The Hangover

Last night I was drugged with roofies.

This morning I wake up grasping for my cell phone. And then the huge question surfaces, "WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED LAST NIGHT!?!?!" I slowly get out of bed confused, trying to find my phone. I go to the door to see my purse on the floor and my cell in it with 5 missed calls. But where was my camera!? ... Safe on my couch. I was so confused.

But somehow, even being completely blacked out I was able to take a cab (I think I took a cab- it makes the most sense), give them my address, pay, get thru the front door, go up the elevator... and then I do remember trying to get into my apartment, getting frustrated with the keys, throwing up in the hallway and passing out. I have no idea how I got into my apartment.

Like in the movie "The Hangover" where they wake up to find Mike Tyson's tiger in the bathroom and don't remember a thing... I woke up with 700 pictures I barely remember taking. Unfortunately, I wasn't partying with Bradley Cooper Mmmmmmmm but at least I was safe.

That could have gone so wrong. ALWAYS watch your drink and try to watch it being made.

Selling Addiction

Ever since grade five my father would drive me to my tutor's office three times a week. I would always make sure to get there early so that I could sneak to Second Cup to get a coffee. The habit continued and my love for coffee grew and grew. In grade 9 I was sent to boarding school and began smoking cigarettes.

Caffeine is an addiction, nicotine is an addiction. But you don't get carded for buying coffee.

In grade 9 I bought cigarettes and got caught by a teach who was clearly following me. And calls the cops on the store owner. Two years later I had to go to court for buying cigarettes underage. WTF

It's okay for a 10 year old to buy coffee but not okay for a 14 year old to buy cigarettes? Okay, yes, cigarettes may cause cancer... but coffee makes teeth yellow

BREAKING NEWS!

THE SUN IS SHINING AND THERE IS NO RAIN IN VANCOUVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I have found a new joy in life. I never realized how fantastic and emotional enhancing the sun is. I feel like a new person.

That's all for now, I'm going to go have a smoke on the patio and then go frolic. SO. HAPPY.

(This picture was taken during a vacation to the Dominican Republic in 07... kinda really wish I was back there)

Anti-Focus

When first deciding back in May that I was for sure going to leave Toronto for Vancouver, I was warned. I was warned about the following:

1) Rain. From what I initially heard was that I would never see day light, there was never a point in time where it wasn't raining, it's so depressing because all the rain. RAIN. RAIN. RAIN. Bring tons of umbrellas, you can only wear rain boots. RAIN.

2) You will never want to leave. It's like saying "Once you go black you never go back" ...... But in a geological term... "Once you go WEST you never go back... East?" Well, I've always heard good things about the west coast and how it's all chill (we all know why)

3) You might become too chill. And after them explaining to you about how it'll be no good- they say "So... when you come back for Thanksgiving... bring me back some."

ANYWAY how this ties in with me not focusing. The rain. It's been raining everyday, almost non-stop for the past 2 weeks. I don't know what to do with myself.
Not only do I not enjoy going out for smokes on my patio, but I can't ever tell the time of day and it's seriously throwing me off. I slept from 3am-8am this morning, was late for class, then came back and slept from 11am-4pm. WTF!? It's completely messed up my schedule.

I can't focus on one set thing because all my attention is on the question "WHEN IS IT GOING TO STOP RAINING!?!?" I wake to a light glare that reflects off of the grey clouds around 7am and by the time I'm out the door at 8:50 it's dark. I go into classes at 8:30 and get out at 11:30 and it's even darker.
I don't believe that Vancouver (during the winter months) actually has a sun rise, mid day, sun set. It just has bright glare, dull dim glare, and suicide glare... with three variations of precipitation: the "if you were dumb enough to straighten your hair this morning you're fucked" light rain, the "good luck with enjoying you're day because this rain will ruin it for you" constant rain, and finally the "avoid even going outside today because you will drown in tidal waves that the taxi's make after driving over a pot hole too fast" torrential downpour rain.

