A memorable kick off

I worked my first real shift in a restaurant and now feel qualified to write VOLUMES on the amount that I didn't know prior to 4:45 today. My feet ache, my clothing smells like a dish-pit, I have bussed countless tables and wrapped at least 300 cultery rolls. I have met people with names like "Amigo" and "Miss Kitty", and burned my hands exactly 4 times on the tortilla machines while awkwardly trying to make my first torts. Yes, the learning curve is steep, but the dividends are pretty fabulous if I can hang in there. I get 100 new friends, free food all summer, great tips, a hell of a workout and a chance to flex my most patient people-skills. Case in point: I gave a lady my requisite speech about the new steak menu, to which she replied, "the steak here is terrible, so save your breath". I didn't really know what to say. Do I make the customer feel good? Do I defend the steaks that I've never even tried? I managed to mutter an "enjoy your meal" before escaping, but am now sure that I am going to be exposed to the FULL spectrum of human idiocy this summer.

My favorite first day memory: it was 7:45, the waiting time for a deuce (2-seater) was more than an hour, and a man (who had been waiting for his table for quite a while and had obviously taken the opportunity to get himself rightfully trashed) stumbled over to me and offered me 60 cents if I would give him the next table. After politely declining, he dug through his pockets and produced a golf tee. "Here," he said, "how about I TEE-ease you a little bit". He then slapped the behind of the server who was walking by, and stumbled back to his seat. I've got the golf tee in my pocket; a reminder, I guess, of everything I experienced on my first night, and everything I still have to learn.

On Sleep Cleaning

There's a certain sensation that I think is really interesting. After I spend a day skiing, or at a waterpark/wave pool, or even playing too much Mario Kart ... I close my eyes to go to bed at night, and I get the physical feeling that I'm still doing whatever I had been doing all day. It doesn't happen very often, but it's kind of neat when you go to bed at night and your body is telling you that you're flying uncontrollably down an icy hill at a good clip.

The reason I'm bringing this up is because last night, I closed my eyes and was overcome with the sensation that I was washing near-invisible marks off of walls. Why? Beacause I spent 6 HOURS doing it yesterday - just like Daphne said: take a dry cloth and some Fantastic with bleach, and walk clockwise and then counterclockwise, attacking each mark as you see it.

Yes, I was doing it in my sleep. And you know what? I'm willing to bet that given the fact that we failed our cleaning inspection, even my sleep cleaning wouldn't be good enough for her.

Run

Cleaning, listing to my ipod shuffle (the neck lanyard is REALLY handy in these situations!) and am constantly amazed by the selection of music that it randomly chose from my itunes ... to be honest - I 've got a lot of songs that I've ripped from friend's cds, but never really listened to, y'know? Case in point: "Run" by Snow Patrol (and yes, I only know the name because I had to look up the lyrics on google). It came on and was so FREAKING beautiful that I had to sit down on my bed and just listen. Download it - you won't be disappointed. In the meantime, I'm going back to cleaning my floors with a tootbrush. Thank you, Daphne - may I have some more?

Run
I'll sing it one last time for you
Then we really have to go
You've been the only thing that's right
In all I've done

And I can barely look at you
But every single time I do
I know we'll make it anywhere
Away from here

Light up, light up
As if you have a choice
Even if you cannot hear my voice
I'll be right beside you dear

Louder louder
And we'll run for our lives
I can hardly speak I understand
Why you can't raise your voice to say

To think I might not see those eyes
Makes it so hard not to cry
And as we say our long goodbye
I nearly do

Light up...

Slower slower
We don't have time for that
All I want is to find an easier way
To get out of our little heads

Have heart my dear
We're bound to be afraid
Even if it's just for a few days
Making up for all this mess

wide open spaces

I just realized something today. I am *so* excited to be moving out of my house. As Emily-ex-housemate and I were sitting upstairs in Lonestar, attending staff training this morning, I remembered how much I liked being around her. We make each other laugh, we share secrets, we know the kinds of things about each other that would be impossible to know unless you lived with someone, we have SO many crazy and stupid memories. In short, this year sucked. I live with people who were anal, whiney, accusatory and entirely self-absorbed. People who I have never seen laugh, or be silly, or try to get to know me in the slightest. Does this bother me? Sort of. But I always remembered that they were people who I was simply sharing 4 walls with -- not necessarily friends. So I didn't let myself be hurt by their behaviour: mostly, I was puzzled and put off. I learned that there are certain kinds of people that I want to surround myself with in my life, and certain kinds of people that I simply can't be bothered with. And if you're boring, spoiled, bitter and catty, well, you fall into the latter category.

So I'm packing up my boxes and looking forward, sometimes with uncertainity but always with excitement. I know, I just know, that I have a lot to offer the world and a fantastic journey ahead of me. As soon as I clean the last baseboard, wash behind the stove, and haul the last bag of garbage down to Mac Corry, I'll be able to take them off of my msn list and say goodbye to sharing walls with toxic people - at least for a while.

