Verdict's in . . . without me :-(
Yes, tickets for U2 go on sale in a matter of moments and I'm not going to try to get any. I just don't see how I can swing a trip west this year with moving and university. So Taia, you can officially fold up the roll-away cot, it seems like another year might pass without a visit.
I took a long sobering look at my financial situation and made some hard decisions. My move has to be my top focus, followed by courses . . . then travel. But things have a way of working out for the best, so maybe money will appear and I'll still get to take a trip to Toronto, maybe to Harbourfront Festival of Authors or International Film Festival or something fun like that.
I found out yesterday that Mama Mia is closing in May. I always wanted to see that, always swore I would drop everything and go if it was going to close . . . but I can't do that either right now.
Things will come around once I'm moved; the bugger is getting there with first and last, utility deposits, etc. Once I'm settled things will be better financially. I've already got great ideas for making extra cash to help out with things like trips.
Anyway, I'm very optimistic and not at all depressed about any of this. Life is good.
Yesterday I met with my writer girlfriends and we had a good session. So today my batteries are fully charged and I'm raring to go! That's the great thing about taking the time to meet with them, not only does it help to keep me motivated personally with my novel and other creative writing, but it gives me great motivation and energy toward all aspects of my life -- BnM, working out, house chores and whatever else -- All of it! It's a good buzz to have and I confess I'm still carrying around a bit of a buzz off the Fredericton reading last week. We're going to try and meet again this week on Thursday; apparently Friday is Good Friday, which means Easter has snuck right up on me.
Mood: Electrified
Drinking: Coffee, perked with cream
Listening To: Eminem, Toy Soldiers
Hair: Gnarly
Saturday, March 19, 2005
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
The Walk of Life
What a great day! I swear spring came today. The sun was shining in my window while I worked this morning, blinding me in a way it hasn't for many months. When Nick and I were outside today my boots made a sucking sound in the mud and he couldn't climb the snowbanks because they fell away under his feet. People walked their dogs past the house wearing pastel coloured jackets and running shoes. At 7 this evening it still wasn't dark. I didn't need my scarf and mittens.
What a great day!
And the best part . . . the absolute best part of this entire day for me . . .
Temperatures soared in the above range and I'm still walking, pain-free. For me, this is a really big fat hairy deal! The season is getting ready to change and one of these days I'm going to find myself struggling, that's just the way it is, the nature of the disease . . . but today was an absolutely beautiful spring day and I danced around the kitchen as I cooked supper, went walking on the treadmill, walking outside . . . I walk and I walk . . . and you better believe I appreciate every moment.
Mood: Peaceful
Drinking: Merlot (but only one glass, I'm not medicating)
Listening To: Tiny Dancer, Elton John
Hair: Pass the burritto and call me Ozzy!
What a great day!
And the best part . . . the absolute best part of this entire day for me . . .
Temperatures soared in the above range and I'm still walking, pain-free. For me, this is a really big fat hairy deal! The season is getting ready to change and one of these days I'm going to find myself struggling, that's just the way it is, the nature of the disease . . . but today was an absolutely beautiful spring day and I danced around the kitchen as I cooked supper, went walking on the treadmill, walking outside . . . I walk and I walk . . . and you better believe I appreciate every moment.
Mood: Peaceful
Drinking: Merlot (but only one glass, I'm not medicating)
Listening To: Tiny Dancer, Elton John
Hair: Pass the burritto and call me Ozzy!
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
Shall I Dismantle an Atomic Bomb?
A few years ago I went to a psychic and got a reading. I've gone to a few psychics before, but this one really seemed to know his stuff. Every now and then I take a look at my notes from that reading to see if anything else he predicted has come true (yes, lots of stuff has come true!) or where I am now in relation to that reading. I should probably go get it done again because it has been a few years. Anyway, one of the things he stressed with me was that I need to pay attention to my dreams. I know, that's a common thing for psychics to say but we discussed it in more detail than that with special regard to my writing and so on. Last night I read over my notes and was reminded that I really haven't been paying much attention to my dreams lately. At the time he gave me an affirmation to repeat every night before going to sleep -- "My dreams are vivid and I remember every detail. I understand the meaning of my dreams."
Last night I said this affirmation for the first time in a very long time. I went to sleep and I dreamed.
I dreamed Stacy and I went to Toronto to see U2. It was exciting! I didn't actually get to see any of the city in my dream though, didn't get to see anyone I know. The dream started outside the venue for the event. We were lined up with a bunch of other people waiting to get in. The doors opened and we were ushered into a stairwell to continue to wait. I could see my breath, the air was damp. There weren't that many of us waiting, maybe 20 people, but security was tight with gates and big no-nonsense guards. There were many entrances to the place and we had picked an obscure one in hopes of getting closer to the show.
The guards lowered the gates and we ran in the door to jockey for a good spot. Stacy and I broke away from the pack and led the way down a long hallway, the first to turn the corner and enter the room where they would perform. I skidded to a stop, shocked by the size of the place. It wasn't any bigger than a small conference room in a hotel with seating for maybe a hundred people. There was no stage but an area of the floor had been left clear and a single chrome microphone stand stood there without any amp, speakers, drums, guitars, signage . . . nothing to indicate that a performance was forthcoming. The stage area of the floor was roped off with thin yellow rope tied to orange cones. There were a few round tables set up for dinner surrounding the roped off area and then some chairs lined up like for a high school play. The tables were reserved for VIP ticket holders. I checked our tickets and saw they said "Standing Room Only."
Behind the stage area of the floor was a doorway covered with a velvet burgundy coloured curtain. The curtain heaved like it was sighing, breathing in and out on a gentle breeze. Stacy and I positioned ourselves at the rope straining to be as close to the microphone as possible. The other people we had waited outside with took their seats at the tables, in the chairs or standing beside us. Nobody else came in, there were no other groups waiting at other entrances. This excited me because if nobody else came we'd not only have the best view but chances were pretty good we'd all get to chat with the band and get autographs and everything before the evening was over.
The curtain sighed and I saw that the doorway opened onto a little room. Bono was pacing, talking to the Edge who was sitting on a stone bench. I couldn't believe they were really there! And so close I could say hello if I wanted. I was starting to freak out from the excitement and anticipation of the whole thing. I looked around the room and there were only about a dozen of us waiting for the show. Some people had left because it wasn't turning out to be what they had anticipated.
At precisely 7pm according to the silver digital watch on my wrist, Bono parted the curtain and entered the room. Edge stayed on the bench. Bono walked over to us, by this time there were only about six of us standing by the rope. He walked up to us and said he was sorry but the show was cancelled due to a lack of interest. "But no!" I said. "We came all this way!"
The Bono in my dream was not at all like what I imagine Bono to be like in real life . . . I mean with all of his humanitarian efforts and the lyrics he writes, all the interviews I've seen, all the articles I've read . . . nothing prepared me for this Bono. He looked like Bono mind you, but he didn't act like any Bono I've ever heard tell of anywhere . . . although he was upset too that hardly anyone showed up for the show.
