ctrl z

I would like a do over, please.

I just went through several years of gmail.
I skimmed through thousands of old emails.
Threaded between Facebook, Myspace & Orkut notifications
and photo attachments of a slimmer me,
I found remnants of only half-buried ugliness.
Patterns of pitiful behaviour leapt up from the inbox.
What do you do with bad history?
I deleted a lot of it, but I still feel grimey on the inside.

A selective brain injury would be nice.

One can only dream.

these tough economic times...

...don't mean shit when you haven't got a pot to piss in.

For once, owning nothing somewhat works in my favour. Well, not really -- but there's something to be said about having nothing to lose.

Do you remember Heart to Heart? God, I loved that show. Jonathan and Jennifer Hart never had to worry about the economy.

be my girl

Once, as I walked to the SkyTrain, a construction worker asked me to marry him. He had found a gaudy toy ring on the ground. We shared a laugh as he rose from bended knee. As I walked away, I realized that would probably be my first and last marriage proposal. Aint that a kick in the head.

I have no burning desire to get married again, but I could do with a proposal. I managed to walk down the aisle many years ago without one. Maybe that's why it didn't work out? Given the opportunity, I think I'd insist on an indefinite engagement and skip the whole marriage thing.

It's not the ring I'm after -- although it's always nice to have something to pawn if things go poorly in life... And while I am conflicted -- in the end, a proposal strikes me as very romantic. I get tired of pondering whether or not it's square or inappropriate to want such things.

No Congee For Me

Sadly, my first and most likely last trip to Kwong Chow went a little like this:

I ordered Hong Kong-style congee.
A steaming bowl of white on off-white appeared
smelling of dirty white.
I tried one bite, two bite, three bite...four
Only shame forced me to go that far.
I am but a lame-ass white girl after all.

Dear Vancouver,

Wearing yoga pants and Fluevogs out to dinner does not make you urban and easy going. It makes you poorly dressed.

And probably an asshole.

(probably = definitely)