A Letter to the City of London, Ontario, Canada

Dear City of London;
Earth Hour. To me, one of the most noblest of ideas and plans to slowly make a dent in the giant that is global warming. Living with my 82 year old, old-way-of-thinking German grandmother, I initially thought it would be near impossible to do anything other than unplug my laptop, but for the past week she has been asking me questions about global warming (all brought on by a pamphlet given to her on the melting of the ice caps).
82 years old and she joined me in counting down the minutes, seconds until the cookoo-clock hit and called out 8pm. We had both televisions unplugged, the DVD player unplugged, clocks and phones and the microwave unplugged. In the end, our house was pitch-black for all but one phone, one clock, the fridge upstairs and freezer in the basement. Pretty good, if you ask me. It was so silent, so calming. I decided to go for a walk.
And so I walked. I walked down Platts lane and around the Cherryhill apartment complex’s. All of the apartment complex’s, and then past Cherryhill mall. It’s the route my grandmother and I have been walking since first year (for me, she’s been walking it for years upon years now). I walked with a cheesy grin on my face, thinking that finally, the city was doing something concrete and substantial to combat global warming on a populace-based scale. I then noticed that only every other street lamp was on, which made me smile even more, thinking I was seeing some “non essential” lights being turned off.
But then…well, see, I’m not sure who’s in charge of lights in apartment parking lots, or in mall parking lots, or in bank parking lots, but the sight of these made my heart drop. Nothing was off, nothing at all. The lights around Cherryhill were all glowing happily as I walked past. Those in the mall parking lot were buzzing with pent up energy. The mall itself had every light on. I’m not sure who parks in front of a bank at 8 or 9 at night, but I do know that whoever does will have no need to worry about lighting, as the florescent-like lights were humming and glaring along with all the other. I then noticed, as I made my way up the driveway of my house, that all of the street lights were on. I suppose, when I had first seen them, it was still too bright out for them to have been turned on.

So, my question to you, city of London, is what, pray tell, was your idea of “non-essential” lights? Because I’m sure three-tiered florescent, buzzing parking lot lamps are damned essential when most businesses in the mall adjacent are closed for the night. Maybe we should try this again, guys. And this time, maybe we should follow Toronto’s lead and make everyone aware by way of more advertisement, more hype, more excitment. Maybe we should have used a giant switch, like in Toronto, to shut off the lights.
Turning off the lights in a few, select buildings is not enough. I watched the CBC news at 9 and what I saw of other Canadian and international cities put London to shame. I am not a London native, but I have been here long enough to feel pride or shame for the city and, believe me, I was not very proud this evening. The public, in my opinion, were neither fully informed nor aware of the event. I have a feeling that my small hometown may have accomplished more darkness.

Earth Hour indeed.

No more vitamin D

How can I explain?
It’s the weight of 80 fingers
slowly imprinting themselves
into my throat.
Clenching eyes, no,
I can’t cry out.
It’s the heel of a boot
grinding itself
into my solar plexus; it grinds
in pleasure as I grind
my teeth together,
creating sparks.
It’s vermin
(hundred upon thousands)
scurrying up my throat and down my back
to rest
in the area behind my heart.
My stomach churns,
I taste bile,
tears in eyes,
salt burning my retinas.
It’s like my arms are attached
to strings:
Shaking.
Anger and fear
and sorrow
and guilt.
Pain.
But god,
the anger.
Angered butterflies in my stomach,
heart and head
batter themselves
into papery oblivion.
I finally collapse
onto old German-matresses.
The butterflies
fall.

"if only"

I can see your starshine
crawling out of sockets.
Tears swim with left behind-
forgotten misgivings.
She’s your everything,
I can see it
in her eyes
as she skims the surface of your dreams
with her plum lips.
I wish that, if only,
I could…

"Soul Sisters"

You are so filled with pain and strength
it seeps out of fallen lashes
and spread thighs.
Broken nails
smell like honey
and the burnt ash knocked off
of discarded cigarettes.

I can almost see
strands of rust-hair fall
across worn pages. Holes,
words torn from lines
of a poets story.
Worn out knobs of rubber
erasing what should not,
can not
be said.

