This is my page where I spout about life in general as I see it. This is going to be neat. The only other things I have on my site are poems and a few measly stories, and no angry complain-to-the-world type rants!!! Well, you do need rants. So now you get to read a page or more of my complaints about totally irrelevant stuff.

04/25/01

My sister and I were walking last Wednesday and we were intercepted by a young insane man who lives on the main road. I knew him from when we did a car wash to raise money for cancer research, and he walked by on the other side of the road and informed our eighth grade class that there was never going to be a cure for cancer and we should just give up now. I had also seen him at the library screaming at the poor librarians for one reason or another. He was tall, young, in his twenties, with blond curly hair and an innocent, handsome face, but my mother and I knew that he was mentally unstable and would never make eye contact if we saw him walking down the road. So approximately two years after the car wash incident I see him again. I whispered to my sister "Don't look at him and don't say anything." He was listening to his walkman. As soon as he saw us he began to shout "WHORES! SLUTS!" in a hoarse voice. When he got nearer, he shouted "You two are sluts!" Then he said "I'm sorry. I'm just angry," and went on his way. I glanced at my poor sister who trodded wordlessly beside me, shoulders slumped and eyes on the sidewalk.
We didn't end up telling my parents about the guy until a few days ago, when my mother informed us that, once again, we would have to walk home from our Leaders In Training course because they were too lazy to drive us. I told her that I didn't want to because we were harrassed last time and were afraid of running into him again. In truth, I really didn't care about the guy but I didn't like the idea of walking for twenty minutes just because my parents couldn't be bothered to tear their eyes away from Judge Judy for five minutes. My sister chimed in as well, but I think she really was afraid of him. My mother shrugged; she was watching Oprah, and you know how important that is. My father, however, was livid. They got into a fight about our safety, my mom saying that he was crazy and walked around all the time and never hurt anyone as far as she knew, and my dad raging about our personal safety and rights etc etc. It was amusing. It resulted in my dad picking us up from today's LIT session, driving very very slowly down Ontario St and making us point out his house. It is a big house but it's sprawling in it's lot and falling apart all over the place. There were four cars in the driveway and a dumpster on the front lawn. The shrubbery was overgrown. My dad regarded the establishment with a skeptical eye and grunted "Is that a rest home or something?" Neither of us knew but we urged him to keep driving. I wanted to make an important phone call and I suppose my sister wanted to eat something. The whole time my dad was talking about how he was going to go to the police and how lunatics shouldn't be allowed to wander around our town unsupervised. Anyways, I'm sure I'll see the guy again, and of course I'll tell my dad right away. It should be interesting to see what goes down.

04/26/01
Today's Lesson: People need to have bricks thrown at them.
There is a really interesting girl at my school named Megan. Megan is an artist and a lyricist. She told me what kind of music she likes once, but I can't remember. Anyway Megan hates humans. When I discovered this I was a little concerned; after all, she is a human. I wondered if I should ask her what made her come to this conclusion, but thought better of it, because being that I'm a human she might hate me too.
One day on our lunch Megan, this other chick named Tahani and I were lounging about in the bathroom surrounded by grade nines, Tahani fixing her hair, me tucking in my shirt and Megan doing her impression of a lump. The grade nines were conversing and being raucous and generally annoying, and I wished I had a brick, because I hate grade nines. Especially female ones. I suppose Megan echos my sentiment because she leaned over and rasped, "I want to get out of here. There are too many humans." Tahani scrunched her hair, ran her fingers through it and asked her how she could hate humans if she was a human. This prompted Megan to explain that there were two different types of beings: humans and people. Apparently humans were the scum of the Earth. "It was even said in the Bible that God made us from scum," she told us with obvious glee. "Humans annoy me and I hate them."
"So... then... what are people?" asked Tahani.
"The opposite," said Megan.
Tahani was confused. So was I. However I chose not to comment on it.
I can recall another such incident of Megan's genius when the three of us were wandering around the school grounds sometime during the winter and out of nowhere at all Megan turned to me and asked "Aly, would you ever blow up the sun?"
"Well no, I can't say I would. Being as we need it to, you know, live," I replied.
"I think I'll invent a machine and blow up the sun. Wouldn't that be cool? Eternal darkness. It would be night all the time and it'd be really really dark. It would rain all the time. And then I would take the sun pieces and build myself a sun house so only I would have shelter from the rain. It would be warm in there coz it'd be made of the sun."
"I think we would die," I said.
"Haha, okay then, eternal death. But I'd still be alive."
We walked a short ways in silence, contemplating a world without light or warmth. Well, at least Megan and I were. I'm not sure Tahani really understood what we were talking about or wanted to. We stopped when we reached the other end of the school (which was about a ten second walk) and Tahani and I perched on the rail of the bridge while Megan draped herself on the stairs. The sun was pretty bright then. I remember thinking that her pretty, pale face would burn in no time.
I suppose we got to talking about boys or something, which is always a fun thing to discuss when you're a teenage girl. Tahani was gushing about a guy named Johnny that she met a few months before at a wedding. She was totally in love with him, even though they only met once. Not to mention he is six years older than her and lives in California, and is now legally related to her in some way (being that the wedding they both attended was that of her cousin to his uncle). She explained all of this and finsihed with "I hope I marry him."
"Jesus Christ, he's like twentysomething, Tahani!" I said.
She was embarrassed. It made her stop talking.
A few minutes later Megan opened one eye and said "Aly."
"Yeah?" I said. By then I had wandered over and sat on the grass by the steps.
"What's the name of that smell... the smell that the air has when it rains?"
"Uh... the smell of rain, I suppose."
"Ah." She closed her eyes again. "I think I'll write a song about the smell of rain... no wait, I'll do a painting. A painting of the smell of rain. God, I wish I could smell it right now. Rain, rain, rain..."
There was really no point in telling you about past experiences with Megan. She's a neat chick though. She's the only girl I know who actually sells her artwork. What was the point of me writing anything at all? I don't know. Anyways. Tahani needs a brick thrown at her. Or possibly one of those yogurt tubes. She's too frivolous and vapid to get away with not being yogurted.

