All the boys I hate, all the girls I hate...

Mon, 05 Jun 2006 01:08:15 GMT

I'm not here anymore. Please delete this journal.

Ok.. ok...

Wed, 31 May 2006 01:06:18 GMT

All right. For pity's sake, would somebody PLEASE let me know why the storm hit now?

I'm seriously not looking forward to what's forthcoming, and I wish I'd never been involved in it.
---
Chelle

Tue, 30 May 2006 19:35:21 GMT

No real news on the job front. I've been at it hardcore all day, every day, and it's getting just a little... no, quite a bit demoralizing.

The highlight of my day was applying at a bagpipe making place here in town. I discovered that they're just, like, a 20 minute walk from my place, and they're opening a store on Broadway in the fall. Heh. Who knew?

The interview for the youth companion job is tomorrow. I'm going to be asking them if part-time is a possibility. The money is good but the hours they're asking for is a little strenuous... and I want to get another job with some permanency, since it's a summer thing.

That's that.

Corey? Call me!
---
Chelle

I feel special.

Mon, 29 May 2006 17:03:59 GMT

Well, I've just been contacted by someone from Community Living, and they're willing to interview me as a youth companion even though the one very necessary feature of a companion is that they have and can drive a vehicle.

What they're planning to do is pair me up with a youth who is around my brother's age, therefore in the need-to-be-with-peers age bracket, and pair us up with a youth around the same age and their driving companion. Not only is it double the fun, but it all depends on the kids. This way, too, the other companion and I can help each other out. Also, if the youth are moderate to moderately high-functioning, they'll probably amuse themselves mostly and we'll just help them out.

I've had people ask me (and I'm sure opaqueplanet gets my drift) if I can handle toileting, diaper-changing, catheters, etc. if need be. Well, duh. I have a brother who wasn't out of diapers until he was almost 10, and even now he still has problems. I used to work at a convent where that was my run-of-the-mill volunteer work, and I was 13. Toileting issues are far far down on my problem sheet, even though some would say it's the hardest part of the job.

The best part of the job? I'd get to hang out with new people and go to the zoo, the pool, on the train at Kinsmen Park, the bowling alley and the Field House for free. Not only that, I'd be getting paid really well for it. How sweet is that?

Personally, I think the hardest part is discipline. My best rule?

Know when to duck.

Wish me luck!
---
Chelle

Damn.

Mon, 29 May 2006 14:59:28 GMT

If you've ever gone home after a hiatus of a couple of months or so, you know it's going to be hell. The first little while is hell, at least, but it's been two weeks, and I still don't know what to do with this damned basement. Granted, I was away in Vancouver 4 days, and most of my time and effort has been consumed by the frigging job hunt, but it's still the Pit of Scary down here.

First things first, when I got back, I noticed that my bathroom smelled a little on the funky side. I began to gradually chip away at things and realize that holy shit, I have a severe mold problem in this bathroom.

My bathroom is a funny one. It has an enormous shower in it that was supposed to be a walk-in linen closet at one point, but they converted it into a shower. It's skinny, has the wind-up point of a laundry chute and gets cleaned sporadically, as it is used only sporadically while I am away. It also now has problems with its ceiling, as there was a leak near the tub in the upstairs bathroom, and my brother is the type that will run three full baths while he's in there and manage to discharge about a tubful onto the floor. Let some of that water trickle down into that leak about 3 times a day for a few months into a neglected bathroom, and you have mold.

It's not my mom's fault. Like she has time to pry through my bathroom and give a shit about what's going on in there when she works the equivalent of 3 full-time jobs per day, what with her teaching and my brother. I don't blame her.

I have officially finished the last of the laundry in there. Sadly, I'll have to buy new mats. I've vinegared all the surfaces and sprayed it liberally. The place is about as mold-free (with continued spraying) as it will ever get.

Moving on to the rest of the basement...

The storage room. It was going to be a sensory room for the brother, but he has been so violent and reckless that we a) don't think it's a good idea to give him a room to smash up, and b) have to replace too many things to justify spending the money on a sensory room that's going to die quickly. It's still a mess and I can't think of what to do in there that would, in any way, shape or form, correct its... shittiness? It's a storage room. I'll leave it for last.

Spare bedroom - not my problem.

Laundry room - again, not my problem unless I'm vacuuming, then it gets a scurry-around.

