Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. I wish that people at university would realize that. There's nothing I hate more than spending an hour delving into the layers of an artifact that almost certainly the person who created it hadn't intended to be there.

Like, making a sculpture of Vespasian out of a sculpture of Nero. Is it a cunning commentary on the birth of a new dynasty out of the remnants of the old? Or did they simply not want to waste any marble? You guess.

Sometimes when I write, every word I say has another meaning. Sometimes I use metaphors and create imagery and make statements with my stories. Sometimes, it's just good old fashioned porn. That's it. Just pure, steamy enjoyment.

Summary: people at university drive me nuts sometimes. Life is life. Life isn't a metaphor.

Anyway, so boys: It's Valentine's Day and I'm single (yay / unsurprisingly / meh / feel sorry for me). I know me and boys don't get along well 'cause I'm everything a girl shouldn't be. That's cool.

But there's kind of a boy, a boy met very recently. He's super nice, and attentive, but gives me space. Has all the right things to say, including not saying things sometimes, which I like. We have a lot in common. Physically, not really my type, but okay. Problem is, he's not Christian.

Then there's kind of another boy, a boy met even more recently. As in once. For a moment. Just long enough that he wants to see me again. Is there chemistry? Don't know yet. Have a lot in common? Don't know yet. Makes me laugh? Don't know yet. Is he Christian? Yep. (Can he drive? Double yep!)

Is it okay to go on casual dates with both of them 'til I find out which one I like, which one I want to be with? It's not like I'm hopping in the sack with one, then the other, than the first one again. I'm just getting to know them, hopefully finding out who maybe we could be together. I don't know yet, so is it okay if I feel them both out?

I think it is. But I only ask because, once there were two boys, and I destroyed both of them and myself so utterly that I'm a little gunshy. I mean, it was a massacre. Whoops. You live, you learn, you try not to rip anyone's heart out again, including your own. These two don't know each other, though, so that's a good start, right? Can't ruin friendships if they aren't friends in the first place.

Megan, sometimes coffee is just coffee.

Yesterday, I took on a professor. Today, I found out I won.

Cool.

So last night I dreamt that Mom, Curtis, and I were living in a post-apocalyptic wasteland in which Ms. McEwan (my grade nine drama teacher) and her twenty-year old boy toy were our landlords, then I joined a choir and made out with Victor.

In class he said, "While I was in the seminary, we went to a church in Toronto and there I had the opportunity to sit down with a woman who had schizophrenia and spend the afternoon talking with her. I asked her if she could tell which people were real and which people were not, and she said, 'If I squint and concentrate really hard, I can make the people who aren't real shimmer. But it takes a lot of effort. Imagine living your life like that.'"

Then in private he said to me, "I noticed that you became upset when I spoke about the lady with schizophrenia in class. I'm sorry it upset you. Maybe I shouldn't have used that example."

And I said, "I didn't realize you had noticed; I certainly was hoping that you didn't. It struck a nerve: I don't like to talk about it. I'm sorry you felt bad! I'm fine. It's fine. You weren't supposed to know."

But I didn't say, "I don't like to talk about it because it changes the way people see me." That's what I should have said.


What I meant to tell you was that I thought I was finished. I thought I was done. Imagine that all the lessons you learn, and the emotions you experience, and the pieces of knowledge you gain are building blocks. And each new building block adds to your creation. Well, I took the blocks I had and I built a house. And I said, "Wow, look at my house. What a wonderful house! Thank God for giving me this house!" And God said, "It's not a house. You don't have all the pieces yet. Be patient." And I said, "What a wonderful house!" So God got out his hammer and knocked my house to rubble because I wouldn't listen. He said, "I'm helping you to build a castle, but you have to wait until you have all the pieces. You have to understand that the project isn't finished yet. I don't want you to have a house; I want you to have a castle."

What I'm trying to say is that I thought I was who I was meant to be. I thought I was finished being prepared and I had to wait for the work to begin. Then I met Feuerherm, and I realized that I wasn't even close to being complete. You don't stop developing just because you're an adult now. Learning, and especially growing in faith, that's a lifelong process. It's scary though, because the process of becoming who I am now took a lot out of me: there were high prices that I had to pay. I'm terrified of what's next. Maybe I can handle it, maybe I can't, but I'm not sure I want to. Sometimes I'm not sure it's worth it. Sometimes I don't think I am.

