I plan on watching “Memento” again. I will listen to “Diamond Eyes” by Deftones as well.  You never got to hear it, but I know you’d love it. Although it’s more recent, it’s one of my favourite by them.

I haven’t dreamt of you in a while, but I’m sure that you were with me today. I was washing my hands in the back room at work, the light was very dim the whole time – I started thinking of you and the light suddenly became fluorescent. It made me smile.

I used to wish on the biggest stars, the curled up potato chips, stray eyelashes, the gum in the middle of the package, the candles and crumbs from the birthday cake, wishbones, when the clock read 11:11, fuzzy dandelion heads. . . One time I even wrote my wish on a beach rock with a charred stick from the fire and threw it into the ocean (somebody told me that it would come true that way).

But I’m grown up now, and I’ve realized that wishes don’t come true.

Some little girls are born princesses, they never have to wish for anything. Others go their entire lives only wanting one thing, and never getting it, some never even daring to wish.

Do you know what it’s like to want something so bad that you can taste it?  After a while, starts to choke you,  just  like Snow White’s poisoned apple.  .  .  She did eat the apple, after all, under false pretense that it would “grant her heart’s desire.”  Interestingly enough, and contradictory to my perspective,  I suppose the poisoned apple did ultimately fulfil it’s promise. The Wicked Queen met her demise, and Snow White found her True Love. On the other hand, all the Queen wanted was someone to think she was the prettiest girl in the world. . . Stupid Snow White.

There is a man and woman at the table closest to me whom appear to be on a date. It seems to be going well  – they are enveloped in conversation.

A deaf man approached me while I was digging through my purse for this notebook and pen. I bought one of his sign language booklets for $2 and smiled at him as he signed “Thank You” to me. I fought back tears, because for some reason I blubber like a juvenile man-beast pretty much anytime someone thanks me for something. Now I will have to make change for my busride to work in the morning.

I could totally be the heroine of a story. I wonder what the impression of me these co-occupants of this coffee shop have? A short-haired, blonde girl with green eyes, sitting alone at a small table in the bookstore coffee shop, a cell phone and open literary magazine in front her, writing in a notebook, who purchased a sign language booklet from a deaf man.  . . . That was quite a mouthful, wasn’t it? Now picture that girl rummaging through her large plum-coloured purse, pulling a random assortment of objects from it and placing them on the table in front of her. . . . hand sanitizer,keys, throat lezenges, unsolved Rubik’s cube . .(what is she looking for?) I am strange, aren’t I?

Most of these people probably believe me to be a university student (Oh, how I wish I was!). They would never guess that I am actually a professional sales consultant in the refined industry of jewellery. If that date goes well enough, that man may end up buying that woman an exquisite piece of diamond jewellery from me! Imagine that!

There were too men sitting at the other table closest to me,- they moved oe table further from me. I wonder why? Oh, now they’ve left.

I wonder where the bathroom is in this place?

I just had a flip-side thuoght – What if I was duped and that man wasn’t actually deaf at all?! Shame on him for taking advantage of my compassionate, kind-hearted nature! Shame. .  that’s not he word I wanted to use but I’ve forgotten what the right word was that I wanted to use. . . How did that happen?

This article about a writer’s reatreat seems a little intriguing. I am definitely inspired by my surroundings.

There were a few other books I wanted to purchase, but decided not to as Christmas is soon approaching and I need the money for gifts. This is the time to be spending money on other people, not myself. I love buying fantastic gifts for other people. I try so hard to find that perfect gift. . . well admittedly, it actually seems to come quite naturally to me. I put so much thought into what I buy. . without actually putting much thought into that thought. . if that makes sense, which it probably doesn’t. I don’t care how much I spend as long as I know it’s just that right gift for that specific person. I love seeing their reactins. I probably do spend a bit beyond my means, but to me, it’s worth it. It’s the only thing I really enjoy about this extrapolated holiday. I’m pretty Bah Humbug about it otherwise. It’s the only thing about this season that keeps me from wanting to shoot myself in the face. Oh, and mistletoe! I do like that tradition. Oh, time to go!

I’m hungry. I have no idea what I’m going to eat when I get home.

 The batter y in my phone is dead.

 The man in front of me to the left may have been a fish in a former life.

I don’t have to work tomorrow. I’m not entirely sure if this makes me happy. I missed a full shift this week because of the snow.

The guy across from me is wearing only shorts and a hoodie. He must be cold.

The bus is taking me home. I wonder which direction Life will take me. . .I can smell disappointment and loneliness when I think about it. Familiar scents.

The window is covered with dirt – I can barely see through it.

It’s funny how people come in so many different shapes.  There is a girl behind me now. I wonder if she will glance at my paper? What will she think of my writing? It’s kinda nice if I do say so myself. . .especially for writing while the bus is motion. . . locomoting. Come on and do the locomotion with me!

There’s Sobeys. I will be “home” soon. What is home anymore? I’m not so sure if I know.

DING! Someone has requested a stop. Goodbye girl behind me. DING! Another! Who will it be this time? Goodbye Guy-Wearing-Shorts. DING! They are dropping like flies! Goodbye Fishman!

I am alone on the bus now. . . it’s sad – like the ending of a movie, the kind that leaves things unresolved.  . .

