^

WIN. vegan potluck notwithstanding, i need this show in my LIFE!


also, did any one see my costume on stage? we were told to be ourselves. i still don't think i'm gay (unidentified sex object ftw :P ) but my mom was probably sitting in the audience like, wow, you're so gay.

OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD.
this post was impossibly delayed as i was watching it all go down at a bar by school with friends, and celebrating all night with said friends. but.
OH MY GOD.
NO WORDS!
hell YES!

oh man, i almost wish i was american just so i could vote. all the roomates sent in their absentee ballots thank god. i'm sitting here being late for class reading danah boyd's choices and nodding vehementy in their favour.

State Propositions:

• Prop 1A, Safe Trains: YES!
  
• Prop 2, Confining Animals: yes
  
• Prop 3, Children's Hospitals: no (yes if you're in favor of bond measures)
  
• Prop 4, Waiting Period: NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!!!!!!!!
  
• Prop 5, Nonviolent Drug Offenses: still not sure...
  
• Prop 6, Police and Law Enforcement: no
  
• Prop 7, Renewable Energy: no
  
• Prop 8, Definition of Marriage: NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!!!!!!
  
• Prop 9, Criminal Justice System: no
  
• Prop 10, Alternative Fuel Vehicles: no
  
• Prop 11, Redistricting: torn...
  
• Prop 12, Veteran's Bond Act: YES

i have to go... more later.

1. i was whitney houston on crack for halloween (youtube her + diane sawyer)
2. i think i have laryngitis ... probably karma :/
3. i owe my aunt a thousand dollars for my first year's tuition. i haven't paid this years because
4. student loans are refusing to come in. i am so screwed. so so screwed.
5. i freaking hate dan and living with dan
6. because of this, i'm never ever home anymore and have been living in coffee shops and the library. it's expensive.
7. i have reached a level of self-awareness that makes it hard to be as low as i was last year. no matter how shitty i feel. it's good and bad, especially because i cannot bring myself to kill myself. again, that's good and bad.
8. i have gained a shit ton of weight. it's bad. it's just all bad.
sup with you?

i might have written about the show i was playing on saturday the 18th before, if only in terms of the graphic design i was doing for it. (Haiti Parle: Le Retour) it was about haiti, a music/theatre thing in the context of montreal's annual "mois du créole: (Creole Month)
i didn't want to write about it until i had a video to share, and then i heard there wouldn't be any vids and so i abandonned the idea of sharing this at all.


amazingly, today i came home to about 42 new emails in my inbox, and what happened was that some good samaritan from the audience had recorded the part where i was singing and uploaded it on facebook! so many nice comments, it made my day more than anything could ever have!
and so without further ado, here's the thing i've been meaning to share, the song i wrote (in creole) for haiti, and sang for haiti parle.
It's entitled Zamni... I wrote it when I hadn't seen my country in a damn good while. Maybe I'll translate it next post.


Sarah Bernard - Zamni (Live)

now if you'll excuse me, i have to go cry. people are actually clapping! wtf! for me! (too late already sobbing. again!) after the show was amazing. people just hugged me and hugged me and hugged me... dude! too many compliments for one person i tell you! it made me so emotional, i was crying and getting mascara all over my face, and thanking people over and over again...
christ. i loved it. i friggin. loved the audience. and the after-show. chriiiist. people can be great.

how many of us out there are really only living for the sake of those whom they might be survived by?

i think i'm okay again. i guess i'll be "rollercoastering" from time to time. yes, i'm eating.

