 Your Summer Anthem is Holiday by Green Day Hear the sound of the falling rain Coming down like an Armageddon flame (Hey!) The shame The ones who died without a name Dude, you're harshing everyone's summer mellow. |
Thursday, June 30, 2005
What's Your Summer Anthem
The Child in Me
Andrea posted a meme listing five things you miss from your childhood. That got me thinking about my childhood. I never wanted to be a kid and I really mean never. Some of my earliest memories before school, before moving to Barnettville, are of thinking about the things I would do when I was grown up. Before I knew anything about life really, at the age of three and four, I remember wishing I could be an adult. And I don't mean I remember one day when I wished this, I mean this was my thing -- I wished it ALL THE TIME.
All of the things I wanted to do weren't things kids did. None of my interests ever seemed to be on par with my age. For as long as I can remember my inner dialogue was made up of thoughts like, "When I grow up, I'll show them." "When I'm an adult I won't have to listen to them anymore." "I wish I were an adult so I could go to [insert Paris, London, Greece, Italy, Australia, Toronto, NYC, Hawaii, on a cruise, Fantasy Island . . . or any place I might have just seen on tv or read about in book]" "Nobody's going to stop me, when I grow up I'm going to be a movie star."
You get the idea. I never really took to childhood. It didn't suit me. I felt smothered, confined, restricted, even jailed. Once I had a boyfriend who never got over being 10 years old, literally. Ask him the best time of his life and he would answer when he was 10 years old running, playing, open to everything, untarnished. He was popular and had many friends. Other kids looked up to him and respected him. It was a very successful time period in his life. He missed it terribly, would have transported himself back there in a time machine and started all over again if he could have. I didn't understand that at all. To me that was the most absurd thing I had ever heard, to be your best most successful self at the age of 10 . . . crazy!
And you have to understand that my childhood wasn't particularly bad . . . it was actually probably quite good, certainly much better than a lot of other peoples. I just never embraced it at all. I didn't want it. I wanted to be in charge of my own destiny, free to try everything and see just how far I could go. I wanted to be challenged, everything was just too easy, and the older I got the more I wished to turn 18 and be an adult. Because for me that was when the show was really going to start, that's when life would begin.
So five things that I miss from my childhood . . . I can't think of a single one. Maybe it's because I was never really in it, it wasn't real, it didn't matter, it was the future that was important and I always had an eye pointed toward that prize. Always waiting for the real stuff. My sister sometimes will say that something reminded her of something when she was a kid and she'll go all nostalgic. I can get nostalgic over stuff that happened in Toronto (in early adulthood) but nothing before then. I mean I have memories, I had pets and friends and adventures and things, but none of it tugs on my nostalgic heartstrings.
A few years ago someone asked me if I ever thought of my high school sweetheart and wondered what my life would have been like if I stuck with him and got married. And to me the idea is just insane, to even ask such a question of me is nuts. Because to me that whole thing doesn't even constitute a relationship, just kids having fun, thrown together by raging hormones . . . it certainly didn't count. Yet some of my high school friends married their sweethearts and they seem to be doing fine. My sister married hers and I know for sure that they are doing great. I mean it must've been real for them, it obviously counted.
So this leads me to wonder what happened? How is it that my sister and I grew up in the same house with me seeking only to escape childhood and with her embracing it so fully? Does a six-year age difference explain it? Or is there more to it?
Mood: headachy
Drinking: coffee
Listening To: some furniture salesman chatting up my landlord outside
Hair: getting washed today! Yay! . . . could some dye and a cut be on the horizon? . . . stay tuned
All of the things I wanted to do weren't things kids did. None of my interests ever seemed to be on par with my age. For as long as I can remember my inner dialogue was made up of thoughts like, "When I grow up, I'll show them." "When I'm an adult I won't have to listen to them anymore." "I wish I were an adult so I could go to [insert Paris, London, Greece, Italy, Australia, Toronto, NYC, Hawaii, on a cruise, Fantasy Island . . . or any place I might have just seen on tv or read about in book]" "Nobody's going to stop me, when I grow up I'm going to be a movie star."
You get the idea. I never really took to childhood. It didn't suit me. I felt smothered, confined, restricted, even jailed. Once I had a boyfriend who never got over being 10 years old, literally. Ask him the best time of his life and he would answer when he was 10 years old running, playing, open to everything, untarnished. He was popular and had many friends. Other kids looked up to him and respected him. It was a very successful time period in his life. He missed it terribly, would have transported himself back there in a time machine and started all over again if he could have. I didn't understand that at all. To me that was the most absurd thing I had ever heard, to be your best most successful self at the age of 10 . . . crazy!
And you have to understand that my childhood wasn't particularly bad . . . it was actually probably quite good, certainly much better than a lot of other peoples. I just never embraced it at all. I didn't want it. I wanted to be in charge of my own destiny, free to try everything and see just how far I could go. I wanted to be challenged, everything was just too easy, and the older I got the more I wished to turn 18 and be an adult. Because for me that was when the show was really going to start, that's when life would begin.
So five things that I miss from my childhood . . . I can't think of a single one. Maybe it's because I was never really in it, it wasn't real, it didn't matter, it was the future that was important and I always had an eye pointed toward that prize. Always waiting for the real stuff. My sister sometimes will say that something reminded her of something when she was a kid and she'll go all nostalgic. I can get nostalgic over stuff that happened in Toronto (in early adulthood) but nothing before then. I mean I have memories, I had pets and friends and adventures and things, but none of it tugs on my nostalgic heartstrings.
A few years ago someone asked me if I ever thought of my high school sweetheart and wondered what my life would have been like if I stuck with him and got married. And to me the idea is just insane, to even ask such a question of me is nuts. Because to me that whole thing doesn't even constitute a relationship, just kids having fun, thrown together by raging hormones . . . it certainly didn't count. Yet some of my high school friends married their sweethearts and they seem to be doing fine. My sister married hers and I know for sure that they are doing great. I mean it must've been real for them, it obviously counted.
So this leads me to wonder what happened? How is it that my sister and I grew up in the same house with me seeking only to escape childhood and with her embracing it so fully? Does a six-year age difference explain it? Or is there more to it?
Mood: headachy
Drinking: coffee
Listening To: some furniture salesman chatting up my landlord outside
Hair: getting washed today! Yay! . . . could some dye and a cut be on the horizon? . . . stay tuned
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
My Drinking Style
| Your Gemini Drinking Style |
 You're so naturally chatty and short-attention-spanned that it's just hard to tell sometimes. You amaze people by conversing with finesse and allusions, then doing something to belie an extremely advanced state of intoxication, like puking in your shoe. You possess the magic ability to flirt successfully (and uninfuriatingly, which is very tricky) with several people at once. You like to order different cocktails every round -- repetition is boring! You may create a drinking theme (like yellow drinks: beer, sauvignon blanc and limoncello) for your own amusement. |
| Your Signature Cocktails |
| Easily bored Geminis need some stimulation in their drinks -- those with two parts, like a black and tan (or just a double), are particularly appealing. Otherwise, you'll drink all over the map, ordering frou-frou drinks to add to you collection of cocktail monkeys or going for whiskey rocks because you're feeling rather noir. Gemini rules the herb anise -- home-infused anise vodka is sure to win you over. |
| Your Celebrity Drinking Buddies |
| Johnny Depp, Angelina Jolie, Kylie Minogue, the Olson Twins, Colin Farrell, Ice Cube, Natalie Portman, and Mr. T |
The Year I Was Born . . .
In 1969 (the year you were born) |
Richard Nixon becomes president of the US Senator Edward Kennedy escapes injury when the car he is driving veers off a narrow bridge on Chappaquiddick Island US astronaut Neil Armstrong becomes the first person to set foot on the moon while commanding the Apollo 11 mission Breathtaking pictures of Mars are transmitted to earth from NASA's Mariner 7 as it passes within 2,200 miles of the Red Planet Woodstock music festival begins in upstate NY, featuring performances by Grateful Dead, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jefferson Airplane, and many more artists 250,000 Vietnam War protestors gather in Washington for the largest anti-war rally in US history The first draft lottery since WWII is held in New York City The Beatles' performance in public for the last time, on the roof of Apple Records The Stonewall riots mark the start of the modern gay rights movement in the US Marilyn Manson, Jennifer Aniston, Renée Zellweger, Edward Norton, Christian Slater, and Linus Torvalds are born New York Mets win the World Series New York Jets win Superbowl III Montreal Canadiens win the Stanley Cup Sesame Street premieres Midnight Cowboy wins the Oscar for best picture David Bowie's debut single, "Space Oddity", becomes a huge hit - in part to the US landing on the moon Sharon Tate & the LaBiancas are found murdered by Charles Manson & "family" |
What Slanguage do you Speak?
Your Slanguage Profile |
| Canadian Slang: 100% |
| Aussie Slang: 50% |
| Prison Slang: 50% |
| British Slang: 25% |
| New England Slang: 25% |
| Southern Slang: 25% |
| Victorian Slang: 25% |
Books
Not because Oprah told me to . . . but just because it's been on my list for years and I fell upon an affordable second-hand copy at Rags of Time bookstore . . . I've started to read Faulkner's The Sound and the Fury. I'm 63 pages in and unable to stop reading when I pick it up so I try to only pick it up at night when I'm in bed and hopefully tired enough that I won't read all night. This is no relaxing piece of mindless fluff. It's tough, a lot going on, very complicated. But what's interesting is that he's done exactly what I've been trying to do with my own novel . . . which is why I had to endure eyes glazing over and unbearable comments like, "I really like the boy, but where did he go? Is he going to be in the story again? Is he Callum's son?" It's complicated :-) Anyway, Faulkner uses repetition and some italics (though not a lot and not in every instance) to help readers slip in and out of time with him. When you add in phonetic spellings to capture the essence of the south and what seems to be a complicated plot purposely blurred so as to not let the cat out of the bag all at once . . . you don't come out the other end with an easy read. But why should reading be easy? Isn't it more entertaining and stimulating to be challenged by what we read? I think so. But still readers have to be able to follow you, you've got to leave some sort of trail of breadcrumbs no matter how faint. And they have to want to follow you, the characters and story have to be compelling. I may learn more from reading this book than I have all year in workshops . . . and it only cost me five bucks.
Another book I bought on Saturday at the used bookstore was The Lost and Found Stories of Morley Callaghan, 1985, hardcover, 1st edition, still in the Coles shrinkwrap. What a find! Very cool. Of course, I don't care about keeping it untouched, I intend to read it. But still, it's in mint condition and will be a nice addition to my bookcase (which I'm slowly but surely getting organised). Going through the books, I see that there are many I've brought with me that I have no idea why. I may do another purge and see if the secondhand bookstore wants to buy them from me or sell them on consignment. I also noticed at the video store that they do trade and save on dvds. I may purge some there as well. Going through my movies the other night to pick something to watch with Jenn and Jason I was surprised by how uninspired I was by many of the titles. I should just keep the really good stuff and get rid of the rest to make room for more really good stuff.
Another book I bought on Saturday at the used bookstore was The Lost and Found Stories of Morley Callaghan, 1985, hardcover, 1st edition, still in the Coles shrinkwrap. What a find! Very cool. Of course, I don't care about keeping it untouched, I intend to read it. But still, it's in mint condition and will be a nice addition to my bookcase (which I'm slowly but surely getting organised). Going through the books, I see that there are many I've brought with me that I have no idea why. I may do another purge and see if the secondhand bookstore wants to buy them from me or sell them on consignment. I also noticed at the video store that they do trade and save on dvds. I may purge some there as well. Going through my movies the other night to pick something to watch with Jenn and Jason I was surprised by how uninspired I was by many of the titles. I should just keep the really good stuff and get rid of the rest to make room for more really good stuff.
