My Right to Not Vote
Uvic elections are coming up. Yes, I am one of those individuals who, at the ripe of old age of 18, started voting in elections as soon as I could grab my hands on a voting card. It is my right as a Canadian to vote, and as a student, I have the right to choose my representatives during my school elections. As a 3rd year student here at Uvic, I made a promise to make informed decision to try...
If you have a college degree you can be absolutely sure of one thing… you...– Unknown
The Cold Shoulder
I imagine myself on the beaches of Cococabana, Brazil. Naked, sunkissed skin of the locales, I can feel the warmth of the sun beaming on the sweat that beads across my chest. Wearing my bikini, I enjoy the sites of the blue waters cresting on the shore of the beach. Nothing is more delightful than the sand between my feet. Unfortunately, I see this only from the cold, sterile cable of my...
“I started thinking about Thomas Jefferson on the Declaration of Independance and the part about our right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness and I remember thinking, how did he know to put the pursuit part in there? that maybe happiness is only something we can pursue, and maybe we can actually never have it. No matter what.” - Christopher Gardener (The Pursuit of...
Finding Incomplete Thoughts in Notebook #001
wordiness is next to godliness, or, you know, it’s not. But whatever.
The Canadian Authors Meet
Expansive puppets percolate self-unction Beneath a portrait of the Prince of Wales. Miss Crotchet’s muse has somehow failed to function, Yet she’s a poetess. Beaming, she sails From group to chattering group, with such a dear Victorian saintliness, as is her fashion, Greeting the other unknowns with a cheer— Virgins of sixty who still write of passion. The air is heavy with Canadian...
The Letter Z: Zoodikers
an exclamation. A-Z series is done!
The Letter Y: Yeasty
Full of restless energy or creativity; insubstantial.
The Letter X: Xanadu
An exotic, luxurious place. I am back at home in the suburbs of Vancouver. Home in the evening, I have felt as though I have gone through a battle, and to return to a place of peace and quiet. Only bruises and scratches are left remnant of the weekend. Close friends and new acquaintances swirled within a busy home. Now, I’m at my Xanadu. Quiet, and filled with a few loved ones, this is...
The letter W: Wyrd
The personification of fate and destiny. Last car in lane 7 to get on the 3pm ferry. My goodness. Lucky number 7 is on my side this weekend.
The letter V: Vagient
Crying like a baby. I might become vagient after the harsh week of midterms and papers of this week, but weep of joy to finally get to reading break.
The Letter U: Ughten
Morning Twilight. I woke up before the sunrise this morning to get a head start on the day. I had much to do, but allowed myself some time to listen to the weather. Ughten was missing due to the mystifying clouds that poured sheets of rain onto the window pain. The rapid chaos of the ever-changing weather turned into blue, quiet skies.
The Letter T: Tatonnement
experimentation; trial and error Love will always be a tatonnement of the heart. Sensitive, always tentative to falling for something that may not be real. It tries its hardest to not be biased towards emotion, trying to separate our emotion with our brain. We lead with the mind and end with the reality that we’ve led with our heart the entire time.
Oooh! I love her!– - Anelalani Love Kanealli (age 3) My baby cousin on Oovoo. She is currently with my godchild (her older brother) Keanu (age 4) & my “sistar” cas in Hawaii. Does it count for her to be my first valentine? I think so.
As I trace my fingers amongst the freckles on your chest, I connect them as a heart that is attached to mine. The light that seeps through the curtains hits your eyes that is too perfect; I question if I am in a dream world, lying between the sheets and pillows that helps ease my gaze upon every breath you take. May this feeling be like the sun that never sets.
The letter S: Scintillant
Valentine by Carol N. Duffy
Not a red rose or a satin heart. I give you an onion. It is a moon wrapped in brown paper. It promises light like the careful undressing of love. Here. It will blind you with tears like a lover. It will make your reflection a wobbling photo of grief. I am trying to be truthful. Not a cute card or a kissogram. I give you an onion. Its fierce kiss will stay on your lips, possessive and faithful...
The Letter R: Rampallion
scoundrel; villain. My procrastination is my own rampallion. It comes and goes, to and from my mind; an unpleasant visitor to the hosts. Too much to do, so little time.
10 months from now
You never know where life will take you. A path that you choose leads you to a destination, still unsure and grey. You have an idea to what it might be, but you only see the outline of the future - still yet to be shaped by the reality of it all. I wouldn’t have ever thought I would be graduating this early. December 2011. A year before ‘my scheduled time’ of the typical 4...
Drunk As Drunk
Drunk as drunk on turpentine From your open kisses, Your wet body wedged Between my wet body and the strake Of our boat that is made of flowers, Feasted, we guide it - our fingers Like tallows adorned with yellow metal - Over the sky’s hot rim, The day’s last breath in our sails. Pinned by the sun between solstice And equinox, drowsy and tangled together We drifted for months and woke...
Floating between the aisles of the bookstore, I find myself treading towards titles such as “local artists” and “Vancouver,” rather than fluttering to my favorite section: Travel & Abroad. I will admit that I am having troubles with my placelessness at the moment. In one stroke, I am more than happy to be where I am. With the other, I find myself wanting to be at a...
The Letter P: Pluripresence
Presence in multiple places at one time.
The Letter Q: Quaesitum
something sought for; the true value. I don’t know why it is more difficult to understand the Quaesitum of a class in which I have been learning for decades. I don’t think I’m able to write better, or understand or be able to criticize more. English is interfering with the perspectives, and my creative thought has become foggy. It’s second guessing my writing strengths,...
For what it’s worth: it’s never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever...– The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
carpepiscem-deactivated20111030 asked: what ling classes are you taking?
FUCK: Finding Underlying Creative Knowledge
I try to write as though I am am having sex. finding enlightenment and the desire to make the words moan, honing to fuck, in the best sense of the word: To find underlying creative knowledge. Finding trust in my capabilities to perform and and deliver my oral thought into something that keeps you wanting to come back for more and more. Maybe I came up short? not filling you to the brim, left...
I feel as though I am in middle school again. The discovery of cute boys and the endless amount of crushes come and swirl in my mind, like a sweet milkshake be blended with scribbles of “u+me 4everr” and notes being passed to and from, with the ice cream melting from the warm fuzzy feeling you get just thinking of him. Maybe I’m just going throught a sweetness overdose…