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Go Forward

"I'm Here."
As I'm writing this, I turn the last page of another crazy chapter of my life. My life is full of stories. Stories drove me, turned my head, taught me lessons and inspired me. I have been a huge Superman fan since I was a little girl. When I was just 5 years old, I used to dream about Clark Kent, that he saved my life, and I grew up to be Lois Lane. When I was a little older, Dean Cain and Teri Hatcher continued this love, this fandom for me, and as much as ever my pride in caring for this story, for its purpose, pulsed on through my veins. And when that time ended, I waited, and then Smallville came into being.

Smallville, more than any of the others, has held a particularly important part of my affection. I was born in the city that created it, I lived in the city that created it. More than once, I travelled to areas where the show was filmed. I regularly passed the front doors of the Daily Planet. I drove past the Welcome to Smallville sign, and past the Kent farm. For awhile I lived mere blocks from the Luthor Mansion. Smallville ran alongside the most important decade of my life; the one that held the most change in my universe, the most heartache, the most breakdown and the greatest development. It marked the largest achievements and the most effectual failures. Yes. Smallville was a fictional escape for me during some of the hardest and greatest years of my life, and provided a soundtrack to feelings I had during mirror-image moments of my life, as the same experiences befell the characters on the show.

And nearly a year after the day of my marriage, Clark Kent and Lois Lane married. Call me a geek, or a loser. But I have loved Smallville, and it has loved me back. So to the cast and crew, to all the writers who provided me with so much entertainment, so many life lessons and moral considerations, I thank you for everything you have given to your fans over the last decade. I was a teenager when I met you, and you will be sorely missed.

I guess this all makes sense. I am about to start a new, exciting, but terrifying chapter of my life. For starters (and I say this jokingly), there is the upcoming Superman film starring Henry Cavill. But strangely, despite how long I have loved this story, these characters, Tom Welling has been Clark Kent to me the longest, played him the strongest, been given support by Christopher Reeve for his performance. There will never be another person who played Clark Kent so well, who embodied the character more fully. Tom Welling grew up as Clark Kent. He, more than anyone, can identify with the character.

This year, I am going to start a new job and conceive my first child. And while I can't say what else it will bring, As tonight Clark Kent first learned how to fly, so have I had to. I go forward, fondly. Probably with both arms still straight up in the air, an eternal grandstand to my hero, Kal'El; The Blur (Superman).

Please support Smallville, and the Superman legacy. If you haven't donated, please, please visit the Christopher and Dana Reeve Foundation and get one of these:
$10 gets you a set of 2 Superman Tags, one chain and a clip. $4.95 shipping for the first set and an additional $1 for each additional set, with a max of $8.95. All proceeds from the sale of the Superman Tags support CRF. Indicate that you are purchasing Christopher Reeve Foundation Superman Tags, SKU# SMDCCRTAG.

"When you believe in someone, it's not just for a minute,
or just for now, it's forever."



The Hamster In The Ball

A lot on my mind. There is always a lot on my mind. I think that this must be a deep-seeded problem, or an essential aspect of who I am. I find that terribly irritating. I dwell. I reflect a lot, because I have such complex, sometimes troubling feelings about things (not in a creepy way, just feelings that upset my peace of mind). I think it is a constant search to try and understand myself, so that I can explain myself. Oddly, I've known one or two people who thought I should never have to explain myself, but I am an unusual character and it is only one or two people here or there that have the ability to understand where I'm coming from. Other people simply understand moments or aspects and that is enough for them- but that often leads to a number of misunderstandings, as well.

