Mystique

Balancing on the rail. Barefoot, cleats dangling from one hand. Cargo shorts with the sun sinking towards the mountains. Sounds nice doesn't it?
Well I passed my Grandma's. Which changed my train of thought. It's ironic. The place she thought she'd live the rest of her days. Where's she's built two back room businesses, and a library. The place she's filled with Grandma-junk and made only her own. The place she was given a three month eviction notice on.
Why ironic, you may well ask. Well...she owns it. It's hers. And she's being thrown out. Why, you may well ask. The stupid highway department wants to straighten out the stupid curve in the road.
I suppose I'm getting my terms mixed up. Because I was under the impression that it's communism where the government control's all the land. Or dictatorships where they do whatever they like. I thought free democracy was supposed to be, well, free. And democratic.

The wind is blowing hard (resulting in no mosquitos). It's getting dark. The sky is overcast. But the air is almost warm with only a crisp hint of freshness. You're laying on the back deck. Your stomach hurts from laughing, and yet every line makes you laugh some more.
You're talking about getting old. And how you'll wear purple hats, just because you can. then you come up with ways to violently disable the dirt bike driving next door. Despite, the trees are tall. Boxers, and tee-shirt. And a warm sleeping bag. Inside jokes carried on.
Maybe you realize, this is life. A part of it. The part which you go out of your way to create. But then hardly notice when it's here. More likely you don't.
This is life. Caramilk bars on the kitchen floor. Journal and pen on the brown velvet couch. Fresh sun on your cheeks as you head home from work. Yelling and pounding and needing to be free. Questioning and content and being eighteen.
Taking it all as it comes.
So tired your eyes hardly want to stay open. Opinions that change every month. Fighting your heart out. And being too shy. Toby Mac, Nickelback, Avril Lavigne. The life of the party. Hours in books. Feeling held down. Strong, single, your own. Eighteen.
Because, one day. What will be?

I've never seen much vigerous attempt to recruit young Canadians, until today. The navy had a trailer complete with video clips, sumbarine looking thingys, computers, and plenty of reading materials, all aimed towards getting me to join them.
It most definitely has it's pros and cons. Ultimately, I wouldn't go that route. Three reasons, primarily.
1. I'm too scared of comitting a full nine years of my life.
2. I hate the fact that they could ship me off to war at any time. I much prefer to be my own girl. I don't feel any need to be broken. And I probably wouldn't agree with their reasons to make me risk my life anyway.
3. Spending continual time in navy type company is probably something I don't need.
All the same, it was interesting. They would pay your university. You see the world and retire early. You get in wicked shape.
And, hey. I got to spin the wheel and they gave me a free portable radio. Which was what I wanted most. Everybody got something different compliments of the Canadian tax paying public.
Oh yeah. I also bought this awesome set of chopsticks. I went for the more expensive ones. 'Cause they were so hot. And now I just want to keep eating stuff so I can use them.

I've often been pleased I don't blush. Pleased, happy, gloating. All 'round glad. And I've had people agree with me.
"I'm so glad I don't blush."
"Yeah. Do be. It's very annoying."
The conversation would then take a turn to how annoying the tendency to blush is. Well I would sit feeling self-righteous on being left out. And looking down my nose in the best possible manner.
Or how about, "I'm glad I don't blush. At least I don't think I do."
"yeah. You don't. Be happy."
So the other day I was talking to my family. When I threw out my occasionally used line. "I'm so glad I don't blush."
"Oh yeah. You do!"
"What? No I don't."
"Trust me Kris, you do."
"No. I don't."
Ect. This was very disconcerting. I have always been under the impression that I don't. And I asked some other person (it evades me at the moment who) to try cement my former held opinion of my reddening tendencies. They didn't help.
Maybe I don't blush at all the right times. Or maybe I don't get flustered/embarrassed easily enough. Or something. Actually. I still just honestly believe that I don't. When you blush you know it, right? And I never recall noticing that I was turning red.
No. I quite like being a non-blushing girl. And I am going to stick with my opinion that that's what I am. If I ever get warm, or see clear proof in the form of footage, or am told when I blush, and pay attention. Then I suppose I'll have to admit that maybe I do. Occasionally. But I've gone eighteen years without that happening. And you would think one of the above would've by now if I blushed at all. So there.

