I fail.

Man, I fail hard at updating this thing regularly. I got sick again, after getting better, and so lay in a bed of pain, yet again.

Not much new in my life other than an unhealthy obsession with the British show Skins. It is superbly entertaining; like the O.C if it had balls, was British, and didn't suck.

I am also a failure as a gardener, as my total gardening experience in the last month has been limited to poking at the dirt and muddy brown grass of my front lawn with the toe of my rain boots and then walking away to do something else.

It is nearly spring however, and so I can feel a certain kind of joy in the air that I wouldn't feel otherwise. There is still no grass, and no crocuses yet, so it's pretty dreary. But that fresh scent of spring is in the air; wet, cold, a hint of sweetness, and then, suddenly, a strong undercurrent of warmth. It sneaks up on you, and it suddenly creeped up on me today while I was walking between classes. I stopped and looked around, realizing that the sun was out, that there were seagulls. While the grass was still either covered with snow or a dirty brown colour, I could feel the green that would be coming up. It's the word for spring, anticipation. It's everywhere, this anticipation. School kids have a new jump in their step, having finally banished their heavy winter boots to the back of their closet, tired of being weighed down. Their feet move across the pavement in slight skips, jumps and messy splashes, finally unburdened of the weighty snow boots that had anchored them to the ground for the last 5 months. The business men and women who stream between Bloor Street, Avenue and Yonge all have their heads up now, like deer, taking tentative sniffs at the air. They can feel this anticipation as easily as they feel their pinstripe suits and the pinch of high heels. At school there is a lightness to the students, even as the pressure of exams, midterms and final essays starts to press down everywhere. Robarts is filled with heads bent punishingly close to textbooks, laptops, and notes, but every now and then a head will raise up and stare out the window, see the promise of spring, feel the anticipation and longing for it, and hear the word that is on everybody's lips: soon. Soon everything will be done, school wise. Everyone will be off to travel, work or just lazing around the house. Summer will pour in like a broken jar of honey, spilling across the cupboard and sticking to every surface. The sidewalk will bleach under the constant sun, and so will blonde heads. I can hardly wait for summer; I feel it in my bones. Every morning when I dress and look at my pale, soft body I can only hope that it will soon be replaced with the tan, lithe one that usually comes during the summer. Summer means patios, and the beach, and long afternoons spent on Anne's balcony reading in comfortable silence. Though I have to work all summer, and for long hours too, I still can say without hesitation that I enjoy the constant hard work more than going to school every day, dragging my body across campus.

Well I have class tomorrow morning, so I'm going to end this post here. I think the jist is there; Spring, Spring, Spring.

Yours,

Lady Lazarus

Well I'm back.
I was nearly dead (not really but you get the idea) from the flu over the last week, and then I had a 3000 word essay due on Friday, when I was barely better. So I am just now able to update.

Aren't I responsible?

Not much has been going on in my life, with the exception of being really sick. I'll spare you the details but there was a fever, no solid foods and lots of sleeping all day. Sounds idyllic, non? I did manage, once my migraine calmed down enough, to catch up on some episodes of Skins and Pushing Daisies, so that was cool.

Man, I have really been slacking on the gardening front. Here is my failure by numbers:

Seeds planted: 0

Planters started: 0

Calling Canada's weather "A stupid nun-cunt": Oh thousands.

The snow has been falling here pretty steadily, though yesterday and today we actually had really good weather and now everything is melting so the dog poop is starting to sprout out of the ground like some sort of disgusting, smelly flower. Toronto was only 17 cm away from the record of 207 cm. of snow set in 1939. I know, it doesn't seem like that much: "2 Meters!" I hear you scream "We get two meters in July here!" I'm sure that in whatever snowy region you are in, it is much, much worse. This doesn't mean I can't complain. What all this snow, and flu, and school work means, however, is that I have been slacking such a huge amount. My room is a MESS. My dog took it into her head to rip up every single tissue that I used when I was sick, every one, and shred it into a mess. She never ate them, just destroyed them completely. So there is a layer of disgusting tissues all over the floor of my room. I swear it has migratory patterns, as I will wake up and it will be by my bed, and then when I come home, it will have moved over to the closet. I should probably get to cleaning it, but I just tidied up around the house so I am chilling out.

Woah. I got WAY off topic.

Anyway, I will write a more substantial post later on. Right now just an update.

Cheerio.

Internet Flu

Well, I think I somehow managed to catch Jordan's cold. Fan-freaking-tastic. This could not have come at a better time, what with having a 3000 word paper due on Monday, and then another one due on the following Wednesday, as well as an Easter dinner party to plan. Just SUPER. THANKS JORDY.

