french erotica and anxiety

That’s it chicklets! The deed is done! 3rd year is at its bitter end. The universe rises up in hushed sarcastic applause. I have thrown another 7 grand at a mass corporation mainly involved with mind-rot and ambition-stifling. Oh, it’s university all-right.

Speaking of important things like higher education, who saw the vengeful return of 90210 this week? Me?

She looks like she can bite your face off.

Oh, JUST me. Well, DANG girl, I didn’t know Adrianna had it in her! Ok, that’s a lie. That girl is a psychopath and I knew it from the very beginning – why? Why, because I have a keen and practised eye for the seeking-out of crazies. I attract them like fruit flies to vinegar.

Look at that stare! That is not a happy camper.

Anywhoozers, now that I’m more or less “free” to rot my teeth, puke out all my alcohol-inhibitors and party like it’s 1999 (and let’s be honest, with my recent Dawson’s Creek obsession, partying in 1999 seems pretty. fucking. cool.) – I’m just.. reading? Madame Bovary, to be precise. I realize this puts me somewhere between “Wow. You’re retarded.” and “Complete Social Outcast” but I kind of like this middle ground that I’m inhabiting. It’s weird and comforting and I barely even have to interact with real people anymore, what with my tv shows and my books. My macbook Sebastian is all I need. (Sadly, Seb, this naming was not a coincidence, not just so I could cuddle up to your name as I fall asleep.)

But, I mean, if you feel the strong desire to read old literature at the end of a gruelling year of reading old literature, why not read old French erotica? That was my reasoning, at least. And the fact that I’ve picked up (and put down) this book at least 7 times in the past 4 years because I am a lazy, irresponsible reader and I should not be lucky enough to be blessed with so many wonderful books when all I do is forget about them, then their plots, then reading in general, as I slowly dissolve into a sloth orbiting my kitchen and my bathroom, in turn.

“Eat, then sleep. Wake up, then eat.” – Russian Proverb

FUN FACT: What I’m mainly focused on every moment of my waking life is planning it out in as much detail as possible.

Now, this tends to make me quite anxious when things like MY TWENTY-FIRST BIRTHDAY creep up, and thus leads to nervousness and over-thinking and messaging everyone in the “event,” oh… 17 times to make sure they’re all “really” coming – no, REALLY coming – not like

“Oh, I’m coming but I might bitch out at the last-minute so the people at the restaurant will look down on you all sad and pitying because the promised amount of guests didn’t show up and you are a big fat loser who doesn’t even know how to make friends and oh shit they’re also angry because they could have given that table to somebody else and made money instead of standing there with that pitying look on their face.”

That happens, you know. But it never used to, before Facebook. See, it’s all a matter of leading problems back to their source. In the modern world I’ve found that Facebook is basically the cause of all problems.

• Unemployment? Facebook is too distracting.
• Bad grades? Farmville (on Facebook) is too distracting.
• Acne? Playing Farmville on Facebook is too addictive, thus leading you to stay at your computer and forget to shower for 3 days, ergo causing pimples.
• Relationship problems? Your status on Facebook.
• The meaning of life? Facebook has the answer but won’t give it to you unless you win Farmville. (How do you win Farmville? POINT = MADE.)

Anyway, the point is here – and everywhere – that I woke up at 6 a.m. this morning and my sister is currently celebrating the fact that she has a cast on her arm. Well congratu-fucking-lations, kid. You broke your fucking arm. A+ to you.

Tomorrow: adventures in trying to look for jobs whilst still being committed to several hundred morally right and soulfully healthy responsibilities.

Stay tuned!

A.

the hum of heating

I don’t know if this is a good development or not, but since the new year I have been sleeping a lot less.  Part of it is unfinished business – exams, unread books, articles – but some of it is just hooking up to the world again.  For the general part of my winter vacation I disconnected with the world and forgot all the ties that kept me there.

It was fabulous.

So fabulous.

I’ve dreamed up of a million things (of course, with my commitment and attention span, I have none of them written down) and thought of a thousand places to go.  It turns out that I need to stay here for a while before I can think of going somewhere else.  That’s kind of a bummer, but getting back into things (“hooking up” as I said earlier) has been a dual process of self-pity and excitement.  Yes, there’s a lot of work in front of me, but do I love it? Yes. Do I yearn to do it every day? Yes. (Okay, not every day).