04/29/01

Let me tell you. Time is precious. I'm sure you've heard it before, but it's true. You don't really appreciate it until you have a lack of it. Let me elaborate, and take this opportunity to tell you that yes there WILL be throwing of bricks involved in this ephemera.
I was over at Adam's house, and we were... well hanging out I suppose. His mother was going to drive me home, which meant that I would have had at least another 50 minutes with him, but NO! My dad decided for no reason at all to make the trip out and get me. I suppose I could have just ignored it. After all, to follow some popular philosophy my sister uses, "If it won't matter in a year, forget it". I could have said "Fuck this, it's not as if I'll never see him again." But it was bad, because for some reason I almost started to cry when I went to leave, which wouldn't have been good considering I hate to cry. Then my dad made some remark about 30 minutes counting for a lot when you're in love. Bah! Parents. But it's true. Thinking back I realize that there are a lot of times when, not just with Adam but with certain relatives, I could have been trying to get along and making the most of the short time we have instead of being.. well, me, and now I regret it because I just don't have that time anymore. I want it back and I can't have it. So I'm telling you now, if there is someone that you love and spend a lot of time with, don't take it for granted that you see them every day. One day you might not see them at all.

Oh, and, todays brick goes out to my mom for telling my dad to go pick me up in the first place, and then being all bitchy when I told her that she shouldn't have, and for hating carbohydrates.

04/30/01

Here I am in TAG. Tag is the gayest thing ever. Last year it was good because we just had it with our religion teachers. Mine was always right after religion and plus, my teacher was Mr Boltz. Now if you went to my school, you'd know that Mr Boltz is (in)famous for his "sex talks". When he was in the proper mood you could have asked him any kind of sex question.
"Mr Boltz, do guys masturbate after they are married?"
"Mr Boltz, can you get pregnant having sex in a pool?"
"Mr Boltz what is sodomy/a rimjob/fisting?"
Yes, Mr Boltz was a card. And I had the misfortune to be in the horniest religion class of my grade. But see, Mr Boltz was a kind man at heart. He gave marks at random to whoever he thought most deserved them for the amount of effort produced, even if their work was totally fucked up and wrong. He let us have snowball fights in our portable. When we found out that he was fired halfway through the semester for having no control over his students, we were all saddened greatly. Especially when Ms Rossi, ie The Hairy Feminist, took his job. I think that the Niagara Catholic District School Board should get a nice healthy brick, because they took away one of the only useful teachers in the school.
Even if they didn't like him in Religion, they could have put him in Sex Ed.

Later, same day...
Arrrgh! The writing in this section should be all multicoloured... and the whistling reaper on the home page should be centered... and there should be background music. MRAAHAHGSJHGSKJGKA!!!! Pain in the ass! Why doesn't html work??? Am I simply too stupid to get the goddamn code right? Bah. No matter. When I get home I shall beat my schoolbag for breaking on me today and it will all be better. Cheap piece of crap... you know you can't have a bag if both the goddamn straps are broken.

