Hiatus

For various reasons, Bitches Brew will likely be going on hiatus for a little while. Thanks to those who maintained an active interest.


-Keltie

Où est la bibliothèque rouge ?

In an effort to make my blogs smaller and therefore more bearable to read, I will sum up particular events in the blog fashion of late

-I AM SO HAPPY THAT I –NEVER- HAVE TO DEAL WITH FMS EVER AGAIN! Seriously, I sold my damn book an hour before the exam.

-Chelsey and I will eternally be looking for the red library.

-I have less then 24 hours until total freedom

-The BBQ with The Family is going to be so sweet. Special thanks to Adot for offering his pad.

-Yes, I like to talk like I’m stuck in the 1970’s.

-Funky Budda is undergoing repairs from smoke damage (HUB burned down) so we might have to find a new watering hole already. Sad, I know.

-I truly do believe that Anthropology is the bane of my existence.

-Oh, it's been a -very- long day. And promises to be an equally long night. Damn you, Anthro!

-K

Quote du Jour

“In Europe, we do not have fires…only…PASSION!!” *exhale the faux Q-tip cigarette smoke*

-Chelsey Campbell

Disclaimer

In response to Jordon’s latest blog, I have decided to clarify something: I’m all about the idea that two soul mates can find one another, fall in love, and enjoy wedded bliss. The origin of my point is: not right NOW. It’s youthful marriage that drives me insane, and I’m talking about the mentality that goes a little something like this:

*while chewing on bubble gum and twirling hair around one finger* “What do I want to do when I graduate? Have babies and a husband to take care of me.” *vacant expression while head cocked to one side*

24+ is around the time to begin prospecting marriage and the things that that can encompass. I know that I’m not at a level of maturity where I can commit to a man for the rest of my life-I want far too much. And I’m too damn independent. I could rant some more, but I really want to say that I do support marriage. To me marriage is a spiritual journey, not a religious one. It’s also an exciting adventure to share with another person. I just don’t think that wanting it at 20 is a very wise choice. Gimme another decade, and we’ll chat again.

I fully respect the views that Jordon had portrayed, and thank him profoundly for sharing such personal beliefs. And personally, I think he would be an amazing father, because he is one of the most gentle and tender individuals I have ever had the pleasure of meeting.

Thanks for reading.

-K

To: The Family

So just a comment to The Family: we’re an attractive group of twentysomethings, and damn if we don’t work well together. I’ve decided to take a page out of Jordo’s book, and thank those who have helped and supported me so much.

Special Thanks To:

-Victoria aka Vdot
-Jordon aka Jdot
-Aaron aka Adot
-Darcy aka Ddot
-Zan aka Zdot

Each of you have done something incredibly special and touched my life in a unique way. Thank you.

XOXO
Keltie aka Kel-lite aka Kdot

Insane Rant

So why get married? Why spend the rest of your life with only one person? Why do people feel the urge to “Settle”, and as if that’s not bad enough, why do we get the urge to settle when we’re young? Known fact: almost 50% of marriages since 2003 end in divorce. That’s half, for those of you who can’t do even the simplest math. But why get married at such a young age? Known fact: Young people still want to get married. Why? We even have superficial role models, ala Carrie Braless, um, Bradshaw, on Sex In The City. Old women looking for the right man while screwing all the wrong ones. Lesson well learned. I mean, why not? Never mind the age of AIDS, that’s no biggie, right? Better find The Perfect Mate right away. This show targets my age group. I want to BE Carrie Bradshaw. I want to be glamorous! I want to be beautiful! I want to be size zero with a great wardrobe and hair that has been so influenced by sex that it’s climaxing even while I’m not! I want Carrie Bradshaw! I demand Carrie Bradshaw! Bring me Carrie Bradshaw! But I digress.
Why get married? Will somebody explain why I’m cursed with this “damned if I do and dammed if I don’t” theory. I want to have a career, travel, be well educated, find the perfect man, find the perfect t place to live, live in at least four countries before settling down, have a career that will allow all that, be able to have a bank account that will not only cover the expenses of my life of luxury but also my future kids collage tuition, and be a house mom when it’s demanded of me (as it inevitably will, even in this age. A midnight cough has no respect for Neo-Feminism.). What the Hell kind of life am I living when I feel the pressure of expectations welling up inside of me when I’m only –only- 20 years old!?!?! Explain this to me, please, I’m oh so young and naïve, and above all, perhaps the only one of my wonderful paradox of an age group who either has a great lonely grip on reality, or is completely and blissfully insane. Either way, it makes very little sense that I can count off on two hands the amount of girls in my graduating class whose maxim ambition was to get married and become a baby machine by age 23. For lack of a better term, ew.
So why, then, is there this insistent nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach, like some little guilt or secret indulgence that I feel I must have? Why, in the age of said equality, do I feel the nagging urge to snag the man, and get him to commit for keeps? Why? This makes the same amount of sense as an Arts student in a Quantum Physics final. And that’s all I have to say about that.