I love being at York’s campus in the build of winter. I love the crispness of the air and the malleability of the weather – the quick turns it makes from blindingly sunny to softening snowfall.  This keeps me so occupied mentally that I find it hard to settle down and do something worthwhile.  Huckleberry Finn, of course, is worthwhile.  It’s fantastic, really.  But I just don’t feel as though I currently have enough patience to sit myself through another 140 pages of it.

Unescapably, I will and I must, if only to save myself from certain guilt and remorse come exam time.

This summer’s plans (still in the drafting stages in my head) are quickly evolving from international escapades to bogged down school work and work overall.  Thinking about quitting the money work (at the bar) is tempting, but I feel like it would be pushing back against the current that’s sweeping me abroad.  I need money for travel, after all.

I’ve decided to do the TESOL/TESL certificate along with my Specialized Honours of English and Professional Writing – an extra 30 credits ($3000) with which I gain the freedom and the bare necessity to qualify for a teaching job overseas.  I’ve been looking around, and the market for ESL teachers in Canada isn’t bad either, although, who would expect it to be, it being the land of the immigrant as it is.

I guess I should learn Mandarin, or something along those lines.

I just want to stay in school for a long time, although I often nag my boyfriend about the complete opposite.  We’re different creatures, him and I, though – creatures that are built for different goals and meant to come to them through different means.  I try to understand that as much as possible, but it’s difficult when you expect everyone to mirror yourself (that’s the narcissism speaking), or at least understand the main judgements you make in your life.

Editing as a side job without pay makes you really want to write everything perfect the first time, so you don’t have to spend any more time thinking about your phrasing then you could possibly have to.  It makes me want to write like I talk when I get excited about something – cutting myself off in mid-sentence to mention something important and accidentally segueing [sp?] into another equally exciting but similarly incomprehensible (due to the interruptions) point.  You know?

Anyway, I guess you need to put in a fair bit of work to earn a degree, even though everyone says it’s so easy.  I won’t be satisfied barely passing.  I need to be trying for it.  I need to earn it, not just with my money, but with my brain.

I see now that it’s already crudely late (not comparing the past couple of 3-4 am nights, but according to the non-existant sleep schedule that I should be keeping) and I have a tedious class tomorrow morning.  I haven’t gone to this class for more than half of last semester and I’m still doing well.  The man is a holy idiot. I swear to all those administrative masters that are sucking money from my wallet over at York.

Alas. (I really like this word).

In February, hopefully, I’ll absence myself to Moskva for 2 weeks – disconnecting and hooking back up to the world in a mere 14 days.  I’m done trying to fit into the world’s schedule though; that is, without a doubt, one thing my boyfriend has right.  You have to make time to life your own life.  Yes, it’s inconvenient at work and I will probably have assignments due the week I am away and the editing will need to be spread out – but you know what? I’m 20 (for now) and I miss my grandparents and after all, it’s a matter of legal status, so it’s almost important in a way, too!

I’m making time for myself this year.

Love the quiet non-multitude of you that come by.  Need to write more, as always.  But the wires are hard to come by once you’re disconnected, and the freedom that being “wireless” allows is poisonous in the extreme.

Maybe it was meant to be, c’est la vie!

-Arina

Hello from April 14th, 2010

Well, it’s that time again, isn’t it?  The end of contractions, underlined and/or italicized book names and books in the dark crevices under your bed, collecting dust and guilt like snowflakes from your soul.  Well, not the book part, but definitely no more underlining. I hate that stuff. Looks like someone’s trying to very ostentatiously make you look important.  Look, I am important.

I have finished my last essay of 2nd year! And I only have one more exam to go until the absolute end of my 2nd year of university.  I guess I lied about italics.  I really like italicizing everything. I also really like the end of a school year. My grandfather thinks I should call school, “university”… he gets confused about my age when I call it school.  Speaking of age: 10 days till 20!

While I’m not absolutely positive about my grade in my “natural science” course, stupidly named “Understanding Colour,”  I am happy that I’m done, and that I really, really hopefully passed.  Really x 20.

I mean, I spent all day (12-8) studying yesterday, and yet when  I looked at some of the questions today I wondered whether I was even studying the right subject (turns out, I was).  The way I study tends to be pretty generalized though, especially if I’ve left it to such a late date as the day before the exam.  My problem was that I didn’t know some of the specifics of the theories.  But whatever, who cares how calico cats get their colour, or how the eyes of cephalopods work? Nobody. That’s who.  They just put that shit on there so that you feel like you’re a walking interpretation of the Discovery Channel.  Will it help you get a job? No, and more importantly, will it help me get a job? Absolutely not.  Definitely not in the restaurant biz, anyway.