The Den - This is the Pit of Scary. My decor is that of a 15-year-old boy who lives in his grandmother's basement. My posters are strategically placed to hide the holes put in the wall by aforementioned brother, although there's a huge, glaring one right over my pig's cage right now because my brother trashed my Abbey Road poster. Maybe I'll put my Matrix one over it.

All of my furniture, save the TV stand and computer desk, are 70s and 80s ugly. Even the decor is the finest of 70s ugly that the decade had to offer. The blinds are the same, the paint hasn't changed and the rug is the deplorable splotches of brown kind of boucle that no one in their right mind buys anymore.

It looks like... well, it looks like the 15-year-old abandoned the place to go back to school, and came back to find it unloved, trashed and dirty, with things irreparably broken and some fixable, lying on the desk in his room with a tube of glue - the clue-in for "can't fix no time".

I feel guilty for not having loved my basement. It needs an overhaul, meaning a deep-cleaning and reorganization.

On with the job search. I'm just waiting for sasknetwork to get off their asses and post some jobs.
---
Chelle

Sun, 28 May 2006 23:07:16 GMT

I don't want anything from you. I'm just a little lonely.

I was supposed to be volunteering for the opera fundraiser today. Bruce had told me a few months ago it was in the evening.

Too bad Barb just called me and said that it had been this afternoon. She did, however, tell me that she'll be in contact re: surtitles in a couple of weeks.
---
Chelle

sigh

Fri, 26 May 2006 05:53:51 GMT

Tomorrow is my brother's appointment with the dentist.

This isn't any old appointment. This is a red-letter day for pain and loudness and the sound of him kicking anything coming near him.

My brother has a specific fear of dentists (I can't see why - his dentist is desperately attractive) and an unholy terror of anaesthetic masks. When he sees one, he goes arm-swinging, leg-kicking, hooting and hollering and screaming stark raving looney tunes.

Mom and I get to get up at 7 to drag his ass down there. I had to trick him into drinking ketamine orange juice the last time by pretending to drink it. I only wet the very tip of my lip, but that was strong shit, and I felt woozy. Won't be doing that again this year... he's gonna DRINK THE DAMN JUICE!

Seriously, I sound pissed off, but I really have to have a sense of humour about this. It's godawful and I'm just gonna do it.

Maybe I'll go to D's and get some ice cream after the whole ordeal. I won't want to talk... just sit on his couch and eat some ice cream.

Last time we did this, Jon was 12, considerably smaller and weaker, and it still took:

3 nurses
1 me
1 mom
2 burly orderlies
1 dentist

to get him on that damned bed with the mask on his face.

He kicked me in the box. It was a resounding pain that will shriek through the generations of those who will never come.

Wish me luck.
---
Chelle
EDIT: This year wasn't so bad. They drugged him so much before he went in that he was a rag doll. However, he got up at about 3pm, and we were out of there by 3:30. God bless good anaesthesiologists.

Thu, 25 May 2006 23:44:55 GMT

Ok, I haven't had a good belly-laugh since Vancouver, and that's because I discovered the benefits of BC bud. This, however, did it:

Gay Pianists???

If you're not friends with Something Positive yet, you will be.

In other news, CONGRATULATIONS! to my Sarah! Head over to wind_dork and congratulate this sweet thang on getting her B.ED./B.MUS.(MUS.ED.) with distinction today! (For those not familiar with the U of S's screwy music department, her degree lettering stands for: Bachelor of Education/Bachelor of Music in Music Education.)

Had a hell of a time getting down there, but I arrived in the grand circle just in time to see her trot across the stage, and had to relieve myself... seriously, I had to PEE. Then I came in on the ground floor to watch the rest of it.

Who's going to her party tonight? Ask her for details!
---
Chelle

Drunk post!

Mon, 22 May 2006 05:28:01 GMT

OMG I can't type. I'm trying to keep it somewhat coherent. laurabunny is from Ottawa, part of Tone Cluster (quite a queer choir.) She's new to the flist, so welcome, Laura! :) She and I were in the festival chamber chorus, too, so we've gotten friendly. Finally, I've met someone with the same conceptualization of beauty as I. That's a great thing.

I was at the banquet, and now I'm drunk and trying to post. My spelling is all right, eh?

