- getting another piercing (this will be number eight (lucky number))

- SKYDIVE

i am serious.

TANDEM STYLE.

sidebar: since i was a child, i never thought i was going to make it past my nineteenth birthday. especially in 2008, more factors made it seem so close that i wrote a will. however, after osheaga 2009, things changed. after fix you by coldplay of that concert, everything changed. and here i am, 18 and 10 months, quickly approaching the birthday i thought couldn't.

how should i celebrate? with a skydive over the world and montreal you say? 13 500 feet in the air? pft.

I'LL BE NINETEEN. BRING IT.

BOLD LETTERING.

BOLD THE ZINE.

EXCITEMENT.

sidebar: there is this girl at work by the name of lisa. she is super bubbly, fantastic, AND HARDCORE. she has eight tattoos (including an entire back tattoo), lived super rough stories, and is overall mad rebelchild. she is the superman of edge. her kryptonite? SKYDIVING. this woman has invested in the whole kit and kaboodle THREE TIMES. and somehow has never managed to set foot out of the plane.

JUST THINK OF THE BRAGGING RIGHTS.

though i know i can make enough money for it by saving tips alone from now until around my birthday, birthday presents and donations are encouraged (photos and a video of it cost 100 smackers.)

(in exchange for every donation, a copy of my zine?) (and a letter because i love writing letters?)

that's really the main thing i wanted to mention.

let the rebellion with morals being respected begin.

sham-wowza.

today was one of those sham-wow moments. it was everything i wasn't expecting.
i woke up having missed my first and only class. a joke, clearly. especially when i have all the readings down packed where most people haven't even bought the book. so no biggie.
after a deep 25 minute discussion with myself trying to rationalize what it is i am going to do with my day - sleep vs. something, i cave towards being useful.
so i hustle my gun to school late for my therapist appointment that takes place at the same time everyweek. her name is debra. she's awkward, says "makes sense?" a lot, and loves to travel. it's been a great experience with her all considering why i in fact go there.
turns out she had an emergency at the time of our appointment so my tardiness worked out perfectly.
the session ends after 30 minutes as opposed to the hour. i spent thirty minutes saying i was happy with how things were going, there was a lot of waiting for a lot of things but i have com to terms with it, so there wasn't much to discuss. great feeling.

following that, i spent the rest of my day at school covered in paint trying to get my painting assignments done (completed 2 of 4). with run ins from the arctic monkeys, discussing how i plan on being the female version of julien casablancas (minus the drugs, smokes, drinks, and overall ass attitude), my best friend talking about my cycle with her boyfriend (yet remembering i once did a stand up act at camp about God? should i be touched? ), future firefighters and potheads, i left. ran into dear friends whom were going apeshit on my new locks of love. we took the metro together, and here's where it gets interesting...

I was planning on going to heartbux to work on my essay for arts and ideas. that is at mcgill metro station. but my two friends are getting off at peel (one metro stop away). we were having an in depth discussion about the dangers of the big city. mainly that two stabbings or shootings have taken place in the past month and four in the past month and a half. so out of interest, i ride the metro with them. once we do say our goodbyes, i simply turn around and take the metro back to mcgill. one metro station.

this is when it all happened. as i exit my metro booth, i hear this piercing whistle from not to far. i see a man in his late 60s; living in his wristles and years, with half the body outside of the metro shouting to someone to come back. but who?
i continue walking for after having lived in montreal's heart for over 6 months, the crazies have become as common as city itself.
i get closer to see something is off. a kid about my age give or take a couple of years bolting up flights of stairs as if running for his life. soon to disappear in the currents of civilizens trying to get home during rush hour.
my eyes turn to the whistler, now having walked out of the metro booth with three women closely bundled around him. i catch puffs of the conversation- words like "crazy" "no reason" and "911". my eyes focus. the eldest women seems stunned as she gets dazed into the chest of the whistler.
i see him clutching what was once his nice stripped white& blue dress shirt - holding his left side as is trying to keep something from coming out. as natural as lava the vibrant red seeps from between his fingers slipping down the white and blue stripes.
this man was stabbed.
for no reason or logic, during rush hour on a metro line in a packed booth, this man was stabbed by a ruthless punk of my age.
i couldn't put it together. neither could the rest of the world going about their business. after about a solid 45 seconds, this mad lib was getting filled. i exited the metro for reception and called the police giving as much information about the situation. they told me 3 police cars were on their way and to please go back to the metro to talk to the police.
even they seemed flustered just to how this happened. it didn't make sense.
the whistler now lying on what was once a simple bench with a resperator and a police officer clutching down on his chest above him was swarmed by more police officers and curious cats. i notified a police office i saw what happened and i called 911. they had a clan of witnesses and had them be the ones to follow. after having given my name and number in case of anything else, i was on my way.
just like that. what do you do after something like that? when you see a life possibly being ended like turning off a light switch?

i just didn't know what to do with myself.

instinctively, i told everyone at work and called my closest loved ones. after about an hour or so of that, got to work.

i got increasingly distracted as i always do when surrounded by interesting people. especially with something like that, it seemed only logical to talk about anything with anyone i cared about.

it hit close and i left. i said by to sab, steven who passed by, and adam who were getting ready to "dine on some sandwiches" when sab tossed steven a "hispter shit" as she called it. a zine. i died. i quickly stole it from him and read it. telling the stories of a 20-something who was leaving her teaching degree with only 25 days left until that diploma was hers. more pages of sneezing information and pictures of the 1950s. i loved it. with a website on the back? http://www.theroseandthepeacock.com/? i am so there.

so i get home, start to unload, check the many social networks,

facebook,

twitter,

http://www.steezsister.blogspot.com/,

and type in the site.

look at previous posts,

scroll down,

and double take.

i know this person.