Gaming a lot recently. It is Wintersday in Guild Wars, and the guild went out on the Festival quests It took several hours of strategizing to finally successfully complete the Wintersday 2010 snowball fight with three characters and five heroes. Cooperation is not always our strong suit, as most of us think our way is the best way, and one by one we are determined to try our way before formulating a new strategy that involves ideas from us all. Damn stubborn gamers. Anyway, I earned a shitload of XP and some really great Wintersday gifts. It's essential that we participate as much as we can during holidays because the rewards are so vital to building title tracks. I have 5 characters all told, and I have only really played two of them. One of them is stuck in pre-searing, but she will be my prize combat character, whereas my main character is an enchanter, and her class is traditionally not as strong. And while it's true, out in the field, I need a lot of muscle and healing when it comes to heroes, when I am out with my guild mates, I'm the disabler. I leave the foes defenseless while the muscle goes in for the kill. Tonight's raid was definitely a lesson in passive aggression. We had to do our best to stay out of agro, and avoid combat in order to sneak up on our target and then ambush it. We eventually won using this strategy after hours of attempting to muscle our way through a blanket of baddies. I sound so lame, but really, our guild is full of 'rock stars'. What I mean to say is that we have so much XP, that we are levelled so high, and we log so many guild hours and have built our title tracks so high that any time there is a time-sensitive event taking place wherever we've zoned to that we have to push people off of us like you'd think we were a rock band or something. It's funny. Our outfits are the dead giveaway though. I don't think a single one of us is wearing stock or collectible armor. It's all store costumes. You can tell the game is a thing we love and cherish dearly. The money, collectively, that has been spent (for one reason or another--coff--*gifts*--coff) on my costumes could have fed me in groceries for a week! Hahaha. I wish our Guild Hall smelled of rich mahogany. *pout* I really resisted getting into GW, but I caved for my husband, who didn't want marriage to cut down his game hours. Now I'm hooked. :P I am so glad that I have a laptop that can run it with a decent framerate wirelessly. My Mom comes over to play on our 40" mediaserver because her PC died, and likes to use the excuse that she wants the company. Bah. She's just using us for our hardware. But then she sleeps on our couch because she wants to be driven home. She lives a block away and my husband is now sleeping.

Taxes are done. One less stress. Now I can pray that Pharmacare will actually notice that they owe me coverage. I've been intentionally leaving my penfill cartridges in the upstairs fridge in the butter door, so that my housemate can see the weekly renewing boxes of insulin with their pretty $50 price tags on them. I find it aggravating that I have to slyly browbeat people with the idea that I suffer from a serious disease, and that while I spent many years in denial, I'm not lying about it, or it's expense. Everyone thinks their issues are just so serious. Try having to spend $9,000 a year just on medical supplies when you make $9.50/hr. I get about $450 annually in tax returns, on top of the carbon tax refund, etc. Oh woot. Medical kicked in this month, and I get extended benefits, optical and dental very soon.

Something has to be said for my work ethic. I've traditionally had no trouble keeping a job on my own merit- every time I have ever been let go from a job it has been based on underlying circumstances (save for my second job). I think it is bloody pathetic to consistently blame everyone else for their supposed behavior when it is quite simply how slow, or how inexperienced or how inappropriate a person behaves that is most likely responsible for their being unhireable. I tire of the immaturity and petulence that comes along with irresponsible people. We're being schooled on the subject at work, what with the recession going on. My manager is just absolutely stalked by job applicants. You'd think they were cannibals with a preference for Italian. Oh well. I work hard and bust my ass, and worry as little as possible that the next applicant might be the one who actually surprises us and blows us out of the water. Anyway- that is my rant on that for the evening.

To the end of work- I need to continue to try and step-stone to something better. I wish I could keep my perspective from when I am jobless, broke and desperate, because believe me, that outlook will keep you interested in the work you've got for as long as you can keep it. Realistically, this should be the way of things for me. But I have this experience. I've done this job so much and so long that it is numbing- I get angry from pent-up frustration sometimes that my potential is being squandered on things I've already accomplished. It feels like time for the next step. And I might be content with the work I do if I had other things in my life to funnel my energy into- but at the moment it is work and extreme insomnia-fuelled recording sessions that control my life. Believe me, I am over it. Laure and I have decided that when we have a direction, we're starting our own business. She is very adept at graphic design and advertising. I'm good at web advertising, promotion and content. I have no idea what to do with that. The applications for something that vague are infinite.