The six of us begged and pleaded, just a few songs, PLEASE!! But he was having none of it. They weren't going to play for free to an audience of six, the rest of the band had already gone back to the hotel, the show was over and we had to leave. He turned and started to walk away. I reached out and grabbed his leather jacket on the arm. He turned back to me shaking my hand from his sleeve. "What now!?" he demanded. I told him he didn't understand, we had flown all the way in from New Brunswick just to see U2 perform. He shrugged and said that wasn't his problem. Everyone had left by then, it was just me and Stacy and Bono standing in an empty conference room . . . and I wouldn't give up. "But do you know where New Brunswick is?" I asked. "It's really far, and I came all this way spent all this money that I could've used for so many other things, just so I could see you guys." But he wouldn't budge . . . and he wasn't very sympathetic. He had come a long way too, he said, and now he wouldn't be paid.
As I creeped to consciousness my argument with Bono continued, even Stacy left. He couldn't see my side, could only think of his own interests. It was very odd . . . and not at all realistic.
But having this dream on the night when I affirmed that my dreams would be vivid and I would understand them, after reading the psychic's notes and knowing I'm supposed to pay attention to my dreams . . . it got me thinking . . . maybe I'm not supposed to go to Toronto to see U2. Maybe it's going to be cancelled and I'll be out money that I can't really afford to be out. Because I'll have to book flights . . . and getting out of flights, getting a refund on airfare, is pretty much impossible when you're taking the cheapest route. As anyone who knows me knows, I am a big believer in the power of the universe . . . I see signs and I listen to them . . . I try not to enforce my own will, because it's impossible anyway, nothing will work out like you plan if the power of the universe wants something else to happen. Things will just get screwed up if you don't listen and try to mess with the plan. I learned this lesson the hard way, but I know it to be true now.
Tickets go on sale this weekend, and now I don't know what to do. How important is this concert to me in the great scheme of things when I'm looking at a new apartment next month and more travel in general within the province . . . yet no anticipated increase in income? Maybe it's unrealistic to plan this trip? Maybe this dream is the sign and I need to listen?
Mood: Uncertain
Drinking: the scent of a feng shui candle (metal)
Listening To: Should I Stay or Should I Go, The Clash
Hair: This is an interesting new look for me -- the high ponytail on the left side of my head only, rather than centred. Hmmm . . . I don't think I'd wear it out in public.
Last night I said this affirmation for the first time in a very long time. I went to sleep and I dreamed.
I dreamed Stacy and I went to Toronto to see U2. It was exciting! I didn't actually get to see any of the city in my dream though, didn't get to see anyone I know. The dream started outside the venue for the event. We were lined up with a bunch of other people waiting to get in. The doors opened and we were ushered into a stairwell to continue to wait. I could see my breath, the air was damp. There weren't that many of us waiting, maybe 20 people, but security was tight with gates and big no-nonsense guards. There were many entrances to the place and we had picked an obscure one in hopes of getting closer to the show.
The guards lowered the gates and we ran in the door to jockey for a good spot. Stacy and I broke away from the pack and led the way down a long hallway, the first to turn the corner and enter the room where they would perform. I skidded to a stop, shocked by the size of the place. It wasn't any bigger than a small conference room in a hotel with seating for maybe a hundred people. There was no stage but an area of the floor had been left clear and a single chrome microphone stand stood there without any amp, speakers, drums, guitars, signage . . . nothing to indicate that a performance was forthcoming. The stage area of the floor was roped off with thin yellow rope tied to orange cones. There were a few round tables set up for dinner surrounding the roped off area and then some chairs lined up like for a high school play. The tables were reserved for VIP ticket holders. I checked our tickets and saw they said "Standing Room Only."
Behind the stage area of the floor was a doorway covered with a velvet burgundy coloured curtain. The curtain heaved like it was sighing, breathing in and out on a gentle breeze. Stacy and I positioned ourselves at the rope straining to be as close to the microphone as possible. The other people we had waited outside with took their seats at the tables, in the chairs or standing beside us. Nobody else came in, there were no other groups waiting at other entrances. This excited me because if nobody else came we'd not only have the best view but chances were pretty good we'd all get to chat with the band and get autographs and everything before the evening was over.
The curtain sighed and I saw that the doorway opened onto a little room. Bono was pacing, talking to the Edge who was sitting on a stone bench. I couldn't believe they were really there! And so close I could say hello if I wanted. I was starting to freak out from the excitement and anticipation of the whole thing. I looked around the room and there were only about a dozen of us waiting for the show. Some people had left because it wasn't turning out to be what they had anticipated.
At precisely 7pm according to the silver digital watch on my wrist, Bono parted the curtain and entered the room. Edge stayed on the bench. Bono walked over to us, by this time there were only about six of us standing by the rope. He walked up to us and said he was sorry but the show was cancelled due to a lack of interest. "But no!" I said. "We came all this way!"
The Bono in my dream was not at all like what I imagine Bono to be like in real life . . . I mean with all of his humanitarian efforts and the lyrics he writes, all the interviews I've seen, all the articles I've read . . . nothing prepared me for this Bono. He looked like Bono mind you, but he didn't act like any Bono I've ever heard tell of anywhere . . . although he was upset too that hardly anyone showed up for the show.
The six of us begged and pleaded, just a few songs, PLEASE!! But he was having none of it. They weren't going to play for free to an audience of six, the rest of the band had already gone back to the hotel, the show was over and we had to leave. He turned and started to walk away. I reached out and grabbed his leather jacket on the arm. He turned back to me shaking my hand from his sleeve. "What now!?" he demanded. I told him he didn't understand, we had flown all the way in from New Brunswick just to see U2 perform. He shrugged and said that wasn't his problem. Everyone had left by then, it was just me and Stacy and Bono standing in an empty conference room . . . and I wouldn't give up. "But do you know where New Brunswick is?" I asked. "It's really far, and I came all this way spent all this money that I could've used for so many other things, just so I could see you guys." But he wouldn't budge . . . and he wasn't very sympathetic. He had come a long way too, he said, and now he wouldn't be paid.
As I creeped to consciousness my argument with Bono continued, even Stacy left. He couldn't see my side, could only think of his own interests. It was very odd . . . and not at all realistic.
But having this dream on the night when I affirmed that my dreams would be vivid and I would understand them, after reading the psychic's notes and knowing I'm supposed to pay attention to my dreams . . . it got me thinking . . . maybe I'm not supposed to go to Toronto to see U2. Maybe it's going to be cancelled and I'll be out money that I can't really afford to be out. Because I'll have to book flights . . . and getting out of flights, getting a refund on airfare, is pretty much impossible when you're taking the cheapest route. As anyone who knows me knows, I am a big believer in the power of the universe . . . I see signs and I listen to them . . . I try not to enforce my own will, because it's impossible anyway, nothing will work out like you plan if the power of the universe wants something else to happen. Things will just get screwed up if you don't listen and try to mess with the plan. I learned this lesson the hard way, but I know it to be true now.
Tickets go on sale this weekend, and now I don't know what to do. How important is this concert to me in the great scheme of things when I'm looking at a new apartment next month and more travel in general within the province . . . yet no anticipated increase in income? Maybe it's unrealistic to plan this trip? Maybe this dream is the sign and I need to listen?
Mood: Uncertain
Drinking: the scent of a feng shui candle (metal)
Listening To: Should I Stay or Should I Go, The Clash
Hair: This is an interesting new look for me -- the high ponytail on the left side of my head only, rather than centred. Hmmm . . . I don't think I'd wear it out in public.
