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I'm feeling very reflective at the moment. I had my Postmodernism and the Sexual Revolution class today. Once again, we ended up discussing the findings in the Kinsey Report. Alfred C. Kinsey, the zoologist turned famous sexologist and precursor to Masters and Johnson, after conducting 18, 000 interviews (8, 000 done by Kinsey himself, the rest done by his team) for Sexual Behavior in the Human Male, concluded that only 4% of those surveyed were "exclusively homosexual throughout their lives."

Basically, to oversimplify, Kinsey believed that while there are instances of sole heterosexuality and sole homosexuality, this binarization is not the norm. He writes, "The world is not to be divided into sheep and goats.... Only the human mind invents categories and tries to force facts into separated pigeon-holes." There is, as my professor (Dr James Miller) puts it, a "universal bisexuality," as Kinsey observes that, "a considerable portion of the population whose members have combined, within their individual histories, both homosexual and heterosexual experience and/or psychic responses [the font style chage here is mine, not Kinsey's]."

Interestingly, Gore Vidal, whose novel Myra Breckinridge is on my course syllabus, agrees. In an excerpt from the chapter "Today My Nerves Are Shattered. But I am Indomitable!" of his memoir Palimpsest (destributed by Professor Miller in class today), Vidal agrees:
even then, I did not believe in fixed sexual categories; and finally, Kinsey appears not to have believed
in them either. But one's primary attraction (for the other half?) is innate and hardly a "choice," as the
ignorant pretend. Of course, secondary attractions are possible; hence the tradition, in patriarchal
societies, of a conventional marriage for Jonathan as well as one for David, though their love for each
other is the primary facet of their lives."

In the excerpts I've perused thus far for class, neither Vidal nor Kinsey defines what constitutes a "secondary attraction" or homosexual "psychic response." Is it thinking someone of your own sex pretty/handsome/attractive? Or is it something more? Though this is usually NellieQ's domain, I wanna know what everyone else thinks: what is this attraction/response? Do you even agree with Kinsey and Vidal? Or is it all bullocks?

I don't think I have a problem. Actually, I know I don't. Freud might disagree, but screw Freud! He knows nothing about women anyway...

My problem, or non-problem as it may be, is that I seem to have a thing for guys named Mike: my first boyfriend was a Mike; the two guys I'm really attracted to at the moment are Mikes; a guy I was attracted to over the summer was a Mike. Okay. That's interesting, right? But unlikely, no. "Michael" and its derivations are common male monikers. Weirdly, though, is that my father's name is Mike. Gah! ::Natalie shudders::

This is where I reiterate my aforementioned sentiment, SCREW FREUD! I am so not a Daddy's girl!!!! I don't want to date any guy like my father! Not that my dad's a bad guy to be like. On the whole, it's quite the contrary. It's just that I feel he doesn't respect my ideas and opinions, my independence. Nothing pisses me off more than closemindedness.

Mr Ex had a tendency to be closeminded. It was a tendency that reared its ugly head with increasing frequency towards the end of our relationship. He actually told me that he didn't want to see a band that I liked because he thought they looked "like nerds"!!!!! Gah! ::Natalie waves right fist in the air in a brief spasm of anger::

But back to my original point, gah! Or wait! Maybe it was SCREW FREUD???? 'Cause you know what? This wouldn't be an issue for me if it wasn't for him! I wouldn't be embracing this fit of paranoia--or rather, it wouldn't be embracing me--if it wasn't for the power of his suggestion. I know in my heart that there's nothing to it; "Michael" is a popular name. There are bound to be coincidences. I guess what I have to do now is stop obsessing about it. When you obsess over things, scrutinize your relationships for things that just aren't there, well, you poison the very relationships you're looking at.

A warning sign
I missed the good part then I realised
That I started looking and the bubble burst
I started looking for excuses

-"Warning Sign" by Coldplay

Bottom line is this: if I get hung up on this name thing, I'm afraid that I'll close myself off to potential relationships. Just because of what Freud may think is in a name. And wouldn't that be a real problem!