In the mean time I have resorted to sleeping during odd hours, ordering delivery, only asking that one question... "WHEN IS IT GOING TO STOP RAINING!!?"......... and clubbing but that's a different story.

(This picture is from Sunday night at Venue where Thunderheist was playing... These are the brightest Vancouver will every get during winter... These lights were probably imported from Miami)

Waking Up Drunk: A Merry Somers True Story

Last night (Sunday) I went to Venue in Vancouver to see Thunderheist... and for the sake of going out. I was a little skeptical about going out at first because I had a three hour class at 12:30 the next day. But I was easily persuaded and decided to get drunk (it was a common theme this weekend - hence the lack of blog posts... I was either drunk, getting more drunk, or passed out).

ANYWAY I kept forgetting how much I had to drink, so I kept going... In consistent with double vodka and diet cokes, double fisted the whole night. The night was dope, chilled with MC Isis of Thunderheist (who's a wicked cool lady) and got introduced to K-OS. Kept drinking. More vodka. More. More. More. And passed out back at my place around 5am. At 10am I wake up to a splitting headache... I lay in bed for a while until it's really time to get ready for school.

And that's when it hit me. Well, when I hit the floor. I was still drunk. I thought it was just a really bad hangover but by the time I got to class and couldn't sit up straight, pay attention, and thought everything was funny I knew I had gone in deep waters.

I was watching a presentation (really guys, good job) and I was exceptionally eager when it was time to discuss and critique. I wave my arm in the air to take part... "Yes, Meredith... Go ahead" my prof says. I say giggling, "The lights were super cool! And it was all dope and got my attention, super cool" and that's when I burst out laughing... So hard I almost fell off my chair and had to leave the classroom to control myself.

After the class I came home and died for a while.

True Story. Don't go to class drunk.

(The picture was taken by clubzone photographer Pooya)

The Magic Act

My balcony is set up so that everyone in the floors above me can see me. I live on the 5th floor. Which means that if anything falls/is pushed/ thrown off of their balconies it will most likely land on my balcony. It wasn't that bad when I first moved in three months ago, but now it's really gotten to a point where my private smoking/ bbqing area has become a lost and found.

It all started in the second week of me living here that I would find cigarette butts (that were clearly not mine because I have an ashtray).

In the second month I started getting empty cigarette packs... again not mine since I would never smoke Export A Blues. Ew.

Following that I got a plastic bag... Weird... but can easily be picked up by wind.

And this is when the items in my lost and found became obscure... A whole roll of paper towel was left on my lounge chair. An entire roll. WTF

THEN as of last night after classes I come home, eat dinner, and go outside for my smoke. I'm jamming away to my iPod when I notice A TARP! Yes, I full tarp left on my lounge chair... I understand that there have been heavy winds in the west coast recently but not strong enough to blow a TARP!

So as I'm writing this, looking out my window, onto my balcony, I see a 6 foot black tarp. I don't know what to do with it. What am I supposed to say to the security guard... "Miss... I found a tarp on my balcony... and I don't know how it got there" She'd look at me like the crazy art student that I am and ask me if I'm an alcoholic. Then what kind of a reputation would I have in the condo building? The-Crazy-Art-Student-Alcoholic-Tarp-Girl. Jeez.

And it all started with a cigarette.

Sweet Dreams

On Monday my mother and oldest friend went shopping for a new duvet for my bed. There wasn't anything particularly wrong with the old duvet- but it had it's flaws.

Such as:
1) Bunching.... I don't really understand what the duvet was made of- it kinda felt like whale blubber but it would always bunch up so when I'd wake up all the duvet fluffies would look like a mountain on one side of the cover... it was awkward.

2) It was a 90's floral print... usually duvets are white and you put a cover on it... but this strange one was floral. I didn't get it... I couldn't sleep well.

3) It was just awkward, our personalities didn't agree, and as a result I wasn't having as rested a sleep.

So when coming home from school I see a gorgeous gold new fluffy duvet on my bed! I jump on it to find that it's feathers! Now I sleep 11 hours without noticing. I literally have a paralyzing sleep every time... (this is a good thing) It's like when you go to bed and you wake up half a day later in the same position, it's beautiful.... But one thing I've noticed that came with this duvet....

