You keep twisting the truth.

...to be with someone only to not be alone is just not right..

I'm not with you.
& I'm still alone.

There is no consolation here.

Let's get a bottle and drink alone tonight.

I don't feel like
pretending to be your
muse tonight.

Sweetness never suits me.

Today was a completely random day. I woke up with my right high-nostril embedded in my face; in the time that it took me to shower, my face had completely swallowed it. So I skipped work at the liquor store to run to Strange City to get a longer post inserted, to ice my face and exceed the recommended daily dose of anti-inflammatorys. The manager called and left a voice mail, saying to call him back. Which generally is a good idea, unless your manager is the type of person to spend hours on the phone. *sigh* So I didn't get a hold of him at all. I might be fired? It's not much of a loss.


I did some baked some vegan brownies today. I'm giving some in thanks to a classmate since she's lending me a few notes that I had missed, and some to a girl from work since I keep forgetting to bring her my pamphlet from the Health Fair. I'll probably end up bring some for the SafeWalk crew on Wednesday too.

Here's the recipe if anyone is interested:

- 1 1/2 cups natural applesauce
- 1 1/2 cups sugar (or alternative dry sweetener)
- 1 tbsp vanilla
- 1 cup cocoa powder
- 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
- 1 tbsp baking powder
- 1/2 tsp baking soda
- 1/2 tsp salt

Preheat oven to 350 C. Lightly oil a 9 by 13 inch baking pan.
Combine first 3 ingredients in a large mixing bowl. Set aside.
Combine remaining batter ingredients in a medium-size mixing bowl. Stir into applesauce mixture until batter is thick and moist.
Spoon batter into pan. Bake until a toothpick inserted in center comes out clean, about 40 minutes. Set aside to cool.

What I am to you is not what you mean to me.

These pictures are for a girl in Sweden, for an art exhibition. I crave to be a part of something bigger than myself always. And if I can't create art, I might as well try to be a part of it. I almost don't even care how I feel about these pictures, because they captured who I was for those few seconds. And then life changed in a few more seconds anyways.

I was going to clean my bathroom, but I painted my nails a dark red wine instead. For some reason, I always feel a little more creative with painted nails. It's strange. Once I use up these last few bottles, I doubt I'll buy nail polish again... but it's a tempting thought. There's a certain je ne sais pas about it all.

I spent a few hours in Two Hills today, visiting my parents. I fell asleep on the couch for two hours, while my dad watched television, my mom and brother played crib in the next room. I was dreaming in French...

I feel it all.

Sometimes, we're all lucky enough to find the people we 'click' with. The friends that bring out our confidence and strength, the individuals that compliment our personalities.

Sometimes, we're lucky enough to find a distraction. That kind of distraction cares enough to hesitate; the type that leaves bite marks upon porcelain skin.

We breathe the same rhythm.
And my body remembers itself.

There's a hole in your voice and you say it's a choice, but I don't understand.

If the book is closed,
do you try to forget
the story inside?

I'm feeling like an after thought.

I should have written about this weeks ago...

At the beginning of Reading Week, I went back to Two Hills for a few days to visit my parents. Normally, Two Hills and my parents aren't the greatest things, but for once, it was absolutely awesome. I was laughing with my mom the moment she picked me up (I told her all about my Vagina Day and how for once, a boy walked me home - in which she replied with "Great, now if he wants to stalk you, he knows where you live!") and the laughs definitely didn't stop.

On Family Day, my mother and I celebrated by playing Sequence. I photo documented it, and told her I was going to blog about it (she doesn't know what 'blog' means).

It starts...

My Mom is a very serious player...

As for her daughter... not so much:


Which is probably why my Mom won...


This is her stoked I-just-kicked-Ashley's-ass face:


And this is my poor-loser face (according to my Mom, I look like I'm 6yrs old in this picture)


My Mom and I then decided to interrupt my Dad's TV watching to take a family portrait... these were the best two out of three:

I love my parents. I'm so grateful that I'm able to appreciate and enjoy their company as individuals. They are the quirkiest, most hilarious and adorable people I know. My Dad goes on the treadmill for an hour and listens to the Beach Boys on his old record player. My Mom is really good at making quick little coy insults (I get my humor from her, I think).

My Mom gave me a collection of newspaper cut outs that she's been saving for at least a year. I'll have to edit this later to add them in, but they were basically the things that she's never said. Sort of the positive 'be yourself' things. And even though they were from the Edmonton Journal, it is still my Mom accepting me as the individual I am.

...But seriously. When the hell did my Mom get good at board games?!