Move Over, Snooki

Reality shows upset me. Mainly because there is nothing special about the people who have these shows.

Look at fucking Kate Gosselin. I hate that woman. What did she do that was so special? She got pregnant with lots of babies at once. Granted, that's sort of different. But does that warrant having a TV show? Not really. Then her stupid husband cheated on her (or something) and she got a divorce. And her stupid face was on every fucking magazine out there. If they covered every divorce in North America the way they covered hers, they would have to publish weekly volumes of trashy articles and ugly pictures. And I'm sure people would buy them too. Ah, how we love gossip, even if we don't know the people involved.

Now Kate Gosselin is one thing, but how about Jersey Shore? and all those stupid Real Housewives shows? Are people just given money for being trashy? Is that how it works? And all this time my parents were telling me to go to school, study hard, and get a good job. Fuck, I should have been partying it up this whole time.

I say they give me my own reality show. We could name it "Pink Bitch." Cameras could follow me and my mediocre life. They could see the "real life" of a post-university student, trying to find meaning to her life as she works full-time and audits university classes, and occasionally seeing friends and "partying" over Tim Horton's coffees. They could follow me on my hours of public transit every day. They could watch me facebook, tweet and blog. Fuck, it would be riveting. Thank God I swear like a sailor and have an opinion about everything. My charm would give "Pink Bitch" that je-ne-sais-quoi that would have people coming back for more.

Look, I even came up with a tagline, to help market my show: "Small people have big opinions." Now to just get it approved, and here comes my millions of dollars and instant fame.

Dammit Janet, I love you!

I went to Rocky Horror Picture Show last night! It was a very exciting experience ^^

I had been meaning to go for years, but due to timing/lack of organization/etc. somehow I never made it to a showing. So this year, I said 'fuck that shit' and decided to go.

It's funny cause I've seen the movie so many times, but seeing it in a theatre with a bunch of people is very different. That and in the theatre there's a voice-over commenting throughout the show as well as a live recreation of the scenes. Oh yeah, and people throw lots of shit. Myself included. Eheheheh.

I guess you could say that I 'dressed up' for the occasion, but to be honest, the only things that were costume-y for me were the giant clown bow and the fake eyelashes I got. (Though I would totally wear the clown bow everyday, if people didn't already mistake me for a clown, that is >__<.)

Just realized I don't have a full-body shot of my outfit last night... buut yeah... Wore a pouffy skirt and knee-high stiletto boots. It was pretty awesome ^^

(PS did you notice my blonde hair? Totally killed my hair with bleach Sunday night. Undecided as to whether or not I'll keep it blonde or pink it. Only time will tell :P)

「好き」という気持ち

「好き」という気持ちは英語で書くのは恥ずかしいので、日本語で書くならもっと良いと思う。私の母語ではないから、私とこの気持ちに距離を作る。時々この距離は大事だと思う。

誰かが好きになった後で、どうしたらいいかな。私は男と運があまりない。私は他の人と違う。見かけや意見や好きなことが違うから、私のような男を見つけるのは難しいんだ。それに、最後のボイフレンドと別れた後で、もっと選択的な人になった。

とにかく、最近誰かが好きになった。その人は私の状態に完璧だと思った。カッコいいし、親切だし、楽しい男だ。私のように、他の人と違う人だ。それに、初めて会った時の前、友達の写真で見て、「あ〜ぁ！その男、カッコいいし、面白そうな人だ。会いたい〜！」と思った。でもその写真はモントリオールで取らなかったから、多分その人はここに住んでいないと思った。でもクラスの最初の日、その人は私のクラスにいて、私のことまだ知っていた。ちょっと馬鹿だけど、運命でなければならないと思った。すぐに好きになった。

でもその人に私の気持ちを告白した時、私を断った。今までどうしたら良いのを分からない。もちろん友達だけど、それは十分かどうか分からない。友達として、私は彼をコーヒーとかに誘うことが出来る？大丈夫かな。それをしたら、彼はどう思うかな。彼はすごい人だそうだから、私のことが好きにならなくても、この人のことをもっと知りたい。彼ともっと話したい。だって本当に友達になりたい。でもこの全部は私の本当の気持ちかただ言い訳かまだ分からない。

A Picture is Worth 1000 Words, A Papercut, 418

A million different thoughts have been going through my head today. Which makes summarizing said thoughts into a witty blog entry somewhat difficult. A lot of weird things have been going on, and because of that, I simply do not know how to feel.

Feelings are complicated. When you're young, your vocabulary is limited and thus your feelings are simple. I'm happy. I'm sad. I'm angry. Granted, as a child, you often do not have the chance to feel other complex emotions, and I think it's better that way. As an adult, your vocabulary has grown, and now you have different labels: bewildered, irked, confused, embarrassed, ecstatic, elated, lethargic, bamboozled. The list goes on. But sometimes you feel so many emotions at once that you cannot separate one from another. You can't put your feelings in a box, they overflow into other boxes. That's how I feel these days.

When you get a paper cut, it hurts like a bitch, even though it's a small, shallow cut. Often, it doesn't even bleed. But you feel pain. The accompanying emotion is often anger, directed towards the source of the cut. You know it isn't serious, but it still bothers you throughout the day. And you wonder, how can something as annoying as a papercut come from something as non-threatening as a 8 1/2 by 11 sheet of paper?

No matter how small an issue is, if it affects you, it becomes a main source of concern, and no one has the right to say their problems overshadow yours. I'm not saying that a papercut is worse than getting into a car accident, or other bad situations. But it is something that affects me in the here and now, and, thankfully, a car accident (or worse) does not. It is not my present condition, and any feelings I have towards this imagined car accident will be just as imaginary. But the papercut, I feel.