Heaven on Earth
Grammie was in my dream last night. She was young like when I was a kid, all dressed up to go to church with those low-heeled Tender Tootsie tan coloured pumps and a full head of thick light brown hair. We were in a big room with cathedral ceilings waiting for Grandad. She was fussing about something, tidying up, fidgeting while we waited. And the curtain rod wasn't right on the window but she couldn't reach it even though she was so tall. She was running and jumping trying to reach it. Young. Able to run and jump . . . in pumps no less! It was a good dream.
Mood: Sleepyhead
Drinking: Coffee
Listening To: Zombie, The Cranberries
Hair: I read on a men's long hair site yesterday (which I surfed into by accident while looking for a photo of the New Brunswick flag) that my hair needs to get wet everyday in order to be really healthy . . . hmmm, do these guys know what they're talking about?
Mood: Sleepyhead
Drinking: Coffee
Listening To: Zombie, The Cranberries
Hair: I read on a men's long hair site yesterday (which I surfed into by accident while looking for a photo of the New Brunswick flag) that my hair needs to get wet everyday in order to be really healthy . . . hmmm, do these guys know what they're talking about?
Monday, June 27, 2005
And the News I Forgot to Mention . . .
I got the full-tuition scholarship for the Maritime Writers' Workshop at UNB July 10-16. I'm thrilled! And honoured! And surprised. Now, I can go. I'm really going. This is a crazy year for me. Of course, this means I will be out of town during the height of the Festival by the Marsh, missing the jazz and dessert at the Marshlands Inn, but oh well, there will always be next year.
Some Bird
My landlord arrived home from Montreal last night for a three week visit. I'm a little disconcerted by the cigarette smoke and how thin the walls appear to be . . . because while he is not often here he's going to let three guys and a girl lease the place for the school year . . . that could get loud. But maybe it will be fine.
Something got into the garbage bin last night. I had noticed some pecks at the bags last week and thought it must've been the big-assed bird that roams around here. But last night was no bird! It may have been a raccoon, or a couple of raccoons, or maybe a raccoon and a cat. It was loud. Terrible frightening screeching. Perhaps a fight. I nearly jumped out of my skin at the first roar because it scared me so bad and my window was open. Jacques slept through it though, didn't hear a thing he said this morning when we spoke. He's reinforcing the bin right now as I write, filling in the gaps to keep the scavengers at bay.
I had a good weekend weather-wise, not too humid, yet sunshiny for the most part. It's shaping up to be a beautiful day today too. On Saturday morning I finally got my ass in gear and hauled it all the way out to the Farmer's Market at the Cafe. It's not a big market, but some good stuff is there. I think I would've had to get there earlier to get the organic produce that I was particularly interested in. All she had left was asparagus, which I'm not crazy about. I was looking more for salad fixings and berries. There were a lot of people around because of the high school graduation I think . . . or else there are just a lot of people around downtown on Saturday morning. I felt like Lorelei Gilmore strolling with my big cup of coffee, stopping in all the little shops, buying a loaf of bread here, a book there, some ground coffee over there. I was laden with bags by the time I returned. Walking up the street close to where I live there was a young man sitting on the roof of his garage sketching in pastels. It made me smile. I live in a place where teenage or early twenty-something boys can climb onto the roof to get the picture . . . and nobody thinks anything of it. None of the good ole boys from up the road are going to tease him or call him nasty names . . . Or at least that seems to be the way it is here.
Once again I stayed in on Sunday and didn't get to the Tantramar market at the Civic Centre, where surely I would've been able to get that produce. I also didn't go to the movies like I thought I might. Didn't go to the video store. Didn't seek out the Catholic church (though I'm intrigued by the Baptistness of this community and wondering if that wouldn't work equally as well, if not better). Didn't go anywhere. Yesterday was a bit hotter than other days and minus the breeze I've come to love and loathe all at the same time. I'm spending my time caught between two extreme moods -- often stopping whatever I'm doing to perform the dance of joy and marvel at my existence in this place, and then being knocked back by panic . . . what if, in a year's time, I still haven't made any new friends, what if, I continue to live here without ever meeting anyone? Is this place and me in it going to be enough? Will I have to move again? And where will I go this time? Mind you the little panic attacks don't last nearly as long as my joyful dance and giggling at my good fortune. Still, I don't want anyone to think that I'm not human, I do have doubt sometime.
I'm excited about getting out and doing things this summer. There seem like a lot of interesting events coming up in July. I need to get out and do things if I hope to make a presence for myself here. I need to join clubs and things. The problem of course is that most clubs have gone on hiatus for summer. By the time fall rolls around, I'll join everything and take on entirely too much and be completely crazy busy I'm sure.
Mood: Surreal . . . is this really my life?
Drinking: Coffee that I ground up myself at Jacob's Larder (the healthy food store) it's organic! It's Italian! It's yummy!
Listening To: Taste of Independence, not sure who's singing, it's old, kinda sounds like the Righteous Brothers . . . anyone know?
Hair: My poor, poor hair . . . it wants a new hairdresser . . . but I've been too lazy to find one . . . (and yes, a little scared)
Something got into the garbage bin last night. I had noticed some pecks at the bags last week and thought it must've been the big-assed bird that roams around here. But last night was no bird! It may have been a raccoon, or a couple of raccoons, or maybe a raccoon and a cat. It was loud. Terrible frightening screeching. Perhaps a fight. I nearly jumped out of my skin at the first roar because it scared me so bad and my window was open. Jacques slept through it though, didn't hear a thing he said this morning when we spoke. He's reinforcing the bin right now as I write, filling in the gaps to keep the scavengers at bay.
I had a good weekend weather-wise, not too humid, yet sunshiny for the most part. It's shaping up to be a beautiful day today too. On Saturday morning I finally got my ass in gear and hauled it all the way out to the Farmer's Market at the Cafe. It's not a big market, but some good stuff is there. I think I would've had to get there earlier to get the organic produce that I was particularly interested in. All she had left was asparagus, which I'm not crazy about. I was looking more for salad fixings and berries. There were a lot of people around because of the high school graduation I think . . . or else there are just a lot of people around downtown on Saturday morning. I felt like Lorelei Gilmore strolling with my big cup of coffee, stopping in all the little shops, buying a loaf of bread here, a book there, some ground coffee over there. I was laden with bags by the time I returned. Walking up the street close to where I live there was a young man sitting on the roof of his garage sketching in pastels. It made me smile. I live in a place where teenage or early twenty-something boys can climb onto the roof to get the picture . . . and nobody thinks anything of it. None of the good ole boys from up the road are going to tease him or call him nasty names . . . Or at least that seems to be the way it is here.
Once again I stayed in on Sunday and didn't get to the Tantramar market at the Civic Centre, where surely I would've been able to get that produce. I also didn't go to the movies like I thought I might. Didn't go to the video store. Didn't seek out the Catholic church (though I'm intrigued by the Baptistness of this community and wondering if that wouldn't work equally as well, if not better). Didn't go anywhere. Yesterday was a bit hotter than other days and minus the breeze I've come to love and loathe all at the same time. I'm spending my time caught between two extreme moods -- often stopping whatever I'm doing to perform the dance of joy and marvel at my existence in this place, and then being knocked back by panic . . . what if, in a year's time, I still haven't made any new friends, what if, I continue to live here without ever meeting anyone? Is this place and me in it going to be enough? Will I have to move again? And where will I go this time? Mind you the little panic attacks don't last nearly as long as my joyful dance and giggling at my good fortune. Still, I don't want anyone to think that I'm not human, I do have doubt sometime.
I'm excited about getting out and doing things this summer. There seem like a lot of interesting events coming up in July. I need to get out and do things if I hope to make a presence for myself here. I need to join clubs and things. The problem of course is that most clubs have gone on hiatus for summer. By the time fall rolls around, I'll join everything and take on entirely too much and be completely crazy busy I'm sure.
Mood: Surreal . . . is this really my life?
Drinking: Coffee that I ground up myself at Jacob's Larder (the healthy food store) it's organic! It's Italian! It's yummy!
Listening To: Taste of Independence, not sure who's singing, it's old, kinda sounds like the Righteous Brothers . . . anyone know?
Hair: My poor, poor hair . . . it wants a new hairdresser . . . but I've been too lazy to find one . . . (and yes, a little scared)
Saturday, June 25, 2005
Into the Kitchen
I took a few pics of my kitchen today while I was down there doing laundry and cleaning. This is what it looks like as you come in from outside or downstairs.
And this is what it looks like from the doorway of the laundry room or the smurf bathroom.
Here's a close-up of my table and chairs. I only need a little one cuz it's just me. I ate two meals there today, which is unusual. Normally I eat upstairs in front of the tv. But today seemed too nice to be upstairs.
Here's my built-in shelf in the kitchen. I love it! That's the Pink Panther on the bottom, my award for kicking everyone's ass at Jenn's Oscar Party. Spices and wine pretty much occupy my life these days.
Here's the view of the refrigerator. Nothing much happening in that corner really. I haven't had much time or inclination to hang things or decorate.
More glassware above the stove. These are oversize glasses that I absolutely love! Though I don't use them very often. Great for swishing and getting the juices flowing.
I love my half-wall in the kitchen. It's a great place to set things or sit and opens up the room.
And here's the stove. I actually do quite a bit of cooking, just like I always did at Mom's place . . . only now I wash the dishes! :-) That's the tour. More later maybe. Thunder clouds are rolling in.
Impossible to Follow
My alarm went off this morning at 7:30 and I got up, what is the world coming to? Actually, I have been awake off and on since 4:30 so it's not as big a deal as it sounds. I went to bed pretty early last night, couldn't work or watch tv because of thunderstorms, so I tried to read but drifted off instead.
Dreamed about shopping at the old Met. I was buying some sort of gift for Stacy for her birthday. I was going away (Toronto, I think) and wouldn't be here for the party, so I was going to get the gift and have my mom give it to her on her birthday. There were these annoying scruffy looking punk-ass teenage boys in the store. I didn't like them. They were kinda scary, menacing.
In the next scene I arrived home at my mom's house very late and everyone was in bed. I went to my bedroom and found my brother sleeping in my bed. When I opened the bedroom door, the stench of vomit assaulted me. I turned on the light and saw that he had puked EVERYWHERE!! I screamed and he woke up, mumbled something about this not being his fault and then went into his own bed leaving me to clean up the mess. It stank! Really, really, really bad. And it was chunky, like he had just eaten a ton of food, nothing digested. The ordeal of stripping the bed, scrubbing the mattress, turning it, airing out the room, etc. seemed to go on forever.
I went to another room to crash but when I opened the door I saw that my Grammie Underhill was sleeping there. I thought that was very odd but before I had time to inquire about this further, there was a loud knock at the door. I went and opened it, seeing who it was slipped outside on the step so as to not wake everyone. It was a bunch of my cousins -- Christina, Patricia, Corrie, Liane, Raelene, Margie, Carol, Sandy, Janice and Joy -- and they were all drunk, staggering around the yard, wanting to come in and stay for awhile. I was a little bit angry they didn't invite me to whatever sort of party they were celebrating but more consumed with keeping them quiet, away from the house and not waking up everyone inside.
Just then a car came speeding down the road, turned into my driveway and crashed onto the lawn just missing the house. The doors opened and Stacy got out with those teenage boys I had seen at the Met store earlier. She was staggering drunk, singing, yelling "Hundred dollar Halloween car, Kel! Whaddya think?" But it was her appearance that stopped me in my tracks -- she was malnourished, anorexic-looking. Her bones protruded at sharp angles and looked painful. She staggered up to me and I grabbed her by her little shoulders feeling she would crumble beneath me if I used any force. "My God! What happened to you?" I asked. But I never got an answer because Liane had broken into the house and was waving everyone in, "Come on! Party at Uncle Blaine's!" and then the yard started filling with cars and people started going into the house. Some I knew, many I didn't.