Fuck- I am such a gemini. I am definitely a person who houses two distinct personalities. Part of me is very spiritual, and yearns to be healthy and connect with my powerful, nature-nurturing spirit. I do pilates and yoga at the moment, and I am considering taking part in Zumba. I go to the gym when I can (which is almost never) and I have given serious consideration, recently, to going vegan (there are many, many testimonials of patients with Type 1 diabetes putting their disease in remission through veganism). I am also looking to rejoin the pagan church, with my Mom, and participate in all of the rituals. I am currently studying the pagan rituals of Yule. This part of me is also torn- I love very gothic-themed things; studs, leather and lace, corsetry and bustles, steampunk-inspired clothing, dark imagery and the like.
On the other hand, the other half of me is very modern- I like to go out with friends and socialize. I thrive in the city (seriously, I don't know what it is, but the city brings a part of me to life that is indescribably important to my sense of self, to my consciousness and which inspires me in ways I'm not sure anyone could understand). I like electronics and I love to play games. I am a total gadget-head, and I geek out intensely at the thought of making my home look like the grid. And these two distinct parts of me are joined by one mutual desire. Motherhood.

I made the mistake of accidentally walking through the baby section of Toys 'R Us today. They have an entire department for baby clothes, furniture and strollers/seats, etc.  I wanted to stay there. Lots and lots of parents with newborns were out in the mall today. It was hard to walk past everyone nuzzling their soft little children with their pudgy cheeks and tufts of soft hair. Some sleeping, slumped over in their onesies, tangled up in fleece blankets in their strollers, others smiling their wet, shiny, drooling smiles and looking around with that insatiable curiosity babies have. I stood in Toys 'R Us, next to the perfect convertible crib (it came with a changing table attached and turned into a playpen and a daybed) wondering why anyone or anything would give me such a strong desire for something and then deny it. I keep hearing from people that I will be a mother, and a great mother. But something inside is squirming, choking really, knowing that they are wrong. Even when I try to plan a pregnancy (and one that may not even be viable because of my situation) I get chastised by people who know how broke I am. Fine. Take that away, too. It's not like anything I want matters anyway.

I'm beginning to feel like the entire point of my life is to work so that I can afford to live long enough to work. Purposelessness sucks.


Can't Find the Tired

There is a pain. There is a pain in my left knee. There is a pain in my left knee and it won't stop aching. Fuck a duck. That's what happens when you sit cross-legged on a couch. You get a won't-stop-constant ache in your fucking knee.

Honestly, this isn't my point of tension. This is a mere figment of the corner of the very edge of the tip of the damn blade of things. I wish I knew how to handle any of this shit. I am just ill equipped. I'm beginning to feel, as I get older, that realizing that you simply don't have the wherewithall to deal with the constant melodrama, is simply part of the process. Slough it off and rebuild. Shed and move forward. Dump the extra weight and trek forth- 'nuff said. I am a person of intense emotional baggage. I always have been, and I'm not (nor have I ever been) sure why. I remember things... for, like... ever. I sometimes feel like citing my highly artistic personality as the impairment in my ability to let go and move on, and my hyper-awareness of my emotions. After all, it is we brooding artists that are obnoxiously emotional, isn't it? Don't we torture ourselves (unwillingly but without resistance) in the name of our self-expression? Is it not in our intense emotional being that makes us artistic? What a fucking joke.

I think I am addicted to emotional distress. I've had it all my life, and now I'm beginning to think that I default on that mindset because it's what I know. When my life is free of complex problems, I'm waiting for something to fall into my lap. So there you have it. I'm a mess.

Sometimes I wonder if the people I've tried to leave behind still look for me. It's a vain idea, and one I don't entertain often. But then, on the odd occasion, I find myself looking back for them. Is it unfair or unreasonable to wonder if they have ever done the same; ever wondered? I still remember feelings I had six years ago, rather vividly. It's not to say that I necessarily feel them anymore, simply that they still echo sometimes when I look back and faintly try to recall what my life was like, or who I was. In the last three years I've gone from fighting reality with all the might of my mind, praying that I could turn back the clock somehow or wake from this nightmare. But things never changed when I woke in the morning. The shock of that life-changing event could not be undone by a sound night's sleep. It was all real.