Top 8 Things I Want to Own/See/Accomplish in my Lifetime

8. Purchase and lovingly care for a Saab 93-Sportcombi, with tinted windows, heated seats and a great sound system.

7. Live in a different country

6. Meet Oprah

5. Take cooking lessons

4. Raise children, own dogs and grow a garden of flowers and vegetables

3. Visit Machu Picchu in South America

2. Learn how to surf (for real)

1. Marry my soulmate

It Ain't Easy Being Green

Despite the fact that my body has finally rebelled against the s*** that I've been putting it through and officially declared itself 'sick' this week, Steve and I dressed up and went downtown to the Canon Theatre to see Wicked yesterday evening, a night I had been looking forward to since October, when I heard it was coming to Toronto. And in all respects, Elphaba and company didn't fail to impress.

The musical is based on the book by Gregory Maguire, which I devoured last month in anticipation of seeing the show. I think part of the reason why I liked it so much is because Wicked works on a few levels - one one hand, its a magical, fantastical world, populated with animals that talk, munchkins named Boq, witches, queens and a Harry Potter-esque school for sorcery named Shiz; on the other hand, there's a lot going on under the surface: Wicked is about the ambiguity of good and evil, the limits of a friendship, the danger of political consipracy and the nature of fear. It had me at once rooting for the 'bad' guy and the 'good' guy. In short, it was a smart, smart book: clever, hilarious at times, but also poignantly self-aware. And even from the back row of the enormous Canon Theatre, I was entirely involved in the world onstage in front of me.

The music was done by Stephen Schwartz and although fairly 'pop-y' (unbearably so at times), several of the songs -"Defying Gravity", "Dancing Through Life", "Popular", "For Good"- were powerful, fresh and strong. Backed up with voices like Stephanie J. Block's, whose soaring vocals and green skin won my heart in the role of Elphaba, any of the songs sounded beautiful. The set in itself, an evolving, growing, breathing world that was in constant motion to keep up with the fast paced story, was worth the price of the ticket. In short, I'm impressed. The world of Wicked is as familiar as it is imaginary, and is populated with people that we have all met, people that we may even see in ourselves. In the words of Glinda the Good (the 'guh' is silent), I don't know if I've changed for the better, but I've been changed for good.

Only For a Moment and the Feeling's Gone

The urban soundscape is deafening. Maybe it is louder than usual, or maybe I am hyper-aware, sitting on the bottom step of Steve's front porch, shivering in my pajamas. Maybe the nighttime, free from mundane anxiety, preys on my sensitivities. I should have brought a jacket, but part of me resists going back into the house, a place that I have quickly come to find so comforting. I like feeling a little bit cold. A bus drives over the bridge in the distance, its windows rattling. The subway churns underneath the ground, far off ... I can't tell. A man walks by without looking at me; I make no effort either to hide myself or to extend a greeting. An owl coos softly in the eaves above me. Two people laugh as they walk home, from a party or a gathering. I look at the moon and I wonder what it would be like to be standing on the moon, looking back at me. At the small little bit of relative space that I occupy. At my flowered PJ pants and my white tee shirt. Have you ever wondered what you look like to other people, or what your voice sounds like when it's not bouncing around in your head?

I think to myself, absently, that I would like to plant a garden. The idea of being responsible for something to grow, of being a cultivator and nurturer is organic to me. I would like to get my hands dirty, potting buds and pulling weeds and laboring over something tangible, something that I can see and smell and measure.

I like the way the cold wood feels through my pajama bottoms - I feel grounded. The night is deceivingly lonely, but it also makes you feel like the only person in the world; you fill up the entire space and have no room for emptiness. I feel much more lonely on a crowded street, or in a lecture hall full of people I've never met. I wish sometimes that I could sleep outside. I like to count the stars. I crave fresh air, hate stagnancy. I like feeling grass and earth underneath me.

I should be sleeping. But I've been sleeping so much lately that I've become bored with it, my mind declaring war on sleep even though my body is so weak that I can barely keep my eyes open. I have so much ahead of me right now, decisions and bills and moving and cleaning and starting work (the usual), but all I can think about tonight is the moon, and the stars (all that childhood wonder stuff) ... and wonder how I got to be here, how I got to be on this porch. How I got to be the person I am now, that feels at once entirely capable and woefully inadequate. How I need something that I am unable to define, but I am certain is lacking.

Another bus goes by. How late do they run here? It doesn't matter, really. I wonder if the person who walked by me is happy - if he is leaving his girlfriend's house, or going for a late night walk, trying to clear his head like the rest of us. Everyone is like that sometimes, I think. It's just something that we don't talk about. The part of us that sits on porches, crying, looking at the sky and feeling so big and so small. I think to myself that I should have said hello. But the moment is past and I will tuck myself safely back into Steve’s arms and try to sleep.

