Cheer To The Teenage Years

Red prom dress
because red suits my passion
my personality
that can't be boiled down to predetermined
paradigms.

Black shoes like the hole
sucking up my last silver linings 
the last drops of my will.
They match my darker eyes, hair, skin tone too
and the thoughts twirling in my head.

Prom will be one of those nights
with praises, glasses of champagne 
congratulations for not seeing the jealousies
pains, cuts and bruises of all these years

The hidden puke behind the desks, 
the angry poetry in the bathroom stalls,
the silent cries for help every morning

Prom will be a celebration
of a your selves left behind, 
embracing a world of adulthood
lost papers, lost invincibility
careless coffee stains and 
late night meetings

The days staying up late 
texting you my fears will disappear 
so will the smiles in the hallways
the fast food lunches
the ripping of failed exams

One day it will all mean nothing 
and we'll just have prom pictures 
a collection of broken souvenirs
memorabilia of the days
when we meant something
when we weren't pawns 
in the game of bureaucracy
ghosts on the conformity playground

when "YOLO" was a thing
or we didn't care about
the colour of our hair
the glitter dying in the toilet bowl
when we 
cheered for our teenage years.

Life: When Your Pet Dies

Kiwi died. He's my budgie and I loved him dearly. Great morning singer and the soul of a tiger. For real. He wasn't the same since Blueberry died though. She was his soul mate. But so fragile...I feel like a lousy pet master. I gave him the best funerals I could, considering the circumstances. Under the cold rain, I walked through the park, crossed the river and got to my favorite place in the nearby arboretum. I'd collected a bunch of pretty flowers and leaves on the way, so his grave was filled with happy stuff. I cried a lot too...Jeez, I feel like a lousy pet owner.

What to do when your pet dies? Eat like mad. Tortillas, chocolate covered peanut butter leftover Easter eggs... and listen. To the sound of the wind and the rain pouring. And whatever god music you have on hand.

Confused? So was I. That video is crazy hahah.

Little Dragon is my new fav band. And this is my new fav song.

Feelin' down? Listen to what is sure to be a 2013 Summer Hit.

I LOVE IT!

And I love you Kiwi. RIP.

Life: Meeting the Ultrasound Tech

What was supposed to be a check up on the acute pain I have been feeling in my "diaphragm area aka under-boob area" with my doctor soon turned to nightmare when she sent me to get an ultrasound done. It sounded like a piece of cake-that is until Vlad the technician said "Could you lay down please, Ma'am?". First of all what the fuck? Vlad, you could be my grandpa, for real. Second of all, do I really have to lay down? Since I am a well-behaved patient, I did as I was told. Soon, a clear gel has spread on my abdomen and I felt like a pregnant lady on TV, minus the "pregnant belly" apparatus. And then he started getting close to my treasure chest. And that is when I remembered the box ticked off by my dearly beloved doctor:

ABDOMEN/PELVIC

Fuck. I had agreed for Vlad to give me a full on massage or something. And he was gracious and didn't look too surprised at my unkempt Amazonian forest or my stretch marks or my ex-almost-abs turned to pudding.  Such a kind man. If he wasn't my ultrasound technician, he could have been a great lover, I can tell. Frankly, I'm surprised he wasn't in the mood...nothing says romance like make-shift candles in the form of a dim-lighted lamp or the sounds of a keyboard being taped away. Nothing says love like your lover being more interested by a blue lit screen then your confused, uncomfortable gaze towards the ceiling. And so I think it was just weird...to be so "intimate" with someone and all of it for what? To stop the voices in my head saying "Google is right girl, you're gonna have a heart attack! Or cancer, it's definitely cancer!".

Race

Tonight, I was at the Bluma Appel Theatre in Toronto for a performance of Race, work of American playwright David Mamet. And it made me incredibly uncomfortable. Maybe it's becasue I still struggle to understand the darker undercurrents of my African/Caribbean culture which includes resentment and what I feel is some deep rooted internalized self-victimization. So, thank you Mamet. As for you all, the punch-lines, lawyer jargon and sometimes c(rude) language may not be for everyone, but I thoroughly enjoyed it. And considering I'm running on an estimated 4 hours of sleep and much coffee, that's saying a lot.

Read more about it here and here.

For now just enjoy the pic :P

Love: Conversation

I have something important to tell you.

What is it?

I can't tell you. I have to show you.

Show me what?

My tired heart.
My empty head.
My throbbing veins.
My aching pains.
My dying breaths.
My waiting love.
My loving eyes.

I don't understand.

I know.
I know.
That's why it's so hard to see you
come and go
knowing nothing
of the things I feel
the nights I held myself
cried myself into numbness
found a place to rest my head
and think to myself
how can I be so stupid?
They say Love is good
Love is everything.
How can this be my everything
when I just want to die
when you're here
and when you're not?

Discoveries: Slam Poetry

Poetry has always been a big deal to me. Growing up in my own personal dictatorship at home, it was my escape route to, you know... non shitty stuff. And so, I've recently taken interest in Slam poetry and boy oh boy am I having the best "night after failed math test" day of my life. I present thee with a few of my most promising findings. I've found my calling! (Apart from marrying Jon Snow from Game of Thrones of course).

This is how my road to Slam started today, thanks to Jezebel and Doug Barry. And though what Rachel Rostad may be flawed in some ways, as she mentions here, I think that she has a point. I'm tired of seeing "token" Black girls, token Asian girls, token Hispanic girls... I'm tired of over-simplified characters that I don't feel represent my voice. Maybe I should write my own stuff you say? Sure, but I think it's a valid point to bring up and no, its not being "over-sensitive" of causing "controversy" or whatnot. It's a valid point, because all these girls also use the media and read and see images and when those images don't reflect something that looks or feels even remotely the way you look and feel, you start asking questions. You think I'm crazy? When I was 8, I wanted to be white, thin, with blue eyes like that was the only thing that would solve all my problems. Now, that's crazy.