In the next scene, Stacy and I are both shopping at the Met, but she's back to normal size. We're looking at maternity clothes and I see the shirt I bought for her birthday. She likes it and wants to go try it on but I'm discouraging her. It's pink. I remind her she doesn't think she looks good in pink so she puts it down. Out of the corner of my eye I see a bunch of teenage punk-ass boys and wonder why they are in the maternity section.
The End. Alarm goes off. I get up.
But I wonder if this was a dream/nightmare within a dream. It seemed that way.
Mood: Sunshiny
Drinking: All outta joe, cuppa tea instead
Listening To: John Mellencamp, Pink Houses
Hair: Soon to be washed
Dreamed about shopping at the old Met. I was buying some sort of gift for Stacy for her birthday. I was going away (Toronto, I think) and wouldn't be here for the party, so I was going to get the gift and have my mom give it to her on her birthday. There were these annoying scruffy looking punk-ass teenage boys in the store. I didn't like them. They were kinda scary, menacing.
In the next scene I arrived home at my mom's house very late and everyone was in bed. I went to my bedroom and found my brother sleeping in my bed. When I opened the bedroom door, the stench of vomit assaulted me. I turned on the light and saw that he had puked EVERYWHERE!! I screamed and he woke up, mumbled something about this not being his fault and then went into his own bed leaving me to clean up the mess. It stank! Really, really, really bad. And it was chunky, like he had just eaten a ton of food, nothing digested. The ordeal of stripping the bed, scrubbing the mattress, turning it, airing out the room, etc. seemed to go on forever.
I went to another room to crash but when I opened the door I saw that my Grammie Underhill was sleeping there. I thought that was very odd but before I had time to inquire about this further, there was a loud knock at the door. I went and opened it, seeing who it was slipped outside on the step so as to not wake everyone. It was a bunch of my cousins -- Christina, Patricia, Corrie, Liane, Raelene, Margie, Carol, Sandy, Janice and Joy -- and they were all drunk, staggering around the yard, wanting to come in and stay for awhile. I was a little bit angry they didn't invite me to whatever sort of party they were celebrating but more consumed with keeping them quiet, away from the house and not waking up everyone inside.
Just then a car came speeding down the road, turned into my driveway and crashed onto the lawn just missing the house. The doors opened and Stacy got out with those teenage boys I had seen at the Met store earlier. She was staggering drunk, singing, yelling "Hundred dollar Halloween car, Kel! Whaddya think?" But it was her appearance that stopped me in my tracks -- she was malnourished, anorexic-looking. Her bones protruded at sharp angles and looked painful. She staggered up to me and I grabbed her by her little shoulders feeling she would crumble beneath me if I used any force. "My God! What happened to you?" I asked. But I never got an answer because Liane had broken into the house and was waving everyone in, "Come on! Party at Uncle Blaine's!" and then the yard started filling with cars and people started going into the house. Some I knew, many I didn't.
In the next scene, Stacy and I are both shopping at the Met, but she's back to normal size. We're looking at maternity clothes and I see the shirt I bought for her birthday. She likes it and wants to go try it on but I'm discouraging her. It's pink. I remind her she doesn't think she looks good in pink so she puts it down. Out of the corner of my eye I see a bunch of teenage punk-ass boys and wonder why they are in the maternity section.
The End. Alarm goes off. I get up.
But I wonder if this was a dream/nightmare within a dream. It seemed that way.
Mood: Sunshiny
Drinking: All outta joe, cuppa tea instead
Listening To: John Mellencamp, Pink Houses
Hair: Soon to be washed
Friday, June 24, 2005
Grammie's Back
When I was a kid I would often go and stay all night or even a week at my grandparent's house in Gray Rapids. This was my exotic summer vacation on the farm. The kitchen seemed really big to me then though it must have only seemed that way because I was small. This was before all the renovations, before any additional pieces were built-on. Back in the days of collies and outhouses.
I see Grammie at the sink doing dishes, looking out the window at the river and the cars passing on the road. I see her at the counter kneading a big pile of dough, her hands covered in flour to her elbows, her arms so strong as she whipped the bread into the pans. I see her at the refrigerator in the corner getting me a glass of milk from a bottle that Grandad and I walked to the bottom of the hill to pick up earlier that morning. I see her at the wood stove, adding a stick to the fire, heating the kettle, cooking the supper, baking the bread. I see her moving across the floor with a straw broom, sweeping vigorously, banishing the dirt to the outside.
I spent a lot of the time sitting in the kitchen, at the table waiting for meals to be laid, or on the cot by the window pretending to take a nap, staying out of Grammie's way and watching her work. How many days have I spent staring at Grammie's back? I see the back of a housedress, the kind you slip over your head with one button at the neck. I see broad shoulders, thickness through the hips and thighs, ankles that look swollen, apron strings tied in a big bow with ends dangling down her backside.
I remember sitting at the back of the kitchen table next to the wall in a seat not reserved for the people who lived there. That was important to me, not to steal Preston, Danny, or Marilyn's favourite seat. My uncles and aunt, children themselves, willful teens and tweens. Although the boys probably wouldn't have cared where I sat, Marilyn might have teased me by telling me terrible lies about my parents or even struck me to get me to bend to her will. She could be nasty, while Preston coddled me and Danny pretty much stayed to himself. I would sit in a seat at the kitchen table that in my mind was reserved for guests.
I see Grammie setting the table. Plates, cutlery, glasses, tea cups . . . something my mother never did. At home we pulled the plates out of the cupboard, served the food at the stove and then delivered the steaming plates to the table. But Grammie always set the table, filling the centre with some of the best food I've ever eaten. Stacks of sliced home-made bread, cold roast sliced thick, serving bowls filled with warmed-up potatoes, turnips and hot meat fried with onions. There would also be plates filled with cookies or slices of cake or even a whole pie. Something sweet was an essential ending to any meal. I see a feast on the table and it's only lunchtime, the same meal where at home I might have a peanut butter and jam sandwich with a glass of cherry kool-aid. Grammie delivered the food to the table and I would be too shy to eat even though everything smelled so good and I was so hungry. Grandad would help me, transfering a little of this and a little of that to my plate, even as I blush and hang my head. Sometimes there's company for dinner and sometimes it's just the three of us -- me and Grammie and Grandad. Regardless of who is there, the table is set properly. Grandad and I eat. Grammie must eat too of course, sometime, but I can't ever remember seeing her set down at the table with us to do it. She never joined the table, never sat still, didn't even speak much but quietly continued the business of the kitchen -- cooking, tending the fire, baking, cleaning, keeping her family sustained.
The kitchen was the centre of that house, the heart of the universe as far as I was concerned, and she the source of its strength.
My grandmother, Grammie Coughlan, passed away on Sunday June 19th, Father's Day. I'll never be even half the woman she was in the kitchen.
Mood: Sombre
Drinking: tea
Listening To: the train whistle through town
Hair: better since escaping Barnettville's hard water
I see Grammie at the sink doing dishes, looking out the window at the river and the cars passing on the road. I see her at the counter kneading a big pile of dough, her hands covered in flour to her elbows, her arms so strong as she whipped the bread into the pans. I see her at the refrigerator in the corner getting me a glass of milk from a bottle that Grandad and I walked to the bottom of the hill to pick up earlier that morning. I see her at the wood stove, adding a stick to the fire, heating the kettle, cooking the supper, baking the bread. I see her moving across the floor with a straw broom, sweeping vigorously, banishing the dirt to the outside.
I spent a lot of the time sitting in the kitchen, at the table waiting for meals to be laid, or on the cot by the window pretending to take a nap, staying out of Grammie's way and watching her work. How many days have I spent staring at Grammie's back? I see the back of a housedress, the kind you slip over your head with one button at the neck. I see broad shoulders, thickness through the hips and thighs, ankles that look swollen, apron strings tied in a big bow with ends dangling down her backside.
I remember sitting at the back of the kitchen table next to the wall in a seat not reserved for the people who lived there. That was important to me, not to steal Preston, Danny, or Marilyn's favourite seat. My uncles and aunt, children themselves, willful teens and tweens. Although the boys probably wouldn't have cared where I sat, Marilyn might have teased me by telling me terrible lies about my parents or even struck me to get me to bend to her will. She could be nasty, while Preston coddled me and Danny pretty much stayed to himself. I would sit in a seat at the kitchen table that in my mind was reserved for guests.
I see Grammie setting the table. Plates, cutlery, glasses, tea cups . . . something my mother never did. At home we pulled the plates out of the cupboard, served the food at the stove and then delivered the steaming plates to the table. But Grammie always set the table, filling the centre with some of the best food I've ever eaten. Stacks of sliced home-made bread, cold roast sliced thick, serving bowls filled with warmed-up potatoes, turnips and hot meat fried with onions. There would also be plates filled with cookies or slices of cake or even a whole pie. Something sweet was an essential ending to any meal. I see a feast on the table and it's only lunchtime, the same meal where at home I might have a peanut butter and jam sandwich with a glass of cherry kool-aid. Grammie delivered the food to the table and I would be too shy to eat even though everything smelled so good and I was so hungry. Grandad would help me, transfering a little of this and a little of that to my plate, even as I blush and hang my head. Sometimes there's company for dinner and sometimes it's just the three of us -- me and Grammie and Grandad. Regardless of who is there, the table is set properly. Grandad and I eat. Grammie must eat too of course, sometime, but I can't ever remember seeing her set down at the table with us to do it. She never joined the table, never sat still, didn't even speak much but quietly continued the business of the kitchen -- cooking, tending the fire, baking, cleaning, keeping her family sustained.
The kitchen was the centre of that house, the heart of the universe as far as I was concerned, and she the source of its strength.
My grandmother, Grammie Coughlan, passed away on Sunday June 19th, Father's Day. I'll never be even half the woman she was in the kitchen.
Mood: Sombre
Drinking: tea
Listening To: the train whistle through town
Hair: better since escaping Barnettville's hard water
Friday, June 17, 2005
Return of the Kellie
Well in a rather sudden decision I'm heading back to Miramichi this afternoon on the train. Just for the weekend. My grandmother has been in the hospital for awhile now, but apparently has taken a turn for the worse. I'm not going home so I get to visit her or anything like that (not visiting Grandad near the end turned out to be the "right" decision for me). But a little birdie whispered in my ear that my mother might like to have me around just now, so I'm going. Will return on Sunday or Monday I guess, not sure yet, I suppose it depends on the situation, whether or not she passes on the weekend.
Frankly, I don't think she's there yet . . . I just don't feel it. And neither does Jenn. But we might be in for a shock. The fact is Mom believes the time is now and has gone into complete grief and sadness mode. So, that's why I'm going home. Plus it's Father's Day weekend . . . so why not, eh? I won't be blogging from there, I'll be computerless. So, have a great weekend! I'll be back next week.
Mood: frazzled
Drinking: nothing yet, coffee brewing
Listening To: the washer
Hair: loosely tied back
Frankly, I don't think she's there yet . . . I just don't feel it. And neither does Jenn. But we might be in for a shock. The fact is Mom believes the time is now and has gone into complete grief and sadness mode. So, that's why I'm going home. Plus it's Father's Day weekend . . . so why not, eh? I won't be blogging from there, I'll be computerless. So, have a great weekend! I'll be back next week.
Mood: frazzled
Drinking: nothing yet, coffee brewing
Listening To: the washer
Hair: loosely tied back
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
Pics
Took some kinda crappy pics, lol. Think the lens is dirty. But anyway, posted them on Flickr, there's a link below right before my All Consuming book list.
Just Another Girl
I went to the university yesterday and dropped off my paperwork. They want me to try and transfer some of my credits from Ryerson and work toward an arts degree in English Literature. I don't know about that . . . seems like a lot of work and money . . . and how will this change my life? I'm working with words everyday, which is why people get an arts degree majoring in English lit . . . I suppose if I ever wanted to teach at the university level it would help . . . but having major success as an author pretty much wipes out the education part anyway . . . so, I don't know. All I know is I'm looking forward to the creative writing course I've signed up for in the fall. There are some other courses that look interesting that I might like to consider down the road . . . but I'm not looking that far ahead right now.