Acid dreams. Every time I sleep I now get these ridiculously bazar dreams that included all these random people. Dreams like Alice in Wonderland gone crack head. However, they're not nightmares... they're just completely fucked up. Which I probably get from being at art school....

I don't know what to do... it's so comfy but it's effecting my sub conscious thoughts? Really? Duvet Powers?
I've also realized that dairy before bed gives me nightmares. Weird?

(This is a drawing I made about a year ago- Alice in Wonderland Tim Burton style... Creepy?)

Tastes Change.

My love for oysters all started when I went for a family dinner at Pure Spirits Oyster House & Grill in the Distillery District in Toronto about three years ago. I had never had oysters before that, and fell in love. I returned to the restaurant a couple months after to throw a friend a birthday dinner... more oysters... kept on returning, bringing more friends in hope that they too would share the love. Two years go by and my obsession with oysters grew and grew, until I was determined to try oysters in every new city that I traveled to. I still found that the best oysters were in Toronto at Pure Spirits and at Rodney's Oyster House (both restaurants get their oysters from the same place)...

So from March - November 2009 I tried oysters in Bermuda, Miami, New York City, London, Madrid and Vancouver... it wasn't until I went to London, England in July where all that changed. I got 24 hour food poisoning from rotten oysters. Yes... Rotten oysters. It was one of the worst sick experiences I've ever had. The one food I trusted with all my heart had poisoned me, it was so hard to bare. So because of the experience I couldn't even look at an oyster for a month

(I couldn't help myself... It's like when you have a bad night after taking too many tequila shots and you say to yourself "I'M NEVER DRINKING AGAIN!!!" and then the next day you change it to "I'M NEVER DRINKING TEQUILA AGAIN!!!" and soon enough you catch yourself thinking.... "I'll never take 12 shots of tequila in a row in Dominican Republic again" and then the next hour you just say "FUCK IT I WANA GET SHIT FACED!!!")

ANYWAY... So the next month I go back to Pure Spirits for oysters just to see how they were. And surprisingly enough I felt a little nauseous after. So I didn't have them until the next month when I just moved to Vancouver... tried them again, same thing felt nauseous... So last week when I was in Toronto I went back to Pure Spirits so excited to try great oysters... to find myself feeling nauseous once again!!!!

This is when I went to Nirvana- thinking that my nauseous feeling would over pass like the other two times... but I get there, sit down with my friend. And run to the bathroom. I continued to order a drink cause I thought I was fine... and again.

I'M ALLERGIC TO OYSTERS!?!???? How can the one food I thought I could never be sick of, make me sick every time? Tastes Change. Why? I don't know, but I think it's horrible. I understand tastes changing with other things... like fur coats and the colour pink. But OYSTERS???? Apparently, your body can change that too. WOW. I need to find a new obsession...

The Metaphorical "Chase"

I've had this conversation over and over again with both guys and gals, and seen it time and time again in reality and in movies. The Metaphorical "Chase". This is when both someone has to work for/ CHASE after another that they desire.
Sometimes it even works the other way around, they may not initially want it, but because it's hard to get, they want it... just because the task at hand is not easy.

What's so desirable about working hard? It builds drama, suspense, curiosity, and excitement in our own little sometimes boring worlds. If only our lives reflected the all time chick book and show, "Gossip Girl" or for those like me who are more into the fantasy, delusional, crazy, desires in "Vampire Diaries" or "Twilight". All we want is to see how hard someone is going to make us work for a conclusion of the unknown... wether it be getting our blood sucked by a sexy man god or bumming a smoke off of the skinniest hipster with the best vintage glassless glasses.

I for one, like most men and women, am highly addicted and intrigued by "The Chase". All those questions that blind the rest of your brain revolve like a category five hurricane.... it FUCKS SHIT UP!!!... but it's fun. WTF is up with human nature?

Questions ranging from:
"I wonder if he/she actually likes me or if they're just playin?"