I Could Be a Dancing Queen

The blue rinse crowd was out in full force -husbands aside- at yesterday's matinee performance of "Mamma Mia" at the Royal Alex theatre in Toronto. So were Steve and I (happily) who managed to get cheap student seats in the 11th row, affording me the best view of a show I've ever seen, despite the fact that I forgot to bring my glasses. To tell you the truth, I didn't really notice Mamma Mia's skewed demographic, at least not until the opening bars of the prologue, where the entire baby-boomer population (which filled about 3/4 of the theatre) started to shake their shoulders and tap their feet, wiggle their heads and even sing out loud to the music. I mean, it was noticeable. My favorite in particular was the woman in front of us who simply was unable to stop dancing. I am surprised, now that I think about it, that she managed to stay in her seat for the majority of the performance. I loved her!

Audience aside, the show was fantastic. Going in, I knew precious little about either the book or the music, not being an ABBA fan myself, but was surprised both at the top notch performances and the endearing quality of the story. The show was filled with characters that were meant to be loved, each in their own quirky way, and was supported by music that most people couldn't help but to love in spite of themselves. The characters were fun, silly and full of charm, not to mention strong singers with great comedic timing. With the odd exception (Sam, who couldn't hold a tune, and Skye who, for all practical purposes, was a disposable character), the cast didn't fail to impress. The costume designs, in a palette of reds, oranges and khakis, offset the ocean blue cyc and the sandy set, while giving everyone a "we called each other this morning to match our outfits" kind of look. The lighting design was impressive: the Royal Alex has only one pipe hanging in the house (and another two onstage, I would imagine) but making creative use of side-stage lighting trees, the stage was illuminated in the kind of warm glow that most of us associate with 'home'.

Waking up this morning, I'm still humming the tunes, and hoping for a chance to see the show again. The only thing that remains to be seen is how the hit music from MY generation (Nirvana? Backstreet Boys?) gets made into a musical that will have me dancing in my seat, 40 years from now.

another day, another destiny

17 hours of studying, 4 exam-size chai tea's, 1 bag of trail mix, 3 high lighters, 536 pages, 1 break to play crib, 14 chapters, 1 dude with a long board from Boston, 1 half-hour break to swap life stories, 1 caffeine pill from said dude, 1 sunrise over the JDUC, 3 early morning visitors who said "weren't you wearing that yesterday?", 2 legs that wouldn't stop shaking after ingestion of said pill, 14 practice quizzes, 1 near-breakdown, 200 multiple choice questions, 2 hours of exams, 1 huge weight lifted off my shoulders ...

4 years (48 months)
3 majors
19 credits
4 frosh weeks
1 yellow tuxedo
3 ghetto houses
2 summers in Kingston
2 flooded basements
3 stolen bikes
2 dead goldfish (R.I.P. spits and swallows)
1 long distance relationship
8 different housemates
countless memories

And I'm done.
More tomorrow, or later on this weekend. Tonight, I ordered enough Chinese food to feed a small army, rented a movie, washed my hair, and am going to curl up and fall asleep for the night before I can even press play.

Perfect Proposal

I was watching TLC while taking a dinner break from studying, and Katie and I caught the end of one of their perfect proposal shows, where the male plans some elaborate and (hopefully) romantic scheme to create the fairytale proposal for the woman of his dreams, most of which turn out to be so over-dramatic and downright strange that they lose their intended effect.

Just for posterity, I wanted to make note of the fact that someone just asked their girlfriend to marry them using the following line:

"Sweetheart, I know how much you like puppy dogs. Take that and multiply it by forever, and that's how much I like you"

My Thoughts:
1) After the guy said "I know how much you like puppy dogs", his girlfriend squealed and hugged him. "You got me a puppy!" She was so excited, thinking that he bought her one. I can't help but to think she was a little bit disappointed that there was, in fact, no puppy dog.

2) If you're ... like, if you're asking the person you love more than anyone in the world to spend the rest of your life with you, couldn't you come up with a more impressive line? The guy didn't even use the word LOVE. What's more, he likened his emotions to the way she felt about small animals. It's just ... not ... good.

3) If this is indeed the new trend in proposing, how would someone propose to me? "Bri, I know how much you like cleaning things", or "Bri, I know how much you like organizing your closet", or even "Bri, I know how much you like to sleep"

Maybe it's better if I just don't get my hopes up :D

only thing to do is jump over the moon

Seeing as how it's five minutes to four in the morning and considering that since I've been swept up in the supernova of a relationship that I generally just call "steve" I have been much less of a later night person - I'll make this short.

