I'm a walking contradiction
So my roomate is one of the smartest people i know... either that or i am too easily swayed by her opinion. Last night, she was reading my blog, and she said my blog is very ironic. Is it?
this is what she said:

Isn't it ironic that you are talking about being afraid of letting people into yourself in a blog which is a very thing designed to let people have a glimps into your inner self?
Just thought I'd ask

so my response to that for the moment, is I think she is right. But i'm not giving up this easy. I need more time to think about it. I'll get back to you.
Stay tuned

So i've been thinking...please don't stop reading, i know my wonky views of the world are scary, but the point of this blog is for me to express how i feel, what i think. And to change the world. I don't know how, but i want to do... so where was i.... oh yeah, i've been doing a lot of thinking about music. In any given mood i will play my guitar and take out whatever it is that is going on on my guitar (poor Evad-Indigo... she's a gentle soul). so the other day, being particularily bored and needing something to occupy my hands with, i started to play. I was in a good mood, having a good day, so it was easy. I sang and I played. A lot. So i'm hanging out with the roomies, who were listening to me play because for once i was in the living room when i usually play in my room... so we're just chatting and they ask me to play them a song. So i play an Indigo girls tune, then another tune, then a jewel tune. All these songs i play, they're not mine. I can't sing them, i can't play them, because they're not me. Sure, they mirror things i feel, they say things i wish i had said... but they're someone else. "music is a reflection of self and then we get our cheques in the mail". So by singing these songs, i'm trying to be somoene else. but then again, we all knew that already.
So here i am trying to write songs... but then it leads me to thinking, why bother? I mean, when i play, i sing, i improvise. it's fun. I've never written a song down. I think it is because i'm afraid. When you let people listen to a song, it's like your opening the curtains... here i am, look at me...
in a recent conversation with my sister, this is what came from our discussion of whether or not i should write things down:
playing for yourself, i don't see the point of writing it downn.... it'll be different everytime you play it, and you're just playing for you, so do it how you feel, with words you like. It's your own story. As for playing for others, it's like letting them in on a piece of your world. You open the curtains and let them peek in, so my comment to that is why not show them your world as it is you?

but i also use other people's lyrics as a way to express what i want to say, but maybe don't have the words. So many people put it so much better than i do.. or is it that i construct my reality around other peoples words?

wow, i really do think too much.... please, make my brain stop working.

So here i am, thinking random thoughts, trying to make sense of why i do what i do.... or why i don't do what i want to do. Comments, questions? advice? opinion? you know where to find me...

one more quick comment, i've stopped reading what i write, it gets written down exactly as it is in my head, so don't worry about typos, poor phrased sentences and unfinished thoughts... this ins't a formal essay... this is me... as i am

I think i just had a mental breakthrough:

i think I get depressed when things don't go according to my plan. Obviously, if this is happening then my plan isn't the same as God's plans. SO i guess the tricky part is figuring out God's plans, or getting him to change to my secret agenda. But we can't control God's plans... can we? hmmm... i think i should sit down and have a long chat with the 'big guy in the sky'.
Because in my head, things play out in a wonderful way. Yet nothing that happens in my head happens in real life. I know, i'm not making sense. The point of the matter is i'm a dreamer. I create a reality which others can not know. then again, niether can i. I plan things perfectly. They work out perfectly. But only in my head. So i geuss now, i need to come up with a plan of action in order to change my ways.
until then, i should stop planning my life.

I know, i know, crack light. I'm working my way down.. weaning off the hard stuff slowly

Are you out there

are you out there? can you hear this?

hello world. I know, i've neglected you. My profound apologies. Its not that i don't still love you all, it's just i've had some things floating around in my head. I have more issues than Time magazine.
So my little Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters... how's life in your neck of the woods?
I'm trying desperatly to think of what to write here... but i don't know. my fingers have lost the notion of how to type.

wow, i just deleted half of this blog. i can't get it together kids. I don't know what to write. people are asking when i'm gonna blog again. i promised them i would soon. but what do you say to a world that has heard it all? I have no funny social commentaries for the time being. I have no insight. I surprisingly have not embarrased myself in the past week that i can think of... (although, i do have a selective memory).
I geuss i should end this.... it's been a funny past few days... ups and downs... i'm riding a rollercoaster

we interrupt this contemplative blog for a short commericial interlude
so it never fails that as i'm sitting here contemplating what to write about, some excitement created itself in my very own house! the bathroom radio just turned itself on and started singing... funny stuff! Apparently when i turned it off, i turned on the alarm of it... too bad it wasn't set to buzzer in the middle of the night, that would have made for a funnier story.