To those who are completely deranged:
"I wonder if I can sneak roofies into their coffee, drag them into my apartment, set up a lie detector, and have my way..."

(Which reminds me of the movie The Hangover and I also watch a lot of CSI: Miami...................................WOW.)

But when I comes down to it... time passes by... "The Chase" is still going... you still can't get what you want, or even if you do, what's next? Are you happy? Well, No. You go onto the next best thing- Someone else.

To clear things up for all of you, this is a game. If "The Chase" was a board game it would never be bought because there are NO WINNERS. That's not fun is it? Everyone wants to win, no one is ever especially excited to be a loser. You don't play a game, enter a competition, or enroll in a course, and aim to lose. So then what's the point?

Well for starters, if any person is easy they are known as a slut/ whore/ man-whore. But why can't people just be honest?
If everyone was just straight up then there would be less losers and less time waisted for those who actually want something serious.

The Metaphorical "Chase" is just entertainment, admit it. It's a time filler. That's why you call them your crush: it hurts.


.... But non the less... We're still into it. I still enjoy the "Chase", it's still addictive, I still don't stop myself, I still desire to control, and I still aim to win. Human mannerisms, nature, curiosity... Really? WTF.

Reminiscing On The Awkward Days

Last night my oldest friend stayed over at my apartment after having a lovely Italian dinner at Burrard and Smithe in Vancouver. We were on my laptop looking through our more recent clubbing pictures at Celebrities during the Halloween weekend. In my mass amounts of photos we came across some pictures we took when we were 12/13 thinking we were the coolest kids around. HOLLLLLLYYYYYYYYYYYYY. I cannot even describe how awkward these pictures were...

But when I remember these days between ages 12-14 I really did think I was this invincible tween. Having everything to offer to the world, on top of it all, starting to wear make up and having friends sleep over. Was that not the best feeling? The first whiff of independence. When viewing these pictures my friend kept on commenting, "How did people allow us to be alive!!!????".

There's a couple particular pictures where I was 13, had metal braces, an awkward hair cut, awkward body, awkward clothes... everything. And my friend and I were in Bruce Mines, Ontario (near Salute Ste. Marie) on a tug boat. And no, I have no idea what the whole ordeal was with this tug boat, but apparently it's a big deal during Canada Day. Because we were "THE SHIT" we were spotting all the guys on the tug boat we thought were hot. One special man got his picture taken by us... about 50 times. Where I would be pretending to be walking around the tug boat near him, and my friend would pretend to be taking my picture, when really she was zooming up on him. WOW WE WERE SO AWKWARD. Half the pictures are of him looking right at us like "Really? WTF" and then us in the background running away, huddling, and giggling being so impressed that we captured him on camera.

I don't understand how our little brains worked then, but all I know is I'm glad I don't have the same mind frame. Or else I would probably never leave my apartment and only take online courses so I'd never have to deal with the outside world and socializing.

Dear friend, I had to make this blog. Just saying.

(There is no way I am posting one of those photos- it is way too embarrassing. So I'll give you something else that reminds me of it)

Mumbling: The New Flirting

A couple days after Halloween I was showing an old friend of mine, and her friend from France around Granville Market. We were stopping to get coffee when I started chatting with a guy I bumped into over the previous weekend. I'm trying to be pretty sly about what I say and how I say it because I was pretty embarrassed about how drunk I was the last time we spoke. (I was really excited when I saw him on the Halloween weekend so I drunkenly thought that slapping his arm multiple times would be a good thing... There's gotta be something more to alcohol). So we carry on this conversation and a couple of times he had to ask me to repeat myself- I thought this was only because he was hard of hearing and because there was a lot of background noise.

Once we had gotten the coffee and were finished with the market we stopped into the Granville Island Brewery to relax with a local pint. And this is when the subject came out... "Mer... you know when you're trying to flirt you mumble... a lot... it's like you don't have a space between your words... you sound like this" (And talked like someone who has a jumbo gum ball stuck to the roof of their mouth... in a flirty manor). Then I realized. OH MY GOODNESS I DO!