( triggering for food issues. )

i will be going back to school in the fall,
i have a meeting with an adviser today to settle my schedule and explain the roller coaster in my grade transcript.
it was rather disturbing to be photocopying my suicide attempt report from the paramedics.

answer me this-
how does one person go through this much
and expect to keep going? ( if i knew )

this is ugly but safe.
he has been calling again,
my plans for recovery could not have had worse timing.
i'm terrified of what's being called getting better



all i see is excess

concerning the recovery, it has been a week of baking for friends and
i've participated wholly in the eating, though not without second thoughts.
for the past seven days i've only purged and excercised once.

i hate him, his voice and the fact that i can't change my phone number just yet.
i'm afraid to see what destructive coping mechanism i'll pick up next; or again.

omg post-secret. way to stalk me and compress my life in a post-card. but if i may correct you, it's "almost a year", not more. it'll be a year on the dot in ten days. way to die right after father's day, dad.
way to completely fuck-up my childhood and then just up and die.
seriously, kudos.
i can't believe it's been a year. i can't believe how many fucked up things have happened since.
also, pascal sent me a facebook friend request today... haha it just keeps getting better and better.
i have to go clean, shower, and possibly purge the quarter of an ensure can i've had.
in other news, there appears to be a snake on my neighbor's porch. huh.

but seriously, what the FUCK is going on with CI? i feel like there was a massive move-out on the part of all the wonderful (reasonable!) people i met there, followed by the settling in of the prepubescent sad-face crowd. i wanted to be able to still read even though i'd left, but goddddd. it hurts my eyes. X_X

iz my first day at the new job today. ohh man i'm so nervousss.

oh come the fuck on.
pascal's cousin just called me out of the blue, trying to "keep in touch" or whatever.
i don't even fucking know. i don't know, they should all leave me alone, disappear, let me forget.
fuck. i'm fine. i'm fine, i'm fine. i was doing just fine, am i right? fuck, fuck, i'm perfectly fine and okay.

on a happier note, it's mother's day in haiti and france. i called my moms. yay.

this is what i wore to my job interview today.


and you know what?



front desk administrative assistant. that's right love, sarah b's an office bitch. and just in time, too. i had no idea where rent was going to come from. god i'm so fucking relieved.

i may... or may not have been awake since my last post. i just finished this huge research paper... but i didn't get a chance to finish my take-home exam. i might just stay up all night again and finish it, and slide it under the prof's door at 6 am or whevever they open the religious studies building. i'm exhausted though... i've been stress-dry-heaving, it's the most annoying thing since non-sliced bread after the invention of sliced-bread. i think it's some form of slow hiccup. or a confused burp. i don't know. i need sleep. tomorrow. tomorrow i'll sleep.

i should really stop posting altogether. it's ironic that i'm writing a post saying that i should stop posting instead of just stopping, but i want to be upfront about this, i guess. i feel like i'm just too many upsetting news/entries coming from the same repetive, annoying, whiney user on your friendslist. and i'm trying so hard not to be but god help me this is really my only outlet, and i think the only way not to be is to just stop completely, because bad things just keep happening, and the preventable ones just hit me that much harder, and all i can do is run here and type. it's unfair to you. it's unfair to everyone. i don't even know if this is good bye, but its paving the way for it i suppose.i don't know what i'm doing. i've been crying for hours.
i don't know.

you could say it's been settled with absolutely no effort towards reaching an agreement. i've learned that i'm a master of resignation, that i only speak when spoken to and that i never heed warning signs or good intentions. if this is going to hurt me, then let it. my conscience is clear, my intentions are pure and i'm forgiving enough that no one ever knows whether i bled when they have pricked me.

