I was going to write a bit about what I did today, but then I got sidetracked by an email saying I was the beneficiary of 2 million so-odd euros (financial program lottery). I can normally spot spam a mile away but this was eerily real, and the clause was even more so. All claimants must be over eighteen to participate. Story of my life (eight months short). I replied; was that sarcasm in my Thanks? It made me think about what I would do with that kind of money& I'd want to do missionary work somewhere in God's half-acre.

So today I was asked to assist fraud by posing as the relative of some dead business mogul in the UK! What next? Will the Raliens come to my door asking me to covert and move into their cult house (beside my old high school)? I hope not; they drive around the neighborhood like they own the place in that tacky blue Cadillac adorned with a UFO. They need Jesus. The two-million-euros guy wrote back and said of course my parents could accept the money for me. Now give us your bank info& I resent him, and his stupid hoax.

I have paint stains on my hands from today. While I'm walking down the hallways and all the other kids are looking at me. She must be an art student. It's the same when I bring my portfolio every Tuesday. It's like owners of portfolios have a club. ...I made friends today with a skeleton in the props room today, and I got a surprise visit going down the escalators as I was going up. It was a pretty good day today... I wish I could write the things I really want to say. Why are my lips so stiff?

I'm having one of my crazy days. My grip on reality is always weak, but sometimes it's really loose. It comes with being an artist and I wouldn't be as interesting otherwise. I start my small group on Friday and I'm nervous because I'm no joiner (especially when it comes to other Christians), but there's something about Rivers Edge that's brought it out in me. Jesus knows I'm no social butterfly. I started birth control today; I hope he understands. I'm not even using it for sex but I still feel with every pill a kitten will die or something.

" While I chopped cucumbers for a salad, Tuesday paced and hummed behind me neglecting the dishes. I turned on the radio to pass the time. That's it! He yelped and turned up the volume. What's it? I chopped. The song, the one I've been humming all day! This is it! It's very pop. I smiled. Shut up. I like it. Pout. I didn't know you liked pop love songs. I teased. Shhh! Pop-pop-poppity-pop. (Pause, the song played) It could be our pop love song. He nestled up behind me, grabbing me around the waist. Sure. I wasn't going to argue. "

Sorry for all the soggy Kleenex I don't know what came over me this morning; maybe it's hormones, but it's usually something more. I started the artist's small group tonight, and I met some nice Christian people from RE. The sister's who lend us their place have the most excellent apartment in the whole world (my dream place). Had a teen-movie moment with a tenant from the building. Ugh. I hate the days when everything seems bigger and scarier than it really is. I miss, and right now it hurts. (And that's probably as honest as I'm going to get)

Woke up sick as a dog today, of the womanly kind. I've doubted birth control, but this is why I'm doing it. I've taken my first pill and no dead kittens yet& I spent the day doing absolutely nothing productive (except my essay outline& Langston Hughes' On The Road... Maybe it was something about the abolition of structuralized religion that attracted me to it) Thanks Giving's tomorrow; I can't believe that we almost went away this year. It wouldn't be the same unless it was our usual gathering of food and friends: the usual sounds and smells, and fine conversation.

Thanks Giving is only so wonderful because it's a time to be with family and friends, and enjoy good food, music and conversation until the late hours. Festivities usually continue into the next day when we break out the leftovers. It's all about the spicy smell of homemade pumpkin pie, the tang of homemade Tzatziki, and the experience of making salmon mousse (which I of course helped make but did not eat myself...) ...There's been talk of dreams recently and I can't help thinking about Friday morning and how upset I was...Maybe all this waiting has finally gotten to me...