One Hundred Things You May or May Not Know About Natalie

1.) My middle name is Shalaine.
2.) My confirmation name is Genevieve.
3.) I actually like my names.
4.) All of them.
5.) I'm a Gemini.
6.) Not that I really put too much stock in astrology.
7.) Well, I try not to, but sometimes I'm curious.
8.) Yes, I know. Curiosity killed the cat.
9.) I have a cat, Cuddles.
10.) I can't hear you, but I do know you're laughing.
11.) I named him/got him just after my tenth birthday.
12.) I'm twenty-one now.
13.) I have never been to a bar/club in the United States.
14.) I prefer bars to clubs any day.
15.) Even though I do like to dance.
16.) The under-aged bar whores who frequent clubs are usually more than I can bear.
17.) I love music.
18.) And books. Yeah, books.
19.) I am a writer.
20.) Even though I have yet to be published.
21.) I have started trying to get published.
22.) My current creative project is a play I'm hoping to submit to a one act play festival.
23.) I love live theatre.
24.) I almost chose to study acting at university.
25.) I changed my mind only weeks before I had to send out applications.
26.) I wasn't sure if I could still enjoy acting if it was my job (as opposed to my hobby).
27.) I was afraid of rejection.
28.) I am afraid of rejection.
29.) My heart has almost completely mended from my July, 2002 break up with my boyfriend of almost fifteen months.
30.) My longest relationship lasted fifteen months.
31.) I thought that this would be the guy I'd marry.
32.) I thought I loved him.
33.) Now I'm not so sure.
34.) He and are trying to be friends.
35.) I'm not convinced it'll work.
36.) We're just too different/our interests are too dissimilar.
37.) I am a university student.
38.) I'm studying Comparative Literature and Civilization, and English Literature.
39.) No, I don't want to be a teacher.
40.) Though I do have moments of madness when I swear I'm going to get a Master of Arts and Ph'D in Comparative Literature.
41.) I have an irrational fear of getting a real job to augment my writing income (or lack thereof!)
42.) I'm afraid having a real job will give me an excuse to succumb to my fear of rejection (ie. I'm afraid I'll cease to to seek publication and writing will become just a hobby instead of a passion)
43.) I am Canadian!
44.) My favourite beer is not.
45.) I drink Guinness.
46.) Well, admittedly, I do enjoy the odd Sleeman's Cream Ale.
47.) I don't drink alone.
48.) But I am a coffee-holic!
49.) There's no help for me there!!!!!
50.) I actually think writing this list is fun.
51.) I wonder if that's a product of the "writer's ego" that Professor Garber says I seem to have under control?
52.) My best friends are Kerri, who I have known since senior kindergarten, and
Ryan, who I met during my first year of university.
53.) I love to travel.
54.) Though I've yet to venture off the continent I was born on.
55.) I want to go to Europe.
56.) Places where I'd like to live for a year or so include Montreal, Quebec; Prince Edward Island; the Hudson Bay area; London,
England; and Venezia nell'Italia.
57.) I am learning to speak Italian.
58.) I studied French for thirteen years.
59.) Though I have yet to take a French course since entering university.
60.) I miss studying French.
61.) My father's family is French and my mother's is Irish-Italian.
62.) The Irish are from Belfast.
63.) My maternal great-great grandfather was murdered by the I.R.A.
65.) They thought he was an Orangeman.
66.) He was Catholic.
67.) I feel closer to the Irish-Italian side of the family.
68.) They're a lot more open than the French side.
69.) is just any other number!
70.) I want to learn German.
71.) And Japanese.
72.) I am absolutely fascinated by India.
73.) I have a celebrity crush on Chris Martin of Coldplay.
74.) I think he's an intelligent, articulate and sensitive musician.
75.) And his blue eyes make me weak in the knees.
76.) Though I had heard of Oxfam before, Coldplay's promoting of the organization made me
more aware of what the organization actually does.
77.) I am a member of my university's chapter of Oxfam.
78.) I sometimes feel both helpless and hopeless when it comes to lobbying for fair trade legislation.
79.) I am skeptical of the effectiveness of consumer boycotts.
80.) I openly admit to being a socialist and a New Democratic Party supporter.
81.) I don't like being called a "tree hugger."
82.) I go gaga for British accents!
83.) I am allergic to cigarette smoke.
84.) And penicillin, sulfas and ceclor.
85.) I react most severely to penicillin.
86.) When I've had it, I've bled internally.
87.) Because of all my medicinal allergies, I have never tried any non-regulated drug.
88.) I am the oldest of three children.
89.) I want to stand out.
90.) But I don't want to overshadow my siblings.
91.) I am proud of my brother and sister.
92.) I would call myself maternal.
93.) I have lived with my present roommate for the past three years.
94.) I sometimes wish I had an older brother.
95.) I realize that my friend Randy is like an older brother (he's three years older than I am. We grew up together.)
96.) I would consider my mother one of best friends. Right up there with Kerri and Ryan.
97.) I enjoy playing chess even though my game needs more practice.
98.) Despite feeling increasingly more cynical, I would generally classify myself as an optimist.
99.) I can be quite paradoxical.
100.) I wouldn't have me any other way.