I did a little shopping while I was out and about yesterday, gotta take advantage of every walk-about because one can't count on good weather for very long around here. I bought a set of headphones with a mic, so now I can talk on MSN with other people who have mics, like Jenn. I'm hoping this will cut back on the long distance calling. Though my mother doesn't have a computer . . . so, I don't know. I talked with Jenn for a couple of hours last night though. It was cool. She was right, having no use for my voice at all since moving here, other than to say excuse me to strangers on the street has been different. I've started talking to myself a lot more, muttering mostly, asking myself rhetorical questions . . . when these guys move in next door they'll think I'm nuts.
I also bought a digital camera while I was out yesterday. Just a cheapo Kodak one from the Jean Coutu (they had an air miles special on it) but it's got 3.2 mega pixels which isn't too bad. It's certainly good enough to take some pictures around here and put them up on my blog for the world to see. So, watch for that! I'm going to be the tourist now, snapping shots everywhere I go.
I also bought myself a dvd that I really, really, really wanted. It was funny, at the video store the girl looked at me funny and asked, "Are you from Sackville?" And I said, no. And she laughed and said, "I didn't think so, you don't look familar." Yep, this place is that small!! People notice I'm not from around these parts. Crazy.
Last night I went to my writing workshop at the university. We focused on details in writing, did a bunch of different exercises. I'm finding it hard to concentrate in the evenings sometimes on these writing assignments. I'm tired, and those young girls are just bursting at the seams with creativity . . . I remember being like that *Sigh*. Anyway, we worked in pairs most of the evening, which also freaks me a little, I'd rather write alone. But she does it in groups so we get to know one another and then feel more comfortable sharing our work in the Thursday workshop sessions.
I worked with a girl named Emily all evening. We started by discussing detail. Is it important? How deep can it go? Were we detail oriented? Had anyone ever told us we were? Was there anything we did to remind ourselves to notice the details more? And so on. It was an interesting discussion. Emily and I had a little different experience. She's finding she needs to leave more out and I have to make a conscious effort to put more in. I don't notice many details, only when I remind myself to take notice. And I usually only do that when I "need" those details for a piece of writing. Emily reminds herself to notice things more spontaneously I think. After we discussed this in our pairs, we opened it up to the room and everyone shared their views. A woman named Anne, who has small children, said she thought of noticing the details as being a very childlike experience. We need to almost become a child again in order to get the focus. She saw it as a slowing down. When you drive down the street you notice less than if you walk down the street. That stuck with me in particular, having done so much walking as of late and yes, I would say I have been noticing more, smells and sounds as well as the visual.
We stayed in our pairs and in the next exercise Christina gave each group an object from her home and we were to pass a sheet of paper back and forth writing a new detail about the object each time. The object Emily and I had was some sort of an ornament. It was interesting and funny what happened. Here's what we wrote --
Emily: The woman is sitting.
Kellie: Hollow
E: There is a white streak down her nose.
K: Metallic
E: The sound of it moving against the desk is like stepping on a city grate.
K: Biblical Figure
E: There is a scroll in her left hand.
K: I think it's a man.
E: Her hair is rolled back.
K: His legs are crossed.
E: Her toes are shaped, but not separated.
K: He sits on a little stool like you would sit on to milk cows or shoe a horse.
E: The stool is low, but elaborate, like hand-carved wood, with a floral decoration.
K: A sword and shield rest against the stool.
E: A lute, tambourine and pipes rest against the back of her stool.
K: He is a Greek or Roman god, wearing a toga, loose clothing draped over one shoulder.
E: Short curls fall behind each of her ears, like those carefully groomed by characters in Jane Austen's novels.
K: Thick muscled forearms, very masculine looking and strong.
E: She looks straight ahead although her body is turned to the left, with a gaze that is both calm and filled with determination.
K: Sadness
E: She is robed, with only her neck, face, feet, hands and right arm from the elbow bare.
Then the time was up. I would have added that if this was a woman . . . she was the homeliest woman I've ever seen. The musical instruments really looked like weaponry to me. It actually looked like a sword snapped in two and crossing over a shield. Many of the others thought they were instruments though and believed it was a woman. Christina had said it was a woman at the beginning, but it hadn't really registered with me . . . which made me think of a concept Stacy and I had discussed recently about not being able to see what is there because it isn't what you expect it to be. And I wondered if this figurine was indeed a woman or if everyone just saw a woman because that's what they had been told it was. Very interesting.
In the next exercise we stayed in pairs but wrote separately. Christina gave each group a different object and then we had to write as much detail as possible without saying what the object was. Emily wrote an actual story. I wrote disjointed jagged snips. Here's mine:
The tin tube flattens sticky tar, creaking as it rolls. The road stretches before it. The bright green and burnt orange colours dotted with banana yellow draw English children from their flats and into the cobbled street. It lumbers past slowly like an elephant, smelling of oil and gas fumes. Flimsy, an adult might crush it under his boots, bringing tears and sobs. Tiny fingers hide in the rear and push. Imagination makes them invisible. Wind it up and let it go. It sprints across the ceramic tile, snagging on the shag carpet.
The object was an old toy steam roller, the tin kind, a wind-up toy from the 30's or 40's maybe. Emily's was much better than mine. I wasn't at all inspired by this object, couldn't think of much.
The next exercise was completely solo. We were instructed to think of an object or action that is really disgusting, like eating the cigarette butts out of an ashtray for example, and without saying what it is, we were supposed to describe it in as much detail as possible and describe it as something beautiful. Here's what I wrote:
Twisting, turning, dancing across a bright silver stage streaked with vibrant colours -- red, yellow, green. The door opens launching the performance. A slow seductive crawl at first, undulating, teasing, taunting, drawing attention. Others join in the dance and the tempo increases, becomes a frenzy of action. This is life. A collective activity. Together the dancers climb a rainbow of colour, swinging from one ledge to another, clinging to peaks and sliding into valleys, so carefree and light. This is living.
I was describing a maggot infested garbage bin . . . yet, it's very sexy by times :-)
We returned to our pairs for the next exercise. Emily and I were given a photograph. Other groups had photos as well, but each group kept their photo a secret from the others. We had to make a list of words that if said would immediately give the picture away. After we had our list of forbidden words, we each wrote about the photo using as much detail as possible but not using any of the words on our forbidden list. And then we read each other's piece and decided which one might fool the rest of the group and then we read that one aloud. We read Emily's . . . and didn't fool the group, they guessed it. But here's mine:
Round and round, my head wobbles as I watch. My eyes crossing, can't keep up. I feel a vibration in my feet, up through my knees, buckling my hips, zipping through my core, snapping my neck, and flowing out my arms and into my fingertips. Snap. Snap. I close my eyes for the full effect, basking in the feeling of letting go. Entranced, enchanted, lulled into relaxation, I begin to hum.
Not much there, I know. Emily's was much longer. She writes way more quickly than me. But any guesses as to what our photograph was? Cuz I'm not telling :-)
In the final exercise of the evening each pair was given a coin (ours was a nickel) and we had to pick a side (we picked the beaver) and decide upon a context for a story. Then separately we each wrote based on this context. Here's mine:
With a name like Charlie his parents should have known he'd turn out to be a sneaky bastard. Charlie, the sneaky beaver, never asked to be born into this hell pond, with those damn holier than now swans living next door. Always preaching and trying to keep him on the straight and narrow, help him to lead a more "enlightened" life. Well screw those swans, Charlie thinks. He dreams of the day he can bust out of this pond, find a nice girl, and make beautiful little beaver babies of his own with sensible strong names like Hank and Susan. Trouble is, Joe, his older brother built this dam. Joe, who's shadow he's lived in and under all his life. But Charlie has a plan. For seven weeks he's been chewing and chiseling and finally it's ready. He has his battering ram and come midnight he's busting out of this pond.
This got some laughs. Our concept was that the beaver was a vindictive little brother with a battering ram intent on destroying the dam. Emily's piece was very different than mine, more serious.
Anyway, it was a lot of fun. I look forward to going to class. It's going to suck when it's over and I'm left on my own for the summer. Maybe I'll find a group to join or something. And now, it's back to work for me!
Mood: Slow dancing
Drinking: Oooh! I've got new organic French Roast coffee from Jacob's Larder. Exciting! Yummy stuff!
Listening To: Blind Melon, No Rain
Hair: My ponytail grows longer every minute it seems!
I did a little shopping while I was out and about yesterday, gotta take advantage of every walk-about because one can't count on good weather for very long around here. I bought a set of headphones with a mic, so now I can talk on MSN with other people who have mics, like Jenn. I'm hoping this will cut back on the long distance calling. Though my mother doesn't have a computer . . . so, I don't know. I talked with Jenn for a couple of hours last night though. It was cool. She was right, having no use for my voice at all since moving here, other than to say excuse me to strangers on the street has been different. I've started talking to myself a lot more, muttering mostly, asking myself rhetorical questions . . . when these guys move in next door they'll think I'm nuts.
I also bought a digital camera while I was out yesterday. Just a cheapo Kodak one from the Jean Coutu (they had an air miles special on it) but it's got 3.2 mega pixels which isn't too bad. It's certainly good enough to take some pictures around here and put them up on my blog for the world to see. So, watch for that! I'm going to be the tourist now, snapping shots everywhere I go.
I also bought myself a dvd that I really, really, really wanted. It was funny, at the video store the girl looked at me funny and asked, "Are you from Sackville?" And I said, no. And she laughed and said, "I didn't think so, you don't look familar." Yep, this place is that small!! People notice I'm not from around these parts. Crazy.
Last night I went to my writing workshop at the university. We focused on details in writing, did a bunch of different exercises. I'm finding it hard to concentrate in the evenings sometimes on these writing assignments. I'm tired, and those young girls are just bursting at the seams with creativity . . . I remember being like that *Sigh*. Anyway, we worked in pairs most of the evening, which also freaks me a little, I'd rather write alone. But she does it in groups so we get to know one another and then feel more comfortable sharing our work in the Thursday workshop sessions.
I worked with a girl named Emily all evening. We started by discussing detail. Is it important? How deep can it go? Were we detail oriented? Had anyone ever told us we were? Was there anything we did to remind ourselves to notice the details more? And so on. It was an interesting discussion. Emily and I had a little different experience. She's finding she needs to leave more out and I have to make a conscious effort to put more in. I don't notice many details, only when I remind myself to take notice. And I usually only do that when I "need" those details for a piece of writing. Emily reminds herself to notice things more spontaneously I think. After we discussed this in our pairs, we opened it up to the room and everyone shared their views. A woman named Anne, who has small children, said she thought of noticing the details as being a very childlike experience. We need to almost become a child again in order to get the focus. She saw it as a slowing down. When you drive down the street you notice less than if you walk down the street. That stuck with me in particular, having done so much walking as of late and yes, I would say I have been noticing more, smells and sounds as well as the visual.
We stayed in our pairs and in the next exercise Christina gave each group an object from her home and we were to pass a sheet of paper back and forth writing a new detail about the object each time. The object Emily and I had was some sort of an ornament. It was interesting and funny what happened. Here's what we wrote --
Emily: The woman is sitting.
Kellie: Hollow
E: There is a white streak down her nose.
K: Metallic
E: The sound of it moving against the desk is like stepping on a city grate.
K: Biblical Figure
E: There is a scroll in her left hand.
K: I think it's a man.
E: Her hair is rolled back.
K: His legs are crossed.
E: Her toes are shaped, but not separated.
K: He sits on a little stool like you would sit on to milk cows or shoe a horse.
E: The stool is low, but elaborate, like hand-carved wood, with a floral decoration.
K: A sword and shield rest against the stool.
E: A lute, tambourine and pipes rest against the back of her stool.
K: He is a Greek or Roman god, wearing a toga, loose clothing draped over one shoulder.