Kait Rokowski. Holy mother ****. You hit me straight in the gut. Like, wow. I've been down for a while now (parents' divorce, you know...happy times!) and I won't say "depressed" because I haven't had a formal diagnostic. But I've been down. Very low. Not wanting to breathe and live and all that jazz. So I feel so numb when I hear this poem. And, yeah. I've had an 11-year-old tell me "Well, depressed people don't like... have a problem, they're just like...really lazy and don't want to do anything". *HEAD EXPLODES* This girl is a neighbour, so I can't go screaming bloody murder but boy...that struck low. Anyhow, enjoy it!

This right here. I laughed sooo hard. Denice Frohman, ladies and gentleman. It's a hell of a piece and I'm glad I found it today. I've questioned my sexuality, even though my family isn't the best one for that sort of self-discovery... anyhow, back to the poem. It's brilliant. Just listen. SPOILER ALERT: the best part? "Dear straight people, you make me want to fucking rob you." Don't take the quote out of context. Just listen to what she has to say.

Only dude on this list but boy is Jear Singer a beast. Like, oohh boy. You took that literally, didn't you? I mean his skill to convey, in a funny way how he just wants to dance, and how he'll be mocked but he just wants to go out on the dance floor and leave his heart on it. And just the way he start. I won't spoil it for you. Do yourself a favor a see it yourself. If this isn't really your cup of tea, you can always listen to his ABC's.

Things I Wish I Could Say

It's common knowledge that J.C. 

(aka Jesus Christ)

preached tolerance and kindness

thought lesbians were icky. 

-Katy JM Baker on Jezebel

Things I Wish I Could Say

"I hate the word homophobia. It's not a phobia. You are not scared. You are an asshole." -Tweets From God

Things I Wish I Could Say

I need a love transfusion

Life: So Much Bullshit

After another unproductive day, and a few lighted cigarettes in my neighbourhood park, I took a steaming shower and sat my fat, unproductive ass in front of my beloved computer. There was little to do, apart from eyeing man-candy I could never have on Facebook and waiting for an episode of Nikita to load. So that got me thinking...how much nonsense could I find on the Internet in less than 15 minutes? As I soon found out, a lot. Nonsense about modesty and women looking for trouble aka asking for rape, men all being rapists, people with a darker derma being genetically inferior, all Chinese people being inherently rude, fat people not deserving of bathing suits or showing their faces in the real world. Like, wtf?? Is this seriously the world I'm living in? How depressing. How can so much bullshit just be laying out there. How did this happen!?!?!?!? Is this really how people think or am I just crazy to believe that equality is really, truly a thing?

I may not have all the answers but here's a little sunshine to make me feel better because, seriously I've had my load of Internet bullshit to last me a life time. I'm dumbfounded. I'm stunned. I'm...exhausted.

Life: Loafing Around and Faking Sick

Urgh. I'm the worst when I'm such an Idle Teen. Or I'm so good at being bad I'm a Teen Idle, as you see fit to describe me. All I know is that it's getting late, I haven't done my hair, or done my Spanish, or Italian, or Biology or Math, even though I had a long weekend thanks to a nicely faked fever. I did get some quality time with my Mom though, so I guess not all is lost.

The main reason I haven't done anything today is (I feel excuses are needed here):

Winter is coming (ok ok, let's not jinks it, winter is actually leaving, which is nice) and mother of God how I love myself some Game of Thrones. It's like, after Lord of the Rings, I thought nothing would ever get my nerd juices flowing, and then this happened. I must of watched the first 2 seasons in a week. And tonight, I wanted to watch Season 3 Episode 2 but I don't have HBO. (Yes, as it turns out, I'm only of those terrible bastards making this show the most pirated show like...ever). Anyhow, I'm a crush whore, so I'm in love with Jon Snow, Tyrion the Imp, Robb Starkk and his fater Ned Starkk at the same time. And don't even get me started on my girl crushes. 

Emilia Clarke aka Khaleesi...

And Maisie Williams aka Arya Starkk (recently got a nice haircut tooo)

And Sibil Kekilli aka Shae (Imp's babe)

And Oona Chaplin (yes that Chaplin and they're related too!!!) aka Talisa Maegyr the healer

And Rose Leslie the Wildling aka Ygritte my latest flame. 

Like seriously guys. I'm obsessed. Can you blame me?

Things I Wish I Could Say

I AM THE CAT WHISPERER!!!

Life: Little Things

After being 30 minutes late to your therapist's and talking about fun stuff such as but not limited to being able to draw parallels between your father and a dictator, your death, your emotional distress when things don't go your way (let's say you have mild OCD) and a bunch of other bright lovely things... you don't know what to do with yourself anymore. You try to go find your old dance teacher who could shake you out of any bad mood, but you forgot today's a holiday, and just your luck, her gorgeous son you still haven't the balls to ask to prom is there, but not her. You try to find your old peaceful place, this little bookstore you found once by mistake, but you can't anymore. You spend all of your savings on stuff for your mom. You paid 10$ of food and not only are you not hungry, but you feel like puking the 10$'s worth of Subway and Tim Horton's straight out. Sooo, what do you do? You head home to do your homework. But to make yourself feel better, you choose the ultimate transportation for angry musings and upset stomachs and poetic energy bottled up that hasn't found a way to express itself yet. 

This my friends, is where most of my magic happens. Not what you'd expect, but it's quite good in terms of a chill place to chill after a back-to-back cigarette moment. Cheers to crappy transportation and calming yourself the fuck down.