Oh, how I love live music! Last night, Kerri, Randy and I caught the Hot Hot Heat show at Call the Office. It was yet another evening of great music and even better company! Playing in support for Hot Hot Heat were The Parkas (yes, the same Parkas who played in support of The Dears the other night... How many parkas do you know??? ::looks ashamed as Canadians everywhere scowl in her direction::) and Brendan Benson and the Well Fed Boys (who had been opening for fellow Detroiters The White Stripes on their recent tour).

Yeah. I definitely love live music. Heck, I love any format of music (mono, stereo, et cetera)! Need any proof? I rather foolishly/self-indulgently bought more than one (I'll just put it that way) CD/EP over the past two weekends and I'm on a budget...

Yikes, eh?!! No more for me for a LONG while! I have to save up for Christmas presents (yeah, I've even started shopping. I've got my younger sister's gift already and I know what I'm getting Kerri). I guess that means that I'll have to wait on adding Tigre Benvie's The Year of the Mutt and Bankruptcy to my collection. Ah, well. I guess I can content myself with listening to the songs posted on Tigre's (a.k.a. Rob's) page hosted by New Music Canada (you CanRock buffs out there might recognize Rob's work in The Dears, as well as the now-defunct Thrush Hermit, whose album Clayton Park is fantastic!)

Hm. Well, beyond my obsession with music, I don't think I've really ever said that much about myself. True, the surest indicator of character is usually what a character says/does (so in that case, maybe you do know me), but there are, of course, the little things. So, following a recent trend (this is new...), I will be posting a list of One Hundred Things You May or May Not Know About Natalie. Stay tuned. With luck it could be up in an hour or so.

And to all the smart-aleks out there who'll point out that it already is tomorrow (Friday), I say it ain't tomorrow until I've been to bed and woken up. I laugh in the face of human concepts of time! Hm. Maybe that explains why I'm usually late...

Saw an amazing concert tonight! I was finally able to make it to one of The Dears' London shows. I was so not disappointed. I'm planning to go to hear them when they come back next week. In the meantime, I'll keep myself content by listening to all their songs that are available through New Music Canada's website. Everyone should check them out.

Oh! And their support for this London date was the Parkas (a band who saw four of five members graduate from my very own UWO just this past year. I met when of the guys when we were both Orientation Week sophs last year. They were pretty good themselves. They've just come back from touring the East Coast (at least, I think that's what they said; there was more than enough background noise). Check them out, too.

