the sun`s in my heart, the stars in the sky, i just want to tell you you have such pretty eyes

the weather is getting better, and is bringing everything else along with it. i`m thinking about home, anxious to get back to parks filled with squirrels (and amazingly socially-conscious children) and nights cuddled on the couch. but you`re still with me here, i can feel you in me, and that`s making this time apart a little more bearable. having things be strong with us means that i can walk outside and breathe. i can take in the birds and the trees and the pretty cobblestone walkways, and feel peaceful and happy, knowing i`m still holding you close.

note to self

canadians get angry when you say that canada is pretty much like the us.

americans get angry when you remind them that the canadian dollar is doing better than the us dollar.

i said the first jokingly (kind of), and when a fellow canadian became rather irrate, i tried to recover by making the second comment, thus angering the american walking with us. he wouldn't talk to me the rest of the afternoon.

oddly enough, being surrounded by international students in sweden has made me rather more patriotic than i have ever been before. but i still hate that word.

oh, and then there's this: apparently 'washroom' is a distinctly canadian word. it's the linguistic equivalent of maple syrup, really. whenever i say it people either start laughing or give me that "you make no sense" look i've come to love so well.

mad girl's love song

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

-sylvia plath

masochist

sometimes when you're not around i read your old blog entries...the ones from when you were were with her.

i keep reading them until i find one that makes me cry.

i think i'm turning emotional masochism into an art...

Giving Up

What if we stop having a ball?
What if the paint chips from the wall?
What if there's always cups in the sink?
What if I'm not what you think I am?

What if I fall further than you?
What if you dream of somebody new?
What if I never let you win, chase you with a rolling pin?
Well what if I do?

I am giving up on making passes and
I am giving up on half empty glassess and
I am giving up on greener grasses.
I am giving up.

What if our baby comes home after nine?
What it your eyes close before mine?
What if you lose yourself sometimes?
Then I'll be the one to find you
Safe in my heart.

I am giving up on making passes and
I am giving up on half empty glassess and
I am giving up on greener grasses.
I am giving up.

I am giving up.
I am giving up.
I am giving up on greener grasses.

I am giving up for you.
I am giving up for you.
I am giving up.

-Ingrid Michaelson

diwali-inspired identity crisis

Me: "Do you think I'm Indian enough?"

Bex: "To do what?"

hmmm, good point.

but suddenly i have this yearning to wear a sari and eat gantia (and know how to spell gantia) and be able to communicate with my grandmother using something other than the language of mime. i spent so long pushing all of that away, wishing i were white (luckily i discovered Fair 'n' Lovely a little late in the game, so i never went the route of bleaching my skin with fucked up 'beauty' products) and now...now i don't know. i have a term for what i experienced -internalized racism- but it doesn't really make my feelings any less confusing.

perhaps gloria anzaldua will have some answers...

morning lullabies

sometimes when i'm procrastinating or feeling sentimental (which is often) i read 'missed connections' on craigslist and it makes me feel good to know how deeply people touch each other's lives. and people just have no idea how important they are to those around them, even if they are only known through a 2 minute encounter on a bus.

people should know this kind of thing.

heaven is a place with no need for rescue remedy

life is a beautiful mess of languid explorations, scrambled tofu, and kisses placed on foreheads.

anxiety runs high always. i dream of a place where we can just be together, without all of this that just distracts from life with you. a place where 'rescue remedy' isn't a part of our everyday life.

but for now there is an array of bach's flower concoctions to get us through. and inordinate amounts of happiness in between.

your skin smells lovely like sandalwood

standing at the edge of a construction site, we watched two red-winged blackbirds swoop and circle each other. i said they were like us. "they're in love" i added, lost in the moment. when i stop watching myself so carefully comments like that slip out around you. and even when i do watch myself closely you watch as well, and seem to know. i whisper what i'm feeling in those in-between hours that you know me in. you think i'm wonderful and i think you're suffering from temporary insanity. but this feels real and so right, and maybe that means that i can trust this. at least i've stopped pretending that i have any choice in the matter. my heart makes decisions before my head even understands what's going on. and i'm okay with that.