And now back to our regularily scheduled program.
Okay, i'm gonna stop writing. i'm afraid that no one is gonna read anymore, since i ceased to stop being witty, funny, and charming. If i'm not those things, then i'll never find a boy to fall in love with me... sigh....

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
if you were here now, that is what you would here.
Apparently the buzzer on our upstairs neighbours dryer is broken. funny stuff. kind of like a comforting lull though. although, if it doens't stop soon, holly might go crazy. me? i'm already gone...
i'll see you in the realm of insanity

So earlier today i was composing a funny blog in my head. but now i'm left with nothing. I don't know where it went. but i don't know where it came from either. So i geuss it's easy come easy go. Wow, this is not making sense. I geuss the moral of the story is if i'm in a mopey mood i shouldn't write. or is that a reason more to write? it's hard trying to write right.
this is a wrong write.

Salutations. Salu - what? Salutations. It's my fancy way of saying hello.
hello. hi. how's it going? what's up? Greetings. Bonjourno. Allo. What's going on?

Okay, so it's been a while since i've written. I'm sorry. I know you all have other people that you're following now. I'm suddenly not important any more... i don't blame you. Although, the other day, i was hanging out with one of my roomies, and she was saying how she misses me when i'm not around. I miss people too... i just have my priorities all out of whack. So i can't remember why, but we were joking about filling that "tracy sized hole in your life". Is that a bad thing to take that expression (God Sized Hole) a little out of context? It's been adapted. Well, I'm bold. I'm gonna do it anyways. Comments? Email me.... so more about this Tracy sized hole thing... see, apparently i'm in high demand. (I'm confused too)... work, work, work (there is this meeting they absolutely want me to go to, i told them i couldn't go and they were highly disappointed.).... friends/roomies (who are forced to be your friend-- but these are the people you learn to depend on). Funny stuff. And i love my friends, i love hanging out with them...it's just i don't make time for people. So i'm sorry if i've left you with a 'tracy sized hole' in your life. You don't need to imagine the actual size of the hole.... that would be big, and some of my friends are very little. So imagine a little 't'. maybe like point 8 font.... infact, i'll take requests... if you feel like you have a Tracy sized hole in your heart, i'll make a little t. you can carry it around with you.... it will remind you of me. Don't worry dear friends... i think about you all the time. True Story.
Okay, so i just did some reflecting on what i wrote. I sound like a conceited little snot. But you have to understand that it's humor. 99% of what it says in my blog is sarcastic and extremist. It's what i do. It's what I like. Why do anything half assed?
okay. i'm supposed to be sleeping. Apparently, i have twitchy feet when i sleep. If anyone sees me sleeping and wants to look out for this for me, i'd appreciate that. it's a really hard thing to figure out if you have or not. So me and my dancing feet are off to hopefully dance into dream land.
Later gators. Bonne Nuit. Nighty Night. Buh-Bye. Au Revoir. Ciao bella. See you soon. Take Care. Nice Chatting with you. Thank you and Goodnight.

Hey Folks
Well, it's 1:30 am, you think that because i had trouble staying a wake all day that i would finally be tired and get some sleep... wrong again. I'm wide awake. Tough shift at work tonight... i It was tough becuase of so many sick kids.... kids who should not have to go through what they did and what they do. I wish i could make them all better. I wish i could make everything all better.
But i can't. I want to. But i can't. I don't know how. And if there is something you want me to do to help you and make whatever it is better for you... please let me know. I don't read minds. ANd yes, i do care. I will do whatever i can.
i have nothing to write tonight, but i thought i should post to let you know, yes, i'm still out here. Although it may not seem like it, I do care. Later gators, i'm over and out for the night

Ola! I have been reprimanded for not writing! My Word!! or i guess words in this case. Bad joke (insert image of Tracy being pelted with rotten fruit here. Please note this is an image only, this is not permission.)

