I spent a bit of time last week wondering what I did wrong. I easily shook the feeling by reminding myself that I need to live my life for me, and that if people actually cared, they would tell me what I did.

Last year I thought I had reached my wit's end. Little did I know I had so much more to take.

There's nothing here inside of these walls
I feel like I am so far away
Nothing's changed
And I just cant be who I'm supposed to be

I let the past control my life
It brings me to my knees
And I cannot hide
I cannot lie

So many words to say and no one to hear
Why did you go away?
I needed you more today that I ever did
You lied to me

Outside it's cold
It chills to the bone
I wish that I did not have to see

I let the past control my life
It brings me to my knees
And I cannot hide
I cannot lie

So many words to say and no one to hear
Why did you go away?
I needed you more today than I ever did
You lied to me

'Till death do us part...Does that mean I have 3 months to live? Oh, right, lies. (Honestly, I've nothing against him, but I'm hurting. Hopefully this is the fourth stage of grief and acceptance is right around the corner).

I've been asking 'round if you were there
Asking, but I'm always scared
Asking 'cause I want to care again
Come on life
I'm almost ready
Not right
I'm almost ready

I've been wondering if the message sent
Wondering if I made a dent
Wondering what it is you meant again
Come on life
I'm almost ready
Not right
I'm almost ready

Can you see me there?
'cause I'm not sure
See me, 'cause I lost my nerve
See me there, 'cause I feel worse again
Come on life
I'm almost ready
Not right
I'm almost ready

When you find the truth I will attack
Find the truth, I won't go back
Find the truth, I'm way off track again

Come on life
I'm almost ready
Not right
I'm almost ready
I'm almost ready

Last year I was filthy and realizing there are many choices in life.

I'm happy for them. I feel silly, but it's okay. I mean, I didn't really want it anyway. I did. In a way. Just once. But they actually hit it off, so good for them.

Last year I was told the wrong date for the clothing pick-up.

"I'm not even dressed like a whore. That's tomorrow night."

I got to Gus' later than I'd wanted to. Attack Mode were already playing. That upset me. Then I walked inside, and there were so many people, little ones I didn't know, and they were all bumping into me. I didn't feel like being touched. I couldn't do it. I left. I lit a smoke and walked to the LC and back. I had to walk it off. That's when the white vehicle slowed, and the John poked his head out, hoping I would get in. I threw my left hand across my body, showed him the middle finger, dragged on my cigarette and kept walking. He rolled up his window and drove away. I mean, seriously, have you seen the hookers on Agricola Street? If I were one, I'm sure I'd be out of that dude's budget. I wasn't even wearing jogging pants.

Later, the night turned into one of those situations I can't read. "Do you want to go?" "Sure." A few steps down the street I admit "I don't know what's going on." "Well you can't come to my place." I deserved that. Getting me back for last time. By the time he left my place, he had been awake for 21 hours.

"I know girls. We all have irrational types of thoughts, but certain girls run with it."

You are so right. I'm a spazz, but I love it. I mean, I'm stupid, and hasty, and foolish, but I know. Maybe after the fact, but still. Life is fun. I never thought I'd ever really feel that way, but I do.

There are going to be so many adorable boys around tonight. I don't think I can contain myself. Maybe punching air will help.

You don't need a business card to convince me you're not worth a shot. You don't need a kick-ass car. I can't wait to meet that bad little baby. S/he will be born with potential.

Three years ago I quit smoking. HA!

3 months.

All's well that ends well.

I've decided when the press asks, and they will because our relationship status is so important to the music we create, I will tell them it's their fault. I always told them not to promote us as a couples' band.

I just had the weirdest conversation with my dad. I got into my leftover gin'n'juice from Dartmouth and I haven't spoken to him since I was last in Ontario (when KC and I hadn't really told anyone except roommates and bandmates and were still sharing tour beds). I've never spoken to him drunk or at least I've certainly never admitted to him that I was drunk while speaking to him. But, as it came up a few times, I am almost thirty.