Okay, I'll be honest, I don't really have anything to say, but I've been staring at this for a while.

I'm in a weird place now. I feel like two people sometimes: the person who believes and always will, and the person who doubts and always will. Every person I meet, I wonder if they believe. I want to save their souls. I don't really know what I'm doing. Why am I here? What do I do?

I went through a period, when I found out I was going to Jordan, where I was afraid because it was all too much. Now I'm wondering whether it's going to be enough. There's so much I want to do this summer, so much I want to feel and experience and know. I want to go places and do things and meet people, and I think that somehow the excavation is going to be quieter than I imagine, duller and less challenging spiritually.

Every day, I'm feeling stronger than I did the day before. I don't know what it's doing to me. I know I'm changing, again. There's things I'm learning that I never even suspected before. I see the gap between me and the rest of the world growing bigger sometimes. It used to be a bad thing, now I wonder if it's good, or whether I'm making it up as I go along.

You see, if I'm right, I'm so right. And if I'm wrong, I'm so wrong.

Oh boy, it's going to be a busy semester! :(

There's something I've been dying to say about the second part of The End of Time, so beware of spoilers. Even though what I want to talk about is a tiny, tiny, inconsequential little tidbit stuck on the end of the finale and has nothing to do with Ten anyway. It's the fact that they took Martha and Mickey and randomly paired them off. I wasn't sure what was going on at first, to be honest. (Actually, the dreads were awesome.) But I thought maybe it was another dimension or something? Why the hell would they do that? I found it a little offensive because (a) most obviously, it seems like "token shipping" to me, (b) they had so little interaction with each other before, (c) I liked the idea of Martha and Tom Milligan, and Mickey and that dude's name I can't remember, (d) did I mention it's "token shipping" and that's totally racist?, and (e) in a way, Mickey was Rose's sloppy seconds while Martha was the Doctor's sloppy seconds, and I kind of believe that both Mickey and Martha (especially Martha) deserve more than that. What were they thinking?

Other than that, I thought part two was a thousand times better than part one. Simm's acting was less "narm" and more "magnificent bastard", not too mention his great finale moments on screen. That was really good television. (Okay, and now I guess there are major spoilers:) Ten's rage and acceptance and heartbreak at his regeneration was beautiful (and you could see Tennant's experience as Hamlet in it, which I really liked). I was really excited about Eleven until I saw him and went, "Hmm, meh." So we'll see how that goes.

I'll be honest, I was hoping Donna would have more of a role though.

When I was at Doogies on New Year's Eve, there was an older gentlemen there who tapped me on the shoulder and said that I looked just like Marilyn Monroe in my dress, or I would if my dress had been white instead of black. He was very sweet and not creepy at all, and we talked for a few minutes before he wished me a Happy New Year and wandered off.

At the end of the night, I thought it would be nice if I said goodbye to him. I found him and we talked for a few minutes again. He was happy that I came over to wish him a Happy New Year and he looked at me and said, "You're one smart cookie, aren't you? I can see it in your eyes." I probably blushed and I motioned with my fingers, "Just a little." He replied, "Keep your priorities in line, my dear. Don't you ever compromise for a boy."

Last night, I told Matt (the English boy) that I studied archaeology at Laurier, he replied, "so u must b smart 2," and I thought, "Don't compromise, Ms. Monroe."

Because the truth is, prayers get answered and God puts you exactly where He wants you. I thought I wouldn't be able to afford the excavation in Jordan this summer. I thought I'd have to put it off until 2011, and risk missing out completely. It turns out I don't have to. It turns out prayers get answered and God gets you to exactly where He wants you to be.

When I find someone fun, they aren't considerate. When I find someone considerate, they aren't fun. Is it really too much to ask for a little of each? Because I like to think I'm a little of both, and I can't be the only one.

Some half-assed reviews of the entertainment I've ingested since finishing the semester. Spoilers for SyFy's new mini-series Alice, season one of Being Human, season two of Dollhouse, the latest Doctor Who (End of Time, part one), Avatar, and Sherlock Holmes.