Wow, where to begin. There have been thoughts floating in my head since Friday. Friday is a good place to begin...
so i'm in class Friday afternoon, and the prof wants us to introduce ourselves and state something about ourselves-- especially if we have any skydiving habits or anything.... funny stuff. She asks the first few people if they do, they all answer no. Then it is my turn... Hi, I'm Tracy.... I do actually like skydiving... the class gasps. After we talk about that for a bit, the prof asks if i have any other extreme habits... i laugh and admit that i enjoy polar bear dipping. Again, gasps and smiles. At least they will remember me. So it dawned on me that everyone would say, i do this.... and in my free time i like to do this....

"Free at last! thank God All Mighty I'm Free at Last"

so what i'm thinking is what does it mean to have Free time? Free has many meanings... free as in liberated. But is time ever free time? I propose that there is always something else you could be doing. If there is always something you could be doing, then that is an obligation. If you are free, you are exempted from obligation. And although you may not be obliged to do certain things, the truth of the matter is they still have to be done. In order to be done, you need to offer them some time. If you're giving them time, then your time is not free. it is occupied. I think Free time should be referred to as time off.
The other point i wanted to make about free time is that it implies it belongs to someone or something else. If someone gives you something for free, you do not have to pay for it. If time is 'free' you are given it, it is a gift. So Free time does exist, but it is always present. All of our time is free time-- we just choose or are obligated to occupy it with other responsibilities. We did nothing to deserve this -- time is a gift. We are fortunate.
Here's to rocking in the free world!!!

We interrupt today's programming to bring you this special report.
Reflections on being the infamous Tracy Lowe....
I will admit, i was afraid at first. Apparently my reputation occasionally precedes me, but in defense of me, take what you hear about me with a grain of salt. If it's bad... well, i'm sure i can justify it. And if it was stupid, funny, insulting, clever, witty, or even stunning, just remember that people (myself included) stretch the truth and add a shade of pink... we all know the world could use a little more pink :)
So I got a letter in the mail from my Grandfather today.... FAMILY. He starts his letter with saying "How are you TRACY LOWE". Funny stuff. I am the only Tracy in my family.
In class the other day, the prof was taking attendance... there are multiple Johns, Derricks and who knows what else, but she always just says their first name.... when she goes to call on me, TRACY LOWE! True story....
People who don't know me, people who do, and people who are related to me, they all call me Tracy Lowe... and you know what? I like it. I am the infamous Tracy Lowe (A wonderful nickname given to me by my favourite stupid dumb f**k of a friend). So since i like my name, and everyone else does too, i've decided that i should never change it. So if you're out there, reading this and you're hoping to marry me, please be advised that I may not be willing to change my last name. We can discuss this over coffee. If you wish to profess your undying love for me, please be advised that i'm quite open. Cookies and love letters in the mailbox are always a good start, but bonus points will be given for originality.
Please keep all sarcastic remarks inside your head. Please keep all arms, legs and feet inside the car at all times and enjoy the rest of your stay here in Tracy Lowe's wonderland.

Over and Out kids!

No singing telegrams. No emails. No phonecalls. Are you out there? Do you still exist?
I know Holly does -- I'm talking to her right now :)
So i'm trying to write an essay and its not working. my mind is plagued. maybe you can help?
See here is the deal. there are a lot of my friends that are hurting. I want to make it better. I don't know how. Do i talk to them about things? I wouldn't know what to say. I've been clinically proven to be socially awkward. How do you let someone know that you've noticed things are different with them? How do you find out what is wrong and how do you find out what to do to make things better?
So if you're reading, please, please, please help me. Someone, anyone. Send an email, phone, send a singing telegram, leave a letter in my mailbox, just do something because i need to make the world better, and i just don't know how. Even if you just tell me you don't know either.
Okay, i'm gonna try to get back to writing this essay. sorry this is a crappy blog... it's reflective of my state of mind

Okay, so given that i'm in somewhat of a normal mood (for me, anyway), I thought i should actually do some more writing. Here I am at school, stuck between classes... it's nice to be done a bit early, but not when you have to kill an hour before the next class... i could have gone home, but instead i thought i should buy my books and get a few things done on campus. so here i am in the lab in the FASS, feeling strangley aware of everyone.... listening to the keys of this keyboard kerchinking. Kerchink. Kerchink. Kerchink. Hear that?