i fucking hate nuit blanche. had i known it was going to be all about walking around in the cold for all these hours i might have called it a night after the first bust. i hate it when dan yells at me which he did at whoever complained about the cold. i mean i tried to stay happygofreakinglucky the whole way through but i have juvenile rheumatoid arthritis. it's not fun. if i stay in the cold/humidity too long soon enough it feels like my knee caps are trying to give birth to my tibias.
we all went for poutine at some point and dan and the others sat on the other side from kate, jakub and me. when we all finish eating, we get up to look for them and lo and behold, they had ditched us! i call him and he's like haha yeah, i'm in the old port (we'd just taken a bus to st-laurent cause HE wanted poutine) at that point i can't take it anymore and i head home, hoping to catch a bus on sherbrooke. luckily kate walks me to sherbrooke st. in time for a bus, she finds the situation pretty shitty and hopes that i'm a) ok b) not going to just repress this and express how pissed off i am when i get home.
turns out the bus is downtown-only and is not doing the 24 route. so i walk from concordia to ndg kthx. i get hope and rush past everyone, shut myself in my room and actually cry. i don't know if it's the jack daniels crying or my knees killing me or the fact that dan of all people ditched me like that. all i know is that when my JRA started up as a kid, it woke me up screaming, it hurt so bad. worse, even from 18 and onwards it'd still make me scream. the 3 days they'd turned the heat off in the downtown apartment, i couldn't even walk. i just stayed in my room crying for 3 days because my legs were absolutely useless and all i could feel was pain.
so this morning one leg is pretty much useless save for the pain of course. i'm kind of limping around the house half wondering if dan is mad at me for storming in last night half mad at him for ditching and another half just not even able to care because it hurts so fucking bad. oh man i wish i had called it a night around midnight.
i hate nuit blanche, fuck. i wish he'd never dragged me into going. although he didn't exactly drag me, he told me about it and i was like oh fuck, are we going? and because he's never missed one, here i am.
fuckkkkk.

i have the best news
my lease just got transferred (yay craigslist!)
i'm officially moving in with dan!
sweet!!

til my heart heart heart clogs the drain drain drain

take out the stitches! i need to take them out now. i need to cut them open or bite through them or just get them off get it off me! they're burning and i think they know what i want. people need to stop calling me with the latest news about pascal. i don't want to hear it, especially if you know what happened, and i certainly don't want to listen to how you didn't believe me "but only at first". it all makes me want to vomit and undo the stitches and restick this glass where it belongs. no ambulances this time. no ambulances.

now that i'm back in my apartment i'm the person who's there for me, i've learned. it's like i've doubled myself. had a panic attack and there was this second me talking me through it. "you're ok. you're ok. can you breathe? breathe. can you breathe? you have to breathe. come on, you're ok you're ok you're ok shhhh."
she's good to me but only when we're alone.

mrah. this is why i knew i shouldn't have cared it was my birthday! then i wouldn't have cared that a certain best friend forgot [ :( ] and that pascal tried to call me 6 times yesterday. but considering my birthday is done with, i can change my number now.

i needed someone to talk to and couldn't reach anyone... my ex-boyfriend's cousin had showed uninvited to my apartment.
long story short, i found myself crying at suddenly offline messenger windows, next thing i know there's a broken martini glass in my hand that's been smashed into the wall, into my wrist. and i kept at it. hitting myself with it more than slashing, right where you're "not supposed to".
then blood started spurting instead of flowing. and it wouldn't stop, there were trails of it following me everywhere. along the walls, the floor, the bedsheets and the carpet.

right now i'm in the middle of a huge allergy "attack" thinger. the same type that landed me in the hospital in november. i can't find my pills, so i'm fucked. i'm not going to the hospital, nope. and if my throat closes up and i die, well then. it only seems right after a whole day of trying to reach out that i would die in the end of it. and it technically wouldn't be by my own hand. it would be by my having lost my allergy pills which was a total accident. ok aahhh officially can't type anymore ripping my hair out stage. what an annoying way to go, if it doesn't let up anytime soon.

.Post the first sentence from the first post of each month of 2007:

January:
here i go again, hoping to get shot.

February:

this entry in two parts, was too tired to finish yesterday afternoon.

March :

tylenol p.m.

April:

i'm gonna, i'm gonna los^te my baby
so i always keep a bottle near

June :

i'm gonna need a few days before i can talk about anything right now...but i've come to realize that i do need to talk, to communicate in someway.

July:

i had to leave the country for the funeral, went back to haiti for a week.

