Across the universe
2003-11-18 | 10:43 a.m.

Hi diary. I'm still not feeling super awesome, but it's proper diary etiquitte to not leave depressing shit up there for the world to read for too many days on end, or people start to freak out. The day after that rather depressing night, I tried to get my shit together. I started drinking coffee again, I did my hair, hell, I even wore bright pink. It sort of worked. I'm still bothered by the seemingly endless stream of criticism that I'm facing every day. And of course, still living in the shadow of my sister. The shadow and the stench, actually. She bought this cheap knock-off of Ralph Lauren and she fucking marinates in it every morning. Seriously, she douses herself in it, trails it downstarirs, then gives herself another once-over in the hall before she leaves. I hear when she gets to school she recharges again. Do guys like that? What the hell do guys like? Everyone I know seems to be getting VERY lucky lately. I haven't dated in almost two years now. Maybe that bothers me and I need to deal with it. I'm seen as being very independent, maybe to a point where it's unattractive.

Ah well, I'll be on the other side of the planet in a couple months.

On to better, brighter news: I wrote a fun intoductory letter about myself to the people I know in Australia and New Zealand in hopes of making more connections to stay with when I'm there. Di works as a secretary at one of the most elite private schools in Australia, and she showed it to the headmaster. If I had known she was going to do that, I would have smartened up and written a proper letter, not this silly little broken piece with such subtitles as "Sam: The Artist" and "Sam: The (un)Athlete". BUT YEAH, Di reported back that the the headmaster said, "That girl is a delight! When can she come?"

WHEN. WHEN can she come. Not Can she come, Is she coming, How can we make this work... WHEN is she coming?! Doesn't that OWN?! I was so stoked, that's so flattering. I do plan to be as delightful as fucking possible overseas, which I imagine will be much easier to do without everyone staring at the tall, tanned, blonde goddess standing beside me. I'm excited to get out of here, to be thrown into a strange environment and really have to deal with challenges. This recycled jealousy bullshit is so uncharacteristic of me. I never cared what people thought until now.

I got my word for the Skin project:

you

I wish I had updated as soon as I found the letter in my mailbox. Words can not describe how fucking elated I was when I tore it open to find a thin receipt with those three letters on it, below my very own name. Could I ask for a more perfect word? I think not. :) And at the most wonderful time, too. Hopefully this tattoo will help me to dwell less on what you think of me and bring me back to what -I- think of me. I had a preliminary meeting with my normal tattoo artist, and he's under watch now from management so unfortunately he has to charge me the shop minimum ($60) to get it done. I'm still debating about font and size, but it's going to be on the left side on my ribs. He kindly is throwing in a free touchup on the flaming heart on my neck, because a small patch of blue faded, and I've got the strong desire to throw some orange and yellow into the flames now. If you cared. Heh.

I bought some new power boots. Wow, this is turning out to be an awkward entry. Yeah, yay, I bought new power boots. My old ass-kicking boots are so worn that I'm pretty sure they disgusted everyone but me. These are fabulous, sleek, black leather, huge platforms but not in the circa-1996 Girl Power way. How do I put this normally... they make me walk really well, like I'm constantly on a runway or something. I forgot how some decent heels take good posture to the next level. Not to mention I'm wicked-tall in them. It's like store-bought confidence. Gone are warm sunny days of candy coloured Chucks and checkerboard Vans. That Jet song should be my anthem.

Ergh... time to head off to school. I'm not sure if I'll dance much this week because I've got mad photographing to do to get the call boards ready for the December 16 dance recital. My camera went tits up on Friday at the all-nighter so I couldn't get all of the students' pictures taken and now I've got that to worry about. Tracking down 70 full-time highschool students is a harder job than one would think, especially during cold and flu season. Oh, by the way, I'm off to Toronto again this week to visit the Ryerson campus and explore the dance program on the Industry day. Also, I get to see that fabulous Art Deco exhibit at the ROM and the Andy Warhol collection at the AGO that I missed last time, although I did catch the Degas sculpture exhibit before it left. I should update about that; it was so fucking beautiful, and I had a great experience, I can't believe I forgot to write about it. AAAAH, time to go, okay, there's my entry, more words later.

-S

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