generaljanuary

I'm going out for coffee tonight with two of my oldest friends. We rarely get to see each other these days, but every few months we try to plan a little something. Though I love them dearly and am eager to hear about their lives I always feel awkward when we meet like this.

They are driven and successful. Have been in healthy relationships with great guys for years. One of them is an internatonal flight attendant and the other is about to enter a doctorate in psychology. Our other friend can't be with us tonight because she is currently in Europe for her thesis in biology.

I dropped out of college. Twice. I've never been in a relationship, never even been on a date. I don't have much to bring to the table. :|

I'm still going to have a good time, though. Because I love them. Have loved them for over 15 years. And I miss them and the easier times they remind me of. :)



ETA: Aah, Fannie, when are you going to learn that things are never as they seem. *wistful head shake* :)

I've got a lot of silly stupid things to write about so if you are in a hurry feel free to skip my sure-to-be overly long post and carry on with whatever it is that you are doing.

I burnt both my hands in separate incidents today at work. They've got these painful, ugly blisters and I can't remember if they hurt less or more if you burst them. One would think that someone who burns herself as often as I do would remember something like that, but no. I don't.

Sebastien is sort of pampering me and I can't bring myself to tell him to stop. He'll be hurt, he won't understand and I won't want to explain. It would go something like this:
Fannie: Stop acting like you're my boyfriend.
Sebastien: What?!
F: If you do everything for me I won't be able to stand on my own when you leave.
S: Pish posh! I'll never leave!
F: Stop saying that. One day you will get a boyfriend and I will expect you to care more for him than you do for me.
S: I don't need a boyfriend, I've got you. Besides, you might get a boyfriend. Or girlfriend. Whatever.
F: I won't.
S: (now he'll look sad, he always does when I say something that makes him see just how low my self-esteem can reach) That again!
F: That always. This is not about my personal drama, this is about you being too kind and me being almost selfish enough to let you do it. I know you're only trying to be a good friend but I want to be a good friend too. I'll never learn to do things on my own if you're always there to do them for me.
S: But I don't feel like I have to, I just like doing stuff for you.
F: This conversation is making me sound like Jennifer Anniston's stupid character in "The Object of my Affection".
S: Yeah, whatever, if you feel inspired enough to write imaginary arguments in your livejournal go write a play or something.

... anyways.

A childhood memory came over me today for no reason at all. I remember being with my mother at the drug store and she spent hours choosing a lipstick. She'd test them on her hand, see what the colours looked like. She tried all sorts of reds, pinks and mochas. My mother was never an elegant lady. She was a stay at home mom, she'd usually only wear make up if we went out to the mall or the restaurant, but as a little girl, that fact didn't enter my mind as she asked my opinion about certain colours. After an eternity and a hand smeared in a true pallet of lipstick shades, we left the store, both beaming, with this precious, tiny tube of bright, outrageously red lipstick. I don't think she ever wore it. Maybe she thought she couldn't pull it off. Or even worse, maybe inside, she felt like the kind of woman who could pull it off, but when she saw it on herself in the mirror she felt actually really silly and frustrated for ever thinking that she could be this fabulous, daring woman. I know for a fact this has often happened to me. I'd spend the longest time applying make up just to look at myself in the mirror at the end of it all and bursting into frustated, self-berating fits of self-esteem crash, complete with tears and throwing stuff around. In my teens, my mother gave that tube of lipstick to me. I wonder if it was a thoughtless act or if she actually felt like she was giving away her hopes of ever being the kind of woman who can pull off bright red lipstick. I wonder if she was hoping I'd grow to be he kind of woman she knew she could never be. Well, mom, I do wear crazy shades of lipstick, but as you know I am not a case of study in self-confidence, I hope you are not disapointed.

I have to apply to go back to college. I have to. If I don't, I fear I will just... crumble up into ashes and disapear completely. This year, I really feel that it's now or never and if it's never, the shame would overwhelm me and I'd never be able to look anyone in the eyes ever again. Expecially not my poor disapointed dad.