August:

so my father is really dead...

September:

it's not that i can't, but the only time i can sleep without nightmaresis when i pass out drunk and i'm fresh out of bailey's.

October:

i had three cigarettes for breakfast this morning.

November:

when you're as shy as i am, it's better to get wasted before you get on stage.

December:

Walking down streets I imagine myself
pinned to trees and finally free


----------

i forgot some specifics of my plan. was it after my birthday, or before it? and how do i get away with saying goodbye? fuck.

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i don't think they know that i don't think they love me

so there's the kind of hangover that makes you say you'll never drink again.
then there's the kind that actually makes you never drink again.
there's also the one where all you can articulate for the first 5 hours of the day is "ow."
there's the one makes you want to die.
and then there's the one where you take a cab to a wal-mart, buy a gun, and shoot yourself in the parking lot.

i am mourning an e string. cry with me, kids.

woot i'm back in the country where no one has time for me. christmas has maxed out my credit card and i'm still here. it's after the holidays and i'm still here.sorry if i'm not making sense, j.d. + caffeine pills, not my best idea. it's just one of those days when you need a friend but don't know how to ask, and besides everyone has plans, is busy or has better friends, haha, so you grab the whiskey and hope it makes you feel better. geh.

to be honest with you, i'm keeping quiet because i'm afraid of what you'll think of me, back from vacation and whining again. how dare she, after going home, going to haiti, being warm for the holidays?
so i'm shutting up and hope my 4 years of theatre school will kick in any day now.

part of me is glad to see 2007 come to a close. it comes in a tie in the worst year my life race. to recap, it started with losing my job, then initially breaking it off with pascal in march upon realizing he wasn't good for me, which screwed me up on account of the 3 years we'd spent together. then being rejected from graphic design at school for the second time in a row, which i took as a real blow considering it's what i left haiti for in the first place. i started losing friends one by one after that, then came my father's death, which not only left me more confused than i've ever been, it also gave pascal the means and opportunity to, shall we say, get his revenge on me for leaving him and subsequently harrassing me.
i guess that's why i can't really be expected to have wishes, resolutions or dreams. i know that the fact that it's time to change the calendar doesn't mean it's all over. but it's still a new year.
here's hoping.


happy new year.

christmas isn't exactly a good time of the year for me, but i wanted to wish those of you who celebrate it / expect and/or give presents for it a happy one, i really hope it was good.
i threw a small get together and actually had fun, more to come but you know, i'm in haiti, the internet isn't on my side, haha. it's all good though. i had fun. christmas in haiti is usually celebrated on december 24rth and you call everyone at midnight and wish them merry christmas, exchange presents then and so on. it went really well. i'm still doing ok!
i love you all!
happy holidays

from the taxi ride out to gate 57, things went without a hitch. i usually detest airports, the way they pass through humans like dirty specimens, as if no one should have been allowed inside. the questions are always cold : "where do you live? where are you going? why?" but surprisingly the holiday season put a smile on airport security.
i wanted to sleep through the plane ride but the person next to me (who took my window seat, no less) kept attempting conversation. 30 minutes before landing, the captain announced the weather in haiti: "Il fait 28 degrés celcius à Port-au-Prince" and the woman two seats back sounded as though she was about to burst into sobs telling everyone within earshot how it'd been so long, how we'd left a snowstorm for 28 degree weather and how god is good and god is great.
when the plane door opened i was tempted to agree: this sun outshines the one i woke up to the day before and burns my tired eyes, as it should.
outside the airport a live band greets incoming passengers. despite the hassle of baggage-claim, i have to smile- at the jokes between the strangers near me, at the snow that managed to find its way into the luggage chute, at myself in a light sweatshirt that i want to take off but can't, as i neglected to wear something underneath it.
i've seen old friends, teachers and my old school, gone to eat the best pizza i'll likely ever taste. i laugh a little louder here.

he writes "love you forever" and if i could argue back i would explain, this isn't love, only a chokehold thrusted onto a lifeless form, my eyes are rolling to the back of my head and if i found the breath and will, i would admit that i have learned that
i
do not
belong
to him

i am still learning that the differences between what i did and don't deserve, what i could have not seen coming and it's only morning still.

i want to close my eyes.

that day, to get me to see things differently, the psychiatrist asked me to put dan in my shoes. what if he were to give me this great christmas present and next i heard, he'd killed himself? how would that make me feel?