I've made great forward strides. I have a Husband, and a house, and a child who just grew her first adult teeth (so she looks like a cross between a rabbit and a tiny fourteen-year-old... she looks so much more mature with her big girl teeth ...). I have a mortgage, and a car and a credit rating. My life has progressed beyond all I could have imagined. I am happy with the choices I've made. There was that intensely burning pain last year when I miscarried my first pregnancy, but I've moved past that. But, oh. I remember. I hate that I remember.

This time of year floods that experience back to me. Every November, like clockwork, the deep, uncontrollable, completely unwelcome depression sets in. Ativan, you are my friend. I don't know what to do with these thoughts of mine, these feelings. I don't know what to do with the thoughts I entertain or the rash urges I have to open doors that should stay closed. That life is over, and gone. So why does it feel like it will never really ever be gone? Things I accumulated in that time are dim reminders of it. My stupid North Van Wal-Mart sweater is totally killing my mood.

I've taken to writing a lot. CeltX is a beautiful thing when you're screenwriting. I also love OpenOffice, especially since you can use the two together. And OpenOffice makes nice PDF files. I have an addiction to handwritten typefonts, especially in cursive-meets-bubbly-printing fonts. I'm studying a few religions- none of them Christian in nature. I'm exploring Hinduism, Buddhism and Kemetic Orthodox. My Mother-In-Law has asked me to study Kabbalah with her- I might. I'm trying to find the next phase of my spiritual enlightenment- especially in the midst of feeling so disappointed in myself about my failure to cope and evolve. I house so much anger and resentment inside for this series of events and this singular person, who, I'm hoping, may someday experience some karmaic feedback from beyond.

Fucking pain in my knee.

I'm proud of my husband. I can see the love in his eyes, the way he holds me, the way he kisses me (even in his sleep). I can feel his love in the way he rubs my back when I sit beside him, and the knowing way he smiles at me, for no reason other than to radiate his love. I am proud of my husband. He was not always such a loyal man, not always so communicative and open. He was not always so considerate, and he was not always loyal or monogamous. But for me, he has been all of those things. I think, in part, because if he wasn't, he would not have been my husband. He has compromised his way to being a better man. I used to think that having someone change for you was breaking the social contract you made to love them for who they were. But I think in real love you can recognize a person's true potential, that they are capable of it, that they were really that person all along without knowing it. And I think that in real love, you do grow together. A marriage should assist in shaping who you are. If the person you love cannot help you grow, then they are not right for you. I am in phase two.

My Husband works and tries so hard. It will be a chore to go two months without him this year while he goes to military training. That is, if he passes his next EXPRES test. He is joining COMM. His family is all legacy Airforce. He will be the first Army man. I almost enlisted in 2008- until I discovered that they don't take diabetics. Oh well. I always have The Running Room.

I change my look a lot. Honestly, I thought going blond again would boost my self-esteem. But really, it is how I remembered it- a lot of time, money and maintenance. I'm not sure I'm loving it anymore but I also don't know what to do with myself next. Operation Self-Esteem: Day Fucking One.

Ramblings. It's late. Or early. I don't know.

I'm going back to school. I want to major in Linguistics. I'm going to learn how to speak Russian. Not for any practical use- but just because I think it is a complex and beautiful language and I want to speak it. Linguistics. And then I want to take English, Literature, Creative Writing, Sociology and Psych. I plan to be a writer. I start here.

Ramblings. Umm... I don't know. I just wish I could stop looking back and thinking backward while walking forward. It confuses me. There's got to be a morning after pill for all that is former. :/ Dispense no advice on this subject. I had the answer before I asked the question. I just wish I knew how.


What The Deuce?!

Hey all
Haven't updated in a few months. I'm not sure who still reads this thing, but whatever. I have my personally networked blog, and then my anonymous public blog. All in all I have 5 blogs (I think) and 7 email addresses. And I actually do use them all. Isn't that sick? My life is practically lived online, when I let it. But then, I've become much more a writer these days- and there may be actual merit to that.

