Red-Headed Pixie

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		Sunday, August 29, 2004
		I feel as thought I am dreaming this. That I didn't actually wake up feeling completely manic, and am still softly sleeping in my bed. I'm so tired, but sleep seems impossible with the way my body feels currently. It's like every single muscle is tensed up, and my insides are running at about 20x their normal speed. And I've done all the things that I could think of to make it better. Took a muscle relaxant, took a shower, rehydrated myself, ate an apple to jump my blood sugar back up. Ugh. I guess I just have to wait now, but it's hard when you hurt and are tired, and just really would like to go back to your happy dreaming. I was sleeping so well tonight too. Or at least, I thought I was. And I felt so proud of myself for going to bed early, even thought I had no reason to, but because I thought it would the responsible, adult thing to do, when you are sick. It never just rains, does it? posted by Pixie at 11:30 PM


		Wow. Now that, was a happy birthday. More later. I am sooooooo tired. posted by Pixie at 3:49 AM

		Saturday, August 28, 2004
		I got the nicest compliement at Purgatory last night. As Arianne sat in a corner far from others, singing to herself in an attempt to calm herself after almost having a Nos elder frenzy on her, and trying to sort out her thoughts, David Strangeways walks over and crouches down next to her. "It is a good thing you do not perch yourself out upon a rock in the sea, good lady, as I for one would fear for my safety." --- In other news, as I was folding and putting away my laundry I came to an intresting realization - I believe my mother was right when she said that I have the world's largest collection of white dress shirts. It's really wierd actually. So, since I don't care to leave my room currently, and I'm cleaning up my closet, I present to you: White Shirts - A Inventory of Pixie's Closet That Says Fascinating Things About Her Life 1) 3/4 length sleeves - Bought at AGP because in a moment of sheer brilliance I forgot to pack my white dress shirt, which was required uniform. 2) 3/4 length sleeves - Bbought in my junior high years for band concerts, as clairnets are easier play without the sleeves flapping in the way. 3) 3/4 length sleeves - Bought by my sister in junior high from the same reasons as the above, but she outgrew it and gave it to me. 4) long sleeves, mandarin collar - I honestly have no clue where this one came from. Probably one of my brothers', or my dad's closet. 5) striped 3/4 length sleeves - Given to me by Christine as it did not fit her, and she thought I might like it. 6) beige sleeveless - Given to me by Star for the same above reasons. 7) white sleevless - Bought for 'Babies in the Barracks' costuming from Value Village. Adore it. It is one of my favourite pieces of clothing. 8) long sleeves - Quite possibly from the drama departement. What? It's not like anyone there was using it. 9) long sleeves, rather seethrough - Bought for 'Oliver!' costuming, also from Value Village. 10) short sleeves, rather seethrough - Again, not sure about this. May have been from Jackie though. I know I got a lot of hand-me-downs from her when she was still living with her parents. See wasn't that fascinating? So, if you ever need to buy me a present, and you don't know what to get - I love dress shirts. But maybe pick one that isn't white. Just a thought... posted by Pixie at 6:01 PM

		Thursday, August 26, 2004
		Today's playlist: Eccentricly Melancholic There's a Fine, Fine Line - Avenue Q Broken - Seether ft. Amy Lee I Could Be The One - Donna Lewis Beautiful Freak - Eels Boys of Summer - Ataris So Pure - Alanis Morisette Pixie - Ani DiFranco Fuck You - Ani DiFranco Things I'll Never Say - Avril Lavigne Lovers In A Dangerous Time - Barenaked Ladies I Want You Now - Big Sugar Sensitive New Age Guys - Christine Lavin Mr. Bojangles - Dean Martin Addicted - Enrique Iglesias Breathe No More - Evanescence Hands - Jewel Somewhere I Belong - Linkin Park He Thinks He'll Keep Her - Kathy Matea Push - Matchbox 20 Think of Me - Phantom of the Opera Santa Fe - Newsies If Venice Is Sinking - Spirit of the West Thousand Miles - Vanessa Carlton My Happy Ending - Avril Lavigne Rest In Pieces - Saliva posted by Pixie at 3:41 PM