"...in reality I don't think, but deep down, I couldn't help feeling like it. Ask Tuesday. He doesn't think so. You don't know that& I persisted. Yes, yes I do. Give an old girl some credit! I think I know when a man is enamored with a woman, thank you very much. Ask him, you'll see. I think Harris is enamored with you& I said slyly, so it was barely audible, but she heard it loud and clear. Come on, out with you, She opened the door, You know what you're problem is? You think too damned much, that's what. "

There was a problem in the kitchen yesterday that kept me from the keyboard, then the Internet vanished. There was a sleepover, girl talk, and Ghost World, which we agree is a remarkably good movie. Twice in twenty-four hours. Today was a study day/ mental health day. Spent it re-watching Ghost World with my (my what you ask me?)& He helped me study for my HOA test and revised my English essay, to make sure it wasn't crazy-talk. Today was one of those unbelievable days when everything's right; clothes fit, skin's good, hair falls pretty, spirits lifted just high enough&

Oh, the horrors of a 7-½ hour break. No French or Humanities (and I even skipped half of my English class too). Tomorrow I will discover if the arbiter-of-all (in this instance, my POA teacher) accepted my monument proposal. I've fallen in love with it sans approval, because it will likely end up web-based public art anyway. Insane studying accomplished for HOA, and since my vacant Friday hasn't been replaced by ugly (numerous) Monday classes a haircut looms ahead. Yearbook signing at BA was today; experienced mixed feelings. Determined to finish Wickett's Remedy if it's the last thing I do.

Nothing feels as good as freshly painted nails, or drowning our sorrows in laughing-tears. The promise of a new haircut, taking a long hot shower, or seeing a special friend. The leaves change color against the overcast sky and I'm content to imagine, create, and enjoy. Nothing's as good as hot tea at sunrise or watching a new episode of Veronica Mars. I hold that tiny bird of hope in my hands like a child, but I'm sure nothing would feel quite as good as the bliss of a world without self-imposed, paranoia-induced censorship...or have I already said too much?

The freshly baked cookies smell of satisfaction. Comptine d'un autre ÃÆ'©tÃÆ'© plays again and again in the background. There's something about Friday nights that feels promising. Tasting the freshly baked cookies disintegrates the discouragement of the seven months that remain. To come so far with so much still ahead... but as the crunchy exterior hits palette, and shiny white teeth and tongue are swarmed by gooey chocolate, forgetfulness absorbs prior complaints. They've dissolved my inhibitions and censorship. A new haircut, the day spent with him, how perfect. The song finishes but I think I'll play it a couple more times.

In need of pet-project: With several months to kill, I'm overcome with the creation desire. I'm almost an adult (although 'almost' seems to take it's time) and a cosmic egg timer's telling me to explode God-ministry all over people. The artist in me craves originality, and Je T'aime Quebec has taken the cake for best Christian art-outreach (however, I am aiming for small-scale). I sit and mull over the Monument project, which the arbiter did (so-so) like, and it occurs to me more and more that my public web art idea could go far if the subject were made god-oriented...

'Ministry' was brought up again at dance practice this morning. We ended up sharing family histories (I still don't know the choreography) but I think it was important nonetheless. The worship leader at RE played Chasing Cars by The Snow Patrol during the service and that made me happy. I like my secular songs used for God things& skipped a pill (by accident) last night, what a hassle, and got a nasty surprise this morning... are my 100 words up yet? &nope. Found my favorite track on the Amelie OST — skipped my way down Decarie&just rented Thank You For Smoking.

Today I: - Woke up at crack of stupid (6:30AM)& - Attended French, Humanities, POA. - (Almost) went to China Town& - Got to the lockers as they hauled my stuff away (I forgot she was coming in today to vacate our joint locker). *Met a trolley-wheeler named Basil. - Babysat wallet-less C whilst she renewed her student ID, etc. - English class cancellation — had to go find a computer lab. *Experienced The Labyrinth - Listened to Amelie OST - Researched term papers - Heroes at 9PM. - Re-watched Veronica Mars season two finale and extra features - Took pill

Today marks ten months. It's incredible how so much time has passed with so much left to go. Time seems to pass even more quickly now, which I'm sure is good, though it feels like we're being robbed of potential time spent ensemble. Midterms are approaching so quickly it's unbelievable. I've taken out loads of library books searching for the perfect topics, especially for HOA because she seems to expect great things. I'm torn between the Sultan Palaces or the Incan Citadels. Watched Mirror Mask this morning instead of Amelie and nothing feels right. Nothing makes the world as delightful.