-K

Quote du Jour

I'm a red hot pistol and I'm ready to fight
I'm a 38 special on a Saturday night
I'm gonna kiss your boo-boo honey
make it alright
'cause I'm ready, so ready
-Steven Tyler

The light at the end of the tunnel.

Yeah. So about that goo phase….no such thing!!! In fact, I was oblivious to the entire goo process. Seriously, I feel great. AND FREE!
So today has been rather sketchy, (yes Christine, sketchy.) I woke up in good spirits, and got ready to go do my English 386 final project with my buds, and only the knowledge that I would never have to deal with Sailor Chick, Kelly, or anything related to working class ever again gave me the motivation to get out of bed and the momentum to get to the final. SO I get to my car, turn the ignition, and…nothing. NOTHING HAPPENED!!! My car was DEAD. I was DEVESTATED. So. Keltie learned how to boost her car unsupervised today. A lot of cursing and one mild but painful shock later, I was breaking the sound barrier in a mad attempt to be at least a wee bit on time. Then I looked down, and that delightful orange “low fuel” light was glaring brightly up at me from my dash. Dammit. Can I make it to school? Likely not. Fuck, okay, stopped for the fastest gas up of my LIFE. I actually cut someone off at the pump. I put in enough to get me to school, and ran inside. Only then did I look at my bank card and realize it’s my only source of cash. Period. Which means I have no cash for parking. And the gads attendant –slowly- drawls out to me that he can’t give me cash back. He looked a little frightened and sorta cowered when I boomed “What do you MEAN you can’t give me cash back?!?!? I have an final exam that I’m late for!!!! Just charge me an extra $5, give me the cash, and let’s GET THE FUCK ON WITH OUR LIVES!!!” (I was still cranky from being shocked.). He looks defiantly at me, and shakes his head. I growl and storm out the door. Great. Now I have to stop at an ATM. Okay, no prob, get out the remaining $20 in my account. After running 2 yellows and a redow, I stopped at my bank and requested the cash. Then the worst happened. It beeped and flashed the words that cause an icy coldness to slink into my soul and encase my heart in blackness: Insufficient Funds. Oh. Fuck. Me. Okay, screw it, exam takes priority. So I broke more sound barriers, and drove halfway across campus before I found a place to park. I ran light speed to class, gave a shitty presentation of pure redundancy off the top of my head, and ran back to my car to re-park it in a $5 Parkade, which has now left me with $1.22 in my bank account. Ouch.
So then I went to Victoria’s, and we hung out, studied and gabbed for a couple of hours. And then I came home, singing happy songs at the top of my lungs and just generally rocking out, then came downstairs to post this blog.
So Scott just called me. We had a really good conversion about staying friends, and I think we’re going to me okay. It’s going to be a rocky path, but we’re going to be very good friends. I can tell. Well…I sincerely hope so, anyway. I really can’t say anything bad about him. He’s a great guy, and there is a very lucky lady out there who is going to love being with him. It just wasn’t right anymore. And he respects that I feel that way. This is key to being friends in the future.
So I’m pretty damn happy. I’m wholly unprepared for my exams, I have a buck twenty two in my account, and I couldn’t ask for anything more fantastic then this feeling. I have an attraction to pursue, my ex doesn’t hate me, and even my exams seem to be diminishing in scariness. It’s been a rough bout with this time of life, but I think that everything is going to work out for the best.

-K

Quote du Jour

And fly away from here
anywhere,yeah i dont care
we'll just fly away from here
our hopes and dreams
are out there somewhere

-Steven Tyler

I must be upset. We're into crappy poetry now.