Sunday, March 13, 2005
How to Marry a Man in a Small Town
I'm trying to get some work done on my novel so I'll have something to workshop on Friday with the girls. For anyone who isn't familiar with it, the novel is written in the third person and focuses on the life of a man named Callum. Callum is not having the greatest life so far, there's a lot of stuff happening to him. There are several female secondary characters who are all very different from one another, yet they're all playing the same role (girlfriend) in Callum's life. Making each of these women stand out and be unique can be somewhat challenging, so I thought I would experiment by writing in the first person as each of my female characters. If they were interviewed or if they had to write an essay on their views of the world, what would they have to say? This has been really helpful in developing each of their characters and some of the results have been surprising to say the least. Take the character of Shannon for example. I thought she was a very sweet girl, a little thick maybe, but overall kind and sweet. It turns out she's a bit more manipulative than I first thought. Here's one of her monologues that I call "How to Marry a Man in a Small Town." Keep in mind these are Shannon's thoughts, not mine. And this piece is the equivalent of background research, it won't appear in the novel.
How to Marry a Man in a Small Town
It's hard to find a decent man around here. All the single ones — well, let's just say they're single for a reason. They're jerks, running from woman to woman. They'll never amount to anything. The decent ones are all married. Trouble is everyone knows that and there's not enough to go around, so you gotta be quick, you gotta stay on top of the situation.
As soon as you hear a marriage might be in trouble, you've got to make yourself known. It's an art form really. You don't want to go after the guy who's gonna get taken to the cleaners, you want the one who's gonna be left with the house — but not the kids! Kids are trouble. They'll bust up your plans every time. And you can't be the first after the wife leaves cuz they never keep that one and you want to be a keeper.
Maybe it's more like a science than an art. Yeah, I could write a book on it.
You hear rumours about something; maybe the wife is stepping out or talking unhappiness to the hairdresser. Maybe the man is on the prowl — you gotta watch that though. It's okay if he was a stand-up guy all along and this is a new thing, but not okay if he's been cheating on his wife the whole time, cuz you better believe it he'll cheat on you too. It's a total waste of your time to go after the ones that could never keep their hands off another woman. But the one's that have been quiet, that you haven't heard a peep about in years, but now they're stepping out all of a sudden — that's a big heads up. He's unhappy. That marriage is in trouble.
Okay, so you figure a marriage is gonna go bust but it hasn't yet, you gotta let your presence be known. Some eye contact in the grocery. A "Hi there! Hello!" at the post office. A little brush by at the gas station. Nothing outrageous, subtle stuff, but you got to be consistent and keep it up so he doesn't forget who you are.
It can take a long time for a marriage to split or it can go boom in the night. You gotta be ready and you gotta be patient. When it happens, you make a move — but not the BIG move.
Chances are in the beginning he'll fall to pieces. He'll start showing up at all the dances drunk and crazed to find someone to fuck. He might even chase after you, but you gotta hold back and bide your time. Now's the time to build a rapport, a little sympathetic ear and hand patting, but nothing more and not too much. Spend no more than 10 minutes with him at a dance. Let the other girls have at him. Don't worry there'll be other girls, they'll be out in droves throwing themselves at him. Let him fuck a few of them, have a good time and work through that eye-for-an-eye revenge and anger macho shit.
Wait at least three months to see if the wife is going to come back, if there'll be some sort of temporary reconciliation, if it's the real deal or a practise run. Just build rapport but don't make the mistake of becoming his friend, that'll kill the deal. A rapport, but still a mysterious unknown. That's okay.
Keep this up until he gets a girlfriend. He'll get one pretty quick. They always do unless they're complete losers, in which case you don't want to waste your time with him anyway. Let him have his girlfriend, but keep your rapport going. Don't panic, stay calm even if the girlfriend sticks around a couple of months or longer. Don't doubt yourself. Bide your time.
When he breaks up with that first girlfriend get ready to hustle. That's when the game is on because the next girlfriend will be a keeper and you want to be that girl. He won't fall to pieces this time because he never really cared about that girl anyway, but chances are that he'll still be hurting about the wife. You really have to gauge the situation here. If he's raring to go, let him fuck another girl or two. But if he seems tired, like he's holding back, then it's time to pounce.
Seduce him. Show him bits of your mysterious self but be sure to keep something hidden. Let him come after you, encourage it but still play a bit hard to get. Before you know it, you'll be the girlfriend and then the wife. You'll have the house and the guy. Game over, and he's none the wiser, thinks he was in control the whole time.
That's my theory anyway. It was still in development when I met Callum though. That was my major mistake. I was the first girlfriend.
-- Shannon
Mood: Playful
Drinking: Coffee, perked and black
Listening To: Bad Habits, The Monks
Hair: Got2b my best friend
How to Marry a Man in a Small Town
It's hard to find a decent man around here. All the single ones — well, let's just say they're single for a reason. They're jerks, running from woman to woman. They'll never amount to anything. The decent ones are all married. Trouble is everyone knows that and there's not enough to go around, so you gotta be quick, you gotta stay on top of the situation.
As soon as you hear a marriage might be in trouble, you've got to make yourself known. It's an art form really. You don't want to go after the guy who's gonna get taken to the cleaners, you want the one who's gonna be left with the house — but not the kids! Kids are trouble. They'll bust up your plans every time. And you can't be the first after the wife leaves cuz they never keep that one and you want to be a keeper.
Maybe it's more like a science than an art. Yeah, I could write a book on it.
You hear rumours about something; maybe the wife is stepping out or talking unhappiness to the hairdresser. Maybe the man is on the prowl — you gotta watch that though. It's okay if he was a stand-up guy all along and this is a new thing, but not okay if he's been cheating on his wife the whole time, cuz you better believe it he'll cheat on you too. It's a total waste of your time to go after the ones that could never keep their hands off another woman. But the one's that have been quiet, that you haven't heard a peep about in years, but now they're stepping out all of a sudden — that's a big heads up. He's unhappy. That marriage is in trouble.
Okay, so you figure a marriage is gonna go bust but it hasn't yet, you gotta let your presence be known. Some eye contact in the grocery. A "Hi there! Hello!" at the post office. A little brush by at the gas station. Nothing outrageous, subtle stuff, but you got to be consistent and keep it up so he doesn't forget who you are.
It can take a long time for a marriage to split or it can go boom in the night. You gotta be ready and you gotta be patient. When it happens, you make a move — but not the BIG move.
Chances are in the beginning he'll fall to pieces. He'll start showing up at all the dances drunk and crazed to find someone to fuck. He might even chase after you, but you gotta hold back and bide your time. Now's the time to build a rapport, a little sympathetic ear and hand patting, but nothing more and not too much. Spend no more than 10 minutes with him at a dance. Let the other girls have at him. Don't worry there'll be other girls, they'll be out in droves throwing themselves at him. Let him fuck a few of them, have a good time and work through that eye-for-an-eye revenge and anger macho shit.
Wait at least three months to see if the wife is going to come back, if there'll be some sort of temporary reconciliation, if it's the real deal or a practise run. Just build rapport but don't make the mistake of becoming his friend, that'll kill the deal. A rapport, but still a mysterious unknown. That's okay.
Keep this up until he gets a girlfriend. He'll get one pretty quick. They always do unless they're complete losers, in which case you don't want to waste your time with him anyway. Let him have his girlfriend, but keep your rapport going. Don't panic, stay calm even if the girlfriend sticks around a couple of months or longer. Don't doubt yourself. Bide your time.
