This weekend was quite amazing.

Friday night I ended up at my aunt’s house, we had a very frank conversation about things past, and it made me think. Maybe a bit too much. But it was good. I got a lot off my chest, and a lot of it made more sense.

Saturday, I called Cull (not his real name) up, D was at his house, and they were having a bit of a party just the two of them. They invited me up, and because I’ve opted to never say “I can’t,” and because Cull used to be such a major figure, being one of the only two people I remember from high school, I decided to go. It was a good decision I think. I had an amazing time. Cull’s room was incredibly warm, and we ended up sitting around shirtless. I switched my lip ring, but I couldn’t get it to close on my own, so Cull and I were trying to open it up a bit. At one point, I’m lying on my back in his bed, with Cull straddling me and going at my lip ring with a pair of pliers trying to get it to close around the ball. D was sitting half naked in a pink armchair with his usual posture – it looks a bit arrogant, especially if you add his tv announcer voice to the mix. Despite this being only the third time I’ve met D, the first being last summer when he got drunk at my birthday/welcome home tent party and walked into an electric fence, the second time being at his house when we made the Flair Bitch project, I’ve decided that he’s one of the least arrogant people I know. It kind of helped that he was the kind of crazy nutter that makes me look reserved and overly conservative. Conclusion? I’ve decided to make him a friend. He’s the kind of person I found in Holland, but was going nuts trying to find here. Someone free spirited, up for anything, and while I haven’t seen it myself, he strikes me as quite loyal.

Cull wasn’t a friend for very long before I left Lindsay. He’d found me in English class over at my catholic school. It was the only class we shared, and we didn’t spend lunch together or anything. I don’t really remember how we met. He says he’d come up to me and asked me about my lip ring. I do remember sitting in class with him and trading body jewelery. I also remember a scene when I saw him outside by the buses and decided to launch myself at him for a hug. But that one’s pretty vague. According to him, I used to sit with my leg draped over him in English class while discussing something (probably The Great Gatsby) with the teacher.

He pointed out to me that I seem different than I did there. Well, of course I do. I am different. I’m happier and better off now. No, it isn’t that. I’m more guarded now. I didn’t believe it, he kept pushing it, and we forgot about it and did other things. Now I’m pretty sure he’s right, and it was disturbing. It’s something Oscar would have noticed and pointed out back before I cut him out.

And then it hit me: All the important (friends, boyfriends, etc) men in my life have looked like him, had his qualities and traits and talents. Shit. Cull’s right too. In some ways I’m a lot more messed up than I was back then. I was freer then, because I didn’t have much

It was like lying on the floor with a really unstable pile of bricks on the table above you, and then suddenly having them all come crashing down on you. It was too damn much, so I put it out of my head and went on with my birthday. We listened to Deftones’ White Pony album for twelve hours straight, I went home and showered. I think I was home for a grand total of twenty minutes before I took off to my next party.

Thane picked me up at my aunt’s house. I was mostly asleep, seeing as I hadn’t really slept since getting to Cull’s, the day before. We headed over to Ska Saves Lives 2 at Holy Joe’s/Reverb, and while the music was amazing, the place was full of spoiled suburban kids, who know absolutely nothing about the scene. Excuse me for being judgemental, but who the hell wears designer clothing to a punk party? And then runs around outside asking anyone who looked a bit different if they had any weed. Even if I did, I wouldn’t give you any, you don’t look like you can spare the brain cells. Of course, you had a few of the “punks” there too. You know the type, the ones who have mums and dads that buy them $100 punk-style pants and pay for their hair dye and piercings. Maybe I’m being a bit mean here, but I’ve never seen a punker look that damn clean cut. But then again, I’ve been spending time with crusts.

That said, there were a couple people that were more the punk I was looking for. But they didn’t even bother going in. Theory is, the $15 cover scared most of them away.

I should add here that I really don’t care what people wear or call themselves, after all, punk isn’t just a subculture, it’s not just about the music or the clothes, it’s a state of mind. Real punk shows have a certain ambiance that’s hard to explain. It feels almost like a safe place: here you are, with other people who feel the same way about things you have, with the same principles and values and norms, and you feel comfortable, like you don’t have to worry or have the same annoying conversations about why you believe what you believe. In Holland, punk shows were dominated by squatters and crusties and other activists. You felt like you were with family, because you’d all been in some of the same places, you all knew what it was like to get yourself arrested, or beaten by the cops. You knew what it was like to be barricaded into a room with a bunch of people and tensions running high, waiting, knowing that there was a very real possibility you’d end up in jail or hospital by the end of the night. So when you went out to a party, it wasn’t just great music and great dancing, it was a release of all the stress and emotion and tension you’ve built up since the last one. It isn’t just about having fun, but about emotional survival. When you leave, you are ready to face the challenges that the next week will bring. This party had none of that.