So basically, i'm curious to know who actually reads my blog. I don't even know who has the address and who doesn't. So here is what i'm aksing everyone to do... could you please, email, message, phone, send a telegram (singing ones preferred), write it in the sky, send out a blimp.... basically, in any way shape or form that you see fit, let me know you're out there. Let me know you're reading.
One other thing that drives me nuts is a lot of the ideas/poems/entries/babble i'm posting, i'm looking for feedback on. So feel free to give any comments-- good or bad. I promise not to hate you. Not for that anyway. So my friends, or maybe it is just myself i write to here, happy reading. Hopefully, you'll have as much fun reading this thing as i do writing it.

Later gators

empty space. Longing to be filled with words. thoughts. ideas.
empty head. Longing to be filled with words. thoughts. ideas.
room. Longing to be filled with emptiness. Cluttered with objects, words, thoughts and ideas.
tracy. Longing to be filled. Thoughts and ideas. random and aimless.
me. Longing to be filled with the very essence that is me.
me. Longing to be filled with tracy.
tracy. Longing to be filled with me.

went to class today.... the lecture was about Epistimology: how do we know what we know. True story.

What is there to know?

I don't know. Do you know? Lets ask someone. What will they say? What will they think? I don't know. I don't know either. What should we ask them? We should ask them what we need to know. How do we know what we need to know? I don't know. We just do. Do we? I don't know. Do you know? No, i still don't know. Maybe someday i will. Of course, first i have to figure out what there is to know.
By then, i will be a senile lady, smiling crookedly while thinking to myself. Everyone around will assume i'm crazy. The truth is, only then will i know what there is to know, what i wish i had known, and what there is left to know. By then, it will be too late.

Pickles. I used to like them. Maybe that was when i didn't have any. Now i have lots. Dill pickles, bread and butter pickles, gherkins, sandwich stackers, realization pickles, oh-woe-is-me pickles, who am i pickles? Am i pickles? why am i pickles? Why do i feel pickled? Is this what Peter Piper was talking about? who are pickles? What are pickles? I'm in a dilly of a pickle.

The Life of a single Girl

Maybe I lead a funny life, maybe I interpret things in a funny way. In any event... here are the stories of the single girl.... tips on picking up in the grocery store, or at work, or anywhere....

So the other day I'm in the best grocery store of all times -- Petes Frootique... they specialize in fruit and veggies. You can get a lot of great produce there, so i'm shopping for a pineapple. Any of you who have ever shopped for fruit and veggies with me know that it's a bit of a process, there are many little tests that must be done as to ensure that you're getting produce of exceptional quality. So I'm totally oblivious to the rest of the world and I'm checking out the pineapples. All of a sudden, this deep manly man voice comes up from behind me and says 'wow, you really know what you're doing' (now there is a pickup line I haven't heard before). I laugh. So then he asks me what I'm looking for and how do you know you're getting a good pineapple. He confesses that he usually just picks up the first one his hand hits (tsk tsk). So I give him the rundown on a good pineapple... colour, texture, smell, the way the bottom is supposed to look. He shows me a few to make sure he's got the technique down. Then he asks me if I do this for all the fruits and veggies, I laugh, say yes and then profess that I am, in fact, a fruit and veggie pseudo connoisseur/nerd. True Story. then we joke about me contracting out services to choose fruit and veggies....lol, I'll need a booking agent. Isn't that kind of like a pimp? okay, lets not go there. Anyhoo, so that is the story of the pineapple boy.... oh the hilarity. Maybe he's wishing he had given me a number or I had given him his. maybe he'll put an ad in a newspaper that will say, we met shopping for pineapple... you picked me the best pineapple I've ever had... will you marry me? Okay, this is getting out of hand... funny stuff. And for the record, there were no sparks between the two of us, it was just some harmless shopping for fruit.