I’m getting off now.

Mozart’s 7th Symphony fills the air, the floor is littered with myself. It’s dark outside. That makes no difference. The music swells as if something climactic is happening. It’s not. . . but I can almost pretend -almost.

“Cantoluna” falls now like a light snow. This is more my style. Softer, slower. . . sombre. Like the Evening, when the woeful Sun slips from the darkening sky with just enough time to brush the delicate fingers of the Silvern Moon with its warm lips. . .

At the top of the list is my very, very significant other, who gives me reason, purpose, and above all gives my life meaning. If you are reading this, I love you. And to be completely cheesy and steal a lyric from Bon Jovi – Thank you for loving me.

I am thankful for my career. I enjoy going to work – mostly because of the wonderful people that work alongside me. I am even more thankful for them.

I am thankful for new friends. This includes some of those wonderful co-workers of mine, and maybe one in particular.

I am thankful for old friends. Those of you have stuck by me through the years and are here for yet another Thanksgiving. Thank you for sticking by me.

I am thankful for family. Whether I am with you for Thanksgiving dinner today or not, I am thankful for you. My mum, of course, gets a special thanks. Thanks for being my mum, Mum. Thank you also to my cousin, who is hosting this year’s dinner. I apologize in advance for any stories from our childhood which may embarrass you

I am thankful for this beautiful Autumn day. It is sunny out, and as I looked out the window just then, I saw some birds flying overhead.

Today I will be looking at everything with appreciation. I wish you the ability to do the same.

Happy Thanksgiving Everybody

It’s odd how a temporary space of time can seem so permanently unending.

You actually pleaded not guilty?

You stabbed Lana 19 times. . . was that by accident? You slit Andrew’s throat, doused him in gasoline and SET HIM ON FIRE. . . AND YOU PLEADED “NOT GUILTY?!”

Two counts of second degree murder. . A single conviction itself carries a mandatory life sentence and parole ineligbility. Not to mention your 42 prior criminal convictions, and that you were on probation at the time. I can’t believe that there will be another court date for you. According to prosecutor, Mark Levitz, “There is no realistic prospect for rehabilitation.” I do not believe that you deserve another chance.

At this point, I would like to repeat everything that I said in my previous blog post regarding you: http://icelikediamonds.wordpress.com/wp-admin/post-new.php

You didn’t even know Andrew. That was the first time you had ever seen him in your pathetic life. Well I did know him. I knew him and I loved him. His favourite movie was “Memento,” and his favourite band was “Tool.” He did card tricks. He was a dancer. He was an actor. His favourite “X-Men”  character was Gambit. He had an absolutely spectacular smile. I was very fortunate to have shared a year of my life with him, but because of you. . that’s all I will ever get.

Candace heaved a heavy sigh and leaned back in her black leather office chair. She had to be careful not to lean back too far or the old chair would tip over. . Although it had never happened to her, the fear was always there. She smiled as she thought about how her boyfriend would always grab the back of the chair and tilt it slightly backward, causing her to spring forward and shriek in terror.  It was his favourite way to “playfully” scare the crap out of her. It was also the only way.

She checked the clock: 5:34 pm. What a boring day. She flicked the clasp on the jar of jellybeans that she kept next to the computer screen and made a mental note to refill it. She only liked the pink ones, maybe she should get the gourmet kind this time. The ones that had all those different flavours like toasted marshmallow. She smiled as yet another memory crept across the inside of her skull. She would have to challenge her best friend to another Bertie-Bott’s-Every-Flavour-Bean-Eating-Contest. She turned her attention to the Beetlejuice bobblehead that she kept on her desk. It was the twin of the one she gave to her best friend. He kept his on his desk at work. She flicked it and watched it wiggle around. She shifted in the chair and refreshed her Facebook page once more. No updates. Maybe everyone else was just as bored as she was.

Through the window, the overcast sky threatened rain and the wind blew up against it as if to challenge its authority. Candace must have dozed off. She checked the clock again. “That was a short sleep.”  This didn’t surprise her, she never really slept. Four to five hours a night, tossing and turning – maybe that was why she got so many headaches. Realizing that she was stiff from having slept in the chair, Candace stretched out. Eyeing the bobblehead, she said “I bet you never get a stiff neck.” She often to spoke to inanimate objects, she wondered if joking with them made her any less sane.

Beetlejuice was Candace’s favourite cartoon when she was a kid. She was a lot like the show’s character, Lydia. Maybe she should dress up as Lydia for Halloween? She made a mental note to ask her boyfriend later what he thought about going as Beetlejuice. Wouldn’t it be cool to have a ghost friend and be able to go to another dimension (in this case, the Neitherworld)? What was it that mantra that Lydia used to chant at the beginning of each episode? Candace searched her brain, “Though I know I should be wary, still I venture someplace scary; Ghostly hauntings I turn loose. . .Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!” She could almost hear Beetlejuice saying  “It’s showtime!”

The human mind is fascinating thing, when you remember something so distinctly, it’s like you are actually hearing things in reality. . . or at least, that’s what Candace thought until that familiar voice spoke again. “Well it’s about time, Babes! I thought you were never going to say it!”