E: Short curls fall behind each of her ears, like those carefully groomed by characters in Jane Austen's novels.
K: Thick muscled forearms, very masculine looking and strong.
E: She looks straight ahead although her body is turned to the left, with a gaze that is both calm and filled with determination.
K: Sadness
E: She is robed, with only her neck, face, feet, hands and right arm from the elbow bare.
Then the time was up. I would have added that if this was a woman . . . she was the homeliest woman I've ever seen. The musical instruments really looked like weaponry to me. It actually looked like a sword snapped in two and crossing over a shield. Many of the others thought they were instruments though and believed it was a woman. Christina had said it was a woman at the beginning, but it hadn't really registered with me . . . which made me think of a concept Stacy and I had discussed recently about not being able to see what is there because it isn't what you expect it to be. And I wondered if this figurine was indeed a woman or if everyone just saw a woman because that's what they had been told it was. Very interesting.
In the next exercise we stayed in pairs but wrote separately. Christina gave each group a different object and then we had to write as much detail as possible without saying what the object was. Emily wrote an actual story. I wrote disjointed jagged snips. Here's mine:
The tin tube flattens sticky tar, creaking as it rolls. The road stretches before it. The bright green and burnt orange colours dotted with banana yellow draw English children from their flats and into the cobbled street. It lumbers past slowly like an elephant, smelling of oil and gas fumes. Flimsy, an adult might crush it under his boots, bringing tears and sobs. Tiny fingers hide in the rear and push. Imagination makes them invisible. Wind it up and let it go. It sprints across the ceramic tile, snagging on the shag carpet.
The object was an old toy steam roller, the tin kind, a wind-up toy from the 30's or 40's maybe. Emily's was much better than mine. I wasn't at all inspired by this object, couldn't think of much.
The next exercise was completely solo. We were instructed to think of an object or action that is really disgusting, like eating the cigarette butts out of an ashtray for example, and without saying what it is, we were supposed to describe it in as much detail as possible and describe it as something beautiful. Here's what I wrote:
Twisting, turning, dancing across a bright silver stage streaked with vibrant colours -- red, yellow, green. The door opens launching the performance. A slow seductive crawl at first, undulating, teasing, taunting, drawing attention. Others join in the dance and the tempo increases, becomes a frenzy of action. This is life. A collective activity. Together the dancers climb a rainbow of colour, swinging from one ledge to another, clinging to peaks and sliding into valleys, so carefree and light. This is living.
I was describing a maggot infested garbage bin . . . yet, it's very sexy by times :-)
We returned to our pairs for the next exercise. Emily and I were given a photograph. Other groups had photos as well, but each group kept their photo a secret from the others. We had to make a list of words that if said would immediately give the picture away. After we had our list of forbidden words, we each wrote about the photo using as much detail as possible but not using any of the words on our forbidden list. And then we read each other's piece and decided which one might fool the rest of the group and then we read that one aloud. We read Emily's . . . and didn't fool the group, they guessed it. But here's mine:
Round and round, my head wobbles as I watch. My eyes crossing, can't keep up. I feel a vibration in my feet, up through my knees, buckling my hips, zipping through my core, snapping my neck, and flowing out my arms and into my fingertips. Snap. Snap. I close my eyes for the full effect, basking in the feeling of letting go. Entranced, enchanted, lulled into relaxation, I begin to hum.
Not much there, I know. Emily's was much longer. She writes way more quickly than me. But any guesses as to what our photograph was? Cuz I'm not telling :-)
In the final exercise of the evening each pair was given a coin (ours was a nickel) and we had to pick a side (we picked the beaver) and decide upon a context for a story. Then separately we each wrote based on this context. Here's mine:
With a name like Charlie his parents should have known he'd turn out to be a sneaky bastard. Charlie, the sneaky beaver, never asked to be born into this hell pond, with those damn holier than now swans living next door. Always preaching and trying to keep him on the straight and narrow, help him to lead a more "enlightened" life. Well screw those swans, Charlie thinks. He dreams of the day he can bust out of this pond, find a nice girl, and make beautiful little beaver babies of his own with sensible strong names like Hank and Susan. Trouble is, Joe, his older brother built this dam. Joe, who's shadow he's lived in and under all his life. But Charlie has a plan. For seven weeks he's been chewing and chiseling and finally it's ready. He has his battering ram and come midnight he's busting out of this pond.
This got some laughs. Our concept was that the beaver was a vindictive little brother with a battering ram intent on destroying the dam. Emily's piece was very different than mine, more serious.
Anyway, it was a lot of fun. I look forward to going to class. It's going to suck when it's over and I'm left on my own for the summer. Maybe I'll find a group to join or something. And now, it's back to work for me!
Mood: Slow dancing
Drinking: Oooh! I've got new organic French Roast coffee from Jacob's Larder. Exciting! Yummy stuff!
Listening To: Blind Melon, No Rain
Hair: My ponytail grows longer every minute it seems!
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Twenty years, Batman!
I have to go to the university today and register for my class. So part of the process is actually to apply to be a part-time student, which I haven't done yet and apparently it's just a paperwork formality that I can do right while I'm there giving them the money. But nevertheless I had to write a letter of intent to submit with my application.
So I was writing that I had graduated from a small NB high school x amount of years ago . . . and I started counting up how long it has been to fill in the blank . . . and it's been almost 20 years!! 20 years! Wow! That's intense. I remember when my mom went to her 20 year reunion . . . and it doesn't seem that long ago. And really it wasn't that long ago, I was out of high school and on to Ryerson living my own life such as it was. And she didn't seem . . . well . . . how to put this politely . . . she didn't seem . . . as young as I am!
I mean here I am just getting my first completely on my own apartment and getting ready to take classes at the university, just feeling like I'm getting myself together . . . and now I have to deal with the idea that I'm old too!
Yes, I know, this happens every year at this time. It's my inevitable surreal age crises. But somehow this year it seems even more surreal. I'm sitting here looking out at the backyard, at that crazy man who can't stop mowing his lawn, at the partridge or pheasant or whatever the hell that humungous bird is that lives behind the garage, at the paved driveway and the field next door . . . and I'm blown away by how crazy it is that I am here in a loft/living/bed room in a beautiful old house and this is my home and this is my life now. Very surreal all of a sudden and I'm left wondering how the hell this happened? How did I get here? Is it real? Is this really my life? And who am I in it?
Mood: Creaky
Drinking: My last cuppa tea . . . there is no more . . . til I go to the store! (Hey, that kinda rhymes!)
Listening To: that damn lawnmower again . . . honest to God!! It used to be you'd get some peace at least when it was raining, but lately . . .
Hair: I have some colour . . . only one box and I'm not sure it's enough . . . a bit more reddish brown than usual . . . but I might chance it later
So I was writing that I had graduated from a small NB high school x amount of years ago . . . and I started counting up how long it has been to fill in the blank . . . and it's been almost 20 years!! 20 years! Wow! That's intense. I remember when my mom went to her 20 year reunion . . . and it doesn't seem that long ago. And really it wasn't that long ago, I was out of high school and on to Ryerson living my own life such as it was. And she didn't seem . . . well . . . how to put this politely . . . she didn't seem . . . as young as I am!
I mean here I am just getting my first completely on my own apartment and getting ready to take classes at the university, just feeling like I'm getting myself together . . . and now I have to deal with the idea that I'm old too!
Yes, I know, this happens every year at this time. It's my inevitable surreal age crises. But somehow this year it seems even more surreal. I'm sitting here looking out at the backyard, at that crazy man who can't stop mowing his lawn, at the partridge or pheasant or whatever the hell that humungous bird is that lives behind the garage, at the paved driveway and the field next door . . . and I'm blown away by how crazy it is that I am here in a loft/living/bed room in a beautiful old house and this is my home and this is my life now. Very surreal all of a sudden and I'm left wondering how the hell this happened? How did I get here? Is it real? Is this really my life? And who am I in it?
Mood: Creaky
Drinking: My last cuppa tea . . . there is no more . . . til I go to the store! (Hey, that kinda rhymes!)
Listening To: that damn lawnmower again . . . honest to God!! It used to be you'd get some peace at least when it was raining, but lately . . .
Hair: I have some colour . . . only one box and I'm not sure it's enough . . . a bit more reddish brown than usual . . . but I might chance it later
Monday, June 13, 2005
I choose you! . . . And you! . . . . And you! . . . Oh, and you too! . . .
So, I didn't go to bed until almost 6 this morning . . . because I was feeling a little anxious, a little perturbed . . . and then it dawned on me that it was my first case of Sunday night anxiety since the move. *SIGH* I had almost forgot it existed. Oh well, adjusting to re-include this back into my routine every Sunday night. So I stay up until 6 am tossing and turning in my bed, generally disgruntled, and then I fall asleep and have these weird restless dreams, the kind where I wake up every five minutes to look at the clock, drift back into them, wake up five minutes later, drift again . . . it's like I'm not really asleep, just semi-conscious. And that was my morning snoozefest. Yee-haw! I'm ready to face the day after that! Really alert and raring to go! . . . NOT!!
In this one dream all these guys . . . these guys I used to know, maybe date (not all at the same time) . . . Anyway, in the dream I was in this forest clearing, I was like a fairy princess or something in a fairy tale and all these guys I used to know were showing up one by one after having been away to another kingdom for many years. And as each one showed up I was surprised and pleased and happy to see him again. I'd give him a big hug and whisper in his ear how much I missed him and he'd give me a gift like a flower or something that he carried all across the kingdom just for me. When about a dozen guys had gathered in a circle around me I had to choose which one I wanted to be with. Now, in the way that I almost always know I'm dreaming, I knew this was a dream and I had an idea of who the one was that I wanted to pick out of this lot. I went around the circle and had a private moment with each of the guys, telling them how much I enjoyed them and trying to let them down easy. This was fine until I got to the one that my more conscious dream-observant self had fished out as being the one . . . because the princess me in the fairytale dream gave him the same song and dance as the others and though I gave his shoulder an extra strong squeeze, to his shock (and mine!) I sent him packing and picked somebody else completely as being my one true love.
Ahh and here's the kicker, the guy I picked, the one I declared my undying love to and invited to be my prince . . . I can't see him . . . I don't know who he is . . . he could be anybody!! Or nobody! Someone I already know, or have never seen before in my life. I have no idea . . . and maybe I'm not supposed to know, maybe that's not the point of the dream. Maybe the lesson of the dream isn't in who I did pick, but who I didn't.
Mood: Sleep-deprived
Drinking: nothing yet, I see coffee in my near future
Listening To: the coffee perk . . . I'm not psychic, what did you think?
Hair: Oh, how do you say? . . . Scuzzy? Greasy? Has seen better days?
In this one dream all these guys . . . these guys I used to know, maybe date (not all at the same time) . . . Anyway, in the dream I was in this forest clearing, I was like a fairy princess or something in a fairy tale and all these guys I used to know were showing up one by one after having been away to another kingdom for many years. And as each one showed up I was surprised and pleased and happy to see him again. I'd give him a big hug and whisper in his ear how much I missed him and he'd give me a gift like a flower or something that he carried all across the kingdom just for me. When about a dozen guys had gathered in a circle around me I had to choose which one I wanted to be with. Now, in the way that I almost always know I'm dreaming, I knew this was a dream and I had an idea of who the one was that I wanted to pick out of this lot. I went around the circle and had a private moment with each of the guys, telling them how much I enjoyed them and trying to let them down easy. This was fine until I got to the one that my more conscious dream-observant self had fished out as being the one . . . because the princess me in the fairytale dream gave him the same song and dance as the others and though I gave his shoulder an extra strong squeeze, to his shock (and mine!) I sent him packing and picked somebody else completely as being my one true love.