Mundane, everyday things can cause pain when you least expect it. No matter how small these problems are, once they have become part of your life, you see them as significant and painful. For example, I can't type this entry without my finger hurting because of the silly papercut I got today at work. A constant reminder of small but significant problems.

Papercuts make me think. People have died today. Others have been diagnosed with cancer. Somewhere, an earthquake is happening. A child is starving in Africa. And here I am, upset over a silly papercut.

The Paranoia of an Overthinker

It doesn't take a genius to notice that I am an Overthinker. Whatever you say to me will be reviewed countlessly within my head, allowing me to reinterpret your words in a variety of ways. More often than not, I understand your simple statements as representing complex situations or emotions and thus conclude that your every move towards (or away from) me as a representation of the worst possible scenario. All this to say, I'm a paranoid individual who fears that everyone secretly hates me.

But in reality, people aren't that secretive. If you dislike them, you'd let them know, right? You'd make it much more obvious. Or at the very least, you'd avoid me like the plague, or simply not talk to me.

So why do I worry so much?

Perhaps I do so much overanalyzing to avoid confronting people. If I figure things out on my own, I don't have to be put in the awkward situation of asking people what they really mean. Confronting people is scary because you might have to face a reality that you don't want, and have to deal with it in real time. But when you analyze situations on your own, you know that your conclusions are really only that conclusive. You have a bit of hope that things will turn out in your favour, even if your personal conclusions are far from what you want.

Having been a girl my entire life, I know that what girls say and what they mean are often two very different entities. This being said, how can I trust the words that come out of anyone's mouth, really?

As a legit Overthinker, I've realized that I overanalyze everything I do as well. Not so much in terms of what I mean, but in terms of how people react to my actions. If I ask so-and-so to do this-and-that with me, how will so-and-so react? Will so-and-so think I'm a big creeper? God, what did I just say to so-and-so? So-and-so probably thinks I'm a huge idiot now. The list goes on.

In the spirit of becoming a happier person, I've been overthinking my overthinking tendencies. And to you, thoughts, I say "Fuck Off!". From now on, I will try to do what I want without worrying about others' reactions. Or at least, I think I will. : /

Bitch, please!: Is it PMS, or is it just me?

Sometimes I just don't understand people. How is it that some people think that their time is more valuable than another person's time? How is it that people don't understand that when a store closes at 9, it is considered rude to make the employees stay an extra 20 minutes?

Your time and my time do not equal each other. Your extra 5 minutes of shopping can translate into me missing my bus, and waiting an extra 30 minutes in the cold, waiting for the next one to come. We don't all drive cars. And chances are, when you're dealing with an employee working retail at a minimum wage kind of job, that person can't afford a car. So think of that the next time you have that person wait up for you and your purchases.

But strangely enough, this delayed transaction was not the low point of my day. Granted, I was very tired thereafter, and may have ranted a bit, but what came after was uncalled for and unappreciated. My co-worker asked me a question about something I had forgotten to complete on one of the work computers. However she was standing in front of it, and wouldn't move. She wanted to finish this trivial activity. But it was going to take me longer to explain to her what to do than for me to do it myself, so I asked her to move and to let me do it. Now keep in mind, I'm super tired at this point, I've had a really long day in general. Our last customer retarded our close by 20 minutes. I want to catch my bus. I'm not thinking of talking in pleases and thank yous. So she blows up at me, telling me to stop talking to her like this, to stop talking down to her, to stop using this kind of language with her. Dude, it's 9:30 and I want to go home. Just let me do what I have to do. Ugh.

Then it hit me. PMS Saturday came early. Now, as much as I love this girl, her and I have the misfortune of PMS-ing at the same time. Consequently, every four weeks, her and I celebrate a very horrible monthly event, that I have dubbed "PMS Saturday". Now, I can't say that I even notice when I'm PMS-ing. Perhaps because my soul is covered in a thick shell of bitch that PMS-bitching and regular bitching differ so slightly that it's imperceptible. Or maybe I don't really PMS all that much. Regardless, PMS Saturday is a day to be feared. And tomorrow we have an audience of two other co-workers. And it's a sale day. I'm horrified.

Eine kleine Nachtmusik

You can tell a lot about a person based on the kind of music they listen to.

I, personally, go through music phases pretty regularly. However, the biggies seem to last, year after year. I used to see myself as having a musical holy trinity, made up of Morrissey, David Bowie, and Tom Waits. Although I listen to these three much less than I used to, they will always hold a dear place in my heart.

If I had to recreate my trinity based on my most listened to musicians at the moment, it would consist of Blonde Redhead, Lady Gaga and The Smiths. The Smiths represent the me that people see: sarcastic, lost, awkward, and bitter. Lady Gaga represents what I want to be: strong, confident, fearless. And Blonde Redhead represents the reality of my soul: wispy, weird, mystical, and an acquired taste.

Pinkyblog 2.0

In the hopes of organizing my life, restarting things, and thinking positively, I decided to delete my old posts on this blog. It was getting kinda emo, and consequently, I lost interest.

Instead of focusing on my problems, I would much rather focus on life in general. People keep telling me that the only way to rid myself of my problems is to take action. This being said, hopefully such insignificant things as blog entries can count as positive action towards improving my life.

I have come to realize that embarking on personal projects brings me much satisfaction, therefore here I am, embarking on yet another. The more projects I give myself, the busier I am, the less I should dwell on unhappiness.

So without further ado, welcome (back) to my blog. For those of you who don't know me, my name is Christina, I really like dinosaurs, cats, and studying kanji. I recently graduated university and am currently living in limbo, waiting for the pieces of the puzzle that is my life to come together.