( I do nothing over break except watch television and films )

Merry Christmas everyone! Or Season's Greetings or happy anything-else if you don't celebrate or celebrate something else! Either way, I hope you have a very happy and safe holiday season.

On a more personal note, this is the first Christmas that I won't be going to church, because I simply don't have an opportunity. It's killing me. It feels so wrong. I'm spending Christmas with family, and that's great, but there's no doubt that something is missing. I think this means I need to get back into the habit of going to church on Sundays. I think I'm at a point where I need guidance again. It's time to stop doing this on my own.

Take care and happy holidays, everyone!

P.S. On a completely unrelated note, I watched SyFy's (SciFi's?) new mini-series, Alice, and it was awesome. I've got a new huge crush on Andrew Lee Potts.

I cannot believe how much that hurt! (!!!) Seriously, that was actually a lot more painful than I was expecting, and I was building it up a hell of a lot in my head, so, you know, not good.

I have to say though, the artist who did my tattoo was fantastic. Not only did he tweak our design so that it was perfect, and do an excellent job at it too, but he was so supportive and considerate. I think he would have let me do it in one minute stints if I had needed to. Wow, longest half an hour of my life. He felt so badly, too, because I was crying, and I was trying really hard to stop but it freakin' hurt!

And then he was so excited when he pulled away. He was like, "All done! Now you never have to get another one ever again!" And then I looked down, and saw that there's a cross on my body, and it's permanent, it's never going away, and I've proved myself to Him, to everyone, and I started crying all over again because I was just so thankful, and that's when he got really flustered and left the room to give me some privacy.

And his mother, bless, who runs the shop, was just so doting and kind. And afterward, we talked a little about the cross and religion, and I started crying again, and that's when she told me of her troubles and said, "The Lord will provide."

He is the Shield in whom I take refuge.

I don't mean to get all religious on you. I'm sorry, especially because I know some/most of you aren't Christian. But it was such an experience, such an affirmation of faith. I was so moved. And now, I'm so proud. My faith didn't come easy, but it's genuine, and that's what matters.

When Curtis suggested that we get matching tattoos, I thought, "What on earth could I possibly want on my body for the rest of my life?" And this was the answer. This was the only answer.

Also: School is done and I rocked my courses. Which is good because I need them to give me money, or I'm screwed. Anyway, it's Christmastime now and I'm so happy!

Holy hell exams!

I'll be totally MIA for a week, after which I will be back with a vengeance and hopefully a tattoo!

So, Boondock Saints II: All Saints Day was epic, and I'm ready now.

You may say, "But Megan, is it wise to base your value and belief system on a movie?" And to you I would say, "Why of course it isn't! Does it look like I'm going around killing people because they do bad things? Honestly, I am capable of separating fiction from reality." But you have to admit that it's nice to see a portrayal of Christians (a) in a positive light and (b) as bad-ass. There are not a lot of bad-ass Christians in movies and television and books and whatnot, and it makes me happy to see awesome people of my faith doing awesome things, even if I don't agree necessarily with what they are doing. I agree with why they are doing it, and that's what matters. (If God says, "Go, do My work," then I will go do His work. But God doesn't say, "Go, kill all the bad people in the world and send them to Me.")

Anyway, the sequel was extraordinarily different, but it was good in that different way. I wasn't disappointed, and the only reason I felt betrayed was because that ending. Hell, I cannot wait another ten years for the next installment. Bugger that.

And now, I'm ready again. And that is good.

Oh, I missed the theatre! I haven't been to a show since March, and that's forever for me. Although, I went three times in March to the best show ever, and I think I was too frightened to go to Stratford because I knew that I wouldn't be watching Evil Dead, but still. It had been months since I've seen a play, and it was generally no more than a handful of weeks in between before. I have to start going again, regularly.

A friend and I went to see Avenue Q, which was exactly what I needed because it was (a) exceptionally well done, (b) funny, and (c) the perfect piece to ease me back into theatre. It was phenomenal. It's hard to explain unless you got see that troupe exactly, but the cast was perfect and they had such impeccable timing. I really enjoyed it.