I suppose I should get some sleep now. I have a busy day tomorrow: cleaning, groceries, coffee with my old creative writing professor. And the Hot Hot Heat concert in the evening (Randy's coming from Toronto for a visit and the show).

Mmm... Badger Balm, here I come (good thing it's herbal-based... I am so already addicted to it)!!!

I did it. I answered Mr Ex's e-mail. Receiving no further advice (not really), I decided to trust my instinct (which I probably would have done even with legions of advising me to do the contrary). I just told him that I didn't think that I should answer his question at this stage in our "just friendship." Yes, that's what I'm calling it--just friendship. I told him I would in the future, but that I didn't think our present relationship could handle that kind of "colletive soul-searching" right now. Yes, that's how I put it--collective soul-searching. It will be interesting to see how he responds. I hope he understands.

Really, I don't owe him an explanation, though. Not as to why the relationship became unhealthy for me, nor as to why I don't want to answer his question now. But I will give him one and I did give him one for the very reason that I cannot address his concerns presently: our past together.

I'm happy with my decision(s). I hope he kind find some comfort in it (them), too.

I hate getting my period. If it were possible to bear my own children without it, I'd gladly--for lack of a better word--relinquish it. Hah! "Bear my own children"?! I sound like a semi-retiree mulling over plans for the future, "...and I'll grow my own vegetables, and--."

I just stumbled upon a blog whose author actually had the guts to post her own creative writing on-line. That's not a put-down; I'm just marvelling at how ballsy that is. Really.

I don't know if it's an act of self-preservation or arrogance, but I refuse to post anything I intend to send to publishers. Though few people visit this blog and most people in this world are honest, you never know who could stumble across your work and choose to, um, imitate it (best case scenario--imitation is supposedly the highest form of flattery) or outright lift it. Intellectual property laws are very tricky when it comes to the internet, seeing as how the internet generally lacks systematized mediation.

I guess that's why I discount on-line journals as possible venues for my writing...

Hm. In my silent moments (yes, I do allow for some! It's all about the introspection!) I keep coming back to the same question: what would Foucault think of blogs?

Certainly with blogs we have not merely the Death of the Author, but the Explosion of the Author. The author/reader binary is collapsed, as commenting systems allow the reader to actively respond to text, subjectively reshaping the narrative. It's like a Choose Your Own Adventure book gone awry because with CYOA books you have limited possibilities; blog-narrative allows for as many proliferations as there are respondents.

I think the literary discourse around hypertext literature might delve into this. I really should read some hypertext literary theory if I intend to keep blogging. I guess this is as good a beginning as any!

I feel genuinely stuck between a rock and a hard place right now. Still trying to be friends, my ex-boyfriend and I have been exchanging e-mails. Last week he sent me one, closing with the following question asked "out of curoisity and
wonder when i do decide to try another relationship[sic]": "why do you think you and i [sic] never worked out[?] ... i [sic] know that both of our feelings had changed over the course of our year and a half together, but what were some of the things that made the decision for you[?]"

Of course I didn't just hop on my keyboard and let loose the litany of things that I felt were wrong with the relationship. If I was to answer his question, which he said I could do at my discretion, I was going to carefully consider how I phrased my answer. We are trying to be friends, after all. So I waited on that letter writing session.

Well, a week has come and gone since I received his e-mail and today, during my post-class e-mail reading, I read a new letter from Mr Ex. And he again ended this e-mail with that question.

I can answer that question; it's not a matter of not knowing the answer. I do know why I wasn't happy in our relationship. It's more a matter of whether I should tell him. Telling him that I found his humour to be cruel is possible. I know I can tell him that I hated the way he teased me, made me feel like shit and, still worse, made me feel like verbally lashing out at him in revenge. But how do you tell a person that you feel intellectually stifled when you're with them--and still be friends?

I felt like enough of a bitch when I finally admitted that last bit to myself, admitted that the gap between our interests (mine having the unfortunate characteristic of being far too serious) was something that I couldn't deal with. I still feel like a bitch for feeling that way!