Ahh and here's the kicker, the guy I picked, the one I declared my undying love to and invited to be my prince . . . I can't see him . . . I don't know who he is . . . he could be anybody!! Or nobody! Someone I already know, or have never seen before in my life. I have no idea . . . and maybe I'm not supposed to know, maybe that's not the point of the dream. Maybe the lesson of the dream isn't in who I did pick, but who I didn't.
Mood: Sleep-deprived
Drinking: nothing yet, I see coffee in my near future
Listening To: the coffee perk . . . I'm not psychic, what did you think?
Hair: Oh, how do you say? . . . Scuzzy? Greasy? Has seen better days?
Sunday, June 12, 2005
Brother Down
Watched Seventh Heaven. Yes, the acting sucks! Yes, the plotlines are so obviously lessons that it's sickening! Still, I watch for some reason. It was suppertime, I like to eat and watch tv at the same time, there was nothing else on . . . you know the drill. Anyway, in this episode there's a moment when Lucy's husband, Kevin, refers to Simon as his brother -- not brother-in-law, but brother -- and explains to a friend of Simon's that this is the sort of close-knit family they have. And the friend remarked something about he'd heard of families that close but never seen one before or something like that.
This got me thinking about my own family. I come from this kind of close-knit family. No, things are not perfect, we're far from the stereo-typical perfect tv family. We fight . . . sometimes in the most heinous and vicious ways (with shoes in hand :-) My parents aren't the perfect parents I might've picked for myself if given the choice . . . but still, I do think of my brothers-in-law more like brothers than not. And I'm always somewhat surprised when I'm reminded that my adopted brother wasn't always a part of the family, that he has other family besides us. Some of the best times of my life have been shared with my sisters. I've monopolized more of my parents time than one child should ever be allowed. I can't imagine going through life without my family. I tell them everything!! Whatever do people do that don't have that? I can't even imagine.
This afternoon I wrote two articles in a series and emailed off a proposal to a newspaper to run them . . . Yes, I'm seeking freelance work to offset my newer higher cost of living. If you hear of anything, please let me know. I'm available for writing, editing, public speaking, and anything else you think I might excel at.
Mood: trying not to be melancholy . . . but failing desperately
Drinking: nothing, just had a glass of wine with dinner
Listening To: Luba, Every Time I See Your Picture
Hair: Surprisingly silky
This got me thinking about my own family. I come from this kind of close-knit family. No, things are not perfect, we're far from the stereo-typical perfect tv family. We fight . . . sometimes in the most heinous and vicious ways (with shoes in hand :-) My parents aren't the perfect parents I might've picked for myself if given the choice . . . but still, I do think of my brothers-in-law more like brothers than not. And I'm always somewhat surprised when I'm reminded that my adopted brother wasn't always a part of the family, that he has other family besides us. Some of the best times of my life have been shared with my sisters. I've monopolized more of my parents time than one child should ever be allowed. I can't imagine going through life without my family. I tell them everything!! Whatever do people do that don't have that? I can't even imagine.
This afternoon I wrote two articles in a series and emailed off a proposal to a newspaper to run them . . . Yes, I'm seeking freelance work to offset my newer higher cost of living. If you hear of anything, please let me know. I'm available for writing, editing, public speaking, and anything else you think I might excel at.
Mood: trying not to be melancholy . . . but failing desperately
Drinking: nothing, just had a glass of wine with dinner
Listening To: Luba, Every Time I See Your Picture
Hair: Surprisingly silky
Trouble Right Here in River City
So yesterday was a bit of a wash and I didn't get to do any of the things I had planned like go to the market, buy a dvd, and so on. There is a new Tantramar Community Market happening from noon until 3 today (and every Sunday) at the Civic Centre but it's wet out there with chances of thundershowers this afternoon, soooo I'm not up for the walk. There was a plumbing guy here all day yesterday running in and out of my apartment working on stuff that's why I had to stay home. Today I notice a much diminished water pressure in my kitchen. Hmmm. Hopefully it'll be okay.
The day wasn't a complete wipe-out though, in the middle of the afternoon I looked out my door just in time to see a HUGE partridge stroll across the driveway and around the garage. HUGE! Much larger than any I've seen around Mom's place. And he wasn't fluffed up drumming or anything either. He was just THAT big. I wished I had a camera for the zillionth time since moving and decided when my WFNB cheque arrives later this week I will seek one out and make the purchase. It's about time I had some technology and was able to share pictures on here.
Later in the evening I played pool with Carol on Pogo which was a good laugh. No, we're not great pool players or anything, but every week they challenge you to play games and win badges and this week one of the badges was pool. So basically our games consisted of Carol illegally sinking the 8 (because she already had her badge) so I would get the win and eventually accumulate enough wins to get the badge. It took a couple of hours. But we had a good time. It's kinda fun to play games together and chat. Jason won't play with me though. He says I didn't have time to play with him when I lived just across the road, so he doesn't have time to play with me now because he's got other people to play with. Which is fine. Fine. I'm a bit of a loner anyway. I like playing solitary games like mahjong. But pool was great fun with Carol. I laughed so hard and the windows were all open that I thought any neighbors out and about might pop over to see what all the excitement was about.
Being here alone, not having anyone to call, not even being able to call my sisters or my mom everytime something pops into my head is . . . well WONDERFUL!! But it can also be kinda lonely in a way that I never quite expected. I guess we all need human interaction on some level and I'm not ready to run off into the woods and become a hermit just yet. It's the not having anyone to tell things too. I'm a saver. I keep things until later, the next time I see you, and then I blurt out all this stuff that I've been saving just for you. It's hard to do that when weeks are going by, I can't store all the data. So I guess that's why I'm blogging more. Not that I'm spilling any earth-shattering juicy stuff . . . but it kinda feels like I'm having a conversation with someone . . . and I guess we all need that a bit more than I ever thought.
Mood: Optimistic
Drinking: Coffee and it's yummy! I could use a coffee grinder though, cause then I could buy some of those fantastic organic beans from the coffee shop and grind up a perfect cup! That would be exciting.
Listening To: My ears are fine tuned searching the airwaves for distant grumbles of thunder so I can shut down and retreat to the safety of my bedroom without windows, cuddle in the corner with a good book and assure myself that I am not terrified of storms or tornados.
Hair: On a positive note, the water is softer here, so my hair is too. And it's holding the colour, not bleaching out to that crazy strawberry blonde colour that everyone and their dog has told me is the BEST colour on me yet!
The day wasn't a complete wipe-out though, in the middle of the afternoon I looked out my door just in time to see a HUGE partridge stroll across the driveway and around the garage. HUGE! Much larger than any I've seen around Mom's place. And he wasn't fluffed up drumming or anything either. He was just THAT big. I wished I had a camera for the zillionth time since moving and decided when my WFNB cheque arrives later this week I will seek one out and make the purchase. It's about time I had some technology and was able to share pictures on here.
Later in the evening I played pool with Carol on Pogo which was a good laugh. No, we're not great pool players or anything, but every week they challenge you to play games and win badges and this week one of the badges was pool. So basically our games consisted of Carol illegally sinking the 8 (because she already had her badge) so I would get the win and eventually accumulate enough wins to get the badge. It took a couple of hours. But we had a good time. It's kinda fun to play games together and chat. Jason won't play with me though. He says I didn't have time to play with him when I lived just across the road, so he doesn't have time to play with me now because he's got other people to play with. Which is fine. Fine. I'm a bit of a loner anyway. I like playing solitary games like mahjong. But pool was great fun with Carol. I laughed so hard and the windows were all open that I thought any neighbors out and about might pop over to see what all the excitement was about.
Being here alone, not having anyone to call, not even being able to call my sisters or my mom everytime something pops into my head is . . . well WONDERFUL!! But it can also be kinda lonely in a way that I never quite expected. I guess we all need human interaction on some level and I'm not ready to run off into the woods and become a hermit just yet. It's the not having anyone to tell things too. I'm a saver. I keep things until later, the next time I see you, and then I blurt out all this stuff that I've been saving just for you. It's hard to do that when weeks are going by, I can't store all the data. So I guess that's why I'm blogging more. Not that I'm spilling any earth-shattering juicy stuff . . . but it kinda feels like I'm having a conversation with someone . . . and I guess we all need that a bit more than I ever thought.
Mood: Optimistic
Drinking: Coffee and it's yummy! I could use a coffee grinder though, cause then I could buy some of those fantastic organic beans from the coffee shop and grind up a perfect cup! That would be exciting.
Listening To: My ears are fine tuned searching the airwaves for distant grumbles of thunder so I can shut down and retreat to the safety of my bedroom without windows, cuddle in the corner with a good book and assure myself that I am not terrified of storms or tornados.
Hair: On a positive note, the water is softer here, so my hair is too. And it's holding the colour, not bleaching out to that crazy strawberry blonde colour that everyone and their dog has told me is the BEST colour on me yet!
Love Actually
Reviewing My DVD Collection continues with . . .
Love Actually (2003)
Written & Directed by Richard Curtis
Cast
Bill Nighy .... Billy Mack
Gregor Fisher .... Joe
Colin Firth .... Jamie Bennett
Sienna Guillory .... Jamie's Girlfriend
Liam Neeson .... Daniel
Emma Thompson .... Karen
Kris Marshall .... Colin Frissell
Andrew Lincoln .... Mark
Keira Knightley .... Juliet
Hugh Grant .... The Prime Minister
Martine McCutcheon .... Natalie
Laura Linney .... Sarah
Thomas Sangster .... Sam
Alan Rickman .... Harry
Lúcia Moniz .... Aurelia
Billy Bob Thornton .... The US President
Rowan Atkinson .... Rufus, jewellery salesman
Claudia Schiffer .... Carol
When & Why did I buy this movie?
I think I got this at Blockbuster shortly after it was released on DVD, maybe 6 weeks after it initially came out. I got a previously viewed copy but not a major sale, no super deal. I probably paid between $12.99 and $16.99. But I just wanted it THAT bad. I didn't want to wait for it to be reduced to under ten bucks. And sometimes with REALLY good movies they never get reduced, all the previously viewed copies go for a high price and then once they're gone you have to go all in and buy new. I didn't want to risk it, so I paid more and bought early, because I wanted this movie. I haven't watched it in probably a year, and this will be my third or fourth time to see it.
And now once again through the magic of Internet I'm off to watch it, and I'll be back in the next line with the results!
Favourite Scene
Oh boy! There are a lot of favourite scenes in this one. I love the opening and closing footage of real people greeting one another at the airport. Hugh Grant's dance to Jump for my Love is classic! When Colin Firth's book blows away and the Portuguese girl dives in to save it and he says, "Oh God she's in." The gift wrapping scene with Alan Rickman and Rowan Atkinson (aka Mr. Bean). When Mark comes to the door on Christmas Eve "without hope or agenda" and delivers his Christmas wish written on big signs and then says, "Enough, enough now" as he walks away. When Laura Linney takes the love of her life back to her apartment after the office Christmas party and says, "Can you excuse me for one second" then goes around the corner and does the dance of joy, comes back around and says "That's done." When Emma Thompson gets the Joni Mitchell CD and realises her husband gave the other girl the jewellry, she goes into her bedroom and has a quiet emotional breakdown while Both Sides Now plays. That's a big scene! Huge! Breaks my heart everytime. She's so good at being strong and shattered all at the same time. When Hugh Grant is cruising the neighborhood knocking on everydoor looking for Natalie and has to carol for the kids. And of course I couldn't leave out Colin Firth's Romeo and Juliet scene where he asks Aurelia to marry him.
Least Favourite Scene
None. I enjoyed every inch of this movie.
Favourite Character
I have three favourite characters and I don't know if I could pick just one. I love the raunchy has-been rocker Billy Mack played by Bill Nighy. Kris Marshall's Colin Frissell cracks me up big time. And the kid Sam played by Thomas Sangster is just adorable. If I had to go with just one though . . . probably Bill Nighy.
Least Favourite Character
Nobody readily springs to mind. It's a large ensemble cast. I think they all did okay.