Vancouver is awesome.
---
Chelle

In Vancouver

Sat, 20 May 2006 14:45:27 GMT

Stephen (from Winnipeg) and I found the students' union building, and they have FREE INTERNET! I paid a buck for 8 minutes last night to send two scrappy e-mails, because the mouse sucked. Boourns.

I have major updates to make, but suffice to say that this is actually quite awesome. My podmate finally arrived and woke me at about 5:45 (which is 6:45 our time, so I forgave her) by using the bathroom, er, noisily. I can't forgive her for the mess left behind, however. -__-

Before I left, I got a job with Adecco, which is a temp agency. I'm now a temp, specializing in administrative and clerical duties, stenography, data entry, teleservices and proofreading editing. Oh, and I guess I'm good with WHMIS, too. Goody. *sarcasm* But it's better than nothing - it means I may be working. I also threw in an app at the ACC for a student research position for body image and eating disorders relating to queer health matters. Rock. If I don't get it, no hard feelings, because someone else may deserve it more.

Still looking for actual permanent work, but I'll get there. Adecco may pay a few bills for now. Must clear up things with Bruce, however, if the ACC gig has any chance of paying off... and mainly because I don't want bad blood. I'm still a little shocked and embarassed, but we'll clear it up when he gets back.

The Bridge City Chorus performs today! Wish us luck and cookies!
---
Chelle

About menses

Fri, 19 May 2006 02:43:48 GMT

You may want to skip this if you don't care about people's struggle against the crimson tide.

I hate bleeding. I hate hate hate it. What kind of merciful Creator God would have fucked the female of the species over like this? I ask you, God, wtf, man? This is insane.

Oh, and I hate it when people tell me I'm just trying to pull away from my identity as feminine, my identity as a woman, a future mother... oh, fucking PLEASE get away from me. I don't reject the feminine, but I don't necessarily agree that "feminine" is a valid term for anything. I don't reject my identity as a woman, because it's the hand I'm dealt physiologically and I have to deal or get a hysterectomy.

...

Future mother? Eat shit and die! I'll never be a mom! I don't want to have kids. There's no way I'll become a mother and have a 50/50 chance of going through what I'm still going through with my brother right now. I'm not that nice. I'm not that patient. I would seriously want to die. Not only that, but I don't want children. I like children, but no effing way would I attempt to raise any.

The only people who say stuff like that are people who don't mind bleeding because they're either menstrual blood art types who believe that lying in bed feeling as though you have a spiked boot fwapping you in the abdominal and groin area for a good 48-72 hours is a blessed event, or they're proud of their ability to someday put that birth canal to good use, and their period tells them that there's still a decent chance that it's possible.

I don't blame the latter people. They're well-intentioned, but keep your coochie-talk to yourself if it's disempowering.

I'm bleeding currently. Obviously, you all say, because you're a fucking Fury. Yes, well, between coming home Saturday night and discovering via message manager that I was no longer working at the Trading Post and that my boyfriend wanted my ass out of there in the morning kind of gave me a lapse in timing. I didn't put my new ring in. Damn it. I get home today from my haircut and discover this clotted blackish guck in my gonchies and flip out.

I have a new ring residing in my twat, but I hope it stems the flow seriously soon. Maybe I caught it soon enough. This means within a 10% margin of error, however, that mine and David's last fuck before the break wasn't fruitful and conducive to multiplication.

Going to Vancouver tomorrow will be the shits. Ever travelled by plane when you're bleeding? I swear it tears the uterine lining right off the walls, because when you step off that plane you're leaking like crazy, and you only left two hours ago.

Screw this shit. I'm trying to move 4 months of my life, which was so organized and beautiful, back into a den of chaotic hell. I have fucking ikea bags full of clothing, books, knitting supplies, pig stuff, etc. that I can't get around to emptying. This isn't home. I won't be here long, wherever I go. For now, though, I'm bleeding, unloved and fucking miserable.
---
Chelle

Leaving for Vancouver

Fri, 19 May 2006 00:24:53 GMT

That's it. I give up. I'm moving to Vancouver.

... kidding.

I am flying to Vancouver tomorrow for the Bridge City Chorus trip to the Unison Festival. I plan to hit The Beach, as I told ashesmuse today. Or just sleep. God knows I could use the sleep.