Fingers on temples,
lips pursed,
pens scrawl and scratch
and recite.

Pages smell of cigarettes
and I open to the
center-page
and inhale.
Breathe.
Your words smell
of smoke and strength,
like time lost in alleys,
wondering what you’ve done
what to do now.
Your words smell
of kryptonite and kindness.
Like a raw soul
on display.

You are my soul sister,
and I think
I can now understand
how brilliantly
you soar.

Mmmm...blue furrrr...

I really find my "close matches" very funny. XD

"Kristen and the Beast"? I wish I lived in a fairytale...

I watched Disney’s ”Beauty and the Beast” Saturday night for the first time in, say, 12 years and I noticed and thing or two about it that had never occurred to me before.
Firstly, I now understand that I knew nothing of romance at the age of nine. Well, that’s easy to determine. I didn’t quite understand anything at the age of nine. And even now, at twenty-one, it’s hit-or-miss. But I do remember watching when Belle is “released” from the castle and runs off to help her father. I remember thinking “Oh no! Gaston the meany’s gonna do something bad now.”
I never remembered, nor realized, how heartbreakingly romantic it is. How heartbreakingly romantic the entire movie is.
The creators of ”Beauty and the Beast” were and are geniuses.

With the subtle romantic tension slowly giving way to full on feelings for each other…

The character development in the short amount of time given…

The tiny details that I never would have noticed had I not read the Trivia section on Internet Movie Database…like how the costume designer specifically arranged it so that Belle was the only one in town who wore blue which emphasized how she didn’t fit in. Then she meets Beast, another outcast who wears blue…

The snippets of dialogue:

Cogsworth: Well Your Highness, I must say everything is going just swimmingly. I knew you had it in you, ha ha!
Beast: I let her go.
Cogsworth: Yes, yes, splen - You... what? How could you do that?
Beast: I had to.
Cogsworth: Yes, but, but... but... why?
Beast: Because... I love her.

Then the scene shifts so suddenly that you’re left gasping.

I also now understand how much of a sap I am.
A movie, made in 1991 and watched again in 2008, made me sob uncontrollably.
The last scene, when Beast “dies”, made me hyperventilate with sobs.

I now understand how lost I am in the world if something so small can send me a-wailing. Am I really a twenty-one year old young woman? Or a nine year old child?

I also came to the conclusion that Belle is like a thinner, more musically talented version of me. She has brown hair, a semi upturned nose, a love of books and a want to go out into the world and have adventures but instead looses herself in fantasy lands and dreamscapes.
Now all I need is my own charming Beast.


And so, I cry again.
Why? Simply because of the following message-tag that occurred on Sunday between me and the amazing Jeanann Verlee on MySpace.

{my name},
to your blog "Crashing" posted Nov. 19, i commented:

"new chapbook coming in march.
first off the press is yours.

i'm listening.

-ms. verlee"


the copy is yours.
please send a current mailing address.
i promise i'm not harrassing you.

She’s sending me her newest book of poems.

I must have deleted the entry on MySpace because I can’t find it now.
{Actually, now that I think about it…I’m not sure I posted it on MySpace. Haha! Silly me.}
I am in slight shock. That this woman, whom I admire so much, read my journal and is listening…She is an inspiration. She made my day, week, month, year.
I simply can’t stop smiling!
I think I’ll be able to do my presentation on Tuesday with ease and relative grace (and I say “relative” because I have a tendency to trip over my own feet/stumble over words like “magnetic generator” in public).

I think I’ll be able to smile.

Campus/Bus Observation/"Poem"

I watched you with lidded eyes:
you didn’t see me.
Your backpack took up
an empty seat,
your legs were sprawled within
the close confines of the cramped bus.

For barely a brief moment
you had the saddest eyes I had ever seen.

Flashes of emotion running through
clouded vision and I don’t think
you heard my intake of breath.

You left on Platts Lane,
the sadness gone,
maybe just my imagination playing tricks on me.
But I’m sure you didn’t notice me
as you bustled past.

There are happier moments
awaiting beyond the closed doors
of the accordion-style bus.
Happier moments,
happier eyes.