pros and cons of immortality ~ helping you make your decision

pros and cons of immortality ~ making an informed decision

***pros***

- say goodbye to all traces of anxiety regarding the strange state of nothingness you would have been slowly but surely approaching if, say, you were mortal

- you can get drunk and fuck bitche$ for all eternity 

- we can fully let go of any vestiges of religion because who needs a God when y'are one? (Gods are immortal right? that's the whole premise of God-dom right? yeah?)

- and with no religion, no war and stuff. and just think of all the cool things you can do on any given Sunday morning like have sex and go to the zoo (same goes for ... Fridays? or << insert Sabbath day here >>)

- no worries if you fuck up! and no need to ruin your children's lives by putting them under house arrest or attempting to indoctrinate them with your ideals in attempt to live vicariously through them. you can live vicariously through yourself! forever. and ever. and ever. 

- attention musicians: you could lead normal lives and not practice 20+ hours a day because... you got time. seriously. put that clarinet down. 

- nothing would really matter 



***cons***

- think of all the beautiful pop lyrics that would never be possible (i.e. Shakira's poetic and tear duct-teasing couplet "you said you'd love me until you die/whatever whatever you're still alive" )

- the world would get so fucking overpopulated and we'd probably all die anyway of water-deprivation / starvation / suicide / all that jazz

- would you really even want to foster a relationship with your great great great great great great great great grandmother? nah. which leads to our next point ...

- Christmas gatherings. how would that even work?

- we wouldn't be able to haphazardly bleat <3~YOLO~<3 every time we do something that would otherwise indicate that we're medically stupid

- think of all dem crypt keepers and ghosts that would be out of a job

- the Catholics wouldn't get to be with Jesus or whatever

- we'd have to colonize other planets and who really wants that 

- say goodbye to your very favorite-est and oh-so-applicable aphorism: "life's too short to _________". no, bitch. wrong. you have to do all that mundane, annoying shit because you got time and life ain't short. life ain't even a thing. 

- the whole Twilight franchise is really annoying and they have immortality or whatever

- everyone knows that funerals are really just mandatory emergency family reunions where you get to meet all your third cousins and long-lost great aunts who somehow all have diabetes. where would you really be without the companionship of half-cousin Hilton? or Tabitha (who's not even your real aunt)? that's right. nowhere.

- nothing would really matter


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ <3 

so, you see, it's a tough call, but after thoughtfully considering the benefits and disadvantages to permanent existence, i think maybe we should stick to this whole biological-clock lifespan bullshit thing we already got going. who's with me?



(i know guys. super intellectual. don't read this all in one sitting.)
(oh and: newsflash, my name ain't Kate Jonze. SURPRISE. I wanted to be Kate Jones but obvs that name was taken. so now i'm a distant relative of good ole Spike. oh, and please, if you know me and you know you know me, keep this blog under wraps. i wish to remain =*~ anonymous ~*=.)

-5-

-5-

~~~songoftheday~~~


~~~streamofsomething~~~

Attention: I am writing about the infamous sex-app, Tinder. Why? Because in a bout of desperation and nihilism I thought why the fuck not and downloaded it.
viewer discretion is advised. 

--- today---
Well, I bought and fixed up the perfect '70s touring bike on Craigslist from the designer of this bridge, found some potential homes in the Annex and cleaned a mattress for when I move the fuck OUT. But after that, I decided that contrary to popular belief, I am actually not too good for Tinder. Because, let's be real here. I haven't had sex since January. January! This is a travesty! Aren't girls supposed to be getting hit on a little more than this? I feel like I'm the only person in Toronto with a sex drive and a sense of adventure! SERIOUSLY EVERY GUY I'VE DATED HAS BEEN A COMPLETE COWARD/"GENTLEMAN"/"GOOD GUY" AND I AM FINISHED WITH BEING A NICE, SOFT, SWEET, WELL-BEHAVED FEMALE WITH NO DESIRES OF HER OWN. FINISHED. So, after a good 3 months of conscientious dating, trying to get to know people and do it properly, I realized I wanted to cut the bullshit and 'play the fields' as my mom so aptly calls it. But not play them for true love, because "Tinder is a true love-app" said no one ever. No, I'm playing them for maybe some strange adventures and a few good old fashioned one-night-stands with offbeat/funny human males. 

Let me let you in on my little all-night Tinder adventure. (I marathoned Breaking Bad too, so like not a totally wasted evening). 

Highlights of my evening with Tinder, Netflix and my cat?