After moving back to NanCity in January, John and I started a program here, called SET. It's a company funded through the government to retrain people for careers. They don't just read your resume and find something you're already doing (or practically doing) to thrust you into for life. They take you in, talk to you for a few hours over a few sessions, and talk to you about your work experience, and about your hobbies and passions- about where you'd like to be (not where you are, or where you imagine yourself- but what you want your future to be, professionally). They then sign you up for a full course load, over a period of a month or two, and they test all sorts of personality traits and abilities.

I started with a program called Strong Interest Inventory, followed by the Myers-Briggs Test. Today, I finished the trifecta up with the True Colours course. The three combined give you a full personality breakdown of who you are personally and professionally. They describe your values, and your common weaknesses, as well as where you tend to succeed. Their program has a list of professions (and I mean thousands of them) that you can then cross-reference. You write the ones down that you're suitable to, according to your personality tests, and then the program looks at finding you funding to go to school to train for the profession of your choice. It's pretty cool.

After the Strong course, my results gave me a top ranking in all careers of interest. Apparently I scored higher than most college graduates do. My consultant told me I could go to medical school and become a surgeon if I wanted to. Very awesome to hear that.

In the meantime, I've been put back on medical disability until the end of June (which is perfect timing, because my honeymoon falls just before the end of the month). I'm relaxing and writing- just enjoying my personal time and projects. I joined a crew of friends from Vancouver in getting their new endeavor: "The Trenchcoat Anti-Critic" onto its feet. I'm currently their only female writer. I have carte blanche to contribute whatever I please, but I'm the resident chick-flick/teen movie and rom-com writer. I don't mind being stereotyped that way- especially as it's true.

I just wrote this amazing review and analysis of I, Robot. I'm hoping to have that up soon. Eventually, I'll be back on cam, mask and all, doing podcast vids on YouTube for TAC. Bren and Nate would likely appreciate the downtime. Hehe.

We finally booked our honeymoon at Timberlane Resort- beautiful place. The beach goes on forever! We have a view of the San Juan Islands from there. It isn't Disney World, as we had hoped, but it's gorgeous and a lot cheaper. Admittedly, as the expenses add up, I find myself wishing I'd put my foot down about just eloping (which is what I wanted- John is the princess bride in this scenario, hahaha!). But I only plan to do this once, and it will be great fun. We're having an Alice In Wonderland themed wedding. We actually just scored our wedding officiant this morning- so next time I get paid, I get to go down to CCCU and get my marriage license.

As for health things, the Diabetes Association is trying to advocate for me to get my hands on an insulin pump. John and I are planning a pregnancy for 2011, so we need to be diligent about my health, especially since my kidneys haven't been doing so well lately. My edema has fully come back- I get it from my head to my toes most mornings. It sucks being swollen all over every day. :/ But this likely means that aside from school, I probably won't be back to work full time until 2012. Thankfully, John will be back from basic training before the end of my first trimester, depending on exactly when we get pregnant. He's joining the Armed Forces in 2011 also, and will spend two months combat training in Alberta. I'll probably be with my Mom for the greater part of the first and third trimesters. I am hoping that affairs with the house will be settled and we can move out to the Valley before the second trimester.

Furthermore, SET is looking at having me trained for careers I can do from home. It could potentially be amazing!

Despite all that, my nightmares are back. I don't know why the memories are still with me, or why I even bother to dignify them. But it seems like no matter how much time passes, I never forget it. It stays with me. I hold a genuine lack of trust for most people. I've still got that ever-edited text file going. Dear ZZtop wannabe, Have you ever heard of a shower? Just for starters. There are good things to say. And bad things to say. Mostly, it's just that I need to say them. People are trying to tell me to delete it- maybe they're right. What can it do but rip a new hole in my life? I know I'm holding on- to what happened, not on wanting to fix anything. Something tells me it's going to just be a bitch of a scar forever.

With the advent of my marriage arriving in just 67 days, a lot of old is bubbling to the surface. A lot of fear, and apprehension. I'm not afraid of getting married- just afraid of reliving the past. Maybe I'll write it here. Maybe then I can say what I need to- and I never have to think about it coming back. When it ended, he stole my power from me. He left me sick, weak, homeless, within a few inches of death, and emotionally devastated. All I want is my power back. And it wouldn't hurt to know he's sorry. He killed a part of me I'll never have again.