Cocktail

And we played the Devil’s whist
Vying for the touch
Of His holy kiss
While inner voices cried
“We’re going to Hell”

Not quite borne, but not quite dead
While all our limbs
With the wisdom of lead
Coursed with venom
To make us celebrate

And when we’re filled with evil thoughts
Our eyes get wide
As our blood clots
We realize all too late
We’re in too deep.

-K

Ain’t that a bitch

Good friends, good fire, good time. To use the slang, just "chillax’en" by the fire pit with a couple of buddies, talking about nothing. All but CT leave, and a few episodes of Futurama and The Simpson’s are watched. Mosy to bed, fall asleep thinking about firemen.
Wake up from dreams that I’m fairly certain included firemen to a dog whining in your ear at 6:30 in the morning. Calm the dog. Contemplate going to jump on CT because of you’re awake, she should be as well. Decide there’s a slim chance of going back to sleep, but you were really enjoying that fireman dream, so you’re going to give it a shot anyway. Back to bed, and wonderfully, blissful sleep returns! Success!
Okay, so wake up and do all the typical morning routine. Clean up from the pseudo par-tay of the past evening, sit on the deck, shoot the shit with CT, observe the dog and the cat co-existing. This is a whole new step in puppy-kitty relations. Anyway, she leaves. Back into the house. About to jump in the shower, when hear phone beep. Missed call. Check messages. No messages, but the missed call is from the one person that it the root of most of my emotional issues right now. Now I’m in a shitty mood.
Damn.
I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t want to have hiM not say fucking ANYTHING while I try and try and try. It’s like hitting your head against a brick wall. And we’ll follow our formula: I’ll get pissed off, he’ll explode at me and demand that I tell him what I want him to do, we’ll both start twisting things around, I’ll want to cry but not let him have the satisfaction of hearing me cry, I’ll say fuck it, we’ll pretend that all is well, we’ll hang up. I’ll bawl for a while, feel stupid and weak for crying, and get mad at him all over again for making me cry. I’ll avoid the phone until the next time it rings. The vicious cycle continues. If he could be the way he used to be…well, fuck it. That’s OBVIOUSLY not about to fucking happen. I have to give up on that, I’ve tried to revive it, and that person is gone. Deal with it.
The problem, you see, is that it’s exam week. I have enough stress trying to deal with this person, find a decent job that doesn’t involve carnies, get through exams with my GPA intact and deal with this growing attraction to “other”. I cannot deal with being a big puddle of goo. An educated guess suggests that the “goo stage” will last a week, maybe a week and a half. We’ll have to see, I guess. Because I cannot live this way anymore.
Do I not deserve to be treated like a woman, and be given all the things that encompass that? Respect, love and chivalry. I deserve these things. So the question is: is the “goo phase” worth it? Only time will tell.


-K

Quote du Jour

Freak out! I'm alone now
I feel just like I'm losin' my mind
‘Cause love is like the right dress
On the wrong girl
You never know what you're gonna find
You think you're high and fine as wine
Then you wind up like a dog in a ditch
‘Cause love is like a wrong turn
On a cold night...yeah
Ain't that a bitch, Ain’t that a bitch
-Steven Tyler

Critical Mass

Have you ever had so much crap happening in your life that when you sit down to spill it all out, you get writer’s block? It’s like my creativity just reached critical mass. Okay. Little bits about each thing.
I got the GE job. THEN they tell me it’s in Calgary. INFORMATION I COULD HAVE USED BEFORE I GAVE YOU FOUR HOURS OF MY SATURDAY MORNING DURING EXAM WEEK, YOU FUCKERS. Ahem. Moving on.
You know that feeling of impending doom? You know, that cold feeling that kinda starts in your gut and spreads over your appendages? I get that every time I think about upcoming exams. Then I feel a panic attack coming on, and just go do something else that doesn’t involve books.
I have a new group. A new “family” according to Vdot. It’s pretty cool…I really enjoy hanging out with every single one of these people, even though I feel pretty damn left out of the loop because I live so far away. (And this weird sexual tension thing that seems to be arising as of late. Or may be a figment of my imagination. See, that’s my main problem. I can’t read social situations that have attraction or sexual tension in them. At all. Really, someone has to write me a map or dialogue or something before I can catch on to an attraction between two people. It’s kind of embarrassing, really.). But in any case, I have finally found the niche that I belong to in post-secondary, and I found it among these friends. It’s because of these people that I’m able to deal with the bullshit that certain people are handing to me right now.
Now, this creates a problem. A loyalty problem. See, I don’t have a favorite, and I just don’t think I can. This entire section is directed to CT. Baby, although I’ve found Vdot and she’s a close girlfriend, nobody could ever replace you. I’ve already matriculated one “outsider” into meeting these people, and trust me when I say, they are going to love you. They’re like that. Plus, how could they not?
Anyway. It’s late, and I have reading that seriously has to be done *there’s that feeling again*. Talk to y’all later.