Everything I said last year is still true. I tried to express reasons why we broke up and how happy and lucky I was that we got back together (for a couple months). I was also trying to understand something too convoluted for me to bother wasting energy on.

Wow.

You don't love me anymore. I know. I watch my statcounter. But it's your fault. I asked you what you wanted me to write about; why you read. Instead of responding, you stopped reading. That's not supposed to bother me if I do this for myself.

Last year I was crawling up the wall with a string in my ass.

How quickly a satisfying weekend becomes a busy week. I love to tell you about the parties and the boxercise, the vacation in Dartmouth and how I got people to eat raw meat. But I need to leave for work. From there, I go straight to soundcheck--late. The next time I am where I am now, I will be trying to get the best sleep possible before having to get up and go back to work tomorrow. Then, the jam spot with the Hold for the next two nights, and the next thing you know, it's the weekend again. One chock full of commitments and fun.

Last year I was quitting using the withdrawal method.

I wrote this last night at the neighbourhood watering-hole. It was great to sit at a table with good folks and pull out the trusty old notepad. I haven't re-read it. I'm just going to type it and see how it goes:

"No one expects you to be sane right now."

I try really hard to maintain my composure. My leonine dignity. Until I drink. Then I can release. Too much comes out at once and I can't control it, but at least I no longer have to contain it. I digress. So I try. I stay positive; try to keep smiling above all else. I'm okay with things as I understand them. However, the heart and the mind are two different places. Just because I understand and am accepting doesn't mean I don't feel like a chewed up wreck inside. It'll take awhile to emotionally go through certain stages to grow into what the mind already knows. I have to feel to finally really understand.

Why is it that my paycheque always comes on Tuesday except when I actually really need it? So, instead of cashing it, eating out, paying some debts, and hanging with Charles, I'm sitting here moping; trying to get motivated enough to cook some rice and frozen vegetables. Will something please go right for once?

On a brighter note, I'm not as concerned about my recent blackout now. I was worried because it's a scary symptom of something that could be major. A scary symptom I haven't really had as much recently. Sure, I still get way too drunk when I drink, but I had been waking up with most of my memories intact, though maybe a few of them foggy. I was terrified to wake up in my bed having no idea how I got there. It's been awhile since I've lost that much time. I'm not as worried now because I know it's normal to be unable to recall events leading up to and following a head injury, and I certainly had one of those. I do remember things from inside. It gets clouded closer to the fall, comes back for a vivid recollection of the fall itself, and disappears completely until I wake up the next morning. I woke up in the morning feeling I had dreamt that I had a smashed my glasses in half. They were close to destroyed, but I can make due until I can save up for new ones. I've wanted new ones for a long time anyway.

I was drunk and it had been raining. I slipped on the stairs and my raincoat doubled as a crazy carpet. "Are you ok?!" "Are you okay!?" Yeah, I'm fine, let's just go home. We got in the cab.

I didn't realize on Sunday while I was lying around smiling/wincing and whining about the pain in my wrist. I thought the headache was just a normal part of the hangover. But hours past, and I slept so much, and it still hurt. I ate, I had a bunch of water, but still, it hurt (it still does now a bit, but that's probably hunger). Talking with Emily later that night, I reached up to scratch an itch. That is when I discovered the dry, crusty blood in my hair.

Head injuries are not uncommon in my life, I was very young when laughter became my normal reaction, but blood in my hair is rare. Oh well, I wasn't going to go find a doctor then. It was late. I had to get up in the morning for work. I wasn't too worried. I know the cycle. I only worry when things don't progress as they normally do after a bump on the noggin. I found myself having to get up from my desk to go cry yesterday. That's normal too, and add to that my nicotine withdrawal and I still wasn't worried.

"How's your head at work?" KC was concerned because he could tell at practice last night that I was still dazed.

People have told me I should see a doctor, and I would insist a friend gets themselves checked out in a similar situation.