In other news, the "friend" I went with . . . It doesn't matter how it happened, but he knows there's not going to be anything other than friendship between the two of us. He is a nice guy, though he has some strange mannerisms which make me (a)uncomfortable and/or (b) angry. Like, have you ever met someone who has a way of speaking so that they treat every word out of their mouth as some momentous revelation, even if it's just a story about going to the movies three days ago with a friend? He speaks like that. And I'm sitting there going, "Okay, William Shatner, your life isn't that revolutionary." Anyway.

Also (and no offence to those people who read this that can't), but it pisses me off when people can't drive (except you, Erin *loves*). And maybe it's sexist, because it's not as strong as feeling towards women, but when I meet men who can't drive, all I can think is, "You've got to be fucking kidding me." I don't care if you can't afford a car, I don't care if you live in the city and think you don't need it. It's not that bloody hard to get your damn license.

So this guy meets me at school and I ask him, "Do you have a vehicle or are we taking mine?" And he replies, "I can't drive." I am immediately annoyed, disappointed, and put off. If Christian has suddenly become a requirement to dating me, having your license just turned into one as well. And owning your own vehicle is major bonus. I'm your girlfriend, not your fucking chauffeur. I need you to at least be able to drive my car now and then. Preferably take me out in yours on occasions. Even more preferably, in a nice pick-up truck. I suppose that's the country girl in me.

This is all a thinly veiled revelation that I have feelings for a guy I barely know - hell, I don't even know his name, just where he works and that he always flirts with me. And I don't know what to do about it.

Part one of this post is going to be Whoverse speculation, including spoilers for Torchwood: Children of the Earth and Doctor Who: Waters of Mars. In part two, I complain about my love life (read: lack thereof). So consider yourself forewarned.

( spoilers and self-pity ahoy! )

In other news, I'm in a mood where the only music I want to hear between now and the new year are Christmas carols.

A longer update is coming but in the meantime I have a message:

Facebook? I'm really annoyed with your new feature "Reconnect with this person!" Especially when the featured person is an ex-boyfriend I'm no longer in contact with for a reason. Mind your own damn business, Facebook.

ETA: Or making me feel guilty that I haven't spoken to my cousin since we were both eight. Thanks a lot, Facebook.

Not gonna lie, I don't really know what to update about. But it's been a week. I was going to talk about Halloween, but other than it was awesome I don't really know what to say. I was a little . . . disappointed, for various reasons that I had better not explain here, lest I provoke some hurt feelings again.

School is going extremely well, except for the stress. Every time that I think, "Maybe I can't do this," there is some sort of sign that I'm exactly where I need to be. Where I'm needed to be, is maybe more accurate. We watched a film called "Digging By The Book" in which passages in the Bible were used to locate archaeological dig sites. The piece on Jerusalem was, simply, spiritual. I was so moved, nearly in tears. Probably the only one in the entire room, but that's okay. I've met a lot of great people, but the first thing that I noticed was that I am doing this for different reasons than they are.

I wouldn't expect much from me this month, either, as it's paper season again! I'm so far behind on all my shows, and spending time with friends, and I'm starting to realize that I don't care because I love this stuff. It's sinking in that this, archaeology, is going to be the be all and end all of my life now, and I'm okay with that. I'm beyond okay with that.

We had a meeting to discuss the upcoming field school in Jordan (how exciting!), so ideally I get to go this summer, do the eight week excavation there, perhaps travel to Israel for week or so, then hopefully Germany for a week or so, and then maybe a stay in Holland while I'm overseas anyway. I'm flat broke, but I'm getting used to the idea that this is how my life is going to be. And there's always the back-up plan of becoming a nun, because it makes so much sense to me and soudns more appealing the older I get. I talked to Anatoly about becoming a nun archaeologist, like Lara Croft with water pistols shooting holy water or something. It's doable, do you think?

Because I want to say something bitter and passive-aggressive, but know that it's only going to get the people who are supposed to care about me jumping down my throat again, I'll just tell you that today my Akkadian professor came into class dressed as a band member of the Who, sat on his desk crosslegged, and led us all in a sing-along of Give Peace A Chance. University is awesome. Please don't ever make me leave.

ETA: Happy Hallowe'en, everyone!

(I'm just so busy. And mostly on slow, unreliable country Internet.)

Hope everyone has a good Hallowe'en week and weekend!