I don't really know who I'm writing this for (me? my friends? my family? the internet at large?) But I felt as though this day, April 08th, deserved to be noted. After nearly a month of wringing my hands, having nightmares about tornadoes and plane crashes and phone calls to Steve at 1:30 in the afternoon every weekday while the mail man walked down my street, I finally received my grad school letter from U of T's Drama Centre. What's even better is that I got in! My hands were shaking as I opened the slim envelope and when I read the first five words "we are pleased to offer..." out loud, while my housemates listened outside the door and Steve nearly had an ulcer over the phone ... well, I felt absolutly drunk, I was so happy.

I can't really explain what this means to me - I guess I don't even have to. What difference would it make to me for you to know? This is a personal hurdle for me of epic proportions and I don't want or need anyone to tell me that I did a good job, I don't need anyone to know how much I care, don't need to run out into the street and scream it to the world. I have a quiet strength that has come from knowing that someone looked at what I've done, at who I am and what I'm passionate about, and said "we want her". For me, this is all I ever need to hear.

Essays, exams, money, divorce, moving, hell - even coming up with the money to MAKE it to grad school: these can all wait. For now, for the last few minutes of this day, I want to soak in the fact that my efforts have not gone unappreciated, that someone believes that I can do this, and that I have so many phenomenal and supportive people in my life who I owe everything to.

Tommorow I work. Tonight, I bask.

stay with me / and I'll have it made

I don't like writing poetry any more. I feel like an imposter. I used to write poetry (horrible, when I look back on it) with as much difficulty as it took me to breathe. I was enthusiastic and angsty and feeling entirely new emotions; a precocious girl who always carried around my pen and my notebook. It wasn't a status issue -- I didn't make a statement about the fact that I wrote; more so that it was an easy release for me.

My most recent volume was started in 1999, with the last entry penned just before I graduated in 2001. There are poems about Adam, about my family, about dealing with OCD. The most recent one was getting somewhere, but I never finished

dirt and shale
slam my face.
My wheels turn slowly;
why is this journey an uphill
battle?

a ring I'll never wear
and friends I will never see
again.
Glass starts falling all around me.
New beginnings shrouded by even
the best intentions.

I didn't ask for all this, you know.
Twisted by balance, I am chained
and beaten by perfection
my illustrious mountain.

My arms start to shake as the giant
shudders. Time counts down.

I never meant to face this alone.
I never meant to tell you
how scared I was.

The giant awakes.

And that's saying NOTHING about the songs that I tried to write - "Oh baby, we can love again, yeah darling, a broken heart can mend". Huh. Doesn't say much for being fourteen and in love, does it?

Sometimes I wish that I could recapture things - my poetry and painting and acting and soccer ... what happened to it all? I've become an academic monster. The rest of my life can't keep going like this, can it? I don't think I've ever looked so forward to anything as I do my future right now. One more day of classes, one more week of incredibly hard work, and I'm done. No poetry could be expressive enough to describe what that means to me -- not even the words of my very angsty grade 8 self.

an open letter

A long time ago, you told me that you knew what you wanted. You told me that you had your entire life planned out and that it revolved around me -- around the image of me that you truly believed I was -- me who was naive and needed to be sheltered and protected. Of this you were sure. I was 18, biting at the bit for adventure and newness and adulthood. I always was the one who could never wait to grow up; however I was never the one who could commit to doing it with you. I offer you an apology. I never meant to hurt you. I am only now, almost four years since I met you, beginning to understand what it means to want someone the way you wanted me. I am ready for that in my life -- maybe not now, but soon. I am sick of these near-misses that are sometimes utterly heartbreaking. I'm ready for the romance that I will talk about when I'm 80, the one that sweeps me off of my feet.

Now I feel closer to you than I have in years, ironically. Because it is only now that I really have nothing to hide and nothing to worry about. It feels like there is, maybe, finally something to talk about. I hope you are happy, even if I don't act as attentive and affectionate as I once did. Only 2 months older than me and your entire life is falling into place. And mine, a mess, is still in the very beginnings. But what good lessons I've learned from you. Hopefully it is these lessons that I keep with me and not the frustration. Hopefully I will still learn from you, in some new way. Hopefully you can be happy that I am happy. Hopefully I'll be able to love someone the way that you loved me. I'm sorry I couldn't love you back.