So we left, met up with Toca for a beer, then Thane went home, and I hung out with Toca in a bus shelter at Queen and Bathurst waiting for E and M. I hadn’t seen E for about 8 years, and we ended up talking and giggling and being generally weird. She’d ran into some friends on the way up to meet me, and we ended up going to a bit of a party for ten minutes before heading to her place. We didn’t quite make it to her place. We ended up going to E’s friends’ hotel room, where we continued our party. We had a great time, and I decided I liked these people. At 7 am, we left the hotel room, still in our party clothes (black leather corset + red plaid miniskirt), which meant walking through a hotel and getting a lot of strange looks. I’m sure everyone thought we were call girls, but well, I didn’t care. I was officially 22, and as the Dutch say, Schijt aan.

Ended up taking the subway from Osgoode station heading up to Scarborough, thinking I’d surprise my two cousins by taking them to school. Didn’t make it. I’d composed a bit of ttc poetry based off the advertisements along the bloor line trains (Sample this hair for life, sex for life, ah, the beach, sun shini ng, waves crashing, sand smashing, sand in unexpected places, the creatures join the revolution, is your head in your books?) Ended up at Cull’s again, where I promptly passed out. Woke up later than I had expected, panicked because I was late getting back to my aunt’s. Zim had called me with news about Tempelhof in Germany – this 30 acre abandoned airport they were going to squat in protest of the plans to tear it down and put up expensive new housing, thereby pushing out all the low-income families living in the area. Cull had to get to work, so we both jumped up and got ready as quickly as possible. Ended up smoking a cigarette on his front porch when his grandmother and grandfather came out with a cupcake with a candle, and sang happy birthday.

Maybe it was the exhaustion from partying all weekend, and maybe it was the fact that this was honestly the best birthday I’ve ever had, and the most fun I’ve had since I left Holland, but that cupcake meant a lot. I ended up carrying it back to my aunt’s house and sticking it in the fridge. I didn’t want to eat it. It was such a sweet gesture that caught me completely off guard and lifted my spirits even higher than they were. Right now, it’s sitting on the other side of my laptop, and I can’t bring myself to eat it, because it makes me too damn happy.

The conclusions I’ve drawn from this whole thing? I think I’ve accidentally found a replacement for Oscar. I expect Cull’s going to be a pretty big influence in the future, and I’m both worried, and relieved. I’m genuinely happy, and back to my usual free self.

Stay tuned for new developments.

Lament, by Isabella Holt

He is gone with his blue eyes,
Whom I love most,
Gone among the cliffs and fog
On a far coast,

He who scatters wit and pride
From his keen tongue,
He who finds himself so deep
And is so young,

He whose joy is in sweet words
And kindliness
Whom old men love and little boys
No whit the less…

Rooms are silent that were glad
Seven days ago.
I can feel across my heart
The great tides flow.

Love the blind importunate,
craves touch and sight;
Briefly parting, feels and fears
Eternal night.

Fear is sweeping on the wind
Like acrid foam
I have said farewell to peace
Till he comes home.

I am turning twenty-two on Monday.

I didn’t do anything with 21. Seriously. What have I done in the last year?

When I was a kid, the word “can’t” dominated me. Can’t go to the movies, can’t go to a theme park, can’t go to a friend’s house, can’t go to sleepovers, can’t go to a party, can’t go to Toronto, can’t wear this, can’t eat that, can’t go on that school trip, can’t use the phone, can’t use the computer, can’t do homework. Seriously.
When I was a kid my aunt bought tickets to wonderland. Only reason we could go was because she pushed for it. We got there, and half an hour later it was time to leave. I wanted to go on the rides so bad, but I wasn’t allowed too. I loved punk and ska and all of that, and I wasn’t allowed to listen to it.

At some point I grew up, but the can’ts persisted. I can’t afford to, I can’t do that, I can’t go there. I’ve wasted the last 22 years on can’ts. So, not anymore. Now it’s going to be watch mes all around. Oh, I can’t go to Toronto for my birthday weekend? Watch me. I can’t go to a ska party? Watch me. I can’t go on a random and completely unplanned hitchhiking trip with no identifiable end? Come on, try and stop me.

There’s a million reasons for all the can’ts, but I’ve decided I’m not going to waste another year. This year there won’t be any. I am going to Ska Saves Lives for my birthday. I am going to have fun. I am going to enjoy this weekend. I don’t care if ska is “bad.” I don’t care if you’ve all outgrown it, I don’t care if this isn’t fucking ladylike. I don’t care if you haven’t got anything to wear. If you feel the need to be so damn negative, then don’t come, but don’t try and drag me down with you.

Well, not really. I’m not all that geeky. I wish I was though.

But I did manage to fix that goddamn combinebet exploit (I still have no idea what it was or did). Don’t ask me how. I think I just deleted all the html code it kept sticking in stuff and upgraded my wordpress. Maybe I did something else and didn’t notice. Who knows?

Anyway, it’s all good and done.