Hello all

It's been awhile since I've posted here publicly. I'm not sure what drives it, really- nostalgia or boredom. I'm partly driven (at this 3:37am) to break the stark silence. I don't know if any one person in particular will read this. It has been a long, winding path since words have been spake between myself and some people. It's been two years (well, almost) since I have seen my very best friend. I'm proud to say that she has been impossible to replace (not that I was trying :P). I've found it a keen observation in times past that people I held to that regard seemed to drift away and the distance became permanent- our relationships remained marked and tenuous.

So what has happened to me in years since?  Forgive me, those who actually read anything that I write, if I recap. Having just read the chapters of several philosophy and psychology books to my fiance, I am feeling rather reflective. In times past, I would have scornfully written of my time post-"him". It would have been melodramatic and angry. But to be honest- I think it was hardest because it was the first time I ever had the power to be myself (and in so doing, find my true self without the attachment or expectation of another party). I allowed myself the time to be imperfect and make mistakes. I allowed myself the time to experiment and self-discover. Though it may have seemed hypocritical at the time, what I actually learned was that my opinions past had held some extremely closed-minded ideals.

To people who may have oft been offended by my diatribes about how higher-than-thou I believed myself to be before then: you had every right to resent my "preaching". You're not bad people, I was just too blind and too self-righteous to consider anything to the alternative. And really, I learned that those were the people I had surrounded myself with- or at least so I thought. It turned out as often that the people I knew and cared for were actually too scared to tell me that they didn't agree with me on those points- that they were living an alternative lifestyle, and it worked for them. I'm glad- illegal or not- to have allowed myself the time to stumble and be irresponsible, to be reckless and 'young'. I needed the experience to know that I was okay without it. I am, however, glad that I did not engage in any sexual encounters then- that part of my life has stayed fairly pristine. But that's a decision I make for myself- it isn't something I expect other people (other than my fiance) to comply with. So I have learned that we are all variable, and that's okay.

Nights when I laid on my pathetic blow-up mattress, beside my little TV, crying my eyeballs out and binge-eating peanut butter with a spoon, I needed to. Nights when I got pissed off and went out to window shop without the intent to spend money- I needed them. Nights when I could not be separated from my best friend on pain of death- I really needed those. Having the time to heal the wounds that were so exposed at the time, I realize that had been such an influential time in my life, of change and growth. I cherish the memory of my bittersweet misery, now. I can't think I would take it back, despite how vivid the memory of my burgeoning pain still is today. I am so improved now, in my life without him. I don't doubt myself as it is. There is nobody to beat my insecurities into me until I am too afraid to try, let alone succeed. I have no fear of eclipsing those I admire. I am more than ready for the challenge.

It was hard for me to admit that I needed to leave. A "fight or flight" response in me has been so apparent a lot in my life. When things get hard I begin to entertain ideas of packing a bag and running- starting over somewhere else, though somewhere in the very back of that urge, there's the undying hope that someone will follow, and try to bring me home. More than anything, I needed to know I could stand alone in my heart and be okay- be excited even. Though it took time, I actually achieved it. There was a trigger moment in my recovery that inspired me to finally move out of Vancouver. It was words between myself and one of my best friends- words that if taken the wrong way could have served then, to change my life just as dramatically as it only just had. But I did not have in me what he was looking for- only what he needed. For the first time I found myself saying no to someone I love- even if that love was not the kind he'd hoped for.

I'm unashamed of living with my Mother at 24. I did at first, but nobody here understands that stigma. Most people do move back home at least once, and there is a growing acceptance of never leaving. Someone once decided that it is an animal depiction of independent success to move out and build ones own home- or at least have one of their own. But what has it given us? Animals do not have problem finding homes- they simply make ones wherever they go. They aren't tied down by lease agreements or mortgages. More and more, it is becoming accepted that families stay together- generations all under a single roof. In that mentality, they manage to afford a pretty amazing roof to live under, too. There is an immovable support system in it, where a person's independence is neither pushed on them, or discouraged. I grew up without my Mom, and we both see this time as the mutual benefit of getting to know each other- and we need it.

