My head is sore, both from the drink
and all the things you've made me think.

...I actually spoke this line to someone today, who rhymes hungover???

Also said, while...how do I put this gently...stoned out of my mind in a grocery store:

Gummi is my third favorite kind of bear, under koala and panda, and whats funny is none of them are actually real bears. Someone made me write that down, and if I could remeber who, I'd thank them.

In the two weeks I've been here I've managed to screw up horribly and get screwed up horribly. New record!!! But I won't let either of those things take me away from where I am and what I'm doing.

I met a guy here who treeplanted with another guy who has this thing for Ayn Rand. I'm working on it.

THE NEW DIGS

All right boys and girls. Time to put this old girl out to pasteur for the next 10 months, thought who knows, if I need to vent and don,t want to get cryptic, this might be the place.

I can be found at a broad, abroad now.

Til then,
Des

Well, here we are, my last night in the country for the next 10 months.
Shockingly enough, I can't sleep.

But I don't really have anything to say either, its a pretty void feeling

I don't know what's going to happen. I still don't have a place to stay. We'll see how this works out. I figure as long as I hit the ground running I'll atleast get somewhere.

My dreams have never been as vivid as the one I just had, in what will be my last nap in Ottawa.

I dreamt about two hours ago in real time I left my house in frustration at my mother (real frustration, trust me) and fled to Toronto to find my calming, grounding source JenBrown. When I arrived there (at the University she attends which I know my way around fairly well) I did not find her. I found instead two other friends of mine who don't belong in that landscape and with their help I found a boy. A boy who lives in the landscape and who I've tried very hard to push out of the recesses of my memory.

In my dream I spent my last night in Canada with that boy in an incredibly alive, yellow scene.

It was one of those dreams where you catch yourself saying 'this is a dream' to yourself', although I recall it being so alive that it was undeniably real to me as I lived it.

In my dream I also stole some easter chocolate from a pharmacy that I had apparently been working at for only two days before leaving, though they liked me enough to get me a card.

The final part of my dream, completely unrelated to the journey aspect was a part where I came downstairs, hopped online and checked the three pages that I currently have on the go. On the page that Ned is designing for me, someone had commented. It was my friend Joegina, who has no idea that I have any of these three pages, least of all the one that only Ned and I know he's made. Her comment was this haiku. I read it. I usually can't read in dreams.

Desiree is 8
of the songs that we listed
we are only five

Holy God. Weirdest dream ever. Starring many people whom I will all miss.

You thought I'd forgotten didn't you?

Elephants never forget

Once, when I used to work at that place that everyone cringes at, a boy who I liked drove me home.

When we pulled up to my house we spoke casually about workplace gossip that I then figured was merely the juvenile chatter of highschool rubbing off on us. I later would find out gossip was everpresent in all workplaces. I was very idealistic considering where I was working at the time.

After the conversation had crested and it became clear that the time to exit his car had arisen, I quietly slipped my lipgloss out of my pocket and on to the seat, so hopefully he'd find it in the morning and maybe, I don't know, call me to tell me he had it.

As I walked to my front step, grinning to myself at how sneaky and coy I was, I heard him roll his window down.

"Hey, Des! You left your...girl thing...in my car"
He held it out of his window and I sheepishly walked over and plucked it out of his hand. Foiled by the ignorant practicality of a boy.

Four years later, as he walked away from my car, I'd spot his notebook tucked in the side pocket of the passenger door. I would honk obnoxiously, and then inadvertently make a show of leaning across and opening the passenger door to stretch my arm out and hand it to him.

He looked at me in a way I wouldn't understand until much later that night.
I fucking blew it.
There are no takebacks in situations like this.

Roughly 12 o'clock today I threw up in the parking lot of the Northbrook Loeb.
I think it's about time I leave this country.

They bought me an icecream cake that said 'Bon Voyage Desiree' on it, and then added their own accents above the e's in my name.

Welcome to my last Sunday in Ottawa. The day so far:
Waking up next to Sara feeling more drunk then hungover, then leaving, then breakfast at Griffins talking about camping.
It's grey here. And cold.

In the middle of the night I awoke to the sound of something leaking. A faucet, or maybe a toilet running. I rolled over and saw the silhouette of a shirtless Warren with his back to me. It appeared that he was peeing on a chair. When he was finished he simply returned to the room where he was sleeping and closed the door.
I convinced myself that this did not happen.

And then...

In the morning the boys came downstairs and sat with us as we decided where to go for breakfast, twenty minutes later as we all got up to go, Cameron quizzically felt the seat of his pants. "This chair is wet" I watched for Warren's reaction, but when he didn't even flinch at it I figured he must have done it in his sleep.

It's nice having secrets with yourself.

About a month ago I was home from work and was falling asleep on the couch when my father burst through the door belting out the wrong words to the Ella and Louie duet Summertime. He sang as he put his briefcase down, he sang all the way up the stairs, he sang as he changed his clothes and he sang as he went in the kitchen. Once at the fridge he stopped singing so he could contemplate what he would have for dinner, outloud. I listened to him list the possible combinations of food for 7 minutes before he was satisfied with a selection, whereupon he recommenced his singing and left the house to go to the gym.

The whole time I lay there chuckling to myself thinking that he'd done this for my amusement as he must have seen my shoes by the door.

The next day when I arrived home from work knowing he'd be sitting in his chair reading, I came in the door singing the right words to Summertime. I sang as I put my stuff away, I sang as I got an apple and I sang as I sat down next to him. He sat there watching me with an amused smile on his face and when I was finished told me that he'd had that song in his head all day yesterday.

"I know"
"You do?"
"Yes, I heard you singing it when you got home from work yesterday afternoon"
"Oh, you were home?"
"You didn't know that?"
"Nope."

Pause.

"Do you sing to yourself often?"
"Yeah."
"Cool. Me too."
"Yeah, loudly too."
"Of course."

And then this morning, I caught my cat in the bathtub AGAIN, singing to herself while running with her front paws on the slope and her back paws planted. The Connors house is big on musicality I suppose.

This is my cat. Well, she's actually in no way mine. She belongs to my mother and hates my guts. But in this picture, taken yesterday, she seemed to have a temporary lapse and jumped up on me. Unfortunately she's undeniably beautiful, with big blue eyes and a striking face, so I can't help but love her. That's what sucks about really, terribly beautiful women, deep down inside, you can't help but love them as objects of great beauty.

My comments are down, so I'm just going to assume it's because you've all flooded it with your ideas for the new site name.

In other naming news, while playing a game I invented at work today where you create a band in your head and name it and then list a few of their song titles and what causes their inevitable demise, I discovered a band name so perfect I'm almost guaranteeing that I'm ripping it off of someone else's idea. I just don't know who's. So if it's yours, let me know.

I also believed I invented the thumbs up when I was 6, so this is a possible repeat offense. I must be stopped.

Magical Band Name IS: Slowmotion Backflip.
So unstoppably cool. Just think about it.