When he breaks up with that first girlfriend get ready to hustle. That's when the game is on because the next girlfriend will be a keeper and you want to be that girl. He won't fall to pieces this time because he never really cared about that girl anyway, but chances are that he'll still be hurting about the wife. You really have to gauge the situation here. If he's raring to go, let him fuck another girl or two. But if he seems tired, like he's holding back, then it's time to pounce.
Seduce him. Show him bits of your mysterious self but be sure to keep something hidden. Let him come after you, encourage it but still play a bit hard to get. Before you know it, you'll be the girlfriend and then the wife. You'll have the house and the guy. Game over, and he's none the wiser, thinks he was in control the whole time.
That's my theory anyway. It was still in development when I met Callum though. That was my major mistake. I was the first girlfriend.
-- Shannon
Mood: Playful
Drinking: Coffee, perked and black
Listening To: Bad Habits, The Monks
Hair: Got2b my best friend
Hair Today . . . What Tomorrow?
I'm getting bored with my hair. Anyone who knows me knows I've been growing my hair out for a couple of years now. I've always had short hairstyles, since I first got it cut short in the second grade. Changing my styles and colours has always been fun for me . . . but now I've gone longer and I'm bored. You can't do as many fun things with longer styles it doesn't seem. Even if I dye it some freaky colour . . . what will I do with it? It'll just hang there like always or else get pulled back into a God-awful ponytail. Blah!
The last time I got my ends trimmed I mentioned to the hairdresser that I was thinking of doing something drastic like getting a super short spiky pixie cut again. She was horrified, "But you've put so much work into going long! And now you've got it beat!" I confess I just don't get the long hair thing, I never have. Everyone I've ever known always looks better in shorter styles . . . yet, many girls (and most guys in particular) seem to really dig longer locks. What's up with that?
In the beginning I decided to let my hair grow because I'm not getting any younger and I think after a certain age women can't carry off the long styles very well. So, I figured if I was ever going to experiment, I'd better get started. I had no idea how long it might take to get even shoulder length hair. I'm a little bit below my shoulder now and it's been probably close to three years.
My hairdresser is right though, I've got the awkward part of growing your hair out beat . . . but the trouble is I don't know what to do with it now as we continue on down to the small of my back. Without going drastically short and just tossing all these years of work away, what can I do to spruce up the old do and loosen up the boredom? Any suggestions for styles or colours or hair accessories or . . . ANYTHING?
Comment please.
Mood: Heavy-Lidded
Drinking: Just finished off half a bottle of cheap Chilean Merlot
Listening To: Apatrullando la Ciudad, El Fary
Hair: Stringy
The last time I got my ends trimmed I mentioned to the hairdresser that I was thinking of doing something drastic like getting a super short spiky pixie cut again. She was horrified, "But you've put so much work into going long! And now you've got it beat!" I confess I just don't get the long hair thing, I never have. Everyone I've ever known always looks better in shorter styles . . . yet, many girls (and most guys in particular) seem to really dig longer locks. What's up with that?
In the beginning I decided to let my hair grow because I'm not getting any younger and I think after a certain age women can't carry off the long styles very well. So, I figured if I was ever going to experiment, I'd better get started. I had no idea how long it might take to get even shoulder length hair. I'm a little bit below my shoulder now and it's been probably close to three years.
My hairdresser is right though, I've got the awkward part of growing your hair out beat . . . but the trouble is I don't know what to do with it now as we continue on down to the small of my back. Without going drastically short and just tossing all these years of work away, what can I do to spruce up the old do and loosen up the boredom? Any suggestions for styles or colours or hair accessories or . . . ANYTHING?
Comment please.
Mood: Heavy-Lidded
Drinking: Just finished off half a bottle of cheap Chilean Merlot
Listening To: Apatrullando la Ciudad, El Fary
Hair: Stringy
Saturday, March 12, 2005
Have Mercy!
It's funny how memory is connected to your senses, how certain smells remind you of certain things, how certain songs transport you back in time. I'm sitting here listening to tunes and on comes an oldie but a goodie from the 80's. You would think this song would take me back to my youth, the days of the rebel teenager, but it doesn't.
Instead I see myself in my early 20's in the early 90's, sitting in front of the console in the on-air booth at the old CFAN building overlooking the Sobey's parking lot. It's midnight and I've just gone on for the overnight shift. The station manager is a bit of a sexist pig. He has certain ideas about what voices work best at what times and he has decided that a female voice is exactly the thing the night shift at the mill will find enticing. But I'm not impressed with this discrimination so I'm not talking much.
The good thing is that I get to play pretty much any song I feel like during this time of the day because I don't need to worry about Canadian content ratios or getting some God-fearing religious freak's prayer beads in a knot. This is when I can play Zeppelin or AC/DC and get away with it. I like to put in Stairway to Heaven so I can enjoy a nice long smoke in the bathroom down the hall.
People are always calling the station to find out the weather forecast or the tide times and sometimes to request a song. There's a guy who calls every night to request the same song. His name is Darren and he works at one of the 24-hour service stations in town.
Darren has lady problems. He has a daughter with a girl but they broke up and she's taken his kid to Moncton to live with her. His ex really seems like a bitch to me. He's devastated by the whole thing because he loves his kid so much. The sun rises and sets on her. He's confused and doesn't know what to do. Thinks he might fight for full custody.
Every night he calls and we talk for hours about our lives. We talk until 5:30 when the morning ride to work male voice arrives. It's kind of weird sharing all these conversations with a guy I don't really know and have never met in person, but it's kind of nice to have a friend too. My boyfriend is jealous of this friendship. He doesn't see anything nice about it at all, just weirdness.
After weeks and weeks of talking everyday, Darren, who gets off work at the same time in the morning as I do, would like to drive me home, but I won't let him. That would be crossing the line I think, because I do have a boyfriend. Still, I'm curious about him. I would like to meet him in person. As the months go by things are not going so great with my boyfriend and I'm becoming even more curious about my telephone friend, but then the calls stop and I don't know who he really is or where he's gone.
I never find out.
I break up with the boyfriend, move away, move on with my life . . . and still every time I hear this song, I hear that voice on the phone and wonder where Darren is, what happened with his daughter, and if he ever got that girl he requested every night.
Listening To: Henry Lee Summer, Wish I Had a Girl
Instead I see myself in my early 20's in the early 90's, sitting in front of the console in the on-air booth at the old CFAN building overlooking the Sobey's parking lot. It's midnight and I've just gone on for the overnight shift. The station manager is a bit of a sexist pig. He has certain ideas about what voices work best at what times and he has decided that a female voice is exactly the thing the night shift at the mill will find enticing. But I'm not impressed with this discrimination so I'm not talking much.
The good thing is that I get to play pretty much any song I feel like during this time of the day because I don't need to worry about Canadian content ratios or getting some God-fearing religious freak's prayer beads in a knot. This is when I can play Zeppelin or AC/DC and get away with it. I like to put in Stairway to Heaven so I can enjoy a nice long smoke in the bathroom down the hall.
People are always calling the station to find out the weather forecast or the tide times and sometimes to request a song. There's a guy who calls every night to request the same song. His name is Darren and he works at one of the 24-hour service stations in town.