The Man Survey

--Your Choice--
Hair Color:	I tend to be attracted to guys with brown hair
Eye Color:	brown - I always wanted to have deep, chocolate eyes, so being with somone whose I can stare into is almost as good :D
(Their)Music Genre Preference:	I think that as long as people have a real, educated opinion about music, I can respect it. That said, it would be sexy to meet someone who liked jazz
Height(estimate):	taller than me. Is that snobby?
Age:	I don't think I could date someone hugely older or younger than me (I'm turning 22). So let's say 19-25
Personality Type:	sincerity is the ultimate personality trait
--This or That--
Older or Younger:	older (would I have said this before I met Steve? Probably not)
Romantic or Horndog:	romantic ... but not in the wine and red roses kind of way
Smart or Stupid:	Intelligence is one of those must-have qualities. I want to date people who can stimulate and challenge me!
Fat or Skinny:	I have only ever dated really lanky, lean guys
Skinny but Muscular or Big and Muscular:	Skinny. Beefy guys are a bit of a turn off
Punk or Preppy:	Had call. Preppy with a bit of edge? Does that count?
The Big Picture or the Little Things:	I'm very much a big picture person, so someone who had the ability to focus on more minute details would balance me well
Flowers/Candy or Big Expensive Present:	Flowers - my god, I swoon. Chocolate, however, is for crazy people
Mixtape or Burned CD:	burned CD -- that way, you can't wear it out :P
Love or Lust:	There's something to be said for both; however lust is, I think, merely a powerful expression of love. Love lasts. All you need is love, etc, etc - I choose love
Emotional or Just Not:	emotional
Sincere or Jokester:	Sincere -- I find sincerity so completly fresh and disarming
Hott and mean or Ugly and sweet:	that's a horrible question! Ugly and sweet, but at the same time ...
Sexy or Just Cute:	just cute. Sexy (in an abercrombie way) is entirely intimidating
Arse or Abs:	I love butts. Abs can't hold my interest
Hair or Hands:	Hands - holding hands, lacing fingers, light touches -- these are some of the most beautiful and intimate things you can do
Dimples or Eyes:	Eyes. You can learn so much about someone by holding eye contact with them
Biceps or Calves/Thighs:	isn't this getting a bit picky? I'm a soccer player. Calves are HOT
Teeth or Nose(some people are just wierd) :	I like teeth. Does that make ME weird?
Clean Shaven or Scruffy:	clean shaven. I love the baby soft skin
Rugged or Prim and Proper:	there's something to be said about a guy who doesn't mind getting dirty once in a while
Countryboy or Cityboy	countryboy! Laid back, hard working, tanned, polite ... you can't beat it
Date alone or With Friends	Both have their place
Mama's Boy or Rebel Without A Cause:	mama's boy ... but not a weenie :P
--Have You Ever--
Dumped a guy because he liked you too much:	yes, actually. I was in grade eight and felt entirely smothered. He told me he wanted to marry me!
Loved a guy because he stalked you:	I would go out with someone if they tried hard enough, even if I wasn't *really* interested in them. Being wanted was an intoxicating feeling, at times
Loved a guy because he hated you:	I loved a guy in SPITE of the fact that he hated me - does that count? Indifference is a challenge.
Asked your friend's crush out:	My friends and I used to swap crushes in high school like it was our job. It was never a big deal.
Lead a guy on for kicks:	Never. It's horrible to play with someone's feelings like that.
Asked a guy out purely because he was hott:	I don't think I've ever asked anyone out!
Flirted with guys even though you had a boyfriend:	I think there's a difference between flirting, and flirting with an intention. One is natural, the other can be hurtful
Lied about not having a boyfriend:	My parents used to ask when I was really young (13, 14) and I would try to hide it from them for the longest time
Lied about having one:	I don't think so. I've generally been in a long string of long-term relationships and haven't spent a lot of time single
Cheated:	No
Been Cheated on:	I hope not. I'd like to believe not.
Had a crush on a gay guy:	Oh boy. I even dated one!
--Their Clothing(yes/no)--
Boxers?:	yes
Briefs?:	boxer/briefs = good
Hat?:	generally, no. I like a guy in a winter hat, but baseball caps remind me of being in high school
Skater Shoes?:	definitely
Pimp Shoes?:	nah - looks like they're trying too hard
Band Shirts?:	hot hot hot!
Vintage shirts?:	it's a big overdone at this point, don't you think?
Southpole/um..other thug clothes..?:	whatever this is - no,
Dressed up or Dressed Down?	Both are great, but seeing a guy dressed in plaid PJ pants and an old tee shirt will win my heart over every time
Billabong or Gap?	Billabong is the sexiest brand alive. Take me!
Khakis or Track Pants?	I guess playing soccer, I always had a thing for guys dressed up to paly sports. But there's a time and a place for a nice pair of khakis!
Skater or Surfer?	Surfer, hands down
Jeans or Shorts?:	I love a guy in shorts.
--Be Honest--
Would you ever date a guy for his money?:	No. I think that the basis of a relationship has to be something stronger than that. I've never been much for the whole material bandwagon anyway
Would you ever date a guy for his social status?:	Like what, the AMS president? Nah - not worth it ;)
Have you ever liked hanging out with your bf's friends more than him?:	Sure. Sometimes you start dating someone and wind up clicking with other people even more. It's kinda a guilty feeling, though
Have you ever pretended to like somebody to make them feel better?	Probably not consciously, but I definitely have not had the heart to say no to people in the past
Have you ever gotten or written a real love letter?	I've done both. The letters I've recieved from people are some of my prized posessions
Do looks matter?:	Of course they do. I also believe that beauty is in the eye of the beholder and that everyone is the most beautiful person in the world, in someone else's eyes
Are you honestly scared of being dumped?:	Scared? No. But it's not something that I would ever look forward to going through. My heart is easy to break.
Does size matter?:	It's the motion of the ocean :P
Do you avoid 'situations' with ugly guys?:	Wow. Well, I definitely wouldn't lead someone one who I wasn't attracted to
have you ever dated someone who you weren't attracted to?:	I dated someone who I never really wanted to kiss - I just wasn't really into him. He was such a nice guy though that I didn't think it would matter
Do you like PDAs?:	I generally don't have a problem expressing affection anywhere. A short kiss, holding hands ... I dunno - I think that being comfortable letting the world know you're in love is sweet. That being said, I don't want to play tonsil hockey with someone in McDonalds
Do you hide things from your crushes/guy friends/bf?:	I don't think that Steve knows everything about me - not even close. But there is very little that I would actually hide from him.
Do you lie about masturbation for attention or false innocence?:	Isn't that more of a guy thing?
Do you really want a guy to say if those jeans make your butt look fat?:	Never. There is always a right and a wrong answer to that question
Are you dissapointed when your bf doesn't say I love you right away?:	How could you be disappointed? I'd rather he wait until the feeling was so incredible that it was going to burst out of him if he didn't say it
Wanna be a virgin till marriage?	nah
Do you really love the guys everytime that you say it?	Every time I have said "I love you", I have meant it to a certain degree. I've only ever REALLY been in love 3ish times
Do you dream about your crushes/bfs/guy friends?:	almost every night. I dream that he was here wiht me and not stuck in another city!