Joy Kogawa has become one of my most favorite people. I've vowed to read all her historical fictions as soon as I chisel away at my book pile. She speaks with such surety, and quiet passion&it's awe-inspiring; there's immense vitality, depth, and magnitude tethered inside her delicate body. (Her books often touch on the treatment of Japanese Canadians during WWII). I seem to be perpetually trapped in frustration, and constantly disheartened. What a joke that they, societal outcasts, parade around their taboo relationships, proud and elated, while I hide my love, paranoid and scared& &they are such wonderful, inviting people.

He read end-time prophecies to me tonight, his voice steady in my ear, his tongue gently tripping over every couple of words. I imprinted the scene in my mind, his smell in my nostrils, the soft pillow against my cheek, his chest in rise-and-fall motion. I spend my life waiting for moments like that. End-time prophecies before a nightshift: the most beautiful bedtime story. A very teenage soap opera HOA class consumed two lined pages, double sided, of pointless conversation. I take solace in my apocalyptic bedtime stories, and reject the 'he likes, she likes' world of high school angst.

We sat around a chest covered in food and let the Holy Spirit fill the room. We opened our bibles and shared our lives, free to do so; and we laughed. I felt so welcome on the futon covered with blankets. Not weeks ago they were strangers to me, but now we stand together as Christian artists and women of God. After jovial Holy Spirit antic dotes and closing prayers, the beautiful apartment emptied. Reduced to four, I basked in their acceptance of my Anglo-French. They gave credence to my supposed bilingualism...the perfect end to an already perfect day.

You'd never imagine the exhilaration in shredding old documents in a paper-shredder. I must've shredded a zillion papers and each one made me feel powerful. Parents are out at a wedding, sister is at a sleepover, and I've had the house to myself since I got home. We watched Dark City, which was a funny film-noir sci-fi cheese fest in every sense of the word(s). If they don't get home before 11:30PM, I'll put on another movie to sleep, because I hate sleeping alone in this big house. I need real sleep tonight because dance practice comes too early tomorrow.

(Woken out of encroaching sleep, {gasp}&shit&I almost forgot&) Perfidy \PUR-fuh-dee\, noun: The act of violating faith or allegiance; violation of a promise or vow; faithlessness; treachery. Obstreperous /uh b-strep-er-uh s/ adjective: Noisily and stubbornly defiant; also, boisterous. Ostentacious /os-ten-tey-shuh s, -tuh n-/ adjective: 1. Characterized by or given to pretentious or conspicuous show in an attempt to impress others: an ostentatious dresser. 2. Of actions, manner, qualities exhibited, etc.) intended to attract notice: Lady Bountiful's ostentatious charity. Persnickety /per-snik-i-tee/ adjective: 1. Overparticular; fussy. 2. Requiring painstaking care. (All definitions courtesy of Dictionary.com — current time 10:50PM, fifty minutes past my bedtime&)

Warning: Season Two VM Spoilers! Veronica Mars is the most underrated show on television. It truly is one of the best shows... The writing is bitingly smart& the mysteries & keep you guessing until the very end. The second season ends as Veronica, on her graduation day, learns who is responsible for the bus crash. After uncovering the culprit, her life is endangered as she tries to warn those closest to the killer. Keith enlists Veronica's help in his ongoing investigation of Woody, and the seniors celebrate their graduation with a lavish party at the Neptune Grand. (Courtesy of IMDB)