Darren has lady problems. He has a daughter with a girl but they broke up and she's taken his kid to Moncton to live with her. His ex really seems like a bitch to me. He's devastated by the whole thing because he loves his kid so much. The sun rises and sets on her. He's confused and doesn't know what to do. Thinks he might fight for full custody.
Every night he calls and we talk for hours about our lives. We talk until 5:30 when the morning ride to work male voice arrives. It's kind of weird sharing all these conversations with a guy I don't really know and have never met in person, but it's kind of nice to have a friend too. My boyfriend is jealous of this friendship. He doesn't see anything nice about it at all, just weirdness.
After weeks and weeks of talking everyday, Darren, who gets off work at the same time in the morning as I do, would like to drive me home, but I won't let him. That would be crossing the line I think, because I do have a boyfriend. Still, I'm curious about him. I would like to meet him in person. As the months go by things are not going so great with my boyfriend and I'm becoming even more curious about my telephone friend, but then the calls stop and I don't know who he really is or where he's gone.
I never find out.
I break up with the boyfriend, move away, move on with my life . . . and still every time I hear this song, I hear that voice on the phone and wonder where Darren is, what happened with his daughter, and if he ever got that girl he requested every night.
Listening To: Henry Lee Summer, Wish I Had a Girl
In the Name of Love
Last week U2 announced more North American tour dates. They're coming to T.O. in September for two concerts at the Air Canada Centre!! They're also coming to Montreal and Ottawa in November . . . but I'd much rather go to Toronto. Tickets go on sale March 19th. Only $50.75 for general admission (floor). I checked air fare and it's only $310 return out of Moncton. Sooooo . . . I think I'm heading back to the T dot this fall!! How exciting is that?!
I'm really hoping I can swing it. Stacy is not a big U2 fan . . . well, she's just not familiar with their music. I think she could be a fan, if she tried harder. Anyway, she's up for any sort of a road trip that takes us to our favourite city and old stomping grounds, so perhaps she'll come with me.
I don't know whether I'll do a drive-by in the old neighborhood or not. I have this superstitiousness about that place. Like if I get too close I'll get stuck. I know it's irrational . . . I think it's more to do with Kevin than the neighborhood. The last time we saw each other he wanted to move to NB, get married and start a family. I didn't handle that situation very well at all, I was still M's girlfriend but I was getting close to R and ready to leave M. Kevin just complicated things further, so we didn't leave it on very good terms. I don't know if I could handle seeing him and having him hate me . . . or worse, still love me. Yeah, that would be bad. Thank God I no longer need to create drama in my life to keep myself from dying of boredom! Things are so much less complicated now.
Mood: Chipper
Drinking: Diet Pepsi
Listening To: poor you, beat & path
Hair: Very straight, sleek and shiny
I'm really hoping I can swing it. Stacy is not a big U2 fan . . . well, she's just not familiar with their music. I think she could be a fan, if she tried harder. Anyway, she's up for any sort of a road trip that takes us to our favourite city and old stomping grounds, so perhaps she'll come with me.
I don't know whether I'll do a drive-by in the old neighborhood or not. I have this superstitiousness about that place. Like if I get too close I'll get stuck. I know it's irrational . . . I think it's more to do with Kevin than the neighborhood. The last time we saw each other he wanted to move to NB, get married and start a family. I didn't handle that situation very well at all, I was still M's girlfriend but I was getting close to R and ready to leave M. Kevin just complicated things further, so we didn't leave it on very good terms. I don't know if I could handle seeing him and having him hate me . . . or worse, still love me. Yeah, that would be bad. Thank God I no longer need to create drama in my life to keep myself from dying of boredom! Things are so much less complicated now.
Mood: Chipper
Drinking: Diet Pepsi
Listening To: poor you, beat & path
Hair: Very straight, sleek and shiny
Friday, March 11, 2005
The Girls Are Back in Town
I don't know who is more tired tonight, me or my dog. It seems to take a lot of out of him when I go away. He's not content unless I'm here. I worry about the spring when I move. I'm hoping he adjusts to not having me around. He's snoring up a storm right now. And speaking of storms -- I'm back from Freddy . . . yeah, I know . . . we probably should have stayed home. The drive over was TERRIBLE! But I don't know, Environment Canada was not reporting any of the craziness in the Fredericton forecast. Miramichi and Blackville were fine, the storm had passed, the wind died down. When we drove into Doaktown everything changed. A blizzard came out of nowhere. We thought it was just a squall and we'd drive out of it, but no such luck. We were in it all the way. Unbeknownst to me Terry and Gordie from work had planned to come as well. Gordie was in Grand Falls and the drive in from there was even worse than the one from Miramichi, so he didn't get into the city in time for my reading. Terry, on the other hand, caught up to us in Boiestown when we stopped to gas up. So we drove the rest of the way together, which was good.
The reading went great. About 20 people were there. We probably would have had a better group if not for the weather. I'm sure many people thought it was cancelled. There were five readers and wouldn't you know it we read alphabetically . . . so I went last. I was nervous but Stacy said people who didn't know me would never have known. She was sitting in the back row and actually didn't think I was that nervous at all . . . but people closer to the front could see my papers trembling I'm sure. Overall it went fine. I really enjoyed everyone else's readings. I wasn't familiar with Biff Mitchell before the event -- Man! What a character! His reading was hilarious. His ideas are so out there, I loved it! I'll be looking into his work further for sure. He was the main organiser of Read an Ebook Week in Canada this year so he started the evening with a bit of discussion on eBooks that I found particularly interesting. Terry did too. I see Mighty eBooks in our future for sure. Joe Blades, who initally invited me to this event, read a few poems from his various publications in keeping with the theme of electronic publishing. I have all the books he read from. It certainly adds another level when you get to hear the poet read his works himself though. He also read some new work that I really liked. I particularly liked the phrasing about a winter indoor tan. His sarcastic wit always make me smile. Another interesting reader was Chris Owen, who writes homo-erotic literature. Her eBooks are selling like crazy. She couldn't read much of her work obviously, given the racy nature of her genre. But apparently sex really does sell. An Argentinian Canadian author, Nela Rio, read a couple of her poems. She read one in Spanish and then read the same poem translated into English. Foreign language poetry is so touching and beautiful when recited in its native tongue. Her poems were vivid and gut wrenching though about the terrible things that have happened in her country, particularly to women. I followed her and I felt like my story was trivial in comparision. I would post it here for you to read, but I still have hopes that if I ever get off my big fat ass and actually send things out they will get published (and I will get paid! Although a meagre sum I'm sure) So, if I publish it here that eliminates all the first rights markets. But for those who might know it, I read The Lost, which is the story about the little girl in the store with her father, who talks WAY too much and listens to nobody . . . hey, they say write what you know, right? :-) I think it was well received and it wasn't too Miramichi.
After the reading, we went to Mexicala Rosa's so Stacy could have a margarita. Gordie met up with the Mighty crew there and Joe joined us as well. Had a great time! Terry picked Joe's brains about the publishing biz. I could see the cogs spinning there. I'm ready at any moment to receive an email from him with all the details about our first eBook. I'm sure it won't be long. He's already sent me a bunch of information about copyrights and legal stuff since he got back to the Miramichi today. We had lots of spicy food and I drank tons of wine (even though it was from a box) and ended up closing the place, which wasn't that late on a Wednesday night, only 11pm. We didn't go any place else because my Mighty co-workers all had early morning meetings scheduled.