Next story: The Baklava Marriage Proposal -- the abridged version

Made some baklava, took it to work... a Doctor asked if i was married, i said no, he said me either. I turned bright red. The nurses asked if they could play matchmaker. I laughed and thankfully the phone rang... it's my job to answer it.



And finally: Mullet boy
So i was hanging out with a friend of mine in a small little village where there really isn't much to do. We were hanging out with some of her friends one night. Her freind took quite the liking to me... funny stuff. Anyhoo, i was talking to her the other day, and apparently he is still quite fond of me... lol. He's about 40 and has a mullet. There is really nothing more to be said here. Well. he has a daughter, i'm closer to her in age than i am to him. How creepy is that.... blech. Funny stuff though.

I'm addicted!!!!

who knew this was so fun?

I'm supposed to be writing a paper, or at least doing something productive... but everytime a funny little musing pops into my head, I just want to come and write. I really am a nerd. Of course, by the time i get ready to put it all down here, i forget it. Silly me. Easy come, easy go i geuss.

HI CHRISTIE (since i know you take a look at this! :) Go to work!!!)

This is a late entry... i wrote this back in November. THought i would put it up. Don't really know why... i guess the question to ask is 'why not?'


Oh hello... here I am at timothy’s trying to do some work. Syntax is not fun so instead I thought that I would play with Adam's palm pilot. This is pretty spiffy, it’s a good thing these keys are like a laptop keyboard because now i cannot steal them,
so my idea of what to start journaling about is to start with a collection called the many sides of me. It's gonna be all about the different roles I play. Kind of like a sociological commentary. Each chapter is going to be called "on being a ________", some of the ideas I want to write about are me as I see me, musician, artist, diva, child, scholar, princess, cosmo girl, goofball, superhero and so on. basically, all the roles I play, or imagine myself plying. I too want to be strangely captivating. I wonder how long before I actually get to do this. In fact, maybe the collection as a whole will be called "on being", then the chapters can be just one word titles. It's going to be a humorous book.... designed to comment on society, pop culture, how i see the world. I want to make people laugh and I want them to identify with me. I want them to look and say, I see the same in that So that’s the plan. to start working. then maybe I’ll internet publish or something, or maybe even try to seek out some sort of other publication. I would love to see my name in print. Of course, I’ll have to get a pseudonym, and it’ll take a lot of work, it's been a while since I’ve written. I know I can get back into it if I want to though.... it'll be fun.
So that’s my story. But right now, I’m supposed to be studying syntax. Looks like the first part is going to have to be called on being a procrastinator.

i really am the burnt out bulb on the Christmas tree. While washing dishes that are the product of an enormous pancake making binge, i wrote a poem about pancakes. I was all set to publish it here... but i forgot it. I'm like a goldfish. they say goldfish have no memory, i guess there life is a lot like mine. The little plastic castle is a surprise every time. I didn't write that... please don't sue me for stealing someone else's words. Anyone know the reference?
I've always wondered though, what is the fascination of using generic pronouns such as 'they'? Who is 'they'? or should it be who are 'they'. They seem to say a lot. They seem to carry an awful lot of influence. They seem to have their name used in vein. They are powerful people. Faits attention mes amies! Anyhoo, I think it is time for me to go to bed....so they say.

Well well well. I've been meaning to do this for a while now, and at long last i am here. writing. i owe it all to Adam, who told me about blogger. I'm kind of a technology tard. Ignorance is bliss.
So this first posting really is going be nonesensical babble. I just got off from work. a sixteen hour work day is a long day. I like it though. i don't feel tired. Adrenaline, perhaps? i'll have an extra large double double. So this is it for now. A pretty disapointing first post, i know. But i don't have it in me tonight. Give me a while. i promise things willl get better. Hopefully soon i'll be funny, witty, charming and above all else -- stunning. A girl can dream can't she?