		Wednesday, August 25, 2004
		Apparently certain persons have been getting cranky, of late, as I do not always post every single thing that happens within my love life. Mostly because I doubt you'd find it interesting, but also because it's not necessarily any of your buisness. But, so I do not receive slack again for this apparent lapse in judgment, I now provide you with: An Update of Pixie-Girl's Love Life Recently (aka Tuesday) Pixie and her boyfriend decided that their relationship had come to an end. Actually, he decided and she had no choice in the matter, but it's all the same, right? So she's back to being single and fabulous (some would say). Don't bother asking her for more details on the subject, as she doesn't want to talk about it. Sympathies can be directed to her email account, or in person on Thursday at BPs. For reference, this does not mean that she is now open to being set up with any of your friends. Unless of course they happen to be devestatingly handsome, and unreasonably rich. Really though she'd rather just forget about the whole wretched thing, and go back to being resigned about being single for the rest of her life. posted by Pixie at 10:05 AM

		Saturday, August 21, 2004
		Finished reading an interesting book, which left me with the following question in my head: If you had nine lives, and each of them was represented by a match in a matchbook - how many matches would you have left? Where, and how, would you have lost them? Did I lose one when I jumped off the parade float? Did I lose one when I got trapped upside down in the water, mid-roll in the kayak? Did I lose one when I O.D? Those are the only times I can think of when I've actually come close to death. So I wonder how many lives I have left. Suppose I ought to be a little more careful with them. What about you? How many matches do you have left? posted by Pixie at 5:01 PM

		Friday, August 20, 2004
		Kalen was right. You see, Kalen cleverly observed to her mother one day "That man is evil." That man, was Dave Gaider. And she was right. He is evil. Why, you may ask, is Gaider evil? Well, I'm sure there are a lot more reasons than the one I'm going to put forward, but I'll let you figure them out yourself. So, Gaider is evil beause he says to me - while he was sweetly giving Star, Star's cousin, and I a tour of the company he works for - that he has a question in regards to my weblog. Well, I always love finding out that people are actually reading my inane ramblings so I ask him what it is, and he mentions that it came up in a conversation with "someone" about my current "status." This in itself, really not so evil. But then, evil evil man that he is, he won't tell me who this "someone" is. And, yes, maybe this all sounds very junior high, but I don't much care. I like flirty people, and I like knowing who I can flirt with, and who not to flirt with, for fear of "leading people on." So, as I said, Gaider is evil. Rarr. posted by Pixie at 4:19 PM

		Thursday, August 19, 2004
		Attention Campbelltown-ians: Listening to 90.9FM at work this afternoon, nothing terribly unusual happening, when all of a sudden - a sound from the past. "Ching-a-ring-a ring ching ching. Oh a dinga ding come larkee. Ching-a-ring-a ring ching ching. Oh a dinga ding come larkee." That's right, one of the many hideous elementary school choir songs, Mrs. Beyers forced upon us. I must say, of all the ones I can remember, this was my least favourite. Something about the stupid sounding chaw at the end, I think. Had to laugh though - as I searched online to find the lyrics again - the guy who adapted that song, do you guys remember the name? I think it must have been burned into our brains, because the minute I saw it, it all came rushing back. Aaron Copland. I swear, every song we sang was one of his. Madness. So there you have it. A bout of "nostalgia" (which one would assume implies fond memories, but maybe not) brought to you by CBC Radio Two, my bookstore having no customers, and your very own Pixie being bored senseless. Thank god, I go home in ten minutes. posted by Pixie at 4:50 PM

		Monday, August 16, 2004
		Webster's Dictionary says that murder is "the unlawful killing of another human being, especially with premeditated malice." Sadly, it does not have a definition for justfiable murder. Such as the murder of the man who just left our store. Who after bringing us TEN boxes of books to look through, and after us taking 2 hours to sort, check, and price it all out, decided that he "wasn't comfortable" with our price. He felt that his books were "worth more than that". Which, just as a side note, they weren't! I hate hate hate customers like that. They make me want to beat their heads with baseball bats, and inflict numerous other types of torture upon them. AAARRGGHHH!!! Two hours completely and totally fucking wasted on this idiot. If he comes back in an hour to tell us that the other bookseller's wouldn't offer him more, and he decided he'd take our offer - I cannot be held reponsible for my actions. posted by Pixie at 2:41 PM