Stacy and I stayed in Claude's apartment because he was house-sitting for his boss. We went back to the apartment and got ready for bed. The place was freezing!! I had a t-shirt and sleep pants on and I had to put on a sweater. We turned up the heat and sat on the heater . . . but it didn't seem to be blowing any heat no matter how high we turned it. Stacy went in the bedroom and discovered the window was open 6-8 inches! On the coldest freaking night of the year!! We shut that and figured we'd get warmed up pretty quick but still the heater didn't seem to be throwing much heat, even though we cranked it to 90. We frigged with that awhile and watched some tv then decided maybe we'd warm up if we got into bed. We went to bed dressed -- sleep pants, tees, sweaters, socks -- and found that the bed was no warmer. Honest to God the cold seemed to be seeping into the bed from the floor up through the mattress. I rolled onto my side so as little of my body as possible was against the mattress, curled into a tight ball and pulled the covers up over my head. I may have slept 3 hours total in that way. Stacy drifted right off though. She's not as cold-blooded as I am.
In the morning I stayed at the apartment while she went to her meeting then we went to Coras's for breakfast. Had the usual waffle with apples and caramel and cream. YUMMY!! Then we picked up a parting gift for Claude and went to his work to return his keys. Ended up staying there the rest of the afternoon, having supper, and then going shopping with him after work. We went to Winners and I bought a great bag to carry my books and notebook. Good for the days when I meet with my writing workshop. Also good for the days when I go into the office for work. The best buy was when we went to Victory Meat and bought lots and lots of meat at knock-out prices! That was pretty exciting. We drove home in the dark, but the weather was clear and Stacy had a rental car (a 2005 PT Cruiser) so the frost heaves were a breeze -- talk about a nice car on the road! We're all big PT Cruiser fans now.
And so I'm back, none the worse for wear and feeling really good about my writing, really energised to continue work on my novel, though extremely tired at this moment.
Mood: Pleasantly Tired
Drinking: Tea
Listening To: I've Got to See You Again, Norah Jones
Hair: Slick (We need to discuss this in detail, more soon)
The reading went great. About 20 people were there. We probably would have had a better group if not for the weather. I'm sure many people thought it was cancelled. There were five readers and wouldn't you know it we read alphabetically . . . so I went last. I was nervous but Stacy said people who didn't know me would never have known. She was sitting in the back row and actually didn't think I was that nervous at all . . . but people closer to the front could see my papers trembling I'm sure. Overall it went fine. I really enjoyed everyone else's readings. I wasn't familiar with Biff Mitchell before the event -- Man! What a character! His reading was hilarious. His ideas are so out there, I loved it! I'll be looking into his work further for sure. He was the main organiser of Read an Ebook Week in Canada this year so he started the evening with a bit of discussion on eBooks that I found particularly interesting. Terry did too. I see Mighty eBooks in our future for sure. Joe Blades, who initally invited me to this event, read a few poems from his various publications in keeping with the theme of electronic publishing. I have all the books he read from. It certainly adds another level when you get to hear the poet read his works himself though. He also read some new work that I really liked. I particularly liked the phrasing about a winter indoor tan. His sarcastic wit always make me smile. Another interesting reader was Chris Owen, who writes homo-erotic literature. Her eBooks are selling like crazy. She couldn't read much of her work obviously, given the racy nature of her genre. But apparently sex really does sell. An Argentinian Canadian author, Nela Rio, read a couple of her poems. She read one in Spanish and then read the same poem translated into English. Foreign language poetry is so touching and beautiful when recited in its native tongue. Her poems were vivid and gut wrenching though about the terrible things that have happened in her country, particularly to women. I followed her and I felt like my story was trivial in comparision. I would post it here for you to read, but I still have hopes that if I ever get off my big fat ass and actually send things out they will get published (and I will get paid! Although a meagre sum I'm sure) So, if I publish it here that eliminates all the first rights markets. But for those who might know it, I read The Lost, which is the story about the little girl in the store with her father, who talks WAY too much and listens to nobody . . . hey, they say write what you know, right? :-) I think it was well received and it wasn't too Miramichi.
After the reading, we went to Mexicala Rosa's so Stacy could have a margarita. Gordie met up with the Mighty crew there and Joe joined us as well. Had a great time! Terry picked Joe's brains about the publishing biz. I could see the cogs spinning there. I'm ready at any moment to receive an email from him with all the details about our first eBook. I'm sure it won't be long. He's already sent me a bunch of information about copyrights and legal stuff since he got back to the Miramichi today. We had lots of spicy food and I drank tons of wine (even though it was from a box) and ended up closing the place, which wasn't that late on a Wednesday night, only 11pm. We didn't go any place else because my Mighty co-workers all had early morning meetings scheduled.
Stacy and I stayed in Claude's apartment because he was house-sitting for his boss. We went back to the apartment and got ready for bed. The place was freezing!! I had a t-shirt and sleep pants on and I had to put on a sweater. We turned up the heat and sat on the heater . . . but it didn't seem to be blowing any heat no matter how high we turned it. Stacy went in the bedroom and discovered the window was open 6-8 inches! On the coldest freaking night of the year!! We shut that and figured we'd get warmed up pretty quick but still the heater didn't seem to be throwing much heat, even though we cranked it to 90. We frigged with that awhile and watched some tv then decided maybe we'd warm up if we got into bed. We went to bed dressed -- sleep pants, tees, sweaters, socks -- and found that the bed was no warmer. Honest to God the cold seemed to be seeping into the bed from the floor up through the mattress. I rolled onto my side so as little of my body as possible was against the mattress, curled into a tight ball and pulled the covers up over my head. I may have slept 3 hours total in that way. Stacy drifted right off though. She's not as cold-blooded as I am.
In the morning I stayed at the apartment while she went to her meeting then we went to Coras's for breakfast. Had the usual waffle with apples and caramel and cream. YUMMY!! Then we picked up a parting gift for Claude and went to his work to return his keys. Ended up staying there the rest of the afternoon, having supper, and then going shopping with him after work. We went to Winners and I bought a great bag to carry my books and notebook. Good for the days when I meet with my writing workshop. Also good for the days when I go into the office for work. The best buy was when we went to Victory Meat and bought lots and lots of meat at knock-out prices! That was pretty exciting. We drove home in the dark, but the weather was clear and Stacy had a rental car (a 2005 PT Cruiser) so the frost heaves were a breeze -- talk about a nice car on the road! We're all big PT Cruiser fans now.
And so I'm back, none the worse for wear and feeling really good about my writing, really energised to continue work on my novel, though extremely tired at this moment.
Mood: Pleasantly Tired
Drinking: Tea
Listening To: I've Got to See You Again, Norah Jones
Hair: Slick (We need to discuss this in detail, more soon)
Monday, March 07, 2005
Friend of my Youth
Last night I was flipping through the channels and came across the movie "Bedknobs and Broomsticks" on CBC. That was one of my favourite books growing up. I didn't watch very much of the film because I've never thought it did the book justice. I used to believe that no movie could ever live up to a really great book, but I've come around a bit. Some movies are as good and better than the book they're based upon. "The Firm" is one. In fact, I think it was the first movie based on a book I had read that I thought was equally as good as the book. The key I think was that they focused on making a good movie rather than trying to stick explicitly to what had happened in the book. Of course, now I'm not a fan of John Grisham anymore. I still enjoy his earlier novels but like Stephen King I think he gave up quality for quantity. It's pretty much impossible to produce a couple of really high quality novels every year for dozens of years in a row. But the early books were really good.