I don't know what it is or why I do it, but in order for me to casually flirt or patch things up with someone else I talk like I'm at the dentist having a metal pick being scrapped across my teeth. I just get so embarrassed that I try to say what I need to say without them actually hearing it. I believe when I was talking to that guy from Halloween I sounded like this:

"hiyeahowwastherstofurnitehahahahahahaaahhaaaaaaaa.......uh.yeapretycrazyseeingyouyeawowsodrnkcraaaaaaaaaaaaaazy....hangovermajoryeayeayeayeawow.....sofunnycrazywowyeayeaseeyea,bye"

Translation:

What I said: "Hi... yea how was the rest of your night? .....Hahahahahahahaha... ("Uh" to myself) yea pretty crazy seeing you...... wow I was soooooooo drunk, craaaaazzy..... Major hangover forsure.... Yea yea yea... wow...... So funny eh.... wow..... yea yea see yea, bye"

What I wanted to say straight up: "WOW I was super trashed that night- I don't remember a thing- Sorry for hitting your arm so many times, my elbow kept spazzing up... Yea I'm going to get it checked out, I think it runs in the family... No..No... There's no incest in my family..... Yeah......... Well I'm going to go drown myself in vodka so I can also forget THIS conversation"

However, I very much doubt the conversation would have morphed that way... but in my imagination, if I wasn't mumbling than this is what would have turned out to be.... If he could have heard what I was saying.

Mumbling... It really saves.

To Be or Not To Be... An Art Student.

I am now in the third month of being an official art student. And I believe my sub conscious mind has changed. I do things that I am unaware of that three months ago I would have never done.

For example: I was at a bar (Nirvana) in Toronto on Wednesday drinking with a friend. We were talking about blogs and photography. She was telling me she had seen my blog and was able to relate to the " 'People'... Not 'Individuals' " post I had earlier on. To elaborate to her about why I posted that particular blog I said "If I were to draw people it would look like this..." and raised my right arm in the air and quickly and dramatically moved it up and down as if I was scribbling. And then I stopped. And looked around... WOW what a loser I am. I just drew in the air what people represent to me... at a bar.

I would have never done that if I wasn't an art student. Normal people don't do that. But I will leave that for another blog.

Art students out there... I ask you this... WTF!?!

(This picture is from a Saturday night last month out side of an art gallery event in Vancouver... with a Kermit the Frog mask... Art students know.)

In One Ear and Out the Other.

My hearing is bad enough as it is, but when it comes to me trying to listen to my mother it's just about impossible.
I love her more than anything, I care about most everything that she says, but my God I can never hear her.
It's not only the fact that I don't usually want to listen to her, but I think my brain has permanently turned off my ears when her voice floats threw the air.

For the past two and a half hours she's slaved me to clean up my room, sort through my summer and winter clothes, and put them away. For those who know me personally, know that I am probably one of the messiest people and always have an avalanche of clothes for a room. Cleaning up for me is putting the dishes in the dishwasher, clothes in one pile, and throwing out my garbage (it's not THAT bad).

But during this hell of a clean up she has been talking to me. But not ONCE have I heard what she said without me asking her to repeat it. Even when I tell myself, "ONLY FOCUS ON WHAT SHE'S SAYING"... I still don't hear anything. She can talk and talk and talk and I could look right at her and not be doing anything else, and try my hardest to listen to her... but still... nothing. It's like I'm Charlie Brown and she's the teacher. Just not happening.

But I really can't stop to think that that's just me. Don't most people have the same symptoms when getting master orders from their mothers?

What is this? Is there any hope to listening?

When Your Mother Travels to Stay with You in Your Apartment:

Remember that/to:
1) They see things that you do not
2) Things that you may think are cool (like a collection of empty vodka bottles) are not cool to them
3) Always know where your windex, rags, and all cleaning supplies are
4) Anything marks, burns, or stains will result in them thinking that you just had a party and they are from cigarettes
5) Never admit that someone else has slept in the bed they are sleeping in.
6) You will be forced to do your work
7) You will never see your friends during this time... without your mother wanting to meet them.
8) The way that you live is "the wrong way"
9) By the time they leave your apartment will be completely rearranged.
10) During this time you won't have any say in decision making, as she has already planed out what is going to happen.