Et.cet.er.a /et-set-er-uh/ Noun, plural — er, as. 1. A number of other things or persons unspecified. 2. Etceteras, extras or sundries. 3. Additional unspecified odds and ends; more of the same; "his report was full of etceteras" adv: continuing in the same way [syn: and so forth, and so on, etc.] (Dictionary.com) Ear.nest Pronunciation: '&r-n&st Function: noun Etymology: Middle English ernest, from Old English eornost; akin to Old High German ernust earnest 1. A serious and intent mental state 2. A considerable or impressive degree or amount (Merriam Webster Online)

No one here to guide you, now you're on your own. Only me beside you, still, you're not alone. No one is alone. Truly. No one is alone. Sometimes people leave you, halfway through the wood. Others may deceive you; you decide what's good. You decide alone, but no one is alone. People make mistakes, holding to their own, thinking they're alone. Witches can be right giants can be good. You decide what's right; you decide what's good. Just remember: someone's on your side, someone else is not. While your seeing your side, maybe you forgot: you are not alone.

We exchanged 'words' this morning. It seems so peculiar that I stress myself over following every rule when everyone else has accepted it already. Why am I ashamed? She says it could always be worse; I reply, yeah but it could be so much better. I cried a bit on the bus out of frustration but then it occurred to me that our 'word' exchange could just work in my favor. Went down to Papineau metro at lunch today to find where I'm supposed to be working this weekend. It's a rough neighborhood; luckily he's picking me up Saturday night.

He came over at 9am. Spent my morning preparing for childcare work tonight. Found out yesterday I'm bound to have fifteen kids, maybe more. Before every gig, every summer session, I convince myself I'm inept with children, no good, destined for failure; uninteresting, weak willed and under prepared. Spent my morning cutting out felt shapes and photocopying Christian coloring sheets. It's only 3 hours tonight though, from 7-10, thank God. Saturday is going to be brutal though. I'm really happy I'm getting the chance to childcare outside of the summer months&this could be something good. &I hope they like me.

Pain /peyn/ —noun 1. Physical suffering or distress, as due to injury, illness, etc. 2. A distressing sensation in a particular part of the body: a back pain. 3. Mental or emotional suffering or torment Trau.ma /trou-muh/ 1. Pathology: a body wounded or shock produced by sudden physical injury, as from violence or accident. 2. Psychiatry: a. an experience that produces psychological injury or pain, b. the psychological injury so caused. Re.lief /ri-leef/ —noun 1. Alleviation or deliverance through the removal of pain, distress, etc. Sal.va.tion /sal-vey-shuh n/ —noun 1. The act of saving or protecting from harm, destruction& (Dictionary.com)

My body is wrecked from childcare work this weekend, and now I have a cold. I might be a hundred bucks richer but my silver lining is out of sight&at least the parents loved me. All the while I felt like a crack job, Why are they entrusting me with their kids? I'm exhausted, but I have to stay up to read this stupid French book, CÃÆ'´te-des-NÃÆ'¨gres, and I'm having le pire experience de ma vie reading it with a head cold. I've spoken so much French this weekend my thoughts are bilingual. This is my first period without pain&

I've been so busy recently that I haven't enjoyed my last week writing these entries. It occurred to me how smart it was not to become a CEGEP 'skipper' as I vamoosed today, nary a care. Sure I missed three classes, but it's the first time this semester. Even though my sinuses are swollen, my head aches, and my throat is all froggy, it felt oddly relieving to squash that (ugly) hyper-responsible part of my self. That part irritates him now and again&it irritates me too. He came to look after me today before his shift. It was indescribably wonderful.

I rarely draw for myself anymore. I'm surrounded with art at school, and at home in homework form; I haven't even kept a sketchbook this year. I spent an hour drawing tonight to remind myself that I love it even when I'm stuck doing color scales, or tonal analysis. I was an artist before college, and I'll be one afterward. (It's practically the end of term already!) He's coming over tomorrow, and I'm going to all him at work to say goodnight&what do you think our chances are of getting off for good behavior? (Mischievous grin) Sadly, slim to none.