Anyway, last night I was again reminded of one of my favourite reading experiences as a child when I stumbled upon this movie. Just thinking about that book transported me back in time. I closed my eyes and felt like the little girl lying on her bed racing through the pages to find out what happens next. I remember how I would suddenly stop reading and fold the book across my chest. I would close my eyes and imagine my bed had the same magical powers as the one in the book . . . and in my mind I would travel the world. I could feel my hair whipping in the wind and the chill in the air from being so high in the sky. I would travel to London, Paris and Rome. I would visit the pyramids, the Grand Canyon and DisneyWorld. I would land in the jungle and climb trees with the monkeys. I would join archaeologists on digs in South America. I would narrowly escape bullets and bombs in war-torn nations. There was nothing I couldn't do, nowhere I couldn't go. I met the most interesting people and had many exciting adventures.
Last night as all of this came back to me I realised the best part of that book had been the stories it inspired in me. I spent hours alone in my room with that book folded across my chest, imagining places and people and their stories. I was a fat little girl -- shy, smart, sensitive. I didn't have many friends. I didn't particularly enjoy school, or at least the social aspect of school. I didn't like to do a lot of the things that other kids enjoyed like sports, drawing, outside games. I faked sickness when I knew my best friend was going to miss a day. At home my sisters were quite a bit younger than me so I spent a lot of time playing alone. I have some terrible traumatic memories of school, particularly elementary school, grades 1-6. (By seventh grade I found drugs and became apathetic to everything and everyone.) But some of my best memories of childhood happened at home either in my room or outside in the woods when I was all alone and I would just close my eyes and let the stories unfold in my mind. I don't ever remember feeling lonely when I was alone, though I do remember feeling lonely at school where there were dozens of kids around. At home, in the quiet, I had a best friend, the most important friend I've ever known -- me.
I'm glad I ran across that movie last night, it reminded me of what's truly important. All sorts of crap can happen around me, but when push comes to shove, no matter what, I've always got me. It's always been me, since I was a kid. I am my own best friend, and I've never been better or stronger than I am right now.
Mood: I'd rather not say
Drinking: ditto
Listening To: ditto again
Hair: and again, ditto
Anyway, last night I was again reminded of one of my favourite reading experiences as a child when I stumbled upon this movie. Just thinking about that book transported me back in time. I closed my eyes and felt like the little girl lying on her bed racing through the pages to find out what happens next. I remember how I would suddenly stop reading and fold the book across my chest. I would close my eyes and imagine my bed had the same magical powers as the one in the book . . . and in my mind I would travel the world. I could feel my hair whipping in the wind and the chill in the air from being so high in the sky. I would travel to London, Paris and Rome. I would visit the pyramids, the Grand Canyon and DisneyWorld. I would land in the jungle and climb trees with the monkeys. I would join archaeologists on digs in South America. I would narrowly escape bullets and bombs in war-torn nations. There was nothing I couldn't do, nowhere I couldn't go. I met the most interesting people and had many exciting adventures.
Last night as all of this came back to me I realised the best part of that book had been the stories it inspired in me. I spent hours alone in my room with that book folded across my chest, imagining places and people and their stories. I was a fat little girl -- shy, smart, sensitive. I didn't have many friends. I didn't particularly enjoy school, or at least the social aspect of school. I didn't like to do a lot of the things that other kids enjoyed like sports, drawing, outside games. I faked sickness when I knew my best friend was going to miss a day. At home my sisters were quite a bit younger than me so I spent a lot of time playing alone. I have some terrible traumatic memories of school, particularly elementary school, grades 1-6. (By seventh grade I found drugs and became apathetic to everything and everyone.) But some of my best memories of childhood happened at home either in my room or outside in the woods when I was all alone and I would just close my eyes and let the stories unfold in my mind. I don't ever remember feeling lonely when I was alone, though I do remember feeling lonely at school where there were dozens of kids around. At home, in the quiet, I had a best friend, the most important friend I've ever known -- me.
I'm glad I ran across that movie last night, it reminded me of what's truly important. All sorts of crap can happen around me, but when push comes to shove, no matter what, I've always got me. It's always been me, since I was a kid. I am my own best friend, and I've never been better or stronger than I am right now.
Mood: I'd rather not say
Drinking: ditto
Listening To: ditto again
Hair: and again, ditto
Thursday, March 03, 2005
The Last Man Standing
SOMEDAY JUST MIGHT BE TONIGHT
Playing king of the mountain on a dead end street
At the edge of the block that's where we cut our teeth
The world was trying to sweep us off our feet
I'd run home crying with cut up knees
"It's alright," Mama said. "It's alright."
Now nothing's changed, it never will
Learn to swallow defeat like a bitter pill
Remember the story about Jack 'n' Jill
They ended up driving in a Coupe de Ville
You don't know when your ship will arrive
Don't give up, don't give in
Stand and fight, you just might win
When the ride gets rough
Hold on tight
Someday just might be tonight
You're the kind that goes swimming with a raincoat on
Who's to say if you're right or wrong
Let me know when you figured it out
Just don't go drowning in a shadow of doubt
Don't let the bastards make up your mind
Don't give up, don't give in
Stand and fight, you just might win
When the ride gets rough
Hold on tight
Someday just might be tonight
You may never find a treasure that's been washed up on the beach
Heaven won't be waiting for you walking down these city streets
Remember Mama's Band Aids on your scabby knees
They had to bleed for little victories
Don't give up, don't give in
Stand and fight, you just might win
When the ride gets rough
Hold on tight
Someday just might be tonight
Don't give up, don't give in
You never know when the ship will come in
When the ride gets rough
Hold on tight
'Cause someday just might be tonight
-- Bon Jovi
Thanks to everyone who wrote and expressed their concern over my last post. I just needed to vent. Really, I am okay now. Mostly I've got my relationship with my parents all figured out, I know how to deal on a day to day basis . . . so occasionally I'm surprised when some old hurt surfaces out of nowhere to knock me on my butt. That's what happened. I dealt with it the only way I know how -- which is to get it outta ya! -- involving plenty of ranting, some cursing, tears, writing, and so on . . . but well worth the peace of mind at the end. Bygones!
In other stuff . . .
. . . I finally went to Carol's house for a sleepover! Something we've been trying to put together for literally months. Had a fantastic time! I drank too much wine (and RUM!), ate a ton of chicken fingers, lost more games than a person can admit to and still keep any self-esteem, and stayed up all night until 5 am talking. God, you gotta love some good quality girl time! We'll have to try and do it again sometime before I move.
. . . And speaking of moving, I told my boss I'm moving to Sackville to go back to university part-time (maybe work on a degree in English) and he was super supportive just as I knew he would be :-) So, it's kind of official now, I've got the green light. I've told everyone. I've got a plan. A date. WOW! It freaks me out! I'm excited but terrified at the same time. But I know any reluctance I might have to take this step, any nervousness or fear, just represents growth and change, which is always good stuff. I definitely know I'm stagnating here! So a little growth can only be good.
. . . I was completely devastated when I heard about Hunter S. Thompson's suicide, really depressed for a few days, took it pretty hard. I enjoyed him so much! It's terrible to see his life end in that way. It's so damn Hemingway! I just never thought he'd go out that way. I read an interview with a neighbor who said he was shocked this had happened. He said it would've been less shocking if Hunter had shot him rather than himself. That gave me a little bit of a smile. So true.