Favourite Quote
Again, oh boy! This is a funny movie, lots of great scenes, funny quotes. Plenty of material to pick from. Right from the beginning with Hugh Grant's voice over the opening credits "When the planes hit the Twin Towers, as far as I know none of the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate or revenge - they were all messages of love. If you look for it, I've got a sneaky feeling you'll find that love actually is all around."
When Colin is going to America and he says, "I'm on Shag Highway heading West."
In the scene between Emma Thompson's character and her daughter when she finds out she's going to be first lobster in the nativity play for the Christmas pageant. "There was more than one lobster present at the birth of Jesus?" And her daughter says, "Duh."
Billy Mack during a tv appearance when they remind him that kids are watching, "Hiya kids. Here is an important message from your Uncle Bill. Don't buy drugs. Become a pop star, and they give you them for free."
Oh the scene at the very beginning where Natalie meets the Prime Minister for the first time -- Natalie says, "Hello, David. I mean "sir". Shit, I can't believe I've just said that. Oh and now I've gone and said "shit" - twice. I'm so sorry, sir."
And Hugh, the Prime Minister responds, "It's fine, it's fine. You could've said "fuck", and then we'd have been in real trouble." And Natalie says, "Thank you, sir. I did have an awful premonition that I was going to fuck up the first day. Oh piss-it!"
It's so nice when Colin Firth's character, Jamie says to Aurelia, "It's my favorite time of day, driving you." And she says in Portuguese, "It is the saddest part of my day, leaving you."
Colin -- "I am Colin. God of Sex. I'm just on the wrong continent, that's all." and "Watch out America, here comes Colin Frissell! And he's got a big knob!"
When Joe, Billy Mack's manager says, "Ten minutes at Elton John's and you're as gay as a maypole."
Oh and in the beginning when Billy keeps singing the wrong words to the song and he swears, "Oh! Fuck wank bugger shitting arse head and hole!"
Extras
Lots of extras on this one. There's deleted scenes with intros by Richard Curtis, The Music of Love Actually with Intros by Richard Curtis, Kelly Clarkson's music video The Trouble with Love Is, DVD-ROM, and feature commentary with Richard Curtis, Hugh Grant, Billy Nighy and Thomas Sangster. There's a really funny part in the commentary actually. Well, there are lots of funny parts, but there's this one part where they're talking about Billy Bob Thornton as we're watching him enter the scene and climb the stairs with Hugh. Hugh says, "He's a wonderful actor with particular demands like the one that he can't be around antique furniture. This scene must have been torture to him. And there on the wall is a picture of Benjamin Disraeli and his biggest phobia of all is Benjamin Disraeli. So, he's actually being very brave." It's really funny. They have a good laugh when Hugh says he put that picture on the table to help Billy look a certain way in another scene and he does look so serious and a bit freaked out. It's funny. But anyway, yes, there are extras and they are good.
Thumbs Up or Down
Two thumbs WAY up from me on this one. Love Actually is everything that love should be. It's magical and funny and it rips the guts right out of you and it's full of hope. I find the British humour to be really funny, like the stereotypical way they deal with the United States for instance. The movie isn't 100% realistic or anything like that, it's a comedy, it's exaggerated for effect, some things are a stretch. But there are some solid story lines too, like Laura Linney who gives up love to look after her brother. But if you open yourself up to this movie and go with it unquestioningly, it's a really entertaining ride. I laughed out loud, snorted even. And I cried, and not the silent tear down the cheek, but the big ole snuffly sob.
Why is this movie in my collection?
Because it belongs there. And not every movie I have can say the same. There are some that need to be traded in for something better. Love Actually stays with the collection until the bitter end though. I wanted to own this movie from the moment they started showing previews for its theatre release. And I wasn't wrong. It's a solid entertaining watch that I'll be able to revisit and enjoy for years to come. Like Four Weddings and a Funeral (which will come up for review someday). If my copy broke I'd probably pay up to $25 to get a new copy . . . and that's a lot of cash for someone who buys mostly previously viewed out of the bargain bin. If you enjoy romantic comedies, if you like the members of the cast, go buy this movie and add it to your collection.
And so ends the DVD reviewing for this weekend. I'll probably not watch anymore until next weekend. But this is fun. I like re-watching these movies and sharing my favourite and not so favourite things.
Love Actually (2003)
Written & Directed by Richard Curtis
Cast
Bill Nighy .... Billy Mack
Gregor Fisher .... Joe
Colin Firth .... Jamie Bennett
Sienna Guillory .... Jamie's Girlfriend
Liam Neeson .... Daniel
Emma Thompson .... Karen
Kris Marshall .... Colin Frissell
Andrew Lincoln .... Mark
Keira Knightley .... Juliet
Hugh Grant .... The Prime Minister
Martine McCutcheon .... Natalie
Laura Linney .... Sarah
Thomas Sangster .... Sam
Alan Rickman .... Harry
Lúcia Moniz .... Aurelia
Billy Bob Thornton .... The US President
Rowan Atkinson .... Rufus, jewellery salesman
Claudia Schiffer .... Carol
When & Why did I buy this movie?
I think I got this at Blockbuster shortly after it was released on DVD, maybe 6 weeks after it initially came out. I got a previously viewed copy but not a major sale, no super deal. I probably paid between $12.99 and $16.99. But I just wanted it THAT bad. I didn't want to wait for it to be reduced to under ten bucks. And sometimes with REALLY good movies they never get reduced, all the previously viewed copies go for a high price and then once they're gone you have to go all in and buy new. I didn't want to risk it, so I paid more and bought early, because I wanted this movie. I haven't watched it in probably a year, and this will be my third or fourth time to see it.
And now once again through the magic of Internet I'm off to watch it, and I'll be back in the next line with the results!
Favourite Scene
Oh boy! There are a lot of favourite scenes in this one. I love the opening and closing footage of real people greeting one another at the airport. Hugh Grant's dance to Jump for my Love is classic! When Colin Firth's book blows away and the Portuguese girl dives in to save it and he says, "Oh God she's in." The gift wrapping scene with Alan Rickman and Rowan Atkinson (aka Mr. Bean). When Mark comes to the door on Christmas Eve "without hope or agenda" and delivers his Christmas wish written on big signs and then says, "Enough, enough now" as he walks away. When Laura Linney takes the love of her life back to her apartment after the office Christmas party and says, "Can you excuse me for one second" then goes around the corner and does the dance of joy, comes back around and says "That's done." When Emma Thompson gets the Joni Mitchell CD and realises her husband gave the other girl the jewellry, she goes into her bedroom and has a quiet emotional breakdown while Both Sides Now plays. That's a big scene! Huge! Breaks my heart everytime. She's so good at being strong and shattered all at the same time. When Hugh Grant is cruising the neighborhood knocking on everydoor looking for Natalie and has to carol for the kids. And of course I couldn't leave out Colin Firth's Romeo and Juliet scene where he asks Aurelia to marry him.
Least Favourite Scene
None. I enjoyed every inch of this movie.
Favourite Character
I have three favourite characters and I don't know if I could pick just one. I love the raunchy has-been rocker Billy Mack played by Bill Nighy. Kris Marshall's Colin Frissell cracks me up big time. And the kid Sam played by Thomas Sangster is just adorable. If I had to go with just one though . . . probably Bill Nighy.
Least Favourite Character
Nobody readily springs to mind. It's a large ensemble cast. I think they all did okay.
Favourite Quote
Again, oh boy! This is a funny movie, lots of great scenes, funny quotes. Plenty of material to pick from. Right from the beginning with Hugh Grant's voice over the opening credits "When the planes hit the Twin Towers, as far as I know none of the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate or revenge - they were all messages of love. If you look for it, I've got a sneaky feeling you'll find that love actually is all around."
When Colin is going to America and he says, "I'm on Shag Highway heading West."
In the scene between Emma Thompson's character and her daughter when she finds out she's going to be first lobster in the nativity play for the Christmas pageant. "There was more than one lobster present at the birth of Jesus?" And her daughter says, "Duh."
Billy Mack during a tv appearance when they remind him that kids are watching, "Hiya kids. Here is an important message from your Uncle Bill. Don't buy drugs. Become a pop star, and they give you them for free."
Oh the scene at the very beginning where Natalie meets the Prime Minister for the first time -- Natalie says, "Hello, David. I mean "sir". Shit, I can't believe I've just said that. Oh and now I've gone and said "shit" - twice. I'm so sorry, sir."
And Hugh, the Prime Minister responds, "It's fine, it's fine. You could've said "fuck", and then we'd have been in real trouble." And Natalie says, "Thank you, sir. I did have an awful premonition that I was going to fuck up the first day. Oh piss-it!"
It's so nice when Colin Firth's character, Jamie says to Aurelia, "It's my favorite time of day, driving you." And she says in Portuguese, "It is the saddest part of my day, leaving you."
Colin -- "I am Colin. God of Sex. I'm just on the wrong continent, that's all." and "Watch out America, here comes Colin Frissell! And he's got a big knob!"
When Joe, Billy Mack's manager says, "Ten minutes at Elton John's and you're as gay as a maypole."
Oh and in the beginning when Billy keeps singing the wrong words to the song and he swears, "Oh! Fuck wank bugger shitting arse head and hole!"
Extras
Lots of extras on this one. There's deleted scenes with intros by Richard Curtis, The Music of Love Actually with Intros by Richard Curtis, Kelly Clarkson's music video The Trouble with Love Is, DVD-ROM, and feature commentary with Richard Curtis, Hugh Grant, Billy Nighy and Thomas Sangster. There's a really funny part in the commentary actually. Well, there are lots of funny parts, but there's this one part where they're talking about Billy Bob Thornton as we're watching him enter the scene and climb the stairs with Hugh. Hugh says, "He's a wonderful actor with particular demands like the one that he can't be around antique furniture. This scene must have been torture to him. And there on the wall is a picture of Benjamin Disraeli and his biggest phobia of all is Benjamin Disraeli. So, he's actually being very brave." It's really funny. They have a good laugh when Hugh says he put that picture on the table to help Billy look a certain way in another scene and he does look so serious and a bit freaked out. It's funny. But anyway, yes, there are extras and they are good.
Thumbs Up or Down
Two thumbs WAY up from me on this one. Love Actually is everything that love should be. It's magical and funny and it rips the guts right out of you and it's full of hope. I find the British humour to be really funny, like the stereotypical way they deal with the United States for instance. The movie isn't 100% realistic or anything like that, it's a comedy, it's exaggerated for effect, some things are a stretch. But there are some solid story lines too, like Laura Linney who gives up love to look after her brother. But if you open yourself up to this movie and go with it unquestioningly, it's a really entertaining ride. I laughed out loud, snorted even. And I cried, and not the silent tear down the cheek, but the big ole snuffly sob.
Why is this movie in my collection?
Because it belongs there. And not every movie I have can say the same. There are some that need to be traded in for something better. Love Actually stays with the collection until the bitter end though. I wanted to own this movie from the moment they started showing previews for its theatre release. And I wasn't wrong. It's a solid entertaining watch that I'll be able to revisit and enjoy for years to come. Like Four Weddings and a Funeral (which will come up for review someday). If my copy broke I'd probably pay up to $25 to get a new copy . . . and that's a lot of cash for someone who buys mostly previously viewed out of the bargain bin. If you enjoy romantic comedies, if you like the members of the cast, go buy this movie and add it to your collection.
And so ends the DVD reviewing for this weekend. I'll probably not watch anymore until next weekend. But this is fun. I like re-watching these movies and sharing my favourite and not so favourite things.
Saturday, June 11, 2005
True Colours
You with the sad eyes
don't be discouraged
oh I realize
it's hard to take courage
in a world full of people
you can lose sight of it all
and the darkness inside you
can make you feel so small . . .
Blah! A wasted day. Accomplished nothing I set out to do. Stuck with crap that I never wanted all day. Blah!
