EFF OFF BANKS.

Why I hate banks, pt.1
“You have to meet this criteria to be able to repay your student line of credit as a line of credit. Otherwise, we have to convert it to a loan with a higher interest rate.”
*I meet the criteria*
“Sorry, we can’t do it as a line of credit. And we’re going to demand a co-signer because we think you maybe can’t afford the obscene payments we’re asking for each month. And just because of that, we’re jacking your interest rate from 5.5% to 11%.”

Why I hate banks, pt.2
“Everything looks excellent on your credit report! You have a superb repayment history! Oh but no, we can’t transfer your line of credit to our bank.”

Moved.

I’m a bit of a sap. I tear up easily. In the past week, I’ve gotten misty-eyed over the following things: Michael Jackson’s funeral, The Wiz, sad animal stories, tearjerker songs, my dad’s health, being bored and lonely, boys being jerks, and nothing. As a kid, people used to chastize me: “You’re too sensitive!”

I also get worked up over things that are not sad, but adorable instead. Or a bit of both. Such as last week, when I was getting my tattoo. The tattoo shop was in a second story studio, with a big window overlooking Queen Street. I had to lay on my stomach half the time, giving me a view of what my tattoo artist called “Parkdale TV.” As I was looking out the window, I spotted two old men holding hands and shuffling – laboriously, slowly – down the street. One man was slightly faster than the other, so he walked ahead, leading the other man. But they looked like they were both holding each other up. I don’t know if they were partners or family members or friends or what, but it was so sweet and sad that I almost burst into tears on the tattoo table. Their stiff, tired walks reminded me of my dad, and I was getting a tattoo dedicated to my dad. It was all a bit much. But lovely.

Then today – there was a lineup around the block at MuchMusic, with teenaged girls waiting for one of the actors from Harry Potter. At the end of the masses of shrieking girly girls, there were two girls sitting on the sidewalk drawing or writing quietly. They had a bag covered in rainbow and bi pride pins. My heart was warmed. It gave me hope for 15 year old girls.

Punk rock feminism rules okay

After two years of working on Ladyfest, I was burnt out. I had to take a break. I loved Ladyfest with all of my heart, but it was nice to not have this all-encompassing thing in my life for a while. I no longer had a second job on top of my actual job and/or school.

But lately my guts have been itching for a new project that I feel passionate about. One that will bring feminist action back to the centre of my life. I’ve been feeling like I’ve been lazy lately, living feminism in the day-to-day, but not in any grand way.

So I think it’s time to cook up a new undertaking. There are a few ideas rolling around in my head; I’ll have to wait and see which ones turn into something.

Side note: The title of this post comes from an image in the second issue of the Bikini Kill zine. It’s scrawled next to a picture of a cheerleader wearing a Bikini Kill shirt. Oh hi, future tattoo!

Blood and bone and hair

During the storm, make an incision in your chest.

At the moment when the rain stops, let the water pump through you.

New blood, crystal clear.

And speaking of making things right-

I said last night that there’s plenty of room for error in my hair. There isn’t really a way to get it wrong. That was only half true.

It’s long and summer-coloured (right now) and sometimes it’s lovely but sometimes it couldn’t be more wrong.

In the rooms with girls in ribbed tank tops, for instance.

You seem so out of context

I was cleaning out my old text messages this morning and have been highly entertained by reading out of context messages that no longer make any sense. My two favourites:

“Come visit me! I’m in room 402!”
-from a number I don’t recognize

“Babies! Do it! You’re hot, he’ll love you!”
-Blair

There’s actually one that’s 10 times better than both of those, but it’s not really appropriate for sharing with the whole internet.

Today’s iTunes purchases

The Gossip – Music For Men
I tried to buy the CD earlier today, and was mad when the store didn’t have it. I have just now remembered the physical release date is some ridiculous time in the future. I think it’s in October. But thanks to the magic of iTunes, I have it today! (The first person to mention bittorrent or any other P2P crap gets a smack upside the head.)

Paramore – “Misery Business”
I have a weakness for mall punk and this is the cream of the mall punk crop.

The Cliks – “Career Suicide”
Not really a purchase because it’s the free single of the week. Exciting nonetheless.

Things I wanted to buy but are not available
Esthero – “Heaven Sent”
This is one of my favourite songs of all time. Brillant. Can’t wait to see her at Pride.

Saves The Day – “Anywhere With You”
This is a great song and I would like to own it. Since it’s 10:30pm and stores are closed, it looks like that’s not going to happen today.

Written in the street, drawn on a map

I pulled up to a red light on my bike, waiting to turn left
you had just texted me the news from our old show
a car turned pulled up behind me

And a memory came rushing back
from the day you were doing the same
and the car didn’t see you
didn’t stop

I was sitting on the step
You came trudging home
like a lost little boy
wheel bent

And I was so angry
that someone would hurt you
and then just try to pull away

And I was so sad
because nothing should hurt you

But then I became the bad thing that happened to you
and I ran

My city felt so empty without you in it for the first time
It was all about geography

But now I am pushing outside of my borders
in a way I never could have
in the Republic of Us.

Awesome things in life right at this moment

-I got some locally grown grape tomatoes from the small organic/local/healthy grocery store in my neighbourhood. THIS is what  mother-effing tomatoes are supposed to taste like. Not this watery bullshit I get from No Frills.