. . . I'm going to Fredericton next week for a literary event. I've been asked to participate in a reading at the Fredericton Public Library on Wednesday night. I'm psyched!! But again, terrified!! I'll be reading with three or four other writers, who all have books published already -- in some cases, multiple books published. So, I consider this to be a great honour and unique opportunity. It's exciting, my first real reading. I'm going to read one of my short stories called The Lost. It's the only story I have that I consider to be finished. I made some edits to it about a month ago and that's it, I really think it's done, I don't need to edit again. Hopefully, the audience will enjoy it and my voice will be strong.
. . . I attended the first annual Keenan Oscar Party Sunday night at my sister's house and came away with top honours for guessing the most award winners correctly. I think I got 13 right with the next best guesser getting 11 correct. Something like that. My award is a Pink Panther Bobble Head trophy that I must keep all year and present to the winner at the ceremony next year. I was a bit disappointed by the awards. I wanted The Aviator and/or Scorcese to get something. I had thought there would be more of a split in the top categories with Marty getting Director, Clint's movie getting Picture, or vice versa . . . but Million Dollar Baby ruled the night . . . and even guessing those categories wrong . . . I too ruled the night! Victory is mine! :-)
. . . My general apathy toward questionable meat and dairy products turned ugly earlier this week when I developed a rather mild case of food poisoning after eating a rancid omelet. I really need to pay more attention to expiry dates and how things look and smell. Stacy has been telling me that for quite some time and frankly is shocked I don't poison myself more often. Perhaps it is time to slow down and smell the milk.
. . . I'm meeting with my writing support group on Friday. I sent them about seven pages of complete first draft, a few scenes with a new character in my novel. Her name is Denise and she's one of Callum's girlfriends after his wife leaves him. Terribly frightening to send crap off that is so rough, I've never gave them anything this early into development before. So it will be interesting to see what they say. On the other hand it's great that I trust them enough to be this vulnerable.
And that's all for now, folks!
Mood: A little sleepy
Drinking: Only one glass of wine officer, I swear!
Listening To: Bon Jovi of course
Hair: The very high top-of-the-head ponytail
Playing king of the mountain on a dead end street
At the edge of the block that's where we cut our teeth
The world was trying to sweep us off our feet
I'd run home crying with cut up knees
"It's alright," Mama said. "It's alright."
Now nothing's changed, it never will
Learn to swallow defeat like a bitter pill
Remember the story about Jack 'n' Jill
They ended up driving in a Coupe de Ville
You don't know when your ship will arrive
Don't give up, don't give in
Stand and fight, you just might win
When the ride gets rough
Hold on tight
Someday just might be tonight
You're the kind that goes swimming with a raincoat on
Who's to say if you're right or wrong
Let me know when you figured it out
Just don't go drowning in a shadow of doubt
Don't let the bastards make up your mind
Don't give up, don't give in
Stand and fight, you just might win
When the ride gets rough
Hold on tight
Someday just might be tonight
You may never find a treasure that's been washed up on the beach
Heaven won't be waiting for you walking down these city streets
Remember Mama's Band Aids on your scabby knees
They had to bleed for little victories
Don't give up, don't give in
Stand and fight, you just might win
When the ride gets rough
Hold on tight
Someday just might be tonight
Don't give up, don't give in
You never know when the ship will come in
When the ride gets rough
Hold on tight
'Cause someday just might be tonight
-- Bon Jovi
Thanks to everyone who wrote and expressed their concern over my last post. I just needed to vent. Really, I am okay now. Mostly I've got my relationship with my parents all figured out, I know how to deal on a day to day basis . . . so occasionally I'm surprised when some old hurt surfaces out of nowhere to knock me on my butt. That's what happened. I dealt with it the only way I know how -- which is to get it outta ya! -- involving plenty of ranting, some cursing, tears, writing, and so on . . . but well worth the peace of mind at the end. Bygones!
In other stuff . . .
. . . I finally went to Carol's house for a sleepover! Something we've been trying to put together for literally months. Had a fantastic time! I drank too much wine (and RUM!), ate a ton of chicken fingers, lost more games than a person can admit to and still keep any self-esteem, and stayed up all night until 5 am talking. God, you gotta love some good quality girl time! We'll have to try and do it again sometime before I move.
. . . And speaking of moving, I told my boss I'm moving to Sackville to go back to university part-time (maybe work on a degree in English) and he was super supportive just as I knew he would be :-) So, it's kind of official now, I've got the green light. I've told everyone. I've got a plan. A date. WOW! It freaks me out! I'm excited but terrified at the same time. But I know any reluctance I might have to take this step, any nervousness or fear, just represents growth and change, which is always good stuff. I definitely know I'm stagnating here! So a little growth can only be good.
. . . I was completely devastated when I heard about Hunter S. Thompson's suicide, really depressed for a few days, took it pretty hard. I enjoyed him so much! It's terrible to see his life end in that way. It's so damn Hemingway! I just never thought he'd go out that way. I read an interview with a neighbor who said he was shocked this had happened. He said it would've been less shocking if Hunter had shot him rather than himself. That gave me a little bit of a smile. So true.
. . . I'm going to Fredericton next week for a literary event. I've been asked to participate in a reading at the Fredericton Public Library on Wednesday night. I'm psyched!! But again, terrified!! I'll be reading with three or four other writers, who all have books published already -- in some cases, multiple books published. So, I consider this to be a great honour and unique opportunity. It's exciting, my first real reading. I'm going to read one of my short stories called The Lost. It's the only story I have that I consider to be finished. I made some edits to it about a month ago and that's it, I really think it's done, I don't need to edit again. Hopefully, the audience will enjoy it and my voice will be strong.
. . . I attended the first annual Keenan Oscar Party Sunday night at my sister's house and came away with top honours for guessing the most award winners correctly. I think I got 13 right with the next best guesser getting 11 correct. Something like that. My award is a Pink Panther Bobble Head trophy that I must keep all year and present to the winner at the ceremony next year. I was a bit disappointed by the awards. I wanted The Aviator and/or Scorcese to get something. I had thought there would be more of a split in the top categories with Marty getting Director, Clint's movie getting Picture, or vice versa . . . but Million Dollar Baby ruled the night . . . and even guessing those categories wrong . . . I too ruled the night! Victory is mine! :-)
. . . My general apathy toward questionable meat and dairy products turned ugly earlier this week when I developed a rather mild case of food poisoning after eating a rancid omelet. I really need to pay more attention to expiry dates and how things look and smell. Stacy has been telling me that for quite some time and frankly is shocked I don't poison myself more often. Perhaps it is time to slow down and smell the milk.
. . . I'm meeting with my writing support group on Friday. I sent them about seven pages of complete first draft, a few scenes with a new character in my novel. Her name is Denise and she's one of Callum's girlfriends after his wife leaves him. Terribly frightening to send crap off that is so rough, I've never gave them anything this early into development before. So it will be interesting to see what they say. On the other hand it's great that I trust them enough to be this vulnerable.
And that's all for now, folks!
Mood: A little sleepy
Drinking: Only one glass of wine officer, I swear!
Listening To: Bon Jovi of course
Hair: The very high top-of-the-head ponytail
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