- apparently running away to Cali, selling breaded-roadkill out of a food-truck with some dude, Ronen
- watching only the worst Nic Cage films and sipping Gin with some dude who apparently chills with Drake
- this: 


* sorry this post was never finished because I probably passed out 3 months ago when I posted it. and never woke back up. dun dun dun.*

new (school) yearz resolutionz ~!~

life is short but it has been said that taking the time to coddle and love and baby yourself can never hurt. hey, that's how i've done pretty much anything that's been hard. lots of self-talk, lists, highlighters and sugary beverages with whipped cream. cats and sleep. sleeping with cats (but not with cats... yikes). you get the idea. anyways, that all being stated, here is my ambitious but achievable list of expectations and things to do/try/plan for during this upcoming school year. (yes, i love making lists)

- write for a paper at U of T. or even - gasp - START a paper. one with mostly graphics. one with weird and wacky campus fashion. one with articles and quips about the oddities of life. one with pop-culture anthologies. one with my best fran Julia. okay, we'll see. but how sick does that sound? pretty sick, amirite? 

- sing in O-Scat again. and do as many gigs as possible. because performing is the juice of life when you're me and being in a jazz a capella group can only make this easier. 

- participate in one fitness class per day. either at the Y or Hart House. Amanda is the best Hart House instructor, for all y'alls who were wondering. peppy aerobics remixes of '50s hits and boundless energy is what you can expect. pros: i get to shower regularly which, let's face it, i really wouldn't otherwise. cons: none.

- wake up early enough to practice 45-60 minutes of jazz piano/voice leading daily before whatever class (this is so real. i need to do this in order to fulfill my destiny). continue biweekly lessons with Teri and bite the fucking 60 dollar bullet. 

- environmental fashion show at Vic. i thrift anyways, right? 

- having a half-decent website for my line of weird greeting cards, activationsynthesistheoryofdreams

- running air bnb occasionally to pay for piano lessons

- swing every saturday!

- plan summer school in the city and a semester abroad (hopefully a French-speaking country/city) to complete interesting English courses to go towards my major 

- take on one long swim instructional shift per week because money and also kids are really fucking cute and i'm not having any for a loooooong time

- going to therapy weekly because that's the only way i'm surviving this life. 

okay. getting my life in order? check. getting fit as hell and feeling great? check. maybe possibly maintaining my relationships? check. school? um... check.

yeah. 

oh god, i'm obnoxious. 

despite my best efforts, that little project failed but HEY motherfuckers I'm back

hi everybody; my massive audience that I know is just itching to read these words i so lusciously type. not. 
anyways, it's been a fucking weird summer since three months ago when i attempted to ~YOLO~ and commit to a blogging / living / doing things project. now it's the end of August and i'm caught in a web of circular thought about ... death. it's not even intelligent. i understand that. but i can't stop thinking about how, inevitably and surely, i will be thrust into non-existence and my brain and all of its weird and quirky contents will rot away along with all my hopes and dreams and everything i worked to build. super cheery, isn't it? anyways, i save the rest of that for my psychiatrist (love you, Dr. Friedman!). so... summer. it's almost over. but i'm happy about this. i mean... it's been fun. i've started regularly swing dancing with my best gal-pal and it's been great, minus the gritty/horny/desperate man-dom being flung towards the too-nice me. what else? i took high school calculus (relax, i'm only 19, please reserve your judgement), a prerequisite for the Psychology program at U of T and got an 80 despite my fears that i wouldn't. i've seen some good concerts, movies, live comedy. and lastly but not leastly, i've met a dude who's just as weird and random and broken and creative and brilliant as myself. okay. that last part was a little pompous and i know it. but alas, it is true. i don't know if it's right or wrong. i don't know if i'm too good for him or he's too good for me or if us being in "different life stages" (gasp!) is an actual impediment. maybe he has a perfect little (actually it's enormous) family and i have a fucked up little (actually tiny) family. maybe he's half as emotionally developed as me despite being 3 calendar years ahead of me. maybe we met on a stupid, sleazy, slightly taboo sex-app called Tinder, that we ourselves like to make fun of. maybe he told me he loved me at the worst, most cringe-worthy time, and while completely inebriated. maybe he transforms into a sloppy not-adorable baby puppy dog with an affinity for inappropriate PDA when he's had a little too much. maybe he sleeps in to the mid-afternoon in my bed. when i've gone to work hours ago. maybe. but ... um. well. i think i may love him? yeah. i think that i do. fuck it.