-I finally got a gym/pool membership for the community centre around the corner, and have started going in the mornings before work. It’s a good way to start the day, because swimming is pretty awesome. And there are lots of old people at the pool in the mornings, and old people are also pretty awesome. I talked to a really nice lady this morning who was trying to convince me to take my bag onto the pool deck so I didn’t have to pay a quarter for the locker. There is a serious old lady shortage in my life, with my only grandma out in Winnipeg and a lot of my great aunts gone. Talking to old ladies makes me smile.

-Perez Hilton posted Joel Plaskett’s new video. This warms my heart because Joel Plaskett is the best and I want everyone to love him. 5000+ people have watched it on the site since earlier this afternoon when it went up.

-I booked the first appointment for my tattoo! The design is beautiful and lovely and will look even more amazing once it’s inked and all colourful. CAN’T WAIT. Hurry up July 2nd!

And one not awesome thing in life right at this moment
-Banks can go eff themselves. Seriously. Why? Because they won’t negotiate payments and demand absurd amounts each month, give me the highest possible interest rate, turn me down when I want to move loans over to their bank from another and make me have co-signers on my student loan repayments despite the fact that I am 25 and a grown-ass adult.

Home

When I moved to my current apartment, coming up on two years ago, I thought I had moved to the end of the universe. My previous apartment was smack in the middle of the Village, at Church and Wellesley. It was in the heart of the city. The four corners at the end of my block were comprised of three bars and one 24 hours grocery store. There was a bustle of activity 30 seconds from the front door. (There was also the occasional activity AT my front door, such as when Shannon saw someone taking a crap on my front step, but hey.) I loved it.

When I moved out here, I thought it was boring. There was an abundance of old man sports bars and convenience stores that didn’t even sell magazines. But slowly, I fell in love. The Henhouse moved in and suddenly I had a local that I felt right at home at – how could I not, with Hole’s Live Through This in their jukebox? I have the best video store in all the city a couple of blocks away, with a superbly curated selection. I want to watch basically everything they have.

The people at the coffee shop around the corner know what I want before I even order. I love it so much there that I’ve started getting up a bit early so I have time to go sit and have my tea or spicy hot chocolate (best!) in the morning before work, instead of getting Starbucks around the corner from my office. I love it so much that I’m seriously debating whether or not I should do anything about my crush on one of the employees because I don’t want to lose my coffee shop if things go wrong. For real – I don’t know if it’s worth it.

I love that Queen Street is a 5 minute bike ride away, and so is Roncesvalles. The Dundas streetcar is right down the block, and the College car is another minute away for when I have to come home in the middle of the night.

This apartment is now the longest I’ve lived anywhere since I moved out of my parents’ house 7 years ago. You couldn’t pay me to leave this neighbourhood when it comes time to move.

This of course means that moving will be a pain, because there’s now only a 5 block radius in which I will agree to live in all of Toronto. But location is probably the most important determining factor in where I live, and I’ve found the one I love. This neighbourhood is my home.

The Pleasure War

Not long ago, I posted a link to this article on my Facebook and announced that I was adopting it as my manifesto for the summer. For those of you who are too lazy to click the link and read it, here’s a selection of choice quotes:

“Here’s what’s up: this summer, I’m waging a Pleasure War. It’s on. Look the fuck out.”

“All of this excitement/retardation started when I misread the phrase “pleasure wear” on the internet and knew, instantly, what summer 2009 was all about. An example of how it works:

You: “So, what did you do last night?”

Your friend: “Oh, you know, had a few beers on a patio and played guitar for a while.”

You: “Sounds good. I, however, drank pink champagne in a tub full of ice cubes, then skateboarded to the bookstore for comics, and then fucked your sister on her roof.”

You win.”

“Wear whatever ridiculous shit you want, and half of what’s appropriate. Bike to five different ice-cream parlours in an afternoon. Do it on the kitchen floor and toss a jug of water on you and your sex-bud when it starts to get sweaty and after, make with the popsicles (also good for bruises). Invite your office buddies to your house, BBQ something weird, and project movies onto your garage. Have a sleepover on your porch with your roommates. Mostly, death-grip anything that seems potentially rewarding, and fun the shit out of it.”

“Determining winners and losers in Pleasure War is a little more abstract than in war-war. I suggest awarding oneself one point when you feel you’ve earned it, when the quality of fun in your day has trumped that of your friends’ (who are now to be considered both your comrades in fun, and mortal enemies in Pleasure War).”

So basically the idea is to have as much absurd fun as possible, all summer long. It’s a good goal. I tend to hibernate in winter, doing only those things that are necessary. House->streetcar->work->house. Fuck doing anything extra-curricular when it’s -20 outside.

Summer should be the opposite, doing as much as you can that’s awesome all the time.

So that is what I am going to do. I’ve awarded myself a few points already, but have not been good at keeping track. Finished an album and then celebrated for 5 days? 5 points! Got high and listened to Live Through This twice at 2am, while discussing its epic genius? 1 point! Got drunk on a Sunday night on a whim with a stranger who became a new friend? 1 point! Walked into a hardcore show in some warehouse the exact second the band I wanted to see was going on? 1 point! Decided to “set my shit up on both sides of the fence,” finally? 10 points!

All that is well and good, but I still feel like the fun is waiting to be upped. So if you want to get into ridiculous adventures, kindly let me know. Next up: sleepover on the balcony. After that: who knows?