So, as I said before, the question for me is, "should I answer Mr Ex's question?"

They say that a wise man welcomes criticism, but I don't know if our tenuous friendship could survive that kind of scrutiny of the past. Should I just tell him to leave the past behind? And, as my mother suggested, should I tell him, since it's a learning experience his looking for, that each relationship is different and will have problems unique to it? Or should I just give him what he asks for: validation for almost a year and a half some would say was "wasted"?

Heh. Okay. Those who know me well know what nostalgia I have for the 80s! So I indulged myself this morning and here are the results:


Who's Your 80s Movie Icon Alter-Ego? Find out @ She's Crafty


I can see some similarities here...



Which Breakfast Clubber Are You? Find out @ She's Crafty


Hm. I raise my eyebrows at that "crack under pressure" comment. They had me until there. I do get stressed often, but I don't crack under pressure; I thrive on it. And socially inept? Not usually.

And I know this is in no way shape or form related to the 1980s, but I couldn't help including it:


Which My So-Called Life Character Are You? Find out @ She's Crafty

No bad dreams last night that I can remember. I know that everyoe dreams, so I can't say that I don't. I guess I just slept so soundly that I couldn't recall them when I woke up. Had a GREAT sleep last night! Gotta love that Badger Sleep Balm! I'm still so tired, though. A couple nights worth of great sleep can't make up for two and a half weeks worth of shitty sleep. I'm working on it, though. Or should I say the lavender's working on me?

No pickles and apples tonight either. Blueberries and yogurt! Mmmmm...!

But enough about my eating and sleeping patterns. They're not important enough to warrant any more attention. They're patterns. They exist; I've observed them. And now I'm moving on. To more interesting things. Like Coldplay!

The Coldplay Intimate and Interactive was on Much Music tonight. I watched it over at my friend Kerri's. Oh, they were SO gooooood! I really wish I had tickets to see them in Toronto last night! I'm sure it would have been unforgettable! Am I coming off melodramatic? Probably. Am I actually being melodramatic? No. Not at all. I'm a Coldplay fan (ya caught me!) Attending one of their shows would be something I know I'd love and remember. Really, their my Beatles (well, The Beatles are still really my Beatles, but I'm sure you get the point: they're The Beatles for me in my youth. I would say for my generation, but I don't think they've yet to become that big. Yet...)

Hm. I had a Paula Red apple and some baby dill pickles (with garlic!) while watching Sex and the City (yes, again!) I didn't eat them at the same time. Just one after the other. My roommate has informed that that'll give me nightmares. I'll keep you posted; I'm just on my way to bed now. Oh, how I love the sweet smell of the lavender in my Badger Sleep Balm!! Makes Natalie sleeeeeeppppyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!

Oooh! One of my favourite bands has a new video! Check out the Local Rabbits' "Fill Them In" and let me know what you all think (I think the song is MUCH better than the video!)

The Canadian premiere of season five of Sex and the City was last night. Yay! Oh, how I'd missed my girls! The re-runs just aren't the same... Heh. There's a tie for my favourite moment from last night's episode: 1.) Carrie's rain-enduced rambling to a complete stranger (tee hee!), and 2.) Carrie offing that, like, nineteen year old sailor for telling her that she reminded him of his mother (oooh! Way to pick up! Definitely not a smooth sailor! Heh! Oh, puns! How I love you! I'd marry you if it were possible!)

Anyway, took a little test and apparently I'm just like


Which Sex and the City Player Are You? Find out @ She's Crafty

Can ya tell? Well, maybe not, but for more than a few reasons (including moment 1 mentioned above--a moment I could SO see myself having...) I tend to agree.

What Type of Villain are You?

mutedfaith.com /
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Well, "A Room of One's Own" doesn't want me either. Another rejection notice today, read once again over the phone by Mom.