It’s too bad I didn’t apply to camp this year, maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad to do half day camp along with a few nights per week serving.  But, on the other hand maybe I should appreciate the space and sky I might accumulate this summer.  It will be nice to have time to myself.  Maybe I will get acquainted with my birthday present (I am so excited for it!) (“it” being Canon Rebel xsi), and just.. for one of the last times in my young life have a relatively relaxed summer.

It’s nice that I can afford to do that, since I know many others pretty much have to take up any full-time job they get offered.  But I’m also doing a bit of writing in the summer, getting some credentials and all, so that will be helpful.  And not a complete waste of warm weather, beautiful sunshine, relaxation and happiness.

However, as I have to wait a good long 2 and a half more hours for my club meeting to begin,I’m going to go and get myself a tea and divest some time to writing, which I haven’t done in OMGso long.  Yes. That is what I’m going to do. And I am going to love it.  As will you, masses who have suffered from my inability to post poetry or anything creative lately because I’ve been completely brain-dead. As will you.

Carry on with your fantastic Wednesdays!

-Arina

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party in the u.s.- BLEEEEEEEEHHHHHH

Sorry, I couldn’t finish that sentence, because my EARS WOULD BLEED.  Usually, I am pretty passive about teen/child pop phenomenons, in that kind of “I hope you get gonorrhoea sooner rather than later” way.  This song, though?  This girl? Holy crap, the girl is like a mass-produced piece of self-image wreckage for girls all over the U.S. and anyone the world over owning radio OR tv sets.

She tries to make patriotism look sexy! Did you notice (unless you are BLIND) that giant, sexy unrolling of the United States flag behind her as she was “nodding her head like, yeah” and “moving her hips like, yeah”.  Apart from the fact that you can’t really compare anything to the word yeah unless it is the word yes, and therefore about 2/3 of her lyrics don’t make sense (too bad it’s even worse because it is highly susceptible that she even WROTE her own SONGS – whhaaaat?!), she is also one of the latest manoeuvres of the government to brainwash children into not questioning via Miley Cyrus.  While, yes, I admit, that sounds a little bit harsh it is also probably true.

Okay, but I didn’t come here to talk about government conspiracies.  I was doing my daily Reader intake when I saw LiLu’s post and the video she was sent of the song mock-up by some guys on the beach.  This mock-up is MAD funny – my favourite part is when they move their hips (like yeah).  And while I do NOT enjoy spreading this god-awful song I think it’s important to make fun of things I hate in order that I feel I’m doing something to express my anger in a kind of….. productive way.  Less malevolent.

So here’s that video…

And we’re going to ignore the fact that I watched the original to see what parts they took from it.  I’d say they generally got the right feel down but from this moment on am cleansing my brain of anything that I saw within the last half hour.

However, that is already too much pain for my morning.  Yesterday was Russian Orthodox Christmas and my family had all of our family friends over.  It was a drink-fest (I think we had 3 bottles of wine, champagne, rum, cognac, vodka, and something else?)  but we’re allowed to do that on Christmas.  Also, the food was incredibly tasty and lamb is slowly becoming my favourite meat EVER.  My sister and I got some cool gifts, including but not limited to a legit copy of The Sims 3 and the expansion pack for World Adventures.  Now, I’m not a geek or anything – but THAT GAME is so FREAKING WICKED.  Seriously.  Mummies, martial arts and tombs.  It is a cool cool cooler than ever expansion pack for any version of sims ever.  I am not exaggerating.

Another thing that’s been going on lately is that my boyfriend is kind of in dire need of a surgery that the Canadian Health system is not prepared to perform ASAP.  Literally, what they told him at the hospital is “It’s serious, but we can’t do it here”.  Good FREAKING job, Canada.  Maybe I’ll evade my taxes this year.  I mean, I won’t, but the idea is good revenge dream sort of stuff.  Seriously though – hospitals have a way of disappointing those that live here, but this is just ridiculous – he needs surgery or else paralysis is possible.  Seriously possible, and that’s not a big enough matter for them to operate immediately?  Fuck that.  Seriously.  Readers, give me your hospital horror stories so I’ll feel better about this….. Please?

I have faith things will work out though, because I feel that if I lose that all will go to shit.

I’m reading Wuthering Heights today and doing some science homework.  I kind of love having only 2 days of school per week.  Not gonna lie.

Ciao. Arina.