107.

Truth be told, i'm scared. about so many things, they creep up on me in moments of classical music, pattering legs on bare skin while beauty rushes around my head in waves. I'm scared of so many things: It's hard to place exactly, but in this midst I see my future, I see my past, I see that everything around me is changing while I stay the same. I see that I have different friends, different habits, that i'm in a different place, that i have a fabulous, but different life now. The same person in a different life sounds ironic and funny at the same time. Doesn't make sense, much like the situation I'm in right now.

I try to articulate how i'm feeling, and I've learned that I'm pretty good at articulating my feelings but this tongue is thick, and these fingers are weary and all i'm coming up with is this:

Snow whistles around me,

a blind fit of flakes:

swirling, blinding, building, cascading

spinning and whirling,

which direction is straight?

which is foreword, which is home?

I don't know the path or the road, so i laugh.

Blanketed in a beautiful new face,

lost and found in this new place.

I know where I stand,

clad in mittens and scarf and coat

notes from a piano lift from the snow on which I dote.

I remember, laughing

it leads me, behind and through

until my fingers are raw,

and i've lost my senses, i've lost it all.

I remember them wrapped around mugs of past days

where friends were wrapped in gray and they were laughing,

sounds tumbling like the white flakes of snow

landing in my mouth, open, laughing.

104

This is my first phone post...  more to come bitches ;)

103.

This is me: sitting in the library listening to John Butler Trio, trying to

get my homework done for the week and trying not to loose my sanity. It's been a hectic week, as my editor said so lightly... it hasn't just been a hectic week. It's been an insane week. They told me that university life (ergo work) would creep up on me. But foolishly, I didn't believe them: and now it has. More than that--it's becoming reasoning to have an anxiety attack

. But working in the library probably wasn't a good idea when i was the most hungover I've probably been in my life. I need more coffee, and maybe a 3 hour nap. But i have a pretty extensive list of homework, work which for some reason I can't finish at my home @ Solin <3 because it's home and there's so much more shit to do there, you know?

My first Leacock's piece will be up soon: Yay! I have 2 coming up. Keep a look out, kiddies, this girl's a journalist now. ;)

I have to say, even though i'm in college and my world is changing more than i can believe, the thing i miss most is being able to just call my best friend and have her pick me up, and sitting in her car at steamboat and talking about the world. I'm growing up, without my past life and it's scary. I'm independent but I feel that I might be losing myself in this crazy mess of lights and parties, and homework, and fun. I mean i've already gone past my own limitations to try to find connections with people. I have best friends here, and i've built bridges and formed connections but I'm not a girl that just has physical fun and sleeps around... I want to form a physical connection that lasts... and maybe next time he won't have a girlfriend .____. Fail.

So as of now, in this new college life I'm just going with the flow, and hopefully I'll get caught on the right rock and form a real connection. We'll see. Won't we?

Keep you posted, more than i have been ;) And the photo rendition of my day is coming. Probably Monday,

Love always, Valerie.

102.

To be quite honest... I don't know which blog I prefer, but I will link it up if it happens to be the latter.

Thanks for dealing with my fickle heart.

101.

I realize I've been neglectful... I also realize (as a big grownup college student now--odd as that sounds) that I shouldn't end a blog because things end badly or because I'm embarrassed because of what's been written. That is so cowardly: at least I believe. It's time now for me to accept my history of thoughts as my own, no matter how pathetic and ridiculous and desperate. For a time, no matter how short or disgustingly long: I felt those things, and feelings are not something to condone but celebrate. I am consistently inconsistent and fickle as my blog title suggests.

And for neglecting those few readers still reading, I am sorry I made the grand mistake of trying to start over: I always try to do that. But things aren't capable of just starting and stopping, they're a continuum like relationships, personalities, realities, hardships and pleasure.

And I'm tired of trying to start over and over and over again.

So here I am in Montreal, after attempting a clean slate at home, and attempting a clean slate of a better Valerie, which for the most part has been successful. And because I have assignments due tomorrow, tomorrow I will picture categorize a day in the life of a McGill student... this McGill student: Valerie, Me. I will show you my every[Tues] day and how things go down.

So, off to late night psych work: Valerie.

100.

I don't even know if you'll ever read this rhyme:

or if it will forever be lost in time;

but i've lost the words i've begun to say

i've tried, but they all seem to have flown away.