One wonders: would the cultural capital I produce be worth more if it was a limited edition, scarce?

I am quickly downward spiralling towards cynicism. Tragic, isn't it, for one who always prided herself on her optimism.

This day started off decently enough. Then I received a phone call from my mom: she had a letter for me, announcing the results of a short story contest I had entered. Of course, I didn't win. That's fine. I'm just getting started and even established writers have their stumbling blocks. It's more the timing of the annoucement that's bothering me. No fault of the contest organizers, though.

The release of the results comes at a time when I am increasingly questioning my career choice and its impracticality. I don't want to teach or be a journalist to pay the bills. So I'm afraid. I'm afraid that if I do get a day job, it'll become more than just a fiscal net. It will be my safety net. Writing is a risk. Publishing your work is even more of a risk; your livelihood is at the mercy of a group (publishers, reviewers, academics, readers) who, regardless of the quality (or lack thereof) of your work, subjectively determines success. Having something to pay the bills would make sense, wouldn't it?

It would, but the very thought of doing something other than writing frightens me. Because I suspect that if I don't feel that I have to write, I won't because writing is, after all, a risk (you put so much of yourself on the line!) It'll become just a hobby instead of my passion. And a part of me will die.

And I'm afraid, too, that physical side of me will exist (or cease to!) at the expense of the artistic. I'm damned if I don't take up a practical, money-making career and I'm even more damned (if that's possible) if I do.

The contest results didn't cause this fear. It just had the unfortunate consequence of exacerbating it.

He he he! Here's another weird one (though not nearly as bizarre as the ones posted last night!):



Which of Kelly Osbourne's hairstyles are you?
by Razorstar

Okay. Feeling more than a little raw today. So I was needing to de-stress. Blog-hopping can bring you to some interesting quizzes. Here are the results of a couple that I took:


Take the Affliction Test Today!



Which Evil Criminal are You?


Maybe they'll perversely amuse you as they've amused me. At any rate, they'll help get your mind off things.

P.S. Kerri, who knows? Take the test. Maybe they'll tell you that you really are the West NIle Virus. Hah!

Ugh. I think I've come down with something. I feel ill. And yes, this feeling encompasses non-allergy related sensations, as well. Maybe I ate something that didn't agree with me. Or, of course, I could have the ever-popular West Nile Virus. I think my leg was bitten by a mosquito (or it could just be an in-grown hair). But that's absurd because I wear jeans all the time. Not because of the West Nile Virus but because I like them. A hypochondriac I am not. It could just be that I haven't been sleeping well these past few nights. "Why," you ask? Read on.

The jeans themselves have proven to be an irritant this past few days, with the weather being unseasonably warm/humid for even June much less early September. Summer's really trying to reassert itself now, isn't it? Pushy, pushy...! However, it has cooled off quite a bit tonight. To say this is a welcome change would be a hyperbolic understatement! One never really appreciates central air until it's gone. At least tonight I should sleep.

As a matter of fact, I think I'll get started on that now.

According to Professor Miller's introductory lecture to Postmodernism and the Sexual Revolution, what am feeling is very postmodern. Hm. Kerri, I think you're right; it is something to ponder.

I am aware that I said I wouldn't whine here. I am well aware. But somehow, despite my best efforts to be cerebral, the emotion, the sensitivity creeps in.

I am also well-aware that anyone reading this could get the wrong impression of me. I may seem entirely insecure, neurotic. And while I'm neurotic, my insecurities are not all-encompassing but rather predominantly stem from my doubts about my skill and ultimate success as a creative writer. Paranoia I think it could best be called. And I am usually master of my paranoia; it does not master me.

I am further aware, though, that all this vulnerability could just be a construction. True, everyone is vulnerable in one way or another, but how much of my neuroses are in my head? Just because I see myself in a certain way does not necessarily lend those perceptions any validity. I do, after all, consider myself a writer. I create fictions. Has my most elaborate fiction of all been myself?