Things have been okay here. Not all that stellar, but not really much to complain about. At least not publically. I shaved my head, all except for the bangs, so I’ve got this weird pseudo chelsea cut thing going on. Spending a lot of time with my dog. Had maybe a bit too much time to think, but that’s okay.

Sorry for the boring, I’m running on next to no sleep right now, and stuff.

Out through the fields and the woods
And over the walls I have wended;
I have climbed the hills of view
And looked at the world and descended;
I have come by the highway home,
And lo, it is ended.

The leaves are all dead on the ground,
Save those that the oak is keeping
To ravel them one by one
And let them go scraping and creeping
Out over the crusted snow,
When others are sleeping.

And the dead leaves lie huddled and still,
No longer blown hither and thither;
The last lone aster is gone;
The flowers of the witch-hazel wither;
The heart is still aching to seek,
But the feet question ‘Whither?’

Ah, when to the heart of man
Was it ever less than a treason
To go with the drift of things,
To yield with a grace to reason,
And bow and accept the end
Of a love or a season?

Robert Frost

Y’know, it just hit me that I’m going home. And staying there. Forever. I’m leaving everything behind.

Kind of scares me. I have more here than I do at home. And to think, everyone here WANTS me to stay. Why the hell am I leaving then? It doesn’t make any damn sense.

I’m also a bit scared. Terrified, honestly. What happens if things don’t work out? Then I’m on my own. On my own. Completely, as in, if I screw up, I’m screwed.

Frustrating, eh? It’s just a moment of weakness really. I know I can handle it. Hell, I moved here on my own, with nothing too. Moving home’ll probably be easier than that. I’ve already found a place, I’ve already made the friends, I’ve already made arrangements for all my stuff…

I just need to do this like I do everything else, defiantly. With my head held high. Moving home is nothing compared to all the other things I’ve done. This’ll be easy as pie.

So. I leave you with a bit of Goethe:

Carelessly over the plain away,
Where by the boldest man no path
Cut before thee thou canst discern,
Make for thyself a path!

Silence, loved one, my heart!
Cracking, let it not break!
Breaking, break not with thee!

The wind is tossing the lilacs,
The new leaves laugh in the sun,
And the petals fall on the orchard wall,
But for me the spring is done.

Beneath the apple blossoms
I go a wintry way,
For love that smiled in April
Is false to me in May.

– May, by Sara Teasdale

Right, so I promised a how-to on social behaviour, but screw it, I’m not in the mood to proselytize. Either you get it, or you don’t. Most people I’ve met so far either online or in real life, don’t, and the ones who do have become close friends.

I don’t really believe in the concept of free will. I believe that all our decisions and actions are based on our past experiences, social manipulations and genetic makeup. I tend to stick to the Alternative Possibility argument — all human behaviour is uncaused, self-caused, or caused by something else. But, since nothing can occur without a cause, then human behaviour can’t be uncaused, simply because you can’t have an act that causes itself, otherwise, it’d exist before it exists, which, obviously is impossible. Therefore, all human behaviour is caused by something else.

And…since people don’t consciously choose to be assholes, but are simply conditioned to be assholes based on genetics and social manipulation and past experiences…then you can’t really be mad. It’s like being mad at your mouse for working like a mouse should work. Especially since typical asshole behaviour, as much as I get annoyed by it, is a pretty simple hierarchical quest for dominance. How can you be annoyed with someone for doing what they’re programmed to do by nature and evolution?

This in turn makes me cranky because I really get annoyed by this kind of bullshit. Who knew knowledge could be so frustrating?

So yeah, it’s pretty simple. To get along with me, you can’t be afraid of conflict. I’m nicer than I look. For example, I was recently told that I was too damaged to start a relationship with (this stemmed out of a misunderstanding over sexual attractions between me and another person). Rather than get offended, I went “Well, of course I am.” If you tell me “Hey Pip, x and y about you annoy the living shit out of me, could you avoid doing shit like that in my vicinity?” I’ll go “Sure. no problem,” unless you’re asking me to do something ridiculous like not breathe or to stand on one leg and hop around because two legs annoy you.

It’s simple, say what you mean, mean what you say, and above all ask and be honest. Half the time I don’t make sense without clarification anyway.

I’ve originally posted this to a psychology related forum I frequent:

Is there any species that uses deception as a hierarchical tool, other than human beings?

Any ideas?

I’m curious as to whether or not any of you have ideas.

I’m going to be posting another social communication how-to in a bit. I think it’s kind of ridiculous that ME of all people is doing this, but I’m getting rather irritated by people’s persistent and moronic social inadequacies again. It’s not that hard people.

Yep. And I deal with it just fine thanks. I’m not overly depressed, or frustrated. I’m actually pretty okay.

I kind of wanna cut my hair off though :-/

I’m listening to Tegan and Sara now!  WOO.

I still haven’t slept all that much so this is going to end before i start babbling.