05/03/01
Okay well I haven't updated and complained at all, not nearly as much as I should have. And I only have ten minutes. So here we go, today's list of bricks:
-My mother and sister, for taking so goddamn long to find some goddamn shoes. Maybe it's the female in them that annoys me. Women. Bah!
-Neopets. They suck. I had a neopet once. It died.
-Myself.
-Time, for leaving me so damned quickly.
-FUCKING STRANGEMINDS.COM for deciding to not be on the internet anymore, therefore making it impossible for me to retrieve my story "Stretch" that I was about to attempt to put up today. And I can't find my other copy.
That is all. Good Day.

05/07/01
Bah. If any bricks need throwing, it's at me, for being so smart and eating pizza and strawberries (not together) and then going and rolling down a hill multiple times. Also for laughing at the other girl who was rolling with me because she hit a stump.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

No, I feel bad. It must have hurt. I'm chuckling as I'm typing this. Yes, chuckling, because giggling is undignified and juvenile. So yeah, I get the brick, for making myself noxious and then being immature.

OOOh Science Olympics! Friggin Tahani forced me to be in her group, along with my grade 9 friend Francis (the only non-gay grade nine, but sometimes I wonder). Gaddamn. How unappreciative was she when I took ten minutes out of my life to drive her home, when she could have easily got a ride with her friggin next door neighbor who was with us? You notice how I say "friggin" a LOT in connection with her? She aggravates me. But oh boy do I try. Hold me back! I try to be nice, but with her it is a feat of extreme willpower. I am surprised I haven't gone and smacked her upside the head. Tahani doesn't get a brick, because I suppose she thinks she's being civil...
Bah.

05/08/01
Oh. Science olympics today. Me, Tahani and Francis were in a group and our objective was to use the materials given to build a contraption that would extinguish a candle. Hah. Sign me up for the "Special Olympics" because we were the only group that didn't extinguish it.
Today's brick goes out to Tahani for complaining that we didn't win (she wanted the dolphin prize). Jesus Christ. Go friggin buy one.
It also goes out to disgruntled librarians who always wanna know what I'm typing!

05/09/01
This is what I think. Don't waste your money on something your kids are going to be miserable in, and then complain that it is their hard earned cash they used to pay, when you obviously knew your kids were going to hate it if they even told you as much. I don't want to be a leader. I don't want to be a lifeguard or a cousellor or a babysitter or a responsible human being. I have also used this logic on them before when they bought me hearing aids. Oh yes. I explained "I am never ever going to use these. I can hear. My loss is not serious enough so that I'll be in any danger, it merely inhibits telephone conversations. If you really want to spend $4000 on friggin pieces of plastic that I will probably lose anyway it is YOUR CHOICE and YOUR MONEY! They will end up in the back corner of my sock drawer." Maybe not in so many words but you get the idea. So, guess what. They spent the $4000. If I had a sock drawer they'd be in it. So parents, stop complaining! Your children will only resent you... bah. Who wants to have kids nowadays anyway?

05/11/01
One of these days when I obtain a scanner/webcam/digital camera I will post a picture of both Cathryn Neves and my sister, then merge them into one freakish being.

June 4/01
Today I wanted to physically injure Jason Pilon, the kid on the comp beside me. When I sat down he said, "Go away, you're ugly." He's a wanna-be skid who looks like a cross between one of those starving Ethiopian kids on TV and a goat. Fucker.

June 6/01
Speaking of Jason the Goat-Boy. My friend Sally punched him in the face for calling her a crackwhore... and the kid is proud of himself! He's all like "Yeah well she IS a crackwhore, so..." Ugh. He's one of those kids who think that they can be little anarchists and just break what ever rules they feel like, and detest their teachers for making them do work.
Tell me, kids, just how do you expect to pass?
My class is full of these. I don't understand how some of them even have jobs or anything, because they are the stupidest and laziest people I've ever not wanted to meet. Our substitute teacher, poor Mr Landry (just a young kid, it sounds like he hasn't taught anywhere yet) has to yell at this kid Joe repeatedly just so he'll open his books.
Seriously, how can you justify being an asshole in the classroom? "Oh yeah, Mr Bob is such a dick, he won't even let us interrupt his conversations or give him a headache"? "Mrs Brown's a bitch, I can't believe she's trying to do her job, how dare she ruin my interesting and important conversations"? Why do these kids think being rude is funny?
Mr Landry just came over and asked me what "recidivism" means. After I told him, he asked what I was doing. I explained the theme of the site and he inquired as to what I was working on now... to which I replied, "A rant. I hate this class and the people in it." Not even taken aback, he asked, "Are you usually in academic courses?" To my affirmative answer he said, "I figured so. You seem rather particular about your peers, from what you just said." He got it. I am going to make it a point not to associate with anyone stupid, hypocritical, or deliberately rude. Unless, of course, I am forced to go to a family function... Somebody get me a brick.
Oh yes. Well. What a weekend this will be.