Describing is pointless,

and my hopes and fears are voiceless:

but my fingers have begun to pen

an apology that i wish will somehow mend

what is broken and will hopefully bring us back to then:

the only way that feelings are confirmed

in the simplest of terms:

I miss you, more than i've known and you would ever learn.

I know this is a desperate plea

but the ache in my stomach is calling me

to tell you how good we'd be

if you learned my love for thee.

This is the last thing i'd expect

this thing i've recently wrecked

is the love i suspect

would lead to perfect.

So in this poem of the sublime:

I hope to correct the perfect crime

of mistaken love and unfitting time:

I love you, and still want you to be mine.

I thought that was an appropriate 100th post. I desperately hope you know who you are (it might not be expected)... and a way to officially end my blog: with love instead of hate. my last post was out of so much fear; i was scared of my feelings and i've always had a tendency to run away from them: whether it be hate or anger, or in this case love. So hopefully this last post serves me well, as i take my next step in my life by no longer hiding my feelings; and by taking things as they come. And to whom this poem concerns: i dearly miss you: as a best friend, a loyal companion, and the first person i really connected with this school year. Forgive me?

99.

I'm so done with everyone and everything in highschool. where and when is my ticket out?! i'm so over petty drama and leaky mouths, and pitiful kids. I'm sick of being called a tease, and i'm sick of being called inconsiderate. I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired over every issue that comes my way. What i want, what i really want is a fresh start: a new beginning. That's why i'm starting a new blog: that none of you will ever know. that's why, i'm not going to worry over anything, i'm not going to cry over anybody: i'm just so done. McGill, save me? can you come any sooner?

Adios, Au revior,

97.

"Part of me is still waiting for this silver moon"

96.

Valerie, shut the fuck up, it's time to rip these roots out of the ground and get a life. You're a pathetic mess with no perspective. Go be productive and stop wishing for love to come from shallow sources. You have montreal, you have the summer, you have a whole life ahead of you. Rip these roots out of the ground, before your world turns anymore upside down.

95.

Now i know, why you acted the way you did. I know why you hid behind all this ambiguity, and these lies, and these facades. i don't want to put words in your mouth or feelings in your heart: but you could've told me i was just a rebound, you could've told me you still had feelings for her.

Because now, the way you were with me, i am with everyone. I can't give anyone a straight answer on my feelings. I want to be fine, and be done. But i'm not: I'm strung out, and hung up, and this blog has become a ballad to you, and i hate myself for letting it get to this and you might even be reading my pathetic nature... every word of it.


I don't want relationships, i want to hide from my feelings: because they keep leading back to you. I HATE IT.
I guess gravity was a good choice for hepcat. goddamn it.







I hope you at least love her, so i don't feel like such a dope.

94.

There’s something beautiful in the sunset, even though in actually it signifies an end.
The pretty colors, the radiant pink clouds floating over us as the sky darkens, it’s lovely, and then the night set in. It’s this sort of expectations of the excitement the night will bring, it only shows us that half of our day is over and so much can happen in the dark of the night. Possibilities are as numerous as the luminous stars: each a wish for better, for newer, for more special, more unique lives we’re already living. Life is so much more than wishing on stars and mystical places, it’s appreciation, and I love. I love you, so much I can’t even begin to describe it; it’s at the point of our sunset, and I don’t think I should have to be the one to call you to hit up the night-lights. I mean, quite honestly, I know, that you fell out of love with me long ago: I can see it in your eyes, and your mouth when you purse your lips in indignation, when you furrow your brows at me like I’m some kind of love-crossed, idiot girl crossed with a pathetic puppy that’s been kicked.
Make our sunset beautiful and our night excited because on every star out there, I’m making a wish for you, for love. “To lay beside you when the day is done, and wake up to your face against the morning sun”
Don’t make me hide my heart away please.