from the archives of hotmail

I wandered by mistake into an old folder of my old email address (bri_johnson, which I only use for msn and when I need to give my email address online for a contest), and dug up a serious amount of Bri history. The folder is called "stuff-important" and contains every email that ever meant something to me from grade 8 to first year at Queen's. True, I don't even remember what some of them mean any more, but others are more special now than they must have been then. I'm gonna post a few here, for memory I guess, but also as a more reliable way of preserving them.

The first one is from Adam and was written during first year university. Adam is a big idiot, but his emails had the (probably unintentional) effect of both making me laugh, and making me feel like the most special person on earth.

Bri,

We at the walk for ugly bitches society would like to thank you for you generous pledge. 10000 miles is a long way, I truely hope you are up for it. We at the society realize that most women look more like Rosie O'Donnell than Christina Aguilara, and for that reason we have begun a fund of pledges that will be donated to those truly in need. We will accept applications from any women who feels she is sub par so long as she meet the following criteria. 1) Weights 200 lbs. or more 2) Has the nickname "Ug" 3) Must purchase 3 or more seats to board an airplane 4) Has not been laid in so long she is once again a virgin 5) Needs a fork lift to get out of bed. Since you meet this criteria, and have made such a generous pledge of walking 10000 miles.... With a camel on your back, we feel it is up to us to thank you by awarding money to you for a complete esthetic makeover. Consider it a cosmic mullagan. We here at the UBS only hope that this will be enough to help you on the road to beauty. And remember true beauty is on the outside, inside there are bowels and intestines and stuff.

Life isn't fair to everyone, but now you get a second chance. Enjoy!!!

JUST KIDDING!

Hey babe... gorgeous best friend, goddess of a woman, other formalities etc.....

So what's going on? Once you move to the new city you stop returning lesser cities and the friends that live there's phone calls!!!!! Well, who needs you anyway? You'll never get that 5 bucks that I owe you back now....ever! Anyway, I hope you're good. I'm assuming you are, and things with Marcus must be good too.I'm fine, got a call back from Starbucks so it looks like I might be gay... i mean be working at starbucks.... oh well free coffee, right? I am on the verge of dating a 22 year old korean girl. Let's hope that that works out for my sake. I haven't had sex in way too long. Anway, give me a call when you get the chance, and I'll sit and wait by the phone until you do with nothing more than a pair of dirty underwear to play with ( CALL SOON PLEASE......) Bri i love you with all my heart, and miss you so much. I'll try and call you tommorow at some point if possible, i work from 3-11. If not i'll talk to you soon.

Don't ever doubt yourself Bri, this is where you belong, your are meant to be at Queens... remember that.

Lots of love.