-K

Quote du jour

“To fall in lust not love, ain’t no sin at all…”
-Steven Tyler

...

Okay, so I got through the phone interview intact. I have the –big- interview tomorrow at 9am. And Jesus Christ, all I need during exam week is one more freak’en test, but I have to do a 2 hour MC exam, watch a video, fill out numerous sheets of whatever, and THEN if I pass all that jazz, I then proceed to the real interview. And then they make me do a drug test. I can’t believe this crap! As if I didn’t have enough stress happening already…

Neurosis

Again going back to the catharsis idea. I have a telephone interview this afternoon with GE call centers. While the job is unglamorous as they come, I must say that it’s better then selling coffins to people, or working for $8 and absolutely no respect at my current dead-end job at a pseudo art gallery run primarily by carnival folk, and staffed by some wonderful people that are currently being oppressed by the Carny Regime. Yeah, I’m having employment issues.
Anyway, getting off this rant of a tangent, I’m really quite nervous as I have put all my eggs in one proverbial basket and pretty well blown off all my other job interviews. I asked Christine If I could please just show them my rack, and through fits of giggles and head shaking, she convinced me that it’s not professional. (I got the whole idea from Chelsey, who exploits my chest to obtain things that she wants, like first dibs on the backseat of the air conditioned coach bus, while poor me gets mentally molested by the creepy bus driver who’s busy making oogle buddies with my….attributes. That’s okay, I sullied her car this weekend. We’re even.)
So here’s my current problem: I have to cram for Film, Studies, which I couldn’t care less about unless it involved Noir. But I feel far too nervous to honestly put any effort into Neorealism Cinema. So I clean. This is what I do with my nervous energy. I smoke, and I clean. I can’t smoke at the moment (I don’t want my voice to sound scratchy on the interview. Yes, I am aware that I’m being totally neurotic.) , so that leaves me with the one option. *sigh*. I’m going to go vacuum my house now. But what if I loose track of time, and don’t hear the phone ring?? I’m so totally kidding. Nobody is THAT neurotic. *slowly pulls a nice quiet dust rag from the cupboard…*. I kid.

Quote du Jour

“From the moment she opened her mouth, I wanted to sublet her tongue, move into her larynx, and redo the upper incisors in mauve. Well, not exactly mauve, but…mauve-ish.”
-Cornfed Pig

-K

Solutions to Envy

Due to my colleague’s method of self-expression, I felt a grand desire to begin a blog to call my own. A recommended method of catharsis, this may prove to be an effective tool. And no, I don’t always talk this way.
I suppose that I should establish a wee bit about myself. I’m 20 years young, and a Comparative Literature major at U of A. Or as we like to refer to ourselves, I’m a C Lit major. Yes, I major in clit. Ha ha. Now can we please all get on with our lives...? Anyway, just this past semester, I discovered the mind-bogglingly superior world of Noir Literature. I’m going to babble about that quite a lot on here, as it’s an obsession of mine. In fact, Chelsey often refers to me as a noir nerd, goon, conehead, and whatever other random crap flies off of her tongue.
Other then the oh-so prestigious world of academia, I’m also a girlfriend, a best friend, a daughter, a saleslady, a president and a proficient pain in the ass to many. I adore my buddies from the days of old, and have recently discovered some new friends that I’m fairly certain are solely responsible for me still being mentally stable. Well….as mentally stable as I can be.
I’m absolutely wild about maple. I love maple anything. I feel that I should mention that it’s my other new fetish.
Anywhoo, many hours of study demand my attention. Oh, and I’m a bumpkin, too. I’m about to go “skank it up”, as my mother would say, and study on the front deck in my tantalizingly little, second-skintight tank top and jeans. The joy of living in the country is I could sit on my front deck nude and no one would be the wiser. In fact...
Take it easy.

-K