And if you do, my dear, I hope that you at least cared for me at one point. I may be wishing for a ridiculous fairy tale, I wish for them often, and passionately, but I wish for magic. I make mediocrity, I wish for magic. Pretty woman, that old movie with Richard Gere and Julia Roberts, made me as happy as a kid in a candy shop—I kid who REALLY wants Peachy O’s or whatever the fuck they’re called. I mean this Cinderella story, it’s beautiful and magical: but not in a corny way: not a Hilary duff way, in a Elizabeth Bennet way, a Gigi way, a Belle way—where someone admits they were wrong and they correct these major mistakes and accept love for what it is: unexpected, lovely, and magical. I wish for that kind of love because it’s the only kind of magic we have left.
Call me a fool, call me an idiot, call me a love-sick asshole or a teenage girl, but this story book love had to exist somewhere, or sometime, or else we wouldn’t have all these different renditions, we wouldn’t have it engraved in our minds. I don’t think my heart melts whenever I hear a sappy lyric for nothing. I don’t think I clutch my chest during a romantic kiss for nothing. It’s there, but we have to accept it when it comes, whenever it comes, and make the best of it: from beginning to end. Even if it shouldn’t end, or if you don’t want it to end so soon, because you don’t think it got the chance it deserved. So, in the not-so-wise words of the duchess in Adventures of Alice in Wonderland, the “moral of that is” but with my obviously more wise explanation: kiss often and kiss passionately, see into people’s souls, and keep your head in the clouds: you might get hurt, you might get burned or slashed or cut or maimed: but the feeling that you feel when you’re in it: head over heels? Those fuzzles are more than worth it. Cherish it, because as of now I’m living vicariously through you: give me something to live vicariously through people: Give the girl what she wants: besides peachy O’s and being held like the sun holds the moon, that would be nice.
“Fears the only walls that hold me here” Valerie.
P.S. You know what Mr. Hotel concierge in Pretty Woman, it is hard to let something so beautiful go. Every guy who wrote those lyrics, every guy who wanted to kiss a certain girl like that: deserves a quality handjob. Just saying. or something of that nature

93

i hold the moon in my hands,

damaged and bruised from all that debris,

the skin old and grey

craters as deep as the sky,

wrinkles across his face:

yet he ever glows in the night sky, soft and mysterious

in the corner of the room.

But you have to notice--don't you?

That man has a smile on his face,

even if his love is a million kilometers away,

shinning, solo, warming the world

the moon and sun only meeting ever so often,

when the spheres align

and the worlds collide.

But they intertwine and revive

and the stars are always shinning under the clouds.

Old age, millennia even: they grow old, but the beauty still remains

of their opposite's polarity.

92.

"This is how the story went,

I met someone by accident"

(Fuck iTunes for joining it with a song that i don't care about)

but yeah, it's beautiful, like so many other things in life:

like regret. Again i never disclose what i want.

On to Thermodynamics: Valerie

P.S. my words were: passion, kick, and dream.

91.

I've always thought that wanting was a weakness, that desire was this vulnerability. I, Valerie have only expressed the want to others that I want to go into education, that I want to write, and learn pretty languages, and travel the world, and help kids, and have a massive library with lofts of old, broken and browning books. But you see, these things only depend on me. I can want the world out of myself, because I already know my vulnerabilities, and no one can disrupt that plan.

I always thought wanting as this weakness, because if you tell someone what you want they can just take it away, pull the rug out from your feet, and all you're left with is nothing. Less than you started with. Someone just stole that piece of you, that hope, and I can't just let people run away with my hope.

"Give it some time

Give yourself hope

Or I'll give you mine

Cause I don't need it any more"

Just saying... i need all the hope i have. And i can't afford to just put myself on the line all the time, but people can't read your mind and find out what you want: as much as I wish they could. It would make things so much easier. But no one's going to wake up with telekinesis, or else i'd be in as much trouble as i was in ecstasy ;)

I also believe, though, that every single little thing in this world happens for a reason, and maybe what's been happening to me lately is going to finally express what i want. Because the quality of life doesn't reside in your education, or your job: it relies on other people. Love is a two way road, and to have the great pleasure of love, i guess i first have to shed this cocoon and finally show the glass little figurine i am, and maybe let myself break for a change, i may have cracked, but that was the one other time i told someone what i actually wanted. That didn't turn out well, I didn't get what i wanted; which i didn't really express correctly. I mean i hope I will in the near future... But I'm scared. shitless.