I was thinking earlier today that there are rooms in my house that I haven't been in for years now. Which brought on the thought (of which I've been aware for a very, very long time, but shied away from) that my house hasn't felt like home for many, many years and yet I do not feel any need to move out, or be elsewhere. I do not feel the need to be anywhere at all, most of the time, anyway. I do not really recognize my needs anymore. They're sort of swallowed up in strange mood waves and expectations and lethargicity. The only need I know to be entirely true is the need to fill every available inch of my mind with absolutely anything. So that I don't have to think about real stuff for too long. I don't know if I'm glad or sad to have finally found out why I've always been so eager to read every book that's ever been written and watch every movie that's ever been made.

There's this half unhinged door. It can't open properly, neither can it close. It can barely waver between the two. It's just there, doing nothing. Nobody expects anything out of it; it's been broken this way for a while. Nobody knows how to fix it so it's just there, unable to perform any of the simple tasks a door is expected to accomplish. Sometimes when people pass by, it sort of shakes and whines, but that's it.

 I've been thinking about a lot of things lately. My future, mostly. It just seem like I've jumped the gun in this whole life thing. Failure to launch and all that. I used to blame it on my depression but that's getting pretty old seeing as I've been off medication for six months.  (Unsupervisedly, but still.) It was just too easy. "No I don't have any plan about my job / going back to school / getting my own place because I never planned on living past 20"  Well guess what, I'm 20 and a half (sounds like a 4 year old) and I'm still there, and not planning on going anywhere. So I better get back into gear or else my future is not going to go anywhere either. 

Mostly, it's the good old fears. 
You won't get a new job because you're stupid / fat / incompetant
You won't get back in school, they'd never want someone who dropped out twice
No ones is ever going to love you because you are ugly and damaged

When they come to the front of my mind, they are mostly fleeting. I can take comfort in other thoughts. 
You have a stunning experience of the work market and you are loyal and motivated. 
You are cultivated and opinionated, you have dreams and goals.
You can always count on your friends and family they will never desert you. 

And if all fails i can always take out Kiki the blood-hungry yo-yo. It does  help with focusing and calming erratic thoughts. :)

Each day should be a new oportunity. 

Right?

In more consistant news, I've had another minor public breakdown, in a pub. It was all fun and stuff and then Sebastien squeezed a few words out of me and I pretty much lost it. I've been feeling pathetic ever since. Not so much about the public display of shameful weakness (been getting used to that) but more about that stupid, stupid thing I said. I really really didn't want to. There are some things that are just too raw and covered in too much layers of other painful stuff. I really didn't want to tell him about this. I can't even think about it, it make me feel so lame. He was not even trying to be all that pushy, but I saw that it hurt him when I told him that there were some things I would just never feel comfortable talking about. I didn't want him to think I didn't trust him or whatever. I'm just not an advocate of talking about stuff that hurt me se deep (in a public place, no less) , with someone who can't offer any comfort or true understanding. Though. as expected, he's been pretty cool about it (meaning he didn't mention it again) and I'm grateful for that. 

It's just hard sometimes. Mostly the things that bother me a very common, but thy're just buried so deep and so close to my core. They just hurt so bad. 

I just gotta stop thinking about it now. Okay. 
Good night.

Well since summer is the time of the year when it's acceptable to post more than once a day (what? I just made that up? no I didn't! Everyone knows that! duh...) aaand, since it's actually my first day back on internet, I'll indulge in some life catching up. (god knows I like talking about myself *eyeroll*)

Thankfully, there's not much heavy duty catching up to do at all... I guess first layer would be school, job, love life. And you might as well throw three successive massive bricks onto my head.

Still out of school. Hating myself everyday about it, but hey! I'm young, I'm intelligent and more motivated than ever! *fake smile* Nah, it's true, I AM motivated. My goal is to subscribe for the January session at St-Lawrence. (and my goal when I was 5 years old was to be Celine Dion when I grew up)...moving on...

Still working my crappy hateful job at McDonald's. Well now, at least there's a little improvement there, I did get a promotion about a year ago. I am now what we call a "Chef de Quart" (no idea what's the english equivalent) No, no. You are right. Even in another language it doesn't sound prestigious. That's because it really isn't. It still sucks, but I least now I get to boss spotty fifteen year olds around while earning twice their salary. (which I don't do all that much, really, I admit I'm a big ol' softie and they like me to bits these cute kids I work with *nuzzles them*) And well, to add insult to injury, I'll be celebrating my fifth anniversary at the service of the evil clown of capitalist doom in less than two months. Funny how my bosses consider it an achievement, while the rest of the world snickers and takes bets on wether I'll spend that rest of my life working there. (please, lord, nooo, nooo *bawls*) I know, I know, if you ain't willing to change it, don't whine about it. But... *shrugs* what else is lj for, eh ?

