Reader. Writer. Romantic.

Archive for November, 2015

Anxiety Kills

Do you know what it’s like?
To feel your heart beating in your throat?
To feel the rush of adrenaline through your body as you try to focus?

Do you know what it’s like
To feel the fear of inadequacy
Burning like electricity through your limbs
Shaking, drained, and used

Do you know what it’s like
To try so hard
To be so close to victory
But never taste it
Like grasping smoke
Ever elusive

Not allowing my mind to be satiated by the usual means
Choking the joy from my life
Refusing to allow me rest

Tell me you know what it’s like
To watch yourself crash and burn
And remain powerless to respond
To defend yourself
As the panic rises
And consumes you

Tell me you know what it’s like
To be buried alive
Screaming until your voice is hoarse
And your lungs are raw
But knowing
That no one can hear you
That no one can help you

Tell me you know what it’s like
To be suffocated
By your dreams
By your love
By the walls closing in

Tell me you know what it’s like
When your brain shuts down
When you become nothing more than a hollow husk
A shadow of your former self

Too often have I seen it in those I love
Too often have I felt these feelings bubbling up inside of me
Too often have I sat alone
Seeking a solution where there is none

How many times have you’ve heard
Keep going
Keep pushing
You can do it
Words of encouragement
Lies we tell ourselves
To keep us going
All of it temporary
An obstacle to overcome for a better future

Too long have I suffered in silence
As have others felt the same
Silenced by the stigma
Can anything be done
To change the way the world sees me
Broken and damaged?
Or will I become someone I no longer recognize?
Someone who murdered the good in me
For a future good?

Sweet Revenge

Let me paint you in the best light possible
So that when I burn you down
The fireworks will be so spectacular
That the Gods will come down from Olympus to celebrate

Your demise will be short and sweet
But just long enough for you to realize
That you chose the wrong girl to mess with
When you broke my heart

Forever Yours, Forever Waiting

At 5 am
When the world is caught between
And sleeping
Life and death
I lie alone
Thinking of what could be

Never in my life have I felt more intensely
As when I have been in love
Between love
I have forgotten what it is to feel
But with you…
Something feels right

I know you’ve been hurt
By memories of the past
Mixed up in twisted situations of the present
Because of your kind hearted nature
It was that and not your beauty that first drew me in
For your heart sang a song
That only I could hear
That only I knew completed mine

But always know
That despite my pain
Buried in my solitude
I will always be here
Always waiting
To hold your hand
And gather the shattered remnants of your heart
For that one day which may never come
That day in which I confess
All that you’ve meant to me

I will help you to rewrite those memories
That have broken your heart
But in the end
I’ll remain in my solitude
To suffer in silence
If in doing so
You find true happiness

Dark and Light

I was never meant to be so alone
For so long
But you stole away my light
And imprisoned me in your darkness

In my solitude I learned what it meant to be true to myself
I learned to survive with the growing darkness inside of me
But you loved me for my light
Loved me for how it chased away the shadows
But people change
And so my light tainted
By your love

Until one day
I no longer suited your needs
I, who had loved you always
Cast aside
Abandoned in a shadowed realm
To find companionship where there was none
And make my own light
In the suffocating dark


Waiting is the worst
Time the most corrosive substance
As I’ve said before
Time does not heal all wounds
It only makes me care less
But time also burns
Eats you from the inside out
Destroy you slowly
Until you no longer recognize
The tragic mess that you’ve become

Restaurant Review: The Fine Diner

Location: 1420 9 Ave SE

The Fine Diner is another place willing to take reservations for brunch through opentable, which is rare among brunch places. Due to maintenance on the train lines, we decided to take our chances with a walk-in since we didn’t know what time we’d get there. I think that most brunch places don’t take reservations primarily because that without reservations, there is a greater turn over meaning more money. A quick look at the menu showed that there were several intriguing dishes that I wanted to try.

We arrived at around 10:30, grabbing the last available table there. We were promptly seated and a kinda grumpy looking waiter came over to us. He would eventually warm up, but at first I wasn’t particularly thrilled. It took us all a few minutes to decide what it was we wanted. Yulin got a regular coffee and a Mushroom Arugula Eggs Benedict, Valerie got a grapefruit juice and a Steak Hash, and I had the Maple Duck Eggs Benedict with a cappuccino. First off, a cappuccino is not served in a coffee mug, and secondly, it tasted a bit off for a cappuccino. I couldn’t say with certainty what it was about the cappuccino that was wrong, but only that there was something. It seemed as though it took a while for the food to come, but that may have just been me being hungry from not eating breakfast.  The duck was medium rare, which I was wary about initially, but it turned out to be quite good. The eggs must have been organic or something because the yolks were the most beautiful golden-orange. I enjoyed the fact that there was fresh fruit and that the hash medley had tri-coloured potatoes. However, not all was good. Yulin ordered her Benedict with the breakfast poutine, but I guess they didn’t hear her or something because it didn’t happen. Though we were disappointed, at least we weren’t charged for it. And steak…the steak was served in a bowl. The most impractical thing I have ever heard. Besides that, the hash underneath was way too salty, they didn’t give Valerie a steak knife for the steak, and they got the temperature on it wrong.

It’s not horrible, but I don’t think I’ll be coming back. 3/5.

Maple Duck Eggs Benedict

Maple Duck Eggs Benedict

Steak Hash

Steak Hash

Mushroom Arugula Eggs Benedict

Mushroom Arugula Eggs Benedict

Movie Review: Crimson Peak *WARNING SPOILERS*

I’m typically not a horror movie fan and with an overactive imagination, the slightest thing can scare me. I’m the kind of person who will hear a car door slam a little too close to my house and think that there’s going to be a home invasion in which I die a most brutal death.