Aj

P.S. The day i saw you off from the airport I cried the whole way home. I was so proud of you. I really felt like I was a part of a big event for you and i felt like you wanted me to be there. So I was really excited for you. (sorry it's sort of rambled.. I'm just trying to say that I adore and or miss you)

The second is a letter that I wrote to a friend named Ryan. We became incredibly close during grade 11 and I would go so far as to say that other than Adam, he was the first person that I unconditionally loved. I still believe that he was one of my soulmates ... the people who change your life for the better just by being a part of it, however small. We came to a point in our relationship where we had essentially fallen in love; he wanted to have me in his life as his girlfriend, but I was currently dating my "what was I thinking" boyfriend Zach. I told Ryan I couldn't leave Zach (I should have ... Ry is now finishing his first year of med school :D), and he was so hurt by me. I wrote him this letter to try to make it up to him.

I used to have a friend, whose shirts always matched the color of his eyes, no matter what shirt he wore. And he always made me laugh in calm even when it was snowing outside and I was sad. And he taught me about nature, little things like rocks and big things like rivers and about running through the trees laughing and not worrying about if you're going to fall, because he would always catch me. And about movies, and about the cool little details in the matrix that a girl would never see. And he stood in line with me to see Star Wars even though it was cold. And he held the bag of popcorn cause I was so embaressed that I got so much food. Eventually he did it without me asking. And he told me stories about places that were pretty far away :) Furthur than I could imagine. And he called me "you" and I called him "ry" and it suited us both fine cause we always knew who eachother were. And we went to Edmonton together, and he got mud on my carpet but it was my fault cause I dragged him inside. And sometimes we'd talk in his room until 3 in the morning, or listen to music or just sit and be content with eachothers company. He taught me how to play chinese checkers, and foosball, and I beat him at air hockey (but he'll never admit it). And he gave me the most amazing books, and I tried so hard to read Shogun, but I never got to the place where they fell in love. He didn't laugh when I snuck away in chapters to get up-to-date on the Baby Sitters Club, and he bought me a few, which made me cry. He called me when I was halfway across the country and we would talk for two or three hours about life and love, and the whole night stood still. And he wrote letters like essays but they were so cute! And we went to the gap and thought that blue made him look a bit washed out but grey was really nice. And he tried to show me that there were better guys out there. And he loved me for everything that I was inside and not for what I was on the outside. And when i thought I lost everything in the whole world he bought me a little bear with a pair of wings, and it reminded me that he was my angel :) And that bear reminded me that every single day. And he brought me a Dumbo from Japan because I have pointy ears (g), and rocks from all different places, and huge long emails that made me smile so much. And a blus cinderella because sometimes I wanted to be a princess and he would laugh and hug me too tight and I'd choke. And he ran around with me at night looking for a tickle me elmo. And he held me when I was scared. And sometimes we fought. Probably too often. Most likly because we cared about eachother a great deal, and were very different people.

god I could go on for hours. Basically Ry (if you're still reading my garble this far!) I was lying in bed trying to sleep, and I just couldn't stop thinking of all this stuff. I made a stupid mistake. But I miss you. you're my ryguy. there is so much that we haven't done yet. THis is just the start. please write back. I'm tired and rambly!!! I need sleep. sigh... zzzz (that is me sleeping on the keys)
good night sweets

There's more, but they seem so much less important to me now. Maybe deleting everything will be a good idea - letting go of clutter that doesn't really define who I am anymore. If anything, reading all of these old emails has made me miss Adam immensely, and made me want to finish typing up my notes tomorrow and not tonight.

G'night, all

thoughts on spring

I roller bladed to school today, ignoring the fact that the roads were wet and my skills on wheels have been pretty much untested so far this spring season. You're probably anticipating an epic wipe out story to belong here, but I made it to Theological Hall relatively unscathed. What I did find interesting however is that once I rolled into my classroom and sat down, I realized that I had no idea how to take my rollerblades off. Like, no idea. I sat at my desk, staring at my feet, bemused and actually a bit scared that I couldn't make my hands remember what to do. Every time I tried, they just kept getting tighter and tighter.

This ordeal taught me two things:

1. Technology and I will never get along. We eye each other cautiously. We send nasty msn messages back and forth -- y'know, typical enemy stuff. Yes, even the technology of rollerblades (damn you Nike and your nylon spaceship cording)
2. The more I learn, the more I realize how very little I know

My undergraduate career is all-too-quickly coming to an end and I greet it with as much apathy as I can muster from under my covers, where I am sure to be found these days either taking a nap, or sleeping through class because it 'wasn't important to go today'. Knowing that I am in the general majority of university students who don't *really* care about what they're doing, or don't make a point of being especially studious doesn't make me feel better. I mean, I've been so academically lazy over the last four years that I don't even recognize myself any more. Is this normal? Will I change? Or am I condemned to a career of cubicle hopping, ladder climbing and glass ceiling hitting, reminiscent of Office Space? It's hard to tell. It's even harder to care, at this point.