Lastly, but not least, my love life. You could lie on the ground and watch the grass grow and it would be more interesting than me talking about my (lack of) love life so there.

And to top it all of I'm still being a perfectly good daddy's girl. The perfect image of the fat dork living in the basement of her parents' lol. I say it with a smile, not bitterly. It's what bothers me less about all of the above, so heh.

What else is new under the Fannie sun...

Oh, that's right, Let me introduce you to my lovely basementmate(O_o) Mister Seba-Kun. Events happen and tumble and voila! I have a lovely new shiny friend, who lives in a bedroom right next to mine (We shared my big bedroom for about a year before that, mhe. Twas fun. And no, he isn't the fashion tip kinda gay so I can't get annoyed at him for telling me how to wear a dress :3)So yeah basically he's my rock. *blush*

Well I guess I could talk about the panic attacks and the crying fits. And the doctor and the pills and the ugly, ugly D word. The disease. I guess I could talk about how it feels to be told you are mentally ill. But really , that's all behind, now. What I really feel like talking about is my ROCKING ROCK STAR GODSON! He is TEH awesome. He's a baby! He just turned one! He speaks about 10 words! He runs around and play hide and seek and fetch! He is every colour in the world. He makes me so f*cking hopeful, you know? Funny thing is, I never like children. Especially babies. But he makes me want to make the world a better place, that lad. Well, he IS my sister's son, after all. <3

So yeah, basically it's like what the new profile says, it's about coming back stronger , it's about learning from your mistakes, it's about fighting your way out of that cocoon and becoming beautiful, better.

Yeah, well guess what, dad?
I'm this close to losing it too!
So lay off my back for a few f*cking seconds!

Jesus f*cking christ!

Hiya!
How dya all like my new lj? It's still not exactly what I'd like but I guess I'll just wait 'till my birthday to get a credit card and get meself a paid account *salivates at the idea of 100 icons*

Man! It shows that I finally had a realy meal for supper tonight. I think that dad and I are slowly but surely resurfacing. We paid most of what we owed so hopefully we won't get our electricty cut during winter. (it got cut a few weeks ago and it was terrible, terrible.) The human capacity to adapt never ceases to amaze me. I mean I would never have thought that having to contemplate a totally empty fridge would become the norm *shakes head* Dad said we'd probably be able to go grocery shopping this week. *crosses fingers*

A few weeks back my dad asked me to cut his long hair. His boss promised a salary raise. So I tied it in a ponytail and cut it. Then I ran to my bedroom and cried. My dad deserved so much more than this sucky life he hates. True, true, I get more than upset with him when he goes all caged lion on me muttering about "your mother who went to Europe to get f*cked" but it's really tough on him. Being asked by lawyers "What's your part in the raising of your children? Don't you think it's a little uncommon for your oldest daughter to have moved out so young?" really makes him angry and I just don't know what to tell him. I try not to tell him that I'm hungry, that my teeth hurt all the time and that I need new glasses because I can't read what the teachers write on the board anymore. I tell him "Wow! Look at that house dad! The man who lives there sure works hard, eh?" when we pass in front of our house in car.