I KNOW THIS PERSON.

MEET THE FACE OF THE PERSON WHO GOT ME INTO ZINES.

who made me a mix cd, who i thought as the coolest person in the world and thought "hey! if this awesome kid can become a teacher, why can't i?".

what. the. ____________ (swear word).

SERIOUSLY?

all too much. all of it.

but now it's okay. i'm going to make a zine for my final project, message her, and everything will be great.

just nuts, folks. nuts.

what will my zine be about:

- my dreams maybe?
- the monster i draw when listening to specific songs?
- an additional disk with songs that i would have written and sang?
- art in action ideas and concepts that i will try out?
like this one?

or maybe just a blank sheet of paper.

who knows.

but wow.

what a day.

the fireworks to come and stunning winners.

i watched clips from beautiful losers.

i was granted complete freedom on my final disa project.

can you say ''ZINE''?

i need a word for this feeling.

passion.

yeah. that works.

or crazy.

wished she loved the risk.

new and improved:

and i feel like i need improvements today.

as much as i know i shouldn't run from things, i am anyway.

mentally, at least.

always having to talk myself down from the cliff of a situation.

it's predicted in my stars,

in the chapters of the prologue,

and in the crosses of paths to lead me here to say that i do that.

and guess what?

i'm still falling for it.

BUT I WON'T ANYMORE.

i'll talk myself out of it.

treat it as marshmallow and nothing more.

put it in a box and come back.

please work.

PLEASE work.

i have been listening to arctic monkeys all day.

i find it my way of living vicariously.

sure, i don't drink, smoke, or take drugs anymore.

but i can listen to guys who make it part of their stage performance.

Suggestions:

Teddy Picker,

Brianstorm,

From Ritz to Rumble (kind of what I feel like now),

Perhaps Vampire Is A Little Strong But.. (a song that I dedicated to a leash in my life).

And my new discovery from the Japanese Edition of their latest album Humbug entitled "Red Right Hand''.

allow me to smoke my pen cigar, get drunk off some water, pop some claritin, and things will get better.

after all, they could be far worse than a battle of me vs. me.

social status while you are blindfolded.

here is what i have been working on non-stop since 2:30 this afternoon:

and it is now 7:30. one washroom break.

damn you, 2d imaging.

to hell, alaska (high suicide rate), and forced to spend time with ray romano, david letterman, chris rock, while watching he's just not that into you.

in other words: death.

speaking of: that is my workload this week.

BUT I AM GREAT.

i am just really good in the noggen these days.

i have been just feelin' my program. i enjoy everything i take part in.

the only problem is that i don't have enough time for my perfectionist tendencies.

but that's fine! i'll work around it.

other things i would like to mention:

i had a date?

mhm. and it went really well.

to the point where i now remember what waiting around for a text message brief hours after the date feels like.

check and check.

SO NOW.

with 23 days of classes left, the pressure cooker is on.

now, let's make us some stew.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zol2MJf6XNE

= a great song from grizzly bear that you should listen to.

-mtb.

introducing rude boy.

i did it!

it's done!

the hair is gone & i feel great.

it turned out to be a bigger deal than i thought.

but i love it regardless.

hopefully my swagger won't leave me high & dry with the look.

back at the apartment today.

air was cleared, changes were made, and tons more to come.

hung out with the gang at work for a couple of hours today.

i was great times.

also, saw jabrone in his tanned-ness.

imma miss his cat skuzz.

lots & no time.

i really need to change that.

anyway.

meet my hair inspiration and the song that won't leave my head.

want want want boom boom boom

(so what if she copied m.i.a)

cheers.

mo' money mo' problems.

so i didn't go to julien casablancas.
but i did go out with some of my long lost friends and it was a jolly good time.

but i am hear to talk about something far more serious.
i have the itching to do everyting!
i think this may be amplified by the fact i have too much work to do for the end of this week and i may be looking for a distraction.
thogh that may be the case, i don't care.I WANT TO DO EVERYTHING.
JOURNAL WRITING.
CRAFTS.
MIX CDS.
LISTEN TO GOOD MUSIC.
BIKE RIDES.
LISTEN TO MORE GOOD MUSIC.
PICNICS.
CONCERTS.AND MORE. GOOD. MUSIC.


i want more colours, more drawn hearts and hearts drawn, laughs, movies, events, dresses, nails polished, sunlight, so much sunlight, flowers, time to write it all down and just be happy.

i cannot help but imagine myself as a hummingbird sucking up all the good stuff while pacing all over the skies.

so to all my friend readers, i offer you a proposition.
craft day.
bring your shit, whatever it is you want to accomplish, start, etc.
and we'll do it.
you could want to do a collage as a group or just a zine to yourself.but bring it.
SO I WON'T BE THE ONLY HUMMING BIRD.
now to get back to my week.