Watched Star Trek Voyager today, but had to stop after one episode as my head hurt way too much. God I love that show, it's so hilariously low-budget. This one had Sarah Silverman in it, before she was famous. It was crazy; she's so young.

Anyway, so sick, all I can do is lie down and try to sleep.

Yours,

Mamma-Mania.

Well, I have been having internet trouble all weekend so I thought I would put in a pretty meaty post.

I thought I should confess something.

Its a big secret.

I want to have a kid.

Freaky, I know. Well, it would be if you actually knew me. See, I have had trouble with children my entire life. Whenever I approach a child they start bawling, kicking and screaming to get away from me. It's like I have some sort of aura that tells them that I wont take any of their manipulative crap. My mum's co-worker once brought her daughter to the house for me to look after while she and my mum worked downstairs. Now this little girl, with her pigtails and high-pitched voice, and her occasional switching into Spanish should have been all kinds of adorable. It is my belief, however, that this child may be the devil incarnate. She shows up every once in a while and demands to watch Dora, then sits in front of the TV like some sort of cult member, staring back at the unblinking eyes of her leader, the One Great Dora. If I don't turn the TV on for her, she will stare at me, hands balled up into little fists, firmly attached to her hips.

"Chelito.. Put on Dora, por favor."

"No, you've watched too much TV today."

She then will proceed to climb into my lap, or hug around my legs and whisper "I love you." I fell for this the first time, and hugged her back, and then a little voice would whisper in my ear:

"Dora?"

Well, well, well.. it looks like this might be a case of cupboard love. She has no interest in me and chooses to manipulate me into watching Dora with little fake proclamations of Love. Well played, little human, well played. I have since stopped falling for this, and she knows it. So If I say no to Dora, she just looks at me, smirks (which is hilarious as one of her baby teeth has fallen out now, so she looks like a smirking Hobo), and sits in front of the blank TV and begins to sing. She will sing Dora songs, she will sing Hannah Montana songs, High School Musical (which I will readily admit I happen to love), any annoying song that she can think of. As I stand there in disbelief, she will turn towards me and sing and sing, until finally, I break and put on her freaky cult leader for her. I swear, Guantanamo has nothing on this little manipulative girl.

So as you can see, I haven't got the greatest track record with children. I laugh at the supermarket when a child slips and falls. I nearly wet myself when I was at the supermarket with my friends the other day and some kid ran away from his mum and so I yelled out "Little human!" and as he turned to look who was calling for him he walked right into a shopping cart. I have never really had any maternal instinct, and have no experience with looking after children.

I once had to look after three little boys all under the age of 7 who only spoke French. The two older ones had to tell me what to do to look after the baby, and in the end I just got my friend to do it while I chilled downstairs watching Princesse Sissi.

Make no mistake, I get along quite well with kids ages 8 - 11. When I was in Cuba with my family on vacation, I had no friends. So I spent the entire time running around the resort with a gang of 8 - 11 year old boys, wreaking havoc, playing soccer, tennis and teaching them magic tricks. It was delightful in a Neverland sort of way.

So it was with great surprise that I began reading the blog Catwoman in Texas at the direction of my friend.

This woman is a miracle worker.

She writes about the joys, and tribulations, of motherhood with such hilarity and insight that it is impossible to not start wanting a baby too. She doesn't glorify the tantrums and bizarre requests that she receives on a daily basis from her son, but she presents motherhood with grace and humour, and that has really made a huge difference in my understanding of motherhood. Generally I've found that people either glorify it (their child is the brightest, cutest, nicest creature on earth and angels regularly fall out of it's ass.) or create these absolute horror stories. Catwoman (She uses a pseudonym, as do I) manages to mix these genres so well it's impossible not to want a baby too.

So now I want a kid, eventually. I'm still far too young, and I think if I made any mention to wanting a kid Camera Man might flip out and run away. And I only JUST caught him.

Yours,

Blarg.

Well I posted twice on Thursday, so it's only fair that I didn't post at all on Friday. I got called in to work early yesterday as one of the cooks had a family emergency. That was fun, although it was slow as there was a snow storm, so I spent most of the time doing prep work and hanging out with my co-workers. After work we went out drinking..and man. I am a mean drunk. Well, that's not entirely true. I'm just a little mean as my 'ex' (I hesitate to call him that as we only really ever fucked, never a relationship.) was there with some new girl, and I would be lying if I said I didn't feel pangs of jealousy. Anyway, the point of the matter is I called her a fat bitch (not to her face, just loudly). Classy! Whatever, everybody knows they wont last anyway and I am more than happy with my own Camera Man.

I am also feeling pretty hungover right now, even though it's already 2:00.

Don't have much to post about, as I've spent all day just hanging out and trying not to throw up every time I move.

Yours,