Just as I control the characters in my stories by what I do or do not say about them, I control how others see me by what I choose to reveal or hide from them. I am the one, after all, who selects the content for this blog. And although I erected it for the purpose of doing some soul-searching, am I only seeing the parts of me I want to see? Recording only the details, sensations, and fears I am comfortable with? Am I seeing myself as I want to see myself?

Or am I finally learning how to see myself as I am?

Good to see that technology responds to firm talkings-to! Whatever happened, my blog has fixed itself. Yay, my blog!

Ah! Bastard Blogspot! Where'd my "Shout outs" go?????

It is with some trepidation that I prepare to enter yet another year of university. I suppose it's natural. Everyone feels a little anxious when faced with the unknown, right? I think it's more than just that for me this year, though.

I feel unprepared, unrested.

So maybe that's entirely the fault of my "Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself / And falls on the other." I took a distance studies course so I could focus more time on my undergraduate thesis (optional, of course!) in my fourth year. And now, having had only one month away from school work--a month that was spent working in the heinous retail industry--it is time for me to buckle down and hit the books. I can't, though! I'm afraid I won't be able to focus. I feel tired--physically, mentally and emotionally.

More sleep will fix the first two. Sleep always does a body good. It's like milk, only more transportable. You can't really take milk with you to the beach on a summer day; it's likely to spoil in the heat. Sleep, on the other hand, is, well, sleep and is often enhanced by the cozy sands and lulling song of the waves kissing the shore. Mmmm...

I wish I could be more certain about the emotional side of things.

I can't help thinking that this dragging of spirits stems from my breaking up with my boyfriend in the middle of July. It was a mutual thing. We had both decided that we weren't good for each other any more. I know I myself had started feeling confined; for a month I had that same tightness in the chest that I get when I have my anxiety attacks. Like now. Yeah, generalized anxiety disorder! I digress...

So I felt restricted for the last few months of our relationship. I was conversing in circumscribed fashion. Each date was like the last. I felt underappreciated and, what's more, malnourished. Yes, that's right. Malnourished. In the intellectual sense. I never felt that my ex could keep up with me. Towards the end, I even felt that maybe he resented our differences in opinion. Divergent opinions must be celebrated; it is the dialogue between the two that will pave the way for change. Though to my face he always maintained that he liked a girl who knew her own mind, I suspected what he really wanted/needed was a "Yes"-Girl. So we weren't right for each other. So we split amicably and move on, right?

I would have hoped so, but I still find myself thinking of him. And I was so relieved when we broke up! I think, nay, I know I'm afraid. Not afraid of being without him--oh, God, no! I know I'm afraid of ending up alone. Misunderstood.

Malnourished.

Read this. Or don't. That is the point.

I love Neil Young! By himself and in Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young. Mellow music with meaning. Kind of like Coldplay, I guess. It stands to reason, when you think about it. Coldplay's lead singer, Chris Martin, cites Young as one of his influences. It's interesting that critics are speculating that Coldplay may be the world's "next U2." I tend to disagree. Coldplay is a band unto its own. Really, though, if we must compare, I think Coldplay has the potential to be my generation's The Beatles. They will never be The Beatles or the next Beatles, but I think they can be Gen-X what the Beatles are to our parents. Think I'm exaggerating? Give Coldplay's new album, A Rush of Blood to the Head, a listen.

Songs like "A Rush of Blood to the Head" and "Politik" eloquently express the feelings of socio-political disenchantment common to most young people I know. This is what The Beatles did: they acted as a voice for their generation.

Perhaps burdening Coldplay with the title "Voice of their Generation" is as cruel as comparison. At any rate, what's most important is their music. Poignant, it never sacrifices meaning at the hands of aesthetics.

You know, it really is time for more substantial music (like Coldplay's!) The music world, after all, is cyclical and all that pop fluff has had more than its share of the sun.

NO MORE RETAIL WORK! For now, at least...