Sept 26/01
I seriously wonder if any of the assholes of today are going to grow up and look back and think, "Yeah, I really should have done some work in school or possibly at my job. Maybe then I wouldnt be homeless with syphilis rotting me from the inside out and eating my face." I wonder if they feel bad about all the times they lied in order to ruin a reputation, put someone down, or just generally been an ass. "Gee, maybe if I hadn't cheated on Bill Gates from English class with 5764 other guys, he'd have married me and I'd be rich instead of married to that farmer from Peru that I accidentally married when I was drunk." Or, "Gee, maybe if I had been nice, someone would actually talk to me." I wonder if they remember all the people they've ever kissed, all the people they've fucked, all the hearts they've broken. Why doesn't anyone realize that you get what you give?

Oct 8/01
So. It's assumed, from the moment one is born, that they are straight. This is not the case sometimes. But one cannot expect a five year old, a ten year old, or even a fifteen year old to come to terms with homo- or bisexuality. It is not easy; on the contrary, at least for me, it was HARD. Think: when you are taught for you entire life that something is so, but then you come to the realization that in your own personal case it isn't, you are going to feel somewhat odd. And even more so, when you decide to divulge your situation to others, and they reject you, how are you supposed to deal? Why do people assume that because someone has a slight difference in one area, it makes them any different in others? And another thing: how is two girls more acceptable than two guys? That is biased because of the male-dominance trend in today's society, in that guys find girl+girl relations attractive and arousing, so it become more accepted that guy+guy (and I don't believe the idea of two guys together is any different). In MY ideal world everyone would be bisexual... there's a lot more love that way :) Well either way. I'm glad there are still certain people out there who can be accepting, no matter how weird they feel about it at first, of their friends, family members or partners preference. And this brick goes out to those who aren't... because in the end, I was still the same girl all along.

Oct 10/01
Why am I so sad? I have every single reason to be happy but I'm not. I never am. It's like someone ripped out my heart and shoved it down my throat, and it's giving me indigestion. I guess once you're there, you're not leaving, no matter how you try to disillusion yourself that you are at peace. And where is "there"? I wish I knew... then maybe I could get out.
Some people will not change... I will never change.

Oct 14/01 (12:21 am)
My Thoughts on Professional Hoboing
What is wrong with being a hobo, you say? Well, yes, it IS taking advantage of people's kindness. But is that any different from the citizens who take advantage of welfare? You could argue that there is no honour in it. Obviously, by looking at today's society, honour isn't even a question anymore. I read an article in the Standard on a man who collected disability payments because of his blindness, but was a hobo on the side. He made anywhere from $20-$100 a day. (Apparently, the article first appeared in the Ottawa Citizen, after which the government nailed him for not declaring this extra income on his tax return. This made me laugh. Not in a happy way; in a spiteful, angry way.) This made me think: what if I were to be a hobo when I grew up? I have the temperament, education, and cardboard box required for it. I had plans to be a journalist and/or novelist, until my father began to force me to take completely useless courses such as chemistry and physics. WHEN am I EVER going to need them? When I am calculating the angles of my Dorito? When I want to determine the Ph of my toilet water? I think not. Anyway, since I'm not taking any subjects relevant to my chosen profession, hoboing would be the way to go. I could live in my dwelling with my husband (who, in an ideal world would completely support me, but in reality I would tell I had a different job) and go sit out with my hat and look drunk and mumble to people. Then by night I could be a Backstreet Boy. Yeeeeah... right.
Michelle Arsenault once told me about a man who was a hobo and whose wife kicked him out because of his crappy job, so he lived on her lawn in his box. One day she got so fed up that she ran outside and tore up the box. This man was later seen on some Jerry Springer wanna-be show shouting, "Do you know how HARD it is to find a good box???" Hoboing isn't as easy as it sounds. You must have the patience to sit for a good 12 hours in all kinds of weather with a lot of unpleasant other people. You must be able to perfect your grunt: it must be sullen, yet pleading. You must have the proper attire. And finally, you must have your box.
Then again, I have to look at the big picture. What will my boyfriend think when I tell him what my life plans are? (His are nothing right now, but when he gets some I'm quite sure it won't be a hobo.) Will my parents be proud that I've amounted to more than my brothers and sister (which I certainly will do, but I want to show them up by a LOT.) In twenty five years, on Take Your Kids To Work Day, is my son going to come sit out with me with his cap in his hands, chatting it up with the other hobos, wanderers and stragglers? I think I should get a new idea. Hey, well, there's always psychology...