Friday, 30 January 2009

Feet first

Tonight is as good a night as any to start blogging again.

It was necessary to take a bit of a hiatus. After my shit show of a break, I was in the dark place for a while, and didn't have it in me to write. Once I managed to pull myself out of the dark place (with the help of some strong and loving hands) I spent some time focusing on getting away from the dark place, as far away as possible. I gave myself a free pass on almost everything and did what made me happy for a while. It was a really good decision. Things are better now.

On the subject of doing what makes me happy, I decided to go for sushi for dinner. After a short but hilarious exchange, Phil and I decided to screw Sodexo for a night and went out. It was hella delicious. I could eat that stuff all day and every day.

I should be working on (one of) my paper(s), but I decided not to. Yikes, Descartes. He's a tricky mofo, that one. He's all over the freaking place. Meditating. Inventing planes. You know. The usual.

I will try to ignore the party next door and set myself to work for a little while, reward that with a trip to Middle Bay for a dance party, and hit the hay relatively early, in time for my vagina monologues rehearsal at 9:30 am. This will be one crazy, hectic weekend.

Tuesday, 13 January 2009


Two years ago, when I was volunteering for PPO and Insight Theatre, Jenn, our coordinator took us all to see the Vagina Monologues. I was two thirds of the way through an incredible year of change and learning. It was the perfect time to see the Vagina Monologues, during my year of learning about my own vagina, my own female-ness.

When I saw the show, it totally blew me away. To me, it was more than saying the word vagina out loud. It was more than funny moans, or saddening statics. It was a lesson. It was a celebration. It was huge audience, all together, enjoying vaginas.

I thought that was pretty fucking awesome! I've always been one of those girls who loved being a woman. If you asked me if I'd ever rather be a boy, I would probably yell "NO!". I love being female and I love my vagina. And for those minutes, the whole world loved vaginas too -- not just the idea of vaginas, but each vagina individually. All of them.

I have changed a lot in the two years since I saw the Vagina Monologues. I learned more about myself. I have matured, physically and emotionally, to become the woman that I am. I have learned about my wants, about my body, about my limits. How to break my limits. I have begun a new relationship to vaginas. I have a lot of respect for vaginas, my own and others.

This year, I have another chance to feel that vagina-loving feeling. Dalhousie Women's Centre is putting on a production of the Vagina Monologues, and I'm going to be in it! This is so incredibly me, it's not even funny. I think some people would call me "vagina lover", mutter it under their breaths with all the same force of "motherfucker" and I would laugh. Because I love that.

I'm in the monologue called "My Vagina Was My Village". When the two women auditioning me asked me to read it, I was surprised. Of all the monologues, that one hit me the deepest. It's a tough one to hear, to read, it's awful and disgusting, and I don't even want to think about the women who have lived it. It's about rape in war; about dying from the inside out.

I think everyone should see the Vagina Monologues, if only so there are more conversations like the one I had in my friends kitchen the other night. I mentioned that I'd auditioned, and he told me about how he'd never realised what different relationships women and men have with their genitals, and he was genuinely fascinated and interested. And why not? Why not have think about vaginas a little bit once a year?

I'm so excited. I'm excited to spread the vagina love.

Thursday, 8 January 2009


My time back at King's has been all kinds of fun since I've arrived back. Some of the fun has been real, good fun -- celebrating Renew Year's on Monday night, watching silly movies in lieu of reading. Lots of the "fun" has been super lame.

Item One: The flight.
It was four hours delayed, and then upon arriving in Halifax (at 3:30 am), I was unable to locate my bag. Turns out, it was in Ottawa. Due to lack of personnel and taxis, I made it to my bed at 5am. So much for lecture!

Item Two: The Great Detergent-Closet Incident of Break 08.
As I was planning some good ole fashioned New Year Cleaning (Like Spring Cleaning, but earlier!), I discovered that my full bottle of Woolite had spontaneously popped open over break. The detergent had spread and congealed over my bottom half of my closet and the floor, leaving a wax-like seal over my skirts, shoes, and drawers. Luckily, my scarves were saved. All I will say is that it took me for freakin' ever to clean it up. A spoon, a spatula, old newspapers, and a hairdryer were all enlisted for clean-up duty.

Now you're up-to-date! Tomorrow is YAS Ball, which means we all get to dress up and fancy dresses and go dance the night away. I'll let you know how it goes. With photos, of course ;) .

Weather bulletin: Today, in Halifax, it was 7 degrees and sunny. I know you hate me.

Sunday, 4 January 2009

Holiday pic(k)s

The empty trays after our New Year's Day Tea.

I decided to try on my mom's wedding dress for fun. The lace was so beautiful! My dad freaked out.

Jules made me this gingerbread cookie. It kept me company while I was sick with mono, and then when I was feeling better, I ate him. He was delicious.

I love my cats. I will miss them so much!

Saturday, 3 January 2009


I had a lot of expectations and excitement for this break. I was excited to be home and see my cats and sit by the fire and shop with my mom and see people I missed. Instead, I feel like I've been grounded for 4 weeks. I've spent more time crying this break than in the 3 months before them. I've been feeling... heavy. Listless. Alone.

Everything culminated in my shitty New Year's Eve.

Last year, I went to my first New Year's Eve party and this year I was eager to recreate the experience. I was sad to leave my friends at King's where we hang out all the time, and my consolation was that I would still have fun with my King's friends from Ottawa. My break was to be a balance of family time and friend time. Only, I sat at home. And sat. And it was ok because I had New Year's Eve plans with my girls, my best friends. Only, apparently I didn't. I was angry, but now I'm just sad. I spent my New Year's Eve sitting on my couch, upset, alone and waiting for a call. All dressed up with nowhere to go. I had new clothes.

Eight turned into ten. Ten turned into eleven fifteen. I gave up and started crying. Tears started rolling down my cheeks, slowly, then faster, and then I was yelling and crying. 10... 9... 8... 7... 6... 5... 4... 3... 2... 1... Happy New Year.

It's not just being alone. At a certain point in week three, I suggested to myself, 'Why don't I call someone up?'. I am in it so deep, I couldn't do it. If I knew how to give up, I would. Just to feel like I'm not fighting anymore.

To everyone I didn't see, I'm sorry. I really wanted to. Want to. I wish I had. I just feel sorry.

Here's to 2009.