bleh... *takes her English, folds it and put in in her pocket*

Ma soeur est déménagée aujourd'hui. Ironique que pendant toute ma vie j'ai été eutourée de tant de choses et de gens la rendant si agréable. Ironique que quelqu'un quelque part croit qu'il soit bien que je me départisse de tous ces réconforts en quelques mois. D'abord ma mère et maintenant ma soeur. Je suis à présent la seule présence féminine dans la maison. Étrange. Il y a moins d'un an maman, Laurie et moi étions encore 'Les Femmes de la Maison', un fait que papa semblait trouver plutot intimidant. Désormains nous ne sommes que tous les deux, lui et moi. Deux etres portant le meme nom, paratageant le meme sang. Lorsqu'on est seulement deux, est-il encore question d'une famille? Pourquoi ne suis-je plus capable de partager mes chagrins avec les gens qui m'entourent? Suis-je anormale comme semblait le prétendre Jessy en Virginie? Peut-etre suis-je simplement incapable de ressentir la coupure , la cassure qui me sépare de maman et celle qui me separe à présent de ma grande soeur car quoiqu'elles soient toutes deux parties elle sont toujours assez près de moi pour que je puisse les rejoindres efficacement très rapidement en cas de besoin. Peut-etre que finalement je suis moi aussi une Étrangère de Camus. Si ces tristesses me touchent si peu c'est peut-etre que je les invente de toute pièce pour me faire croire à ma propre humanité? J'espère que maintenant que son départ est officiel les choses ne seront pas toujours aussi tendue entre mon père et moi comme elles l'étaient aujourd'hui... Enfin... c'était peut-etre parce qu'il n'avait pas dormi de la nuit ^^;;;. Quoi que j'en dise, il est impossible de nier le fait que je pense à toi tous les jours, maman. Que je n'arrive plus a voir ton visage dans ma tete. Que je n'arrive plus a entendre ta voix dans ma tete. Tu me manque mais je n'ai pas envie de te voir. Pourquoi de tels sentiments existent-ils? Je me suis surprise plusieurs fois ces jours-ci à désespérément regretter etre la cadette plutot que l'ainée. Laurie est assez vieille pour se dissocier de tout ce qui ce passe dans la famille que nous formions. Laurie n'a pas eu à ne pas inviter sa mère à son bal de graduation. Laurie n'a pas eue à vivre seule les moments les plus difficiles avec son père. Laurie n'a pas eu à craindre qu'on lui arrache sa maison. Laurie a pu s'en échapper. Elle a tout fuit un peu lachement, relayant ces lourds fardeau émotionnels à sa petite soeur qui n'y voyait déja plus très clair sans tous ces ajouts à ces habituels tracas. Mais je ne peux absolument pas l'en blamer. Connaissant ma propre nature lache (que je crois sans honte etre un héritage de maman',je peux affirmer avec certitude que j'airais fait la meme chose.

*Takes her English out of her pocket and unfolds it*

Sometimes it feels really good to write in French. Even if I now practically dream in English, French still flows more naturally from my mouth. Words put together still make much more sense in French. The way I write in French is much more literal. The words are more meaningful somehow. But I like to express my emotions in English. Since it's a 'foreing' language I feel like even if I speak deep hidden truths, if they are pronounced in English, it feels as if they were still deep and hidden. They still feel secret. I'm weird, haven't you noticed yet?

9 days 'till schooltrip to the US.

*sigh*

Well I guess it's easy to guess what kind of mood I'm in when I start a post with "*sigh*"

Well I'll start with a happy news; I prolly won't have to move to Montreal, like I had thought. It seems my dad found some way around that bloody contract and we can keep the house after all. Unlike what it could seem like, this makes me hugely happy. I don't take well to changes at all. Changes mess with my head. They make me freak out. It almost killed me when my parent forced me to move into a larger room in the house. Truly. I don't think I could've beared it if I had had to change my lifestyle completely, move to another city. I mean, I've just begun to like my life, I've just gotten accustomed to the people around me. For once I feel okay. I know i wouldn't have been able to keep the facade up for long, even to please my dad. I mean, I've been accepted at St-Lawrence, the college I'm dreaming to go to since I first heard of it, I'm one of the most expreienced at my job and I'm finally getting some sort of respect, somehow I've grown a personality and people actually like to be around me. It'd have been horrible if I had to move. Somehow I think perhaps I wouldn't have survived it.

Who the hell invented 'A wench gave me birth, Let's give her flowers' day? Fuck that fucking pile of shite! God I hope the English teacher was only kidding when she said they could fine you for swearing in Virginia because my potty mouth can't seem to ever shut up. You realise you're losing your first language when the first word to come out of your mouth when you hit a toe on the corner of a wall isn't your first language. Somehow I guess me screaming "GODDAMMIT!" At the top of my lung is much less frowned upon than "CRISS DE CALIS DE TABARNAK" God I sound like some kind of uneducated hooligan from Vanier, slap me.

Anyway, I don't feel like talking about my mother and I don't feel like talking to her. Sure, I didn't mean half the things I wrote in that post from the other day, it was just to unleash my frustrations and blow off some steam. Better write insanities in here than hurt myself, I reckon.