"it'd be beyond horrible. i'd just die, no question
- well wouldn't he feel the same if that's what you did?
- i mean... logically, yes, i suppose so, but i am having trouble placing myself at the same level.. of importance... as him.
- i know you are."

i don't even know if it is possible to ever get me to a point where i understand that i might matter. i grasp the concept but it fails to apply to me. this i've wanted to tell some people to their faces (and hope that i haven't already in some drunken stupor) "i'm not that important. if i go, it'll be hard for the first few days and i'm so sorry about that, but i promise you'll be fine and you won't miss me because i cannot be missed."
i feel as though my father dying only makes him more alive to me. he's in my 3½ apartment, he's in my room, he is in my head deducting all the reasons why i'm shit. and he's doing a damn good job. this, of course, i didn't tell her.

"don't you think it's time for you to deal with all these awful things you've been through, sarah?" she asks.
"but i DID deal with it, i was FINE, i didn't talk about it, i didn't cry about it, and yes, they might have been somewhere in the back of my mind but the same goes for everyone. i was FINE. i just had a rough summer, okay?
- not talking about it doesn't mean you dealt with it, and you're smart enough to know that.
- but i was fine!!"

i wanted to throw a tantrum. i wanted to scream at her just how fine i was. just how good my grades were. just how many jobs i held at the same time. just how happy i was seemed.
i suppose i know she is right. but to be honest i feel i might just want to be good at faking happiness again, so i don't alieanate my friends. i want to know how i don't seem fine so that i may fix it. no one will tell me.

Last night, 8pm, he leaves me a voicemail. I decide to go to bed, not be self-destructive about this. 12 hours later, I wake up, first thing I see is that he's left me an email. I can't even forward it to anyone who cares because it's in creole. But I can't bring myself to open it. The phone company says cellphones can't block phone numbers.

pascal has been calling me every single day at least two times a day now. i'm sure everyone thinks it's silly that i'm so terrified considering he lives in boston, but i am. he calls every single day. finds new phones to call from. always says the same thing. "hi honey, how are you? how's your mother?" sometimes i'll hang up and he'll call again. "hi honey, how are you, how's your mother?" i tell him not to call. i tell him to leave me alone. it doesn't matter what i do, what i say or how i say it. every day. "hi honey, how are you, how's your mother?"
i. am. terrified.

i got something i didn't deserve in the mail!



i'm so effin happy



vanessa <333333 thank you sou much

Walking down streets I imagine myself
pinned to trees and finally free
‘tis the season you see
when I can finally hide myself without stares or
question marks
“tis the season for nicotine
but this isn’t what I’m doing
I breathe this in
for lack of something to exhale
for the illusion of letting go
and the hope that all of my unsaids
have been spoken in smoke.

i'm sorry....
i'm so sorry i keep whining like this and and writing so many damn entries and drinking so much and doing this whole slow suicide thing with the pills and not eating and i'm just really sorry. and i'm sorry i made you care about me in whatever way because now that you care it'll matter if i die, or i'm sorry if i've done nothing but annoy you and i really won't be offended if you take me off your flist or block me from wherever, i really truly understand.

i have figured it out.
maybe it will always be a cycle. every year around the time that junior died i will comtemplate offing myself. on some years i will actually attempt it and wake up feeling horrible and stupid and even more of a failure, on some others i will fall back into not talking, and on this one... i don't even know what i'm doing.