My audition piece for the SATB chamber choir isn't bad, but it's not awesome. Maybe I'll make it. I hope so.
---
Chelle

Hey Jupiter

Thu, 18 May 2006 17:48:22 GMT

no one's picking up the phone
guess it's me and me
and this little masochist
she's ready to confess
all the things that I never thought
that she could feel and

hey Jupiter
nothings been the same
so are you gay
are you blue
thought we both could use a friend
to run to
and I thought you'd see with me
you wouldn't have to be something new

sometimes I breathe you in
and I know you know
and sometimes you take a swim
found your writing on my wall
if my hearts soaking wet
Boy your boots can leave a mess

hey Jupiter
nothings been the same
so are you gay
are you blue
thought we both could use a friend
to run to
and I thought I wouldn't have to keep
with you
hiding

thought I knew myself so well
all the dolls I had
took my leather off the shelf
your apocalypse was fab
for a girl who couldn't choose between
the shower or the bath

and I thought I wouldn't have to be
with you
a magazine

no one's picking up the phone
guess it's clear he's gone
and this little masochist
is lifting up her dress
guess I thought I could never feel
the things I feel
hey Jupiter
- Tori Amos

It's 8:30am I must be lonely

Thu, 18 May 2006 14:36:05 GMT

I'm at school and it sucks. Last night was the worst... I ended up bussing to D's last night just for something quick, and I planned it so I could have a bus out of there, but he insisted that I stay.

I don't even have my toothbrush there right now.

Suffice to say I'm grimy, stinky and nasty because I didn't get to bathe, brush my teeth or apply deodorant. It's so hot.

I don't know what I'm doing with myself. I'm experiencing a huge regression of experience lately. Everything I gained in this past year I've lost, and I'm feeling hopelessly dangled right now.

I have about 50 minutes before my appointment here to start writing my polemic... about language. Inspired by my experiences as a WGST major and by this Feminism(s) in the Third Wave conference last week, I'm going to take the piss out of everything and defend the use of the word "dude" as a non-gendered contextual term of acknowledgement or affectionate naming.
---
Chelle

Wow.

Wed, 17 May 2006 18:52:22 GMT

I'm learning that spending the better part of two days from 7am unwashed and in one's pajamas, in front of the computer, tappa tappa tapping cover letters and resume amendments is fruitful.

One interview yesterday, two interviews tomorrow and several interested e-mails.

This internet job search thing kicks ass.

Thanks to the mighty eriu_3 for passing along Sask NetWork... and I'm passing it to you to keep the jobby goodness going. It has jobs all over SK, so it applies to all of you out-of-Stooners, too.
---
Chelle

Geetar for sale

Tue, 16 May 2006 16:57:59 GMT

Ok everyone. I have a proposition for you, and anyone else that may be interested that you know... you Saskatonians know how this works... just put out a flyer on your block and everyone as far as Swift Current knows by the next morning.

I'm selling my guitar. It is a Yamaha FG-332, manufactured in 1980. It has low action (ie. you don't have to press too hard to put the strings down), new strings, a perfect exterior and interior, perfect structural integrity, and it's so unsullied that it still has a new-wood smell. Yeah. And it's 26 years old. Not too shabby.

It comes with a soft case and a dorkassed Mel Bay guitar book (a little more advanced - it won't teach you much, but hey, whatever) and I'm selling it for...

... and this is a hell of a deal...

$250.

That's it.

I phoned Mother's Music, and they sell the guitar only for $250, and that's before tax. Add the case and you're upwards of $300.

All I want for this kickass guitar and black soft case (and I won't MAKE you take the book) is $250.

It's a good deal. Think about it, will ya? I've been trying to sell this thing privately for a year and no luck... some jokers think they can get away with offering me $100 cash, as though it matters how you pay me. I don't care if I get paid in $250 worth of tuition credits or SNES games at this point, but money is preferred.

Get this damned thing off my hands! Buy my guitar!
---
Chelle

D

Tue, 16 May 2006 16:21:46 GMT

Homegrown Organic

The alarm clock calls you with mathematical precision, and you answer
neurons firing
gears protesting
breath shallow and insufficient.
Your feet flail helplessly
arms gyrating
teeth grinding
vocal processors offline
memory banks taxed by your overloaded circuitry.
Rely on your flesh
hungry and tender from ill treatment
to grow cold and unresponsive
your optic sensors to short out and painfully adapt.