Even more surprising was meeting someone. I met him online- which was the ironic thing. My Mom pushed me to try an internet dating site, and I was curious to see whether or not I was ready to dip my toes back in that water. I made a very close friend, who, for months, I prayed had the feelings for me that I had begun to develop for him. We met in person, and the mutual attraction was very apparent. Factors were involved that ultimately prevented it from becoming anything more than a near miss. But the friendship we shared despite that opened me up. Though I had been crushed and feeling a bit resentful, I found myself ready to grab the reins of my life and start again. He would likely be resentful of this knowledge, but it is true. He made me receptive to loving again, and shortly thereafter, I found it.

I get married in a few short months. I officially live with my fiance in a house that he actually owns (though, unofficially, I am currently at my Mom's- not for reasons attributed to my love life). I have a beautiful 5 year old step daughter, who is currently in French Immersion. I have a lot of very difficult trials ahead, and a lot of troubling problems to solve, but they're mostly technical. My only personal battle, really, is facing the loss of one of the most important men in my life: My Grandfather. He is suffering Type B Lymphoma. At the moment he is undergoing treatment in the form of chemotherapy, which they've given him a 60% chance of surviving. Other than that, they haven't given us a time frame for anything- they're not prepared to take our hope from us yet. I've even managed to come perfectly clean with my pent-up feelings about the last 12 years. I've refused to apologize for loving and living with my Mother. I've refused to perpetuate the angry bullshit that people in my family have so adamantly clung to. I've sworn to be a good, responsible parent to my daughter. My in-laws love me. My fiance loves me. My life, rock star or not, could be really perfect- it's off to a pretty great start.

I'm not suggesting it will be easy. We'll have (and have had) rough times. But he encourages me. He believes in me. He isn't afraid to see me more successful than he is. He finds my power (both physically and intellectually) as being ultimately sexy. TImes are tough. It's proof of the economy, but he knows that I am capable and able. And he trusts that. He isn't threatened by me, unlike someone from my past was.

Part of me is still clinging to something. I have moments of de ja vu a lot. It isn't like feeling a familiarity, like knowing I've been somewhere, done or said something before. It's remembering a smell, or how I felt inside, and missing it. Maybe I'm simply embracing who I am, and learning to appreciate it. Part of me is still resentful of Stephenie trying to apologize to me for her part in ruining such a huge part of my life, via text message. The rest of me is grateful that she is the one stuck with that selfish monster- and stuck with the return on her karma. You reap what you sow. Some people say I need to forgive- I won't. It isn't that I'm holding onto the grudge (though I wouldn't be against talking about it if it were true) it's that they don't deserve it. They would only see my forgiveness as being permission.

If those waves somehow hit the bow of that boat- I mean you no ill will and I mean you no harm. I hope that you've become a better person. The world needs more of them.

Until next time.




Fauxliage is Leigh Nash, formerly of Sixpence None The Richer, and Vancouver-based band Delerium. Two songs from the album were featured on recent episodes of the TV show Moonlight.

Download the album here

The password for the rar file is: elmali 


I HATE....

So what am I supposed to think when I can't get you out of the bed in the morning on our day off together so that we can go out and spend time with one another, and you blow a giant fit because you feel rushed and all you want to do is do nothing and stay in bed...

... and then you'll get up at the crack of fucking dawn with no complaint and no difficulty when its a day when what's-her-fucking-face calls and asks for you. Should I not be concerned that her calls have you darting out of bed like the apartment's on fire?

So what am I supposed to say when you tell me that you two have "like SOOOOOOOO much in common" and though you're so NOT a coffee drinker, you spend time at starbucks together, and when I'm with you and I eye a starbucks, you're ripping my gaze away to avoid visiting it at all costs and trying to talk me out of a serious craving for caffeine.

How am I supposed to feel when she's all the things you love about me and none of the things that you hate?