I love this time of year though, in spite of myself. For most people, spring brings a sort of spiritual rebirth. The days are longer, the air is warmer. People make passing remarks about their flower gardens and walk around in Capri pants, their hair flying in the now-southern wind. The grass is pushing up from the wet earth; the birds are reclaiming their post on neighborhood trees. But for me, April will always mean one thing and one thing only: soccer tryouts. In particular:

* The first time that I dig out my old cleats from last season, bang off the bits of sod and realize that they fit me even more perfectly than they did six months ago
* The way that the perfect spring tryout day smells
* The freshly cut and marked field, pristine in its virginity
* The nervous energy I get that makes me run faster, shoot harder and shake internally on the sidelines whenever I get called off
* The first slide tackle. The brilliant feeling of digging up turf with my cleat and remembering how much I missed playing on grass that didn't leave violent gashes up your thighs when you took a fall
* The competition. I loved tryouts because I love a challenge. I would outrun, outplay and outthink every girl on the field, simply because someone was probably assuming that I couldn't. I would find aggression and determination in me that even the most important game of my life couldn't motivate

Sadly, soccer tryouts are no longer a part of my April schedule and I feel a twinge of something -regret? Nostalgia? - When I walk past City Park and stop to watch the coaches set up pylons, or step to the side to avoid being hit by a gaggle of five-year-olds on a warm up run. Part of me thinks that I could play again, could get back to the level I was at in high school, but the rest of me knows that at least right now, I don't have the resources (like a car, for example). For now, I'll be content with watching the odd game on my way home from class, and managing to get my rollerblades off of my feet when I do choose to indulge in the occasional bout of physical activity.

if I had a million dollars, I'd be rich

It's a rainy Saturday morning and I am holed up in the back corner of the Common Ground, feeling somewhat pretentious and very West Coast -- I mean, a lap top in a coffee shop? It's the cliche of cliches. But somehow, sitting here with the news paper and a bagel, listening to "Wish You Were Here" seemed like a much better idea than trudging back home to my cold, damp basement bedroom. And so the cliche lives on.

I just had a scholarship interview, which was a new experience for me and involved me spending half an hour talking about why I am really great; greater, in fact, than any of the other applicants. The entire thing was a bit unsettling -- almost as though doing Head Gael and getting good marks was something that I did for a reward, the way a kid will clean up their room for a cookie. I always have a problem talking to other people about myself (except in here, of course, where I indulge). I'd prefer to let my actions speak for themselves. That being said, the prospect of 1000.00 cash is a huge incentive.

Here's what I would buy with the money:

I love Penguin clothing, both for their ultra coolness and still-relative-obscurity. My first purchase, then would be this pair of shoes from www.penguinclothing.com. Then, I'd head over to future shop and buy myself a digital camera that actually takes pictures that are printable and worth keeping, and a 1 gigabyte ipod shuffle. Finally, I'd buy a pair of original fatboy cowboy boots by Ariat:


Or, I might just pay off my visa and buy myself groceries. I guess it's always nice to dream :)

I'm wide awake it's morning

Netscape 7.2 is the best thing that ever happened to me. Not only is it both functional and stylish, it makes surfing the internet *something I do a lot of* a lot easier and more intuitive. Yes, I am becoming tech-saavy and quite proud of it.

It's 5:30 in the morning and I don't have the energy to say everything that's flying around in my head right now, so a list of sorts is going to have to suffice:

• I got to walk with Marcus tonight for the first time ever, which was fantastic. The conversation wasn't stilted or forced and on a night where the service is being used to the point that people are lining up at the kiosk to wait for walks, it's good to be with someone that you genuinely get along with.
  
• I had a conversation with my dad tonight that made me both frustrated and scared. It is an unsettling feeling to know that your parents are sad, or that they're not coping. I am shocked at how vulnerable and devestated my father is right now (and shocked at the circumstances, which is another story altogether), and I hate feeling as though he needs me. How's that for selfish?
• I was crying tonight, making a mess of myself and generally wavering between being furious and completly destroyed, when Marcus turned to me and said, "after everything we've been through, you're still the best person I know". And this made me feel ... safe. Or something. It was nice to hear - knowing that our friendship is intact is hugely comforting to me

Today I am grateful for:
1. a spurt of productivity that allowed me to finish off my psychology essay with time to spare, when I usually would have been moping and procrastinating
2. discovering Netscape 7.2. I swear to god this program is going to change my life
3. The love and support of Steve, who never fails to surprise me with what a genuinely giving and humble person that he is. He takes the meaning of generosity to an entirely new level.
4. Feather pillows; the feeling of sinking into one that has been perfectly fluffed up
5. Lemon meraigne pie
6. Being able to sleep in tomorrow without worrying about having any obligations to anyone