If you want to know about me, ask the stars; they paint me between the spaces with wind, clouds and a pinch of destiny at the end of their brush. If you want to hear me, listen to whole notes. If you want to touch me, reach for paper baptised in ink and the sweat of imagination. If you want to see me, close your eyes...

When the God's run out of muses my sorted life entertains them, I dare say. But in this act there are endless roles. Don't be shy, there is room for everyone... infinity is never crowded.

Oh, you've probably heard my story before, only I can tell it to you far better than any. The issue is trusting someone who barely trusts herself. Why, you ask? The only relevant answer is, why not!

York U student, digging deeper everyday. I am not a surface worker. I immerse, struggle and emerge and paint the walls with my discoveries, sometimes literally (art is God!) Life is a platform and I have learned to use it... and when the situation calls for it, I sometimes jump right off.

I work daily to reconcile my wants with my needs... my life tends to be of extremes.

Trying hard with carpeting my career but trying even harder to balance it with healthy liberation so my heart doesn't die and my mind doesn't turn sterile. Might explain why philosophy is my mainspring. I live to satisfy all realms of myself, the emotional, physical, spiritual etc. Imbalance is not a friend, experiencing it does nothing but dig one an early grave and, though I love the feel of it, I look better when I'm not buried up to my ears in dirt. I don't have any aversion to rolling in it for good measure though, just don't ask me to, "squeal like a pig, boy!"

Telling you everything and nothing! Singing more than I speak. Prompting intellectual/emotional avalanches. Overanalyzing. Anachronism. Spiritual alchemy. Electric talking. Meow-meow. Zoom-zoom. Whip-whip. Ambivalence (guilty of changing my major 3 times so far!)

It is the menial stuff I prefer not to do... small talk and doing dishes for instance, such things boggle and exhaust me. I chalk them up to petty distractions from death. Silly, silly humans and their pointless habits. ;)

I notice them. I aggrandise, my insatiable passion to connect can make Gods out of simpletons. Yeah, and I do it without a chinsey magic wand, too! ;) Actually, it's that I "BAM" when I should "BADUM-CHING"... oh yeah, beware my rebellion. I'm that girl that goes to a white party, wearing all black. *cue scary music.*

Ahem. I tend to let love lead, ergo, if you breathe, I respect your right to live by default and will shine little rays of hybrid-love on you just because you exist. Ok, well... sometimes I bite first... just to tell which crumpets are really and truly alive. But no worries, many have been known to survive this (only if I let them!) This does not mean I am desperate, just mad as an indiscriminate philanthropist can be!

I'll let you call me a Hippie... only if you come into my circle with a peace pipe, Lennon records and a heart that rivals mine. Bi-monthly blood sacrifice to the darkside is expected being a Libra it's only appropriate I keep the balance. Being an even blend of good/evil does wonders for the soul's complexion, trust me. . .

Furry animals, little children, rainbowlicious men, goblins and I get along well too, I'll leave the reasons why up to your imagination.

I also tend to speak in a language punctuated by passion and not convention, very few can speak it back but I am of the opinion that it's due to their lack of trying... or that I am teetering on insanity! One never can be too sure, kids.

I seek to understand not to be understood.

Summing this up is torture, it's like asking me to favor certain children above the rest. ha Alas, this blasted text box is too damn confining to fit all my interests anyway, so I'll give you my first AND current loves (which totally devour the rest because of their sheer brilliance anyway);

Books (fiction): Dracula, Fire From Heaven (I am quite the Alexander/Hephaestion history aficionado, if I may say so, Alexander was only ever conquered in the bedroom yatta yatta).
Books (non fiction): The Republic, End Game.
Movies: The Lost Boys, In Bruges. (But I'm totally partial to OLD Hollywood + Asian productions-- because I am a shameless devout Asian culture whore)
Movies (documentaries): ANYTHING MICHAEL fuckin' MOORE! <3
Music: Prince, Patrick Wolf.
Foods: See all of the above. . . with a touch of cherry liquor. ;)

What I discounted will most likely terrorize me in some uber Freudian way, YAY more fun for my therapist. [/sarcasm]

A E I O U and ALWAYS Y!

What? I spent all my creative tokens on that time machine I just built...

The fact that I am thinking. The fact that others are not thinking, or at least considering the BIG picture, one that involves changing the infrastructure, depletion of oil, natural gas and rainforests, poverty, puppy mills... the sad death of spandex, the fact that the Governator will never Terminate on screen again, le sigh, ARNIE HOW I MISS THEE. ;( REVOLUTION JUST DOESN'T SPIN RECORDS RIGHT ROUND, FOLKS!

Doctors didn't deem me an insomniatic because they felt like abusing their medical licenses, a lot of issues percolate and keep me up at night and for good reason... beacause I let them. If not me, who else is gonna break the world from it's ignorant slumber? ;) Yeah, everything pours down like rain until I float to the surface with new found stress. Chinese torture ain't got nothing on my mind methods... but I can't say being aware isn't worth the price. I wear awareness like the badge I never got in Girl Guides, it's just too bad they don't award insanity too... ONE DAY I'LL GET MY DUES, ONE DAY. *rocks in corner*

Sacrificing babies so not to breach my contract with Satan, ONE MORE BODY AND I GET ME A PORSCHE. Hi, I am a bad joke, please do not throw bricks.

I am most definitely calling you up and trying to juice you of gossip goods, or singing in the shower, or drawing Picasso on my pants, or Karaokeing the shit out of H.I.M, or angering at you because you callled my 3am Tim Horton's binges a psychosis (so what if I dip my donut in philosophy), or yelling at the FLAMES to anticipate the fuckin' PUCK, or I am bragging about the grand life-affirming hike I just got back from...

Ok fine, I'm lost in the woods, but taking a compas is fuckin' cheating! My North Star is my own heart and it likes to get caught in the throws of unexpected deliverance. Anyway, one must lose themselves to find themselves (and sometimes join a wolf pack and howl all their problems out at the moon): that's not just some cliche line they print on t-shirts, kiddies. Leik, really.

YOU HAS THE RECIPE TO THE SECRET SAUCE OF ULTIMATE JUSTICE--NOT TO BE CONFUSED WITH KYO'S BLOOD, though that would indeed be a treat. If I felt like dying young. Hey, even veterans have trouble swallowing down what's corrosive, you never get used to the bubbling reminder that you're all too... alive. Should never want to. Mortality kisses so very deeply. . . touches parts of us none other could. I say, bring it on!

If I spit my own blend of crimson on your skin, would you let it eat through; ingrain, in shapes of frivolous rapture, carry me around inside your pores and hallucinate meaning? If you say you need Clearasil or something after reading that (hahaha), or maybe even a towel, I don't think you're talking to the right person, here. I like to pick at pseudo poetic/emotional scabs.

Morbid winkage goes here, again... maybe a little tushy shake too, but I'll make my own beat, thanks.

And the audience shook their heads, "what is she on. . . and where can I get some?"