That damned alarm
this = your only rational thought in all the trouble
and trials
and defenselessness
boiling to fever pitch
threatening to make you perspire and present your distress
creeping dangerously in rivulets to your power conduits.
Channel them instead into tears
forcing them to squeeze out of their membranes in an orderly fashion

one two one two 1 2 1 2 tick tick tick tick time's a'wastin'
or don't you care?

Metal and flesh, mind and body, need and desire,
rational emotional unresponsive devotional speak
speak scream do something oh God not again
not me not now not how not ever never oh God please

God

I'm not running at peak efficiency.

My eyes are old and weary

I'm bursting vessels on my tender facial epidermis

not now
not now
help me, please, God, not now.

I can't I can't I can't I can't one two one two 1 2 1 2 tick tick tick tick tick tick time's not the issue because I've run out.

My mother my lover my friend my God
I need you
I need you
I need you
I need You.

I need your voice your arms your hissing comfort shhhh shhhh
the steam valves bursting open in a dissonant calliope
projectile tears
systems failure
backup power rerouted to essential systems
your vocal processor back online

Not Now.
Help Me.

I need you.

I need to speak.

Ok, here we go round the buttugly bush...

Mon, 15 May 2006 18:29:40 GMT

Ok. So. I go to the doctor's office by 8am. Here goes as follows.

9:30am: Cheryl calls Dad at home from the office, saying a position at her workplace (Alberta Heritage Foundation for Medical Research aka AHFMR) has opened and I should apply. Dad directs her to my home number.
9:45am: Jon has a seizure and Mom flips out.
9:50am: Cheryl calls Jon's caregiver, who directs her to Mom's school.
10am: Mom and Cheryl clear up the "Who? What?" confusion and Mom gets all excited and gets Cheryl's e-mail and work number.
10:15am: Mom tries me all over, to no avail.
10:30am: Mom tries the LGBTA centre, where I was trying to scrape the poke-and-prod off me and tells me to get my ass home ASAP to send Cheryl my resume and await a phone interview.
11am: Reach home, throw shit in the corner, begin typing furiously, tweak and pull and pinch and write a cover letter and throw all that shit in an e-mail for Cheryl to pass on to this Linda Humphreys chick.
11:30am: Make lunch and watch Jann Arden on Vicky Gabereau in between handling e-mails from Dad and Cheryl et al.
12:29pm: Write LiveJournal entry and wait for the phone to ring for my interview.
---
Chelle

That's that.

Sun, 14 May 2006 21:21:06 GMT

As Russell Banks says in Rule of the Bone, you can always become a brand-new beggar.

Chappie is a 14-year-old scrappy kid with a mohawk and piercings from Au Sable, NY, who smokes too much weed, steals, squats and quits school. He goes on the road with his a friend, gets a tattoo of crossed femur bones, renames himself the Bone, moves to Jamaica, finds his father and comes to know I-self before witnessing the death of his friends, his relationships, his grandmother and his paternal ties.

I can become a brand-new beggar, too.

I can stay here at Mom's for a few days, chilling and printing off resumes with my Dad's address in Edmonton on them. I can hop on a plane, one-way, and take as much as the suitcases I have left can hold for Edmonton, where I'll get a job at the Mill Woods McDonald's and get by. I'll pay Dad and Cheryl rent, put some in savings and avoid contact with intimacy.

My Dad invited me yesterday to come to Edmonton. David asked me to leave his house today so we could have some time apart. Edmonton is looking good. They're dull, scary, grey pastures, but it's better than the nuclear wreckage, save the sweet Elysian isle of my mother and friends, that I have here.

My stomach hurts a lot.
---
Chelle

Home.

Sun, 14 May 2006 07:02:18 GMT

Not happy:

Not working.
Not in school.
Still awake.

I'm still hyped up. I need to sleep.
---
Chelle

In Edmonton

Thu, 11 May 2006 20:58:55 GMT

Well, I'm here. I came on a quick WestJet flight after all. I'm working, though it's still not easy to afford, but it was worth my peace of mind.

I'm staying at Dad and Cheryl's, and Colin has a sprained ankle, so he's doing the crutch thing... very loudly. The fall didn't injure his tongue.