I pushed my sister backwards off a church railing. It was hilarious, but only because she didn't get hurt. Jen maybe didn't think so though.
I got pm off last minute today. So I hit our second-hand best-in-Canada place and bought food. I love buying food. Maybe someday it'll become a chore. But for now I may as well enjoy it. Plus, it's nice to come home and actually have choices when I open the fridge.
I couldn't do the lever on the tractor one day. I was mad, and muttered for two days about how I hated being a girl. But it ran like a hot knife through butter then next time, so I felt better.
I am the owner of a pearl necklace. When I dress-up (once/twice a year), I prefer funky. But what girl wouldn't want to own pearls once in her life? Now I can pair it with my high class fur coat. I kid you not on either count.
I am going to be working very long(12-14) days over harvest. Probably. Tractor work. Whoo hoo. Beach babes, your tans will be nothing. I will be a heavy competitor in most-likely-to-develop-skin-cancer section.
I am reading Wodehouse on Crime. I can't help but think Wodehouse on Crack. But he has a, umm, unique writing style. And I have been forced to laugh out loud on several counts.
I wish I had a life.

My boss went into a state of absolute shock when he found out I'd never watched Star Wars. Not a single one. He staggered around the parlour gasping for breath and clutching his chest.
"Kristen ------, where have you been!?"
His advice was this. Next time I have a day off I must rent them. All. And then sit around in my p.j.s and watch them straight through. He says that way I'll be ready to stand in line when the fifth one comes out.
Oh yay.
I'm eighteen, and I've never seen Star Wars. Any of them. Do I really want to give that up? I'm still deciding whether or not to take him up on it. I really doubt that I will. I suspect I wouldn't be starwar freak. At all. We all know the sort. The people that argue over which light sabre has more power and over intricacies in the fight scenes (having never seen them I have no idea what I'm talking about).
"What do you watch then!?"
Well. I dunno. Ironically, watching movies is more of a social thing to me.
"Hey, Kris. Let's get together and watch a lighted box that allows for absolutely no conversation or social interaction".
I'd really prefer not to be a person who needs to see the latest Johnny Depp/Drew Barrymore/Brad Pitt movie. Those kind of people scare me. Really, there's enough in my own life. I have no need to get involved with actors on screen. The people that have to always be watching movies, don't they wonder about their own lives?
But maybe someday I'll need a good brain numbing. So I'll keep the opportunity in the back of my mind.
I don't mind a movie now and then. Especially with friends. Or if it's either funny or thought provoking (to the extent that movies can be). But...yeesh.
I know enough to get it when my boss tells me, "Good luck, young Jedi". Although from now on I suspect that I won't get that line. At least not without him going on about my lack of education in modern entertainment (speaking of which, I love it when my boss calls me, "kid". Although I think he tries not to now. Figures I'm really a woman, or something. Pah)
Anyway, I figured I better not mention that I've never seen any LOTR. I'd done enough damage to his nervous system for one day.
But it was funny. And I spent half the time I was washing down the parlour grinning about it like crazy.

On main street we have a street light. Actually, we have several. But this particular one is great. Because there is a pair of runners dangling right beside the light.
I have no idea who's they are. But every time I see them I grin. Because there dangles somebodies runners, proudly adorning our local stop light. It's a quirk of town.
I don't know how many people specifically notice them. But they're great.

This just in.
After three fights I emerge triumphant. Nice to get at least one gold over the duration of the year. I threw one nice ippon (full point. Immediate win). Other then that I mostly won on pins and stuff. I guess it could've gone either way. The girls I fought were really cool.
I did lose one fight. B. signed me up for club comp without my knowledge and I got stuck on the misc. team. Being "second biggest" paired me against a big (not really huge, but that makes me sound better) green belt guy. It was a good fight. But I lost. Still got gold though, since my team mates won.
You really wanted to know that. Didn't you?