		Sunday, August 15, 2004
		I once wrote in an email to a friend: "My bed almost never fails to amuse me. The sheets just don't stay on the mattress. I'll get them all nicely tucked in and all, but eventually they squirm their way off, leaving me lying on mattress, with bunches of fabric under me. The blankets never stay tucked in at the end either, so I end up with too much at the head of the bed. And the pillow is turned sideways, and scrunched up in a ball. Says a lot about my sleeping habits...." My poor bed. It takes so much abuse. And it's funny, because it really does say a lot about the way I sleep - or not, as the case may be some nights. I've never been able to figure out why it does this, though I've been told many a time that I'm a squirmy sleeper - not to mention a blanket stealer. It makes me wonder why anyone would ever consent to sleep in the same bed as me. More than once, I mean. Also makes me want to apologize to Haley and Laura for having to share beds with me on the Greece trip, and to Starlin' for other times she's opened her bed to me. I'm sorry. Also makes me question certain ex, and current, boyfriend's sanity. Then again, I knew that none of them had sanity going into it. It's part of their charm grin Well, I think I'll go back to putting my bed together again. Poor bed. I do love you, I swear I do. But they do say that we always hurt the ones we love. Maybe that's it. Who knows. It's all far too deep for this early in the morning. posted by Pixie at 8:25 AM

		Thursday, August 12, 2004
		J'veux bien t'aimer Mais comment est-ce que j'peux t'aimer si j'suis pas l�? Pour t'envelopper de ma tendresse et t'consoler si ca va pas Je veux bien t'aimer de loin Le coeur tout plein de ton grand vide T'aimer d'amour et de chagrin T'aimer pour rien les yeux humides J'veux bien t'aimer Mais pour �tre franche J'suis pas solide si jte vois pas J'suis comme aveugle sans canne blanche ni chien-guide Et sans ton bras pour traverser cette rue-l� Que l'on appelle l'oc�an Pour traverser Mais jusqu'� toi ya pas d'arc-en-ciel assez grand J'veux bien t'aimer, bien entendu De toute facon est-ce que j'ai l'choix? Je suis pi�g�e, je suis perdue Je tourne en rond, je t'aime d�j� M�me si je sens que je m'�reinte � te chercher les bras tendus Dans cet effrayant labyrinthe Trop compliqu�, trop tordu posted by Pixie at 8:47 PM

		Thursday, August 05, 2004
		Went to see Raising Helen tonight, with Starlin and Myrna, as a fun girl's night out. Apparently, I should no longer be allowed to choose the movies for such nights. I have not cried that hard in so very long. And the worst of it is, I can't even really figure out what it was that got me crying, and unable to stop. But there I was, sitting at the end of the movie, tears pouring down my face, having completely used up our supply of napkins. "The question was never whether you loved them. It was whether you could you raise them." Why not just stab me through the heart with a pointed stick, eh? posted by Pixie at 12:26 PM

		Wednesday, August 04, 2004
		I am forever in the debt of Edmonton Transit. I was walking home from Second Cup (my bike having been left at the bookstore due to extreme rain), and had probably a good 20 minutes of walking, on sore feet, ahead of me. The #52 drove by me, and I was nowhere near a bustop, besides not having bus tickets on me, so I sighed and kept walking. The bus stopped in the middle of the street and opened the door. I guess he thought I was headed toward a bus stop. So, I walked over, and he told me to hop on. I rooted into my wallet, thinking I had a twonnie, only to remember leaving it as a tip for the waitress last night, and still not having bus tickets, I sighed and told him he'd have to let me off, not having any way to pay him. He said not to be silly, it had been his choice to pick me up, and hey, I was only going down to 68th right? I said yes, and thank you, and in the back of my head was suprised that he recognized me, and knew my stop. But happy I was, for I did not have to walk the rest of the way home. He said this way I'd have an extra 15 minutes to relax in the bath or whatnot, and I made a comment about needing to relax after all day on my feet, and so he started to give me advice on how to get cramps out of my feet. Anyways, we got to 68th, he dropped me off, and told me to have a good night. I thanked him profusely, walked the single last block to my house. Don't ever complain to me about the Edmonton Transit bus drivers. They are gods. posted by Pixie at 12:11 PM