wtf people? wtf?

You know him.
He's the 270lb guy who's 6'3" and insists on driving home after drinking.
He's the guy who slurs "I drive better drunk than you do sober!". He's the guy that sticks up his thumbs from the steering wheel and keeps the road between them in a clever ploy to get home safe. He's the guy that would deck you if you tried to take his keys and plows through you as you offer to call a cab.

I hate that guy. I hate him because he could kill someone driving home late from work, or the DD from a party with a carload of drunk friends, or he could run over the lady running out to the 24 hour pharmacy to pick up cold meds for her sick kid.

But you know who I hate even more? The "friends" that let him get away with it, that insist that everyone is responsible for their own actions, that make a joke out of it instead of ostracizing him and treating him as he deserves to be treated.

Why do we love the lovable big oaf who willingly puts us in danger repeatedly? Why do we laugh at his stupidity and make a leper out of the responsible person who suggests calling the cops because this is the fifth time Tommy has decided to drive home hammered? Why do we encourage him to binge and act happy as he downs a 24 pack and frown at the tattle-tale looking out for everyone's best interest? Why is it a question of loyalty when someone says Tommy should go to jail, but not a question of loyalty when Tommy is willing to ram into your car with his just to get out of the driveway?

On that note, why does an entire theater full of people who have paid $11 to see a movie put up with 3 rowdy teenagers who are clearly intent on one thing: ruining everyone else's time? Why does no one tell them to shut up? Why does no one call security? Why isn't everybody up in arms? Why is the person that does stand up the odd one out?
Is it that nobody cares? That everyone is scared? Or is it that things have gotten so out of hand that the person who stands up for the majority is now seen as the "crackhead"?
Yesterday I told some rowdy kids to shut up in a movie and was told to fuck off. Then I went and got security and got them kicked out of the movie. My sister, chatting with a friend on the internet when she got home, tells me that as chance would have it, her friend was in the movie with us with her boyfriend. What is her boyfriend's comment at my actions? "That girl is on crack."

I understand the rowdy teens I was telling off telling me to shut up. But why would anybody else in the movie give them the upper moral hand? Or call me cracked out? Or see my actions as strange or unacceptable in any way?
It's a sad day for society when the person who is courteous and respectful and demands the same treatment in return is the odd one out. You're never going to get treated rightly or fairly if you don't ask for it. You can't just sit back and expect people to be nice. You have to stand up for yourself. If everyone did, and not just the jackasses in the movie theater - but if every normal, self-respecting and other-respecting individual did, this world would be a much better place.
As it stands, I'm left to duel it out alone with the jackasses of the world while the rest sit like sheep and put up with bullshit.
I don't get that, and I don't get the big guy having the upper moral hand over the person calling the cops. There are a lot of things I don't get about us.

i like the movie "hairspray"

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas
Just like the ones I used to know

The past year has been one of introspection and soul searching.
My adventures in institutionalized education are coming to an end, and my life as I know it will follow suit. I feel guilt and shame for having wasted the better part of 4 years, without goals and without pushing myself. I'm hoping I'll take away from this that it's never too late to start trying, and that it's important to have goals. Obviously, I might not achieve what I wanted if I start trying late, but the point is to start. Something is better than nothing. Better late than never. And goals, well, goals orient in a sea that can quickly become overwhelming. It's good to have a direction in mind -any direction- when you're trying to find your way back home.

Another lesson I learned is that I need to start thinking about what I want to do in life, and then I need to start doing it.

Now, I know, that at some point in my life I want to teach, and I want to go to law school. Just to see if I can, if I'd be good at it, and to see what it's all about. The wheels are in motion, but if they're blocked or if it doesn't work out this time around for whatever reason, then I need to keep trying.

I also know that I want to get back to the piano and fiddling around, and that I want to get the basics of guitar down pat, just for myself. Just for me. For when I'm sitting around at home not doing anything. (Not to please parents or rock out to with peers or show off in front of anyone. Just me.)

I want to travel - to see more of the world than Serbia and Montenegro and a resort in Cuba and some of Toronto and (it feels like) all of Mississauga. And when I travel, I don't want most of my time to be spent on a plane or a train or behind glass. I want to go somewhere and immerse myself in culture, in people, in language, and truly take something away from that. I believe there is no substitute in terms of education for living outside of your own life. As a voyeur by nature, and a lover of human thought, I think an expedition to some remote place I've never even thought to visit would be absolutely inspirational for me.

I want to do something special for my graduation. Finishing an undergraduate degree isn't a big deal, because a lot of people do it. But it is a big deal, because it's been a struggle and I've learned a lot throughout the process. I should celebrate my growth as a person, the friendships I've acquired, and my launch into a new chapter in my life. Those things deserve celebration.

