[19 May 2008|08:05am] [ mood | / i'm going to barf ] t-minus 6 hours until take off. i feel like i'm going to barf a little. as excited as i am, i'm filled with uncertainty. the unknown is a scary thing. i'm not sure we realized what a huge undertaking this was when the planning began. and i swear i'm going to forget something. enough negativity... this trip has been something i've been talking about, something i've been looking forward to, since i was about 15. now it's here. and i have to do everything in my power to make it everything i always thought it would be. wish me luck. Vanessa and i are going to make a travel blog, which i'm sure will only be written in by me. when we make it, i'll post the link here so everyone can follow along. i'm not sure how many photos will get posted, but there will be a zillion to show you all when we get home. until then... CIAO!!! 3 comments | comment

[09 May 2008|06:51pm] ohmygodohmygod!!! Glan Hansard and Marketa Irglova are here September 20th!!!!!!!! ...and i'll actually be in the country for this one :) i am tres tres exited :):):):):) i leave in 9 DAYS!!!!! this is nutts. | comment

once again, Fiorito gets it right [28 Apr 2008|05:38pm] TTC union deserves its black eye Apr 28, 2008 04:30 AM Joe Fiorito I hope she isn't dead. Her name is Linda and she was very much alive on the weekend, checking my weekly ration of rice and beans and bagging my onions at the supermarket. We were chatting idly, the way you do, and I asked her how she got to work that morning. She shrugged and said she hadn't known about the strike when she woke up, but her boss had called her at home and filled her in because he wanted to make sure she'd get to work on time. So Linda rode her bike. She hadn't ridden for a while. She is a woman of a certain age. Riding a bike is an act of courage. But Linda had to get to work, so she dug it out and dusted it off and pedalled in. I said that, because of the transit strike, there seemed to be a lot of people out and about in cars who hadn't been behind the wheel in a while. Linda laughed and said there were also a lot of people who were wobbly on their bikes, and the roads were sort of dangerous. "I better not get killed on the way home," she said. "If I get killed, they'll be sorry." Ha, ha. Where I live – north of the druggies, east of the rich, surrounded by dog-walkers, harassed by women with sport utility strollers – I'd be nuts not to rely on the TTC. I use public transit as a matter of inclination, but I also have the luxury of being well-served. Seven minutes on foot from where I sit, I have the Dundas and College cars; nine minutes in the other direction are the Queen or King cars; three minutes away is the Lansdowne bus, which is the lousiest ride in the city but which, if I time it right, gets me to the Bloor line in no time flat. An aside: I hate the Lansdowne bus because it is usually one of those split-level clunkers, and I can't climb up to the second level because of my bum knee. Another aside: how would the quality of life in Scarborough improve if transit options were equally swift and generous? Given the high cost of running a car and the dullness you endure if you don't have one and your job is far away and all you have is the bus ... I rest my case. Therein lies the strength of the transit union. Brothers and sisters, Linda and I need you just as much as you need us. Alas, you blundered. You should have hit the bricks at the end of the shift, not at midnight. You did not hurt your masters. You hurt us. You also blundered in not getting us on your side before you walked. We are working people, too. We understand the need for job security. You did not make your case to us. You stuck it in our eye. I passed by the Queen St. car barns on the weekend, on my way home with the rice and beans. I saw no picket signs. Perhaps you could not bear to face the working people in my part of town. You have the right to strike. We have the right to think you screwed up at our expense. And the province has the right to send you back to work. Our mayor now looks like a tough, decisive leader. The leader of your union now looks like a goof. And in the days ahead, city council will debate the need to make transit an essential service. Linda was right. You'll be sorry. | comment

[22 Apr 2008|06:40pm] i made a nametag at work that says DILLIGAF. i'm hilarious. i cannot wait until a customer asks me what it means. DO I LOOK LIKE I GIVE A FUCK? ahahahahaha aahhahahaha aahahahahhahahaha aahhahahahahahahhahaha ahahahahaha ahahahah !!! 27 MORE DAYS UNTIL I AM THE HELL OUT OF HERE!!! | comment

[07 Apr 2008|09:45pm] after being confined to the couch for 5 days, at the behest of a nasty flu, i have finally reached my boredom breaking point. i'm going out. for a year. BYE. | comment

for Jon [21 Mar 2008|02:19pm] dude, you will love this: http://stuffwhitepeoplelike.wordpress.com/ hahahahahahahahahahaha!!! 1 comment | comment

[19 Mar 2008|11:43pm] my fingers are tapping my keyboard as if they've got something to say. my brain isn't really following suit. text messaging this month is going to cost me a fortune. damn. i don't want to sit here and talk about politics, my views on them. talk about 'interesting' things. things that may make me look smart. no, i just want to talk. talk and feel. mostly feel i think. i wish i were better at getting feelings down in print. but maybe that's the thing about feelings. they can only be felt. explaining them seems like a disservice. it takes away their meaning. i miss the days when understanding didn't require words. it was just about feeling. as much as i like words, i like feelings way more. i do like when feelings can be expressed through words. but subtly. almost as if the words aren't really there. it makes me angry when words become more important than feeling. wait, no. that's not really what i mean. words are important. as important as feelings in some situations. sometimes it is about the words. but right now, it's about the feeling. no more words. i just want to feel. feel really deep. down. full. i feel, but i want to feel more. maybe i'm selfish. in fact, i am. but, i want what i want. and i'm not going to stop until i get it. is that what success is made of? i think maybe i'm too young to know. there is more. i just don't know how to make it into words. i just want you to feel it. feel me. i want something real. not you. but something. i am looking for that flow of energy. with anything or anyone. not just anyone. just something/someone who can feel it. that's enough for tonight. | comment

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