Welcome to my latest endeavor! Out of sheer entrepreneurial boredom, and massive inspiration, I have started my own podcast. You may have heard whisperings about this as far back as December or January, and I need your help!

I'm currently working on my very first podcast episode, and I need people to send in their Buffy stories. So what I need is:

Send me an email with your story about how you came to be a Buffy fan (when you first got into the show-- if you did, thru the show or the movie), how Buffy has changed your life, and what your favorite Buffy episode or moment was. I'm hoping to read these letters on the air. If you would like to BE on the show, record your story to mp3 and email me a link to the file (you can host your file on yousendit.com or sendspace.com) at


Thanks! You can check out my podcast blog @




Movie Review: Super Bad

Movie Review: Super Bad

Opening night was a supreme letdown to anyone who gave themselves an extra 20 minutes to get to the theatre to buy their tickets early. By the time I got to the theatre, early enough to have thought I'd be able to get in to see this on my day off, there was a lineup at the box offices long enough to have needed to camp out to get into. The movie was fully sold out, with person after person being turned away, more conniving, underaged kids buying tickets to other movies and then sneaking into theatre one. So I gave up on day one and rented VACANCY. It was good.

Anyway, last night I got to the theatre TWO HOURS early and bought my ticket. I was absolutely getting in to see it. I did. I ended up pretending to be a guardian to a group of 7-8 sixteen year old boys (because let's face it, I'd rather see them get to use the $10 they each spent to get in, and I really don't want to get spit on by a bunch of immature fuckfaces). Anyway, the movie was great.

It reminded me of how the world is facing this giant struggle over the controversy that being sexually open and expressive poses to the public. But every time there was a sex joke (and each one was well-executed) everyone was laughing. EVERYONE. We were all joined by the embarrassing (and admitted) reality of sex in our own lives, and our amusement at the mentality we all had at the end of senior high. We were all relating to one another by relating to the story. It was almost a political statement about anti-anal-retentiveness. We all go through these things, why should we be so embarrassed by it?

In that way, this movie was so brilliant. There was never a laugh that went unenjoyed, nothing so grotesque and over the top that I found it offputting, but didn't exactly spare us from the reality of situations. The only part of the film that I found to be a little questionable (because it was so out there, not because it wasn't funny) was the part where the guy had a problem with drawing penises as a kid.

But we also see these less-than-popular guys embracing the lifestyle of the people in the popular crowd without feeling like hypocrites (as so many movie nerds who go out and have fun with the cool people often do) and making some good decisions (like not hooking up with a girl when she's too drunk to remember it, and not hooking up with a girl when you had to get drunk to get the nerve and it turns out she doesn't drink). The best part of the whole thing, is that the only guy who actually gets any in this movie is the biggest loser in the group... who completely reminds me of the guy from CAN'T HARDLY WAIT who rocks out on stage to "Mama I'm Coming Home." McLovin is my fucking hero... for life.

And I definitely think that police officers will especially enjoy this film. Watching what you do for a living has been eye opening *wink-wink*.

And for the record, I totally would have parked in the staff lot to get a red bull. 10 out of 10, the absolute must-see comedy of the summer!


Mon Toe. :(

So yeah, just to clarify things for anyone who might have heard that I had my toe amputated... NOT TRUE.

I was coming off of an escalator at Scott Road Station backwards, holding up my sister's stroller that was loaded with groceries. I couldn't see my feet, and at the bottom, I was trying to level out the stroller and step back, but it was either fall backwards and kill myself or push myself forward into the stroller and try to keep myself upright. Well, I chose the not falling scenario. Unbeknownced to me, I had my left foot, big toe pressed right up against the stair behind me, and at the bottom where they level out flat, it slid down into the flat position and took my toe with it.

Anyway, the toe is fine. It's a flesh wound that runs up the side of my toenail. I'm very lucky to have not lost my toe. A little to the left and I would have. Anyway, the wound itself is black and rock hard, but at least it's not infected.

I went to the hospital, they cleaned it and I found out I'm due for my tetanus booster in 3 years. Yay.