I probably should've. But I know the drill. It's getting better, slowly but surely.

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I can't believe it's been a year already.

I'm tired of being such a burden on everyone.

I'm not sure what I'm going to do about it.

I need to weigh my options first.

In the end, I'll probably do nothing just like in all areas

Like the codependent self-styled nightmare I am.

Last year I fucked up a Husker Du reference.

Some pieces are coming together. My wrist still really hurts, but at least I can move my fingers now with out pain shooting up my arm. My knee is a little skinned with a bruise forming. There is a bruise on my forehead. Obviously, I fell. When I fall, I tend to fall hard.

I don't know where my glasses are. I haven't needed them today, lying on the couch with TV like most Sundays. I hope they're okay. I hope I find them by tomorrow. My job will be very difficult with out them. And it already will be hard to type with this pain.

Some day I won't be a mess. I hope.

Damn it, Crystal. Take care of yourself.

Everything was fine. What happened? Fuck. I have a blackout and a screwed up wrist and a mind full of regret.

I suck.

Three years ago a quiz told me I was This Message Will Self Destruct.

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever God may be,
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance,
I have not cried nor winced aloud,
Under the bludgeoning of chance,
My head is bloody but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how straight the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the captain of my fate,
I am the master of my soul.

William Earnest Henley, 1875

What do you want?

What should I say?

Don't get me wrong, I don't want you to stop reading;

But, why do you?

Shall I cry and moan about all the turmoil that may or may not be in my life?

Would you like me to explain how it's all self-created?

Maybe I should rant about frustrations I have,

Or, I could playfully write about something that makes me smile.

How about I recount my comings and goings of the past weekend?

I know! I'll just hit 'publish post'.

Last year I was in Montreal, hoping too close.

I have no idea what Sabian Symbols are. But the oracle gave me this answer to my question:

SAGITTARIUS 21
A CHILD AND A DOG WEARING BORROWED EYEGLASSES
This pictures a situation of pretending to be something that one isn't. Perhaps someone is pretending to be in control or to be smarter than they are. Sometimes, though, this can work to make a consciousness shift. Eyestrain can occur, especially if you don't want to see what's going on, or prefer a pretend scenario instead of real life.

Emulation often leads to actualization. The rewards sometimes inherent in make-believe.

The Caution: Deliberately fooling others with false impressions. The blind leading the blind.

My finger burns. I put it on a burner. I'm that much of a dummy. I wanted to see if it was working, but when I just hovered my hand over it, I didn't feel any warmth. So I tapped it. I used to do that kind of thing all the time. If you're quick enough, the only thing you get out of it is the excitement. I didn't do it right. The burner was working. I have a tiny blister on my right pinkie. It's okay. I usually like the kind of pain that comes from mild encounters with fire.

I probably have some business to take care of.

Two years ago I was happy about a different visitor.

That fired me up. I feel great now. Hitting things is a fun way to work out. I recently got home from that boxing club on Gottingen Street. You know the one in the middle of the gay village? It was a really great time. I've been looking for something to do to kick my ass into shape. I think I will be there every Saturday afternoon. I liked it that much.

The problem is that now I'm all energized. I want to do something. It's so nice out. But that would break my new rule of not really leaving the house except for work and such. I guess I might go to a party later. Or something.

I'm tired of worrying so much about everything. Whatever. I understand the multitude of reasons and complexities. I understand them, but am sick of them.

Three years ago I remembered my malachite. I'm gonna go see if it's still in that jewellery box. I never would've gotten rid of it.

I love friends. By that I mean that I'm really happy about my socializing this week. I've had some good nights with KC. I've stopped in at Heather's on the way home. Paula's here. Ali's here. Lavender is supposed to be. I miss you, but I understand.

Basically, if you think I love you, I probably do. Maybe not according to your definition of love, but if I care, I care. Even if I'm not 100% sure why.

I'm drinking, but I'm not drunk.

Two years ago I communicated with a band with the same band name as one of mine.