This is what I've learned from the past 4 hours that my mother has been staying with me... 4 more days to go.

Help.

Dear Best Friends of the World:

On Monday I had a plan. A plan to get SHIT FACED. I hadn't been back in Toronto for a month, I was reunited with some of my most favourite people, midterms were over, and I had a need to forget. Oh, and did I ever accomplish. Not only did I pre drink hard at Nirvana (Bathurst and College) but I forgot I had taken Benylin pills for my sinuses before... Shit faced I wanted, and shit faced I got.

I purposely did not drive that night, so we cabbed it to the Social for "Monday Meetings". Not only was I overly generous with pulling out my Visa for multiple vodka redbulls for me and my girls, but I decided it would be a great idea to talk to everyone and anyone... including the DJs. More pictures, more drinks, and I'm flirting with the DJs trying to be one myself. Which ends in me wanting to play Akon ft David Guetta's "Sexy Bitch" at a hipster club. They weren't too impressed. Suddenly I was handed a tequila shot, a random drink, and a pint. Which I thought was a great idea at the time until i ran outside, stumbled into the stoop of a store by the end of the block, and passed out. WOW. My friends had no idea where I was and were contemplating calling the cops for a missing person report. 20 minutes later I'm still there, my best friend had found me and dragged me into a cab. Somehow got to Queen and Spadina near Much Music where my friend had to use an ATM to take out money. During this time I stumble out of the cab and onto the cement sidewalk where I pass out once more. Then to my house... I do not remember getting in, taking my heels off, getting into my PJs, EVEN taking off my jewelry, where my journey had ended and I passed out until I woke up later in the day to a splitting hangover.

THANK YOU BEST FRIEND!!!!! I would still be on that stoop if it wasn't for you... or most likely in a much worse situation. You are the best.

WHAT A NIGHT! I am never doing that again. If I ever say "I'm gunna get so fucked tonight I won't drive..." SLAP ME!

"People"... not "Individuals"

I was having a late snack after the club on Saturday to be taught that there is a difference between "people" and "individuals". Maybe I analyze too much... yes, I do. But according to this person who I was snacking on pita and hummus with, is that I hate people... but not individuals. 

It's true, people do piss me off. But, there are the chances that I will meet someone who I could consider a friend or someone who I am fond of (in whichever way you want to perceive that). 

"People" being a more than broad and vague term reminds me of a mosh. People are chaotic, messy, hazardous, ignorant, loud, and unsure... like the stampede scene in the Lion King. 

"Individuals" are particulars who are unique, intelligent, have something worth giving, different, entertaining, intriguing, and preferably attractive... like Johnny Depp... Mmmmmmm.

The difference I find quite clear... I was quite shocked when I heard this just a couple days ago, and didn't believe it... But then I thought about it... Analyzed... and came to this conclusion- as shown above.

But that's how I am as an "Individual"... It's very difficult for me to be fond of most people I come across, It's not because I'm a bitch... It's because I'm particular. I rely a lot on the "vibes" I get when first meeting someone, however, there are times when those first judgements change. But usually, I'm right the first time. Maybe that's why I have smaller groups of friends, or just individual friends who I choose to see alone. The people that are in my life mean something to me, I don't waist my time on those who I don't like. 

The difference between "people" and "individuals". 

The "Blogging" world according to me, Merry Somers.

Really? A "Blog"? Okay. 

On those nights, coming back from a club, bar, party, adventure, even... if it happens, studying... I find myself back on my macbook typing away. Coherent, or completely delusional, I find it necessary to record. Wether it be more than unnecessary to off the chain magical, it's always important. 

So why not share this with the cyber world? Lessons are lessons, experiences are shared, crazy shit is entertaining. HEY it's a blog. According to me. Merry Somers of Toronto, Ontario- recently relocated to Vancouver, BC. That's whatsup. I'm a photographer, dig it.