I thought this was appropriate:

"It's time to change, throw out the books and start again

Break all the rules, fall on your face, don't be ashamed

You can't waste more time, 'cause you've been gone for far too long

Trapped in his arms, safe without harm

Follow your heart, don't be afraid

You think that you're OK

But I don't believe in what you say

You think that it's too late

But it's not good, good enough for you

Don't hide away

'Cause I know that you've got what it takes

I believe you can be what you wanna be

Let yourself go, don't you worry about a thing

Breaking the chains - so hard to begin

Follow your heart, don't be afraid

You think that you're OK

But it's not good, good enough for you

Don't hide away

'Cause I know that you've got what it takes

I believe you can be what you wanna be

Don't hide away

'Cause I know that you've got, got what it takes

And I believe you can be what you wanna be

Don't hide away

'Cause I know that you've got what it takes

I believe you can be what you wanna be

You can be what you wanna be..."

So, this is my declaration. I'm going to tell people what I want.

Because in the wise words of Gigi (who some people recognize as me)

"I may dissect each little thing and put myself out there so much but at least that means that I still care. Oh! You've think you won because women are expendable to you. You may not get hurt or make an ass of yourself that way but you don't fall in love that way either. You have not won. You're alone. I may do a lot of stupid shit but I'm still a lot closer to love than you are."

I hope all these wise words serve me as well as I want them to.

90.

89.

We always measure the validity of our lives, the time we have, the measure of success, it's all these numbers, and grades, and competitions, and ugh, sometimes it's nauseating. I mean why do we try to plan for the future, speak about our plans, plan surrounding our expectations, when nothing is the same as it was a minute before. I know i've done it: I'm not going to pretend as though i haven't been the victim to this ridiculous notion. I'm going through that age old college process, and it's nice: it's even settling to know who you want to be and what you want to do: but it's nothing if tomorrow we're nothing. or if there's something greater than plans: like emotions, and experiences, and friends, and loves, and knowledge. I don't know if I'm rambling, or contradicting, or even making any sense, but this stream of conscious sort of thinking is kind of how I'm operating right now.

I'm a fool. For so much, and my foolishness has kind of defined my life and my happiness, or guess at happiness. If i was so secure with my plans, and my expectations for life, why is my happiness broken by a lame response, or none at all, an email that houses a decision, or the response of my boss on not being able to make work on Thursday.

I don't know about much, but last night, as I watched this stream of light sparkle the dust in the air of a dark room, i thought not of how stuffy my nose would be, but of the universe, and the sparkling stars above: and how everyone of us is just a speck of dust, but in my opinion if you see dust in the right light--it's just as beautiful as a glowing ball of gas a million miles away. It's just as beautiful as a second chance, a glimmer of hope, a spasm of excitement, a rush of anxiety, or the solemn realization of a broken heart.

Thinking, as always, Valerie.

88.

I'm so so
Its late
And I forgot to take my medicine
I'm uptight and tired
In my life its so mechanical
And feeling, feeling great
till I realise all the mess I'm in
I'm so uninspired at a time that is so so

I'm so so
Its fate
I've lost my antihistamine
I'm finding it hard
To fill in the pro's of my reasons for living list
When its too late to be late
I don’t show up at all
The gaps in my diaries speak volumes about me
I've done something wrong
At least I've done something

Take me back to the London town
That brought me up
Cause its bringing me down
And I will pay you solid gold, my friend, yeah
Would you take me back to London town
When it felt good to be around
And I will pay you solid gold my friend, my friend
(Solid gold x4)

I'm so so today
My days are unaccounted for
I found ,I'm bound only to me
I'm not alone, but I'm lonely
Feeling great
In a voice that didn’t suit the face
He said instead they’re becoming your mistakes
Remember that time is the time that it takes
I've done something wrong
At least I've done something

Take me back to the London town
That brought me up cause its bringing me down
And I will pay you solid gold my friend, yeah please
Take me back to the town I miss
Now morphed into antithesis of
Every bit it used to be
I'm so so

so this is so so so how i feel right now.

86.

What does it mean to be the bad guy?

Is it your intentions, is it your actions, or inactions, or is it that tight knotting pain in your stomach?- If i could guess I'd say it was all three, but i think i've just lied to myself long enough to become the villain, and that i never wanted to see happen. It did, though.

"I'm a vindictive little bitch, truth be told," (Clementine)

But I believe that everything happens for a reason: everything.

85.

flushed cheeks,

knees weak.

break me.

there's something beautiful in destruction,

or we wouldn't find it so appealing.

Even destructing ourselves, in the most beautifully appealing away.

"Night won’t breathe

Oh how we
Fall into silence from the sky"

Tell me something will happen....