I had seen a couple trailers when I was sending them to a friend I wanted to see the movie with and though some parts were terrifying by my standards, I was intrigued by the period in which it was set and the general aesthetics of the movie. Of course it helped that Tom Hiddleston was in it, but that’s besides the point.

In many ways, as a writer, I relate very closely to Edith Cushing especially about adding romantic fiction, not being taken seriously as a woman and so on (I’m sure she has it a lot worse than I do with the gender equality thing though), although at times she seems quite unreasonable (almost whiny), but maybe that was just due to her upbringing. Obviously I shouldn’t make assumptions, but it’s close enough to the Victorian era for me to know a thing or two about mannerisms of the time (yeah, thanks Jane Austen, that’s probably the only thing I learned from you). Edith’s writing, much like mine, is fictional, but retains elements that can be autobiographical.There is much to admire in Edith’s character. She is strong and vocal about her opinions, but still retains characteristics of a proper gentlewoman. In her writing she wants to be taken seriously, but with a ghost story void of romance, she cannot for she is a woman and women ought to write stories of domestic bliss and sitting room dramas. The ghosts, she insists are metaphorical, but the audience knows that ghosts are real or at least they do by the movie’s end. And I guess she kind of did get her wish; she will die a Mary Shelley rather than a Jane Austen, though I did see her more as a Shelley than an Austen anyways.

From the moment we meet the Sharpe siblings, you know something’s up. It’s just a very cliched storyline: a family home in ruin, a fortune squandered, two “siblings,” meeting (think Sherlock Holmes’ The Hound of the Baskervilles, one of the stories told to Miss Marple in Tuesday Club Murders) and marrying someone who comes from money, that sort of thing. You know where it’s going, but Guillermo del Toro surprises us all. In writing I’ve learned that there are no new ideas, only new ways to combine these ideas. I assume film is very much the same and de Toro did so brilliantly. It’s not the kind of horror you’d expect with jump scares and a lot of blood and gore, though I can assure you that some of the ghosts are plenty scary and that I had my fill of blood and gore. However, what I did know was that Edith would be the exception to everything. There’s no point to make a movie in which she just becomes another body buried in the crimson clay that is found under Allerdale Hall. In that way I knew that Thomas Sharpe would truly fall in love with her and try to protect her from Lucille and die trying to protect her. Those things made the movie cliched, but in a good way. These were things I expected and kept me from completely losing my shit over the appearances of the ghosts. The only time I wasn’t afraid was when she found out who the one ghost in particular was and at that point all I felt was pity. The stories of the women Sir Thomas wedded and murdered was just as intriguing to me as the story that was being laid out before me.  As expected, there was a romance between Thomas and Lucille, however, what was unexpected was that they really were siblings involved in an incestuous relationship. At times, when I watch movies or read books that includes relationships like these it makes me think about the mentality of the director and of the audience. In a way, the director creates a masterpiece according the demands of the audience and capturing the latent taboo fantasies of some. And essentially that’s what a gothic romance is like. Like the aesthetes and decadents of the 1890s, the repressed sexuality mentioned by Freud, and the concept of Victorian morality, these are themes that linger in this genre. And like these concepts, this movie has so many levels of complexity, each hiding another secret. I go to movies for the same reason I read books or play video games: to temporarily suspend reality and indulge in stories of the fantastical. Movies like these allow us to explore the darker side of human nature and discover things about ourselves that we don’t quite know or understand.

In the end, Sir Thomas become more of a man than he’s ever been, standing up to his sister and dying for his love. In speaking of love, we cannot ignore the scene in which Sir Thomas and Edith consummate their marriage. I won’t get into this too much, but in many ways it is unconventional in the sense of typical sex scenes in “Hollywood” movies. Usually in Hollywood movies, it is the sexuality of the woman who is played up and she is exploited and put on display, but in this movie, it is the male who exposes himself and puts himself on display, so a bit of a role reversal is refreshing.

It’s been a while since a movie has touched me so, even if it did scare the bejebers out of me and that I watched the movie in different levels so to speak (watching like a normal person, watching through my scarf, watching half the screen with half my face stuffed into my scarf, watching the top left or top right or just top of strip of the screen as covered by my scarf, or just face buried in scarf). Just as Edith intended the ghosts in her novel to represent her past, I felt as though the crimson clay splattered across the snow (which I think is the one of the most beautiful images ever) was a metaphor for all the blood that has been spilt at Allerdale Hall. This movie also had some funny moments. The one that comes to mind is Lucille’s death. Lucille tells Edith that she won’t stop until either she is dead or she kills Edith, Edith then distracts her by pointing out Thomas’ ghost lingering behind her before hitting her with a shovel. Lucille falls and repeats that she won’t stop until she is dead or she kills Edith and Edith smashes her head in with the shovel saying “I heard you the first time.” At this part I laughed out loud and I have to say this was one of my favourite scenes in the movie.

I can’t say that I’d watch this movie again simply because I don’t think I’d be able to sleep if I watched it. And I kind of wish that the people a few rows back would stop making a commentary on the entire movie (saying ouch when Lucille gets hit in the face with a shovel, making gaspy noises when ghosts are about to appear, etc). Overall, great movie, amazing aesthetics, an interesting twist on a conventional story line. I guess you could say, this movie was my kind of messed up. 8/10.

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