Read, write, repeat.

I remember the day when I first discovered the word "repetitious".
'Twas once upon a time when my age was just one digit, in my neighbour's living room, listening to a little Marvin Gaye ditty, a song I thought was entitled "Sexual Feeling". I didn't found out its actual title 'till a couple years ago, but what I did learn was that when the same words (or as I would later see, activities) repeat themselves over again and again, and this means they are "repetitious".
Now, I can only dream that repetition means simply listening to Marvin Gaye on repeat.

Every day, I wake up and write (at least some) notes in class, read my 'readings', write for a blog, read books for English, write down orders at work, read e-mails, write replies, read news, write my own version of news, repeat. My life as of late resembles some never-ending laundry cycle—brain-wash, rinse, repeat.

I started reading for pleasure (about pleasure) in I'm With the Band, the Pamela des Barres epic where she reveals vivid detail of the sexual feelings and healings of her wild-child, effortlessly-cool, hippie-chick youth. Not only have I had to cut myself off from social life and living in general, but I had to cut myself off from living vicariously through the enticing life of a groupie extraordinaire. School and serving have me home(and)working all the time, and no time remains for workouts or working the rest of my life out.

TSN turning point (and possible internship, but more on that later):
Forecast for tomorrow: 13 degrees. So what if its raining, I'll sing in it. 19 days, nine-teen days 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19. I'm going to be such an optimistic person.... soon...

Go your own way.

For so long I've wished I could stretch my too-long legs further and straddle the two cities where my life lies. Sherwood Park, home sweet home, place of all good things old and nostalgic, and a select few of the most perfect people.
Alas, one can only reminiscence on the "glory days" for so long (and preferably no longer than a year or two, lest I be caught dead wearing my grad sweats on the streets anytime in the future). Scrumptious summer is starting to spring out of this half-hearted sunshine, and I can't see it the same driving around in SUVs, staying stagnant inside, and coming home to curfew. Especially the curfew.

Toronto offers work, weather, and a thousand-and-one more ways to enjoy it all. I can't imagine deserting this haven, how could I leave behind an entire summer's vacation? I've already begun two to-do lists, of wants and wishes. Suite 1005's staying alive for a sweet, sweet summer.

It's a girl!

Oh, hello there.

I suppose I can't christen this site a newborn, however I can dedicate the baby as a rebirth. It's a little-known-fact that I'm no stranger to life online, in fact I've spent summers in this other dimension, pale, chilled summers in the basement on everything from Neopets to Nexopia, Dollz to Don't Panic, before getting a little more personal. I've kept the blog running since junior high, but it's remained in the private sphere for years and years.

But at a time of Facebook, Digg, youtube, Flickr, etc etc etc..., the facade of online privacy is falling through—I figure if my writing is subject to critique, or at least some form of loyal fan base readership, then—I 'm coming out, I want the world(wide web) to know.

And now, it's time that I let you all into my life, in photos, in rants and raves, in relentless banter about nothing and everything... and into my little corner of the world.