I've learned so much about my core values this year. I've examined issues I'd never had a chance to question before and established my value-system as much more traditional than I originally thought. I believe in investing in things, in working hard at them, at not giving up when something is important. I believe in friends being family, and I believe in being there, always, no matter what, for family. I never thought so before, but I do believe in unconditional love, I believe in sacrificing for the greater good, I believe in someone wanting to hold onto me, in believing I'm worth fighting for. I believe in marriage, and the white picket fence, and the 2.5 children and the dog and the minivan, and I want that. I never thought I wanted that before. Obviously, I don't want it now, but it seems like a lot of the other things I want out of life are leading up to or a predication of that family I want to build, like that is my ultimate goal, and the other goals I have are just in place as a series of things to get me to that ultimate point better prepared and more ready to brave that world. And that is a shocking realization for me, (although I realize it really shouldn't be given my own family situation and where I've grown up.)
I hope that it's not a spit in the face of women's liberation that I think now, more than ever before, that I'd want to stay at home with my kids during the early years of their childhood if I could afford it at all, that I'd want to keep the place tidy and that weekend camping retreats would be cool for me. I hope it's okay that I don't want to be a powerwalking, fast talking, cool calm and collected corporate lawyer, but probably a family lawyer type gal instead.
But then, and this is probably the best lesson I've learned this year: who really cares what others think? What matters is that I'm happy, that my family is happy, that my friends are happy. And they'll be happy for me if I'm happy. Those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind.

Lastly, I'm learning that you get what you ask for in life. I asked for love, I believed in it, I saw it, and I got it. This year with Spazzy has been a rollercoaster, constant learning and re-learning of truths about myself and about life. I'm learning, slowly, to believe in myself. To believe that I know what I'm doing, what I want, where I'm going, and how to get there. And as I get better at trusting myself, I will get better at trusting him, and us. And no matter the outcome, whether we're old and gray and still arguing about how much we paid for pepper, or whether this is all over a month from now, I have to believe that it was worth everything I put in, and that I'm worth everything I got out of it. I have to believe that the only way to live life is to put all of yourself into everything, including love, and take things as they come. And stop being scared.

So, my only new years' resolution is to get out of my comfort zone. To get messy. To make mistakes. And to always, always believe in me.

I'm sleepy and I'm missing you and I wish you were only a call away.

This week, 3 things that made me very proud of myself occurred.

I got an A+ in my seminar course.
This from the prof who wrote me an academic reference at the beginning of the semester, and am sure would be willing to do it again when I decide to try for Law School again next year. This is great, because it shows me that I am intelligent and can be hard working enough to get an A+ in a fourth year, seriously challenging course.

I got a 95 on a paper that I wrote for a second year English course. This means even more to me than the 90 I received overall in the seminar course because this English course has been my arch nemesis from the outset. I've had to visit the Academic Skills Center, grapple with the thought that after 4 years of University I don't know how to write an English essay, and actually invest hours into developing a thesis for what I felt was a pointless class. My only motivation was my desire to prove to myself that I could do it. So I persisted, and apparently, all of the hard work paid off. That makes me proud, because it shows me that I can overcome even when odds seem stacked in my favour, if I just work hard.

Lastly, I didn't blow up on E for a series of minute upsets. Instead, I gave myself a day to think it over and calm down, and talked things through with him the next day, sans blowup. I think it was a much more effective strategy, and am proud that I wasn't pushed to act rashly.

It's bittersweet that my academic realizations come at the end of a long journey at University. It's sweet, because now I know I can do this, and probably anything else that comes my way. It's bitter, because despite my ability, since I haven't shown it consistently, it is questionable what doors will be open to me in the future. The fact that it took me four years to realize that I have to work hard may have closed doors for me that won't easily reopen. Still, better late than never, I suppose.

The realization regarding how I deal with E is also bittersweet. It's sweet, because I'm learning to curb my irrational self and I think this will be a positive for us. But it's bitter, because I always had the romantic notion that you shouldn't have to change who you are or how you react if someone truly loves you, and I'm finding now, that if you truly love someone, sometimes you'll have to give up a little of yourself to make both of you happier.
Maybe I'm wrong. I'm still learning.

i just want this week to be over

"And the fire fades away
Most of every day
Is full of tired excuses
But it's too hard to say
I wish it were simple
But we give up easily
You're close enough to see that
You're on the other side of the world to me"

I've become a wreck. Forgetting to turn the stove on and glowering in frustration as the water refuses to boil. Vivid images of strangling and decapitating the bus driver after inducing shaken-baby syndrome in a grown man are the only things that comfort me as I wait 20 minutes for the bus to move. I cry at the drop of a hat, feel fat and unattractive, get the tremors and shakes and a sped-up heartrate for no discernible reason, and the stress is beginning to show as little red pockmarks make their debut on the bottom of my chin.

I'm not pregnant, I know that for sure, but this emotional rollercoaster is having me wishing I was. Then everything would make sense.
This way, I'm just pretty sure I'm going crazy.