Tonight's the keynote address for the conference, but I don't think I'm gonna go. Bad me, I know, but I'm still on a huge sleep defacit and I need to rest again tonight so I can do the rest of this thing full speed ahead.

Went to IKEA, got an apple corer for Mom and a garlic press for D. No one else placed orders, but I woulda gotten you something if you'd asked! :)

Time for a beer or something... Cheryl bought me an 8 of Keiths and a 6 of Red Stripe stubbies. They're so awesome.
---
Chelle

In Regina

Tue, 09 May 2006 01:32:37 GMT

I'm at the whatever Java cafe something on Albert (yeah, that narrows it down, I know) across from the Travelodge South, where I'm currently shacked up with my teddy bear and an in-the-works speech for tomorrow. I forgot my usual speech at home, silly me, so I'm trying to write one that more accurately reflects what I'm doing and how I feel these days. It'll be special, that's for sure.

Chaperoned my mom's band trip today. It's awesome seeing my mom in action as a band teacher - her conducting style for smellementary school band should be patented. Yes, it's sort of arrogant to brag about my mom, but I do it all the time because she's great and she deserves it.

I think my pig will do without me until tomorrow evening. wind_dork, may I leave you a locked post about perhaps looking in on her twice or thrice during my stay in Edmonchuck? I would really appreciate it, because the sweetie does need a water and pellet refill now and then, along with a carrot or two. I miss her already.

I miss D, too, but things will sort themselves out. We're back on the ball as much as possible, but we'll talk more on Monday when we have all the time in the world. Things are better with him. Thanks for everyone's support and calls.

My room at the Travelodge is sweetass. I could push the two beds together and have an orgy pad for one in there. For now, I'm going to complete this entry and head back in time for more shitty TV and the remainder of my speech.
---
Chelle

Sun, 07 May 2006 03:58:43 GMT

Salut!

My name is

Chelle

I am

active, agender, aggressive, ally, ambiguous, andro, bent, bidyke, bisexual, bitch, both, brunette, butch-ish, cunt, daddy's girl, drag hag, drag prince, female-bodied, feminist, femme-ish, GLBTQIA, geek, gender anarchist, gender variant, gendered, genetic girl, gentleman, gentlewoman, goy, homoplatonic, human, indifferent, LGBTQIA, lady, lesbigay, masochist, me, ms., none of your business, omnigender, omnisexual, open, other, other-gendered, out, outed, pangender, pansexual, person, plural, queer, queer-friendly, queer-minded, quirky, radical, recreational gender blender, same gender loving, self-defined, sister, soft butch, stealth, switch, tomboy, tomgirl, transfeminist, transgender warrior, undecided, undeclared, undefined, unspecified, versatile, woman, XX, XXX, YES!

What's yours?

I'm proud

Thu, 04 May 2006 06:51:04 GMT

Caity and Bea have been doing a bookwalk for literacy. They're doing it for Gambellan refugees who don't have adequate school supplies - many men aren't in school, and they're not permitting women at all due to a lack of material.

They started Sunday from St. Thomas More college at the U of S and headed out of town toward Humboldt and Muenster. The walk ends when they reach St. Peter's College in Muenster.

Here's where they got to until the weather made them quit for a bit:

They reached St. Denis when it started to snow and the wind whipped up... believe me, it was hard to take a break outside even at work today, downtown, because of the weather. They'll start again when the weather isn't likely to kill them out there.

I'm so proud. Send them your support Here and Here.
---
Chelle

Eeep.

Mon, 01 May 2006 15:20:43 GMT

I start work in 45 minutes. Nerves have I.

We went to a barbecue at Janis and Remi's last night. I romped with the girls, ate too much, knitted a bit, watched D and the kids play boule and roasted the perfect weiner. I was just in time to rescue my knitting from my bag at one point, because some bird POOED on my bag. There was birdshit on my bag. D complained that the bird had pooed on him, but seriously, folks, there was an enormous bird deuce on my bag.

It came off with a wet cloth.

I still smell like a campfire. It's awesome.

My hair, after the wedding, was so backcombed that I didn't have the patience to wash it. The French twist was lovely, but it had to come out sometime, so I took out all the pins.

I like my hair backcombed. It'll stay like this for awhile.

If anyone has wedding pictures uploaded, please post/forward them!
---
Chelle