So, maybe tonight I'll fish into the dvd collection and review another one for you. Maybe.
Mood: Perplexed
Drinking: red wine
Listening To: Sympathy, Bon Jovi
Hair: needs some friggin' help and soon or all will be lost
don't be discouraged
oh I realize
it's hard to take courage
in a world full of people
you can lose sight of it all
and the darkness inside you
can make you feel so small . . .
Blah! A wasted day. Accomplished nothing I set out to do. Stuck with crap that I never wanted all day. Blah!
So, maybe tonight I'll fish into the dvd collection and review another one for you. Maybe.
Mood: Perplexed
Drinking: red wine
Listening To: Sympathy, Bon Jovi
Hair: needs some friggin' help and soon or all will be lost
Friday, June 10, 2005
Reviewing my DVD Collection
Since I'm always watching them anyway, I thought why not review my DVD collection while I'm at it. I gave myself a list of criteria and each week or so I'll watch a movie from my collection and fill in my responses. So I picked one at random to begin with and tonight I'm watching . . .
Party Monster (2003)
Written & Directed by Fenton Bailey and Randy Barbato
Based on the book "Disco Bloodbath" by James St. James
Cast (in credits order)
Seth Green .... James
Macaulay Culkin .... Michael
Diana Scarwid .... Elke
Chloë Sevigny .... Gitsie
Dillon Woolley .... Young James
Marilyn Manson .... Christina
Dylan McDermott .... Peter Gatien
Mia Kirshner .... Natasha
Wilmer Valderrama .... Keoki
Elliot Kriss .... Cabbie
Natasha Lyonne .... Brooke
Janis Dardaris .... TV Reporter
Daniel Franzese .... The Rat/Dallas MC
Wilson Cruz .... Angel
Manny Perez .... Johnny
Justin Hagan .... Freez
Brendan O'Malley .... Young Michael
Phillip Knasiak .... Young Wrestler
John Summerour .... Rodney
John Stamos .... Talk Show Host
Michael Kaycheck .... Ben
Steven Marcus .... Bill
rest of cast listed alphabetically:
Joey Gray .... Karl (uncredited)
Amanda Lepore .... Herself (uncredited)
Walt Paper .... Himself (uncredited)
Richie Rich .... Herself (uncredited)
James Sheldon .... Male Geisha (uncredited)
Bil Slavin .... Clara the carefree chicken (uncredited)
When & Why Did I buy this movie?
I bought this movie maybe late last summer or in the fall at Rogers Video in Miramichi. It was previously viewed, not new, so I'm thinking I probably got it as part of a 2 for $15 deal. When I saw it on the shelf I snatched it up because this was one of those movies I really wanted to see that never came to a theatre near me. I don't think it did much at the box office but I had seen excerpts on some talk show & thought it looked good. For those unfamiliar with this movie, dubbed the wildest true story ever told, it's about the New York club scene in the 80's and early 90's or more specifically one Club Kid named Michael Alig who spiralled out of control and ended up murdering a drug dealer, chopping his body up, putting it into a box and sending it afloat in the river. I've only watched this movie one time and now I'm about to watch it again.
Through the magic of the Internet, I'm back after watching the movie to continue with my review.
Favourite Scene
There are a lot of really great scenes, a lot of funny stuff . . . but I have to say that the scene in the coffee shop when James is teaching Michael how to be fabulous is definitely one of my favourites. Followed closely by the truck party when Christina is driving on acid. Funny!
Least Favourite Scene
Hmmm, nothing springs to mind . . . I didn't HATE any one part.
Favourite Character
Hands down it's Marilyn Manson's Christina! Hilarious! But Seth is brilliant in this as well.
Least Favourite Character
Okay, Mac was not the best in this . . . he seemed wooden by times, forced. But my least favourite character was Angel played by Wilson Cruz. I just wasn't buying what he was laying down, none of the time.
Favourite Quote
"I really think you should move in with me James. I'm just like a balloon, unless someone holds my string I'll float away." -- Michael to a comatose James after faking a suicide attempt.
And of course who could forget this one: "Oh James! I'm getting away with murder and you're just jealous!" -- Michael to James after James asks him how he can rat out Peter when he's been like a father to him.
Extras
Lots of juicy extras on this one, which I love. There's a featurette, director commentary, interview with the real Michael, actor interviews with all the primaries, behind the scenes footage and trailers. Good stuff. Hours of entertainment.
Thumbs Up or Down
A lot of people don't like this movie, but I'll give it the thumbs up. Maybe it's because I can remember seeing the Club Kids on tv talk shows back in the day and thinking they were fabulous, maybe it's because Seth Green just cracks me up, I dunno, but I like this movie.
Why is this movie in my collection?
Well, it's a good movie. I like it. It's a movie I'll be able to put in and watch every so often and be entertained, find new things that I missed last time. I know it's not everyone's cup of tea, (the way it's shot, the subject matter, etc.) but I'm entertained by it and glad it's in my collection. If you're unsure though, you should rent it before buying. If I had to buy it again I wouldn't pay over $12.99. But if you remember I only paid $7.50 for my copy, what a steal!
Party Monster (2003)
Written & Directed by Fenton Bailey and Randy Barbato
Based on the book "Disco Bloodbath" by James St. James
Cast (in credits order)
Seth Green .... James
Macaulay Culkin .... Michael
Diana Scarwid .... Elke
Chloë Sevigny .... Gitsie
Dillon Woolley .... Young James
Marilyn Manson .... Christina
Dylan McDermott .... Peter Gatien
Mia Kirshner .... Natasha
Wilmer Valderrama .... Keoki
Elliot Kriss .... Cabbie
Natasha Lyonne .... Brooke
Janis Dardaris .... TV Reporter
Daniel Franzese .... The Rat/Dallas MC
Wilson Cruz .... Angel
Manny Perez .... Johnny
Justin Hagan .... Freez
Brendan O'Malley .... Young Michael
Phillip Knasiak .... Young Wrestler
John Summerour .... Rodney
John Stamos .... Talk Show Host
Michael Kaycheck .... Ben
Steven Marcus .... Bill
rest of cast listed alphabetically:
Joey Gray .... Karl (uncredited)
Amanda Lepore .... Herself (uncredited)
Walt Paper .... Himself (uncredited)
Richie Rich .... Herself (uncredited)
James Sheldon .... Male Geisha (uncredited)
Bil Slavin .... Clara the carefree chicken (uncredited)
When & Why Did I buy this movie?
I bought this movie maybe late last summer or in the fall at Rogers Video in Miramichi. It was previously viewed, not new, so I'm thinking I probably got it as part of a 2 for $15 deal. When I saw it on the shelf I snatched it up because this was one of those movies I really wanted to see that never came to a theatre near me. I don't think it did much at the box office but I had seen excerpts on some talk show & thought it looked good. For those unfamiliar with this movie, dubbed the wildest true story ever told, it's about the New York club scene in the 80's and early 90's or more specifically one Club Kid named Michael Alig who spiralled out of control and ended up murdering a drug dealer, chopping his body up, putting it into a box and sending it afloat in the river. I've only watched this movie one time and now I'm about to watch it again.
Through the magic of the Internet, I'm back after watching the movie to continue with my review.
Favourite Scene
There are a lot of really great scenes, a lot of funny stuff . . . but I have to say that the scene in the coffee shop when James is teaching Michael how to be fabulous is definitely one of my favourites. Followed closely by the truck party when Christina is driving on acid. Funny!
Least Favourite Scene
Hmmm, nothing springs to mind . . . I didn't HATE any one part.
Favourite Character
Hands down it's Marilyn Manson's Christina! Hilarious! But Seth is brilliant in this as well.
Least Favourite Character
Okay, Mac was not the best in this . . . he seemed wooden by times, forced. But my least favourite character was Angel played by Wilson Cruz. I just wasn't buying what he was laying down, none of the time.
Favourite Quote
"I really think you should move in with me James. I'm just like a balloon, unless someone holds my string I'll float away." -- Michael to a comatose James after faking a suicide attempt.
And of course who could forget this one: "Oh James! I'm getting away with murder and you're just jealous!" -- Michael to James after James asks him how he can rat out Peter when he's been like a father to him.
Extras
Lots of juicy extras on this one, which I love. There's a featurette, director commentary, interview with the real Michael, actor interviews with all the primaries, behind the scenes footage and trailers. Good stuff. Hours of entertainment.
Thumbs Up or Down
A lot of people don't like this movie, but I'll give it the thumbs up. Maybe it's because I can remember seeing the Club Kids on tv talk shows back in the day and thinking they were fabulous, maybe it's because Seth Green just cracks me up, I dunno, but I like this movie.
Why is this movie in my collection?
Well, it's a good movie. I like it. It's a movie I'll be able to put in and watch every so often and be entertained, find new things that I missed last time. I know it's not everyone's cup of tea, (the way it's shot, the subject matter, etc.) but I'm entertained by it and glad it's in my collection. If you're unsure though, you should rent it before buying. If I had to buy it again I wouldn't pay over $12.99. But if you remember I only paid $7.50 for my copy, what a steal!
Take a Little Time
I've been really busy the past couple of days with work, finishing the WFNB newsletter, my night class, and just general living. I walked all the way out to the Irving yesterday afternoon to put the WFNB newsletter on the bus to Edmundston. It is a long haul on a hot afternoon, I gotta say. But I made it without taking a heat stroke. Decided since it was Thursday and I'd probably want a glass of wine on the weekend that I might as well go to the liquor store while I was out there, stock up and take a cab home. So, I did that. Went to class last night. Read my short story The Voice because she had assigned a theme to the readings and wanted work dealing with dreams or resulting from dreams. Got some good feedback I guess. I've got four stories printed out and ready to be mailed to various magazines for consideration. I'm getting pretty aggressive with my submitting this year, going after the highest paying markets (because I need the cash!) and then the lower paying ones. Hopefully, something will stick somewhere. Today, I even did some exercises earlier! Yay for me! Got a full afternoon planned. Lots to do so I'd better get to it.
Mood: Fully Conscious
Drinking: Tea with 1%
Listening To: The View on TV because Rosie is guest-hosting and the Broadway cast from Glengarry Glen Ross are on including Alan Alda
Hair: Recently laundered
Mood: Fully Conscious
Drinking: Tea with 1%
Listening To: The View on TV because Rosie is guest-hosting and the Broadway cast from Glengarry Glen Ross are on including Alan Alda
Hair: Recently laundered
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
I'm in!
Just got word from the professor at the university and I'm in! She looked at my portfolio and gave me the thumbs up to take her class next year. Thank you Jesus! (Can you see me stretching my hands above my head and looking heavenward?)
No, but seriously, I'm excited about this. This is supposed to be a very highly respected creative writing course, and difficult to get into. My friend says I will learn so much from this professor . . . and since taking this class my friend has published, won contests . . . you get the idea. It certainly can't hurt anything . . . well, except my pocketbook. Oy! Any takers to finance my education?
Mood: Excited
Drinking: Coffee, coffee and more coffee
Listening To: Airplanes, there seem to be a lot overhead today
Hair: Yeesh! Need to do something about that if I'm going to university!
No, but seriously, I'm excited about this. This is supposed to be a very highly respected creative writing course, and difficult to get into. My friend says I will learn so much from this professor . . . and since taking this class my friend has published, won contests . . . you get the idea. It certainly can't hurt anything . . . well, except my pocketbook. Oy! Any takers to finance my education?
Mood: Excited
Drinking: Coffee, coffee and more coffee
Listening To: Airplanes, there seem to be a lot overhead today
Hair: Yeesh! Need to do something about that if I'm going to university!
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
The Radio Saved My Life Tonight
Today was mail day at my house . . . I don't have my own key for the mailbox yet so I'm at the mercy of strangers on motorcycles to drop off my mail at least once a week. It's not the ideal situation, but I'm getting by. Lots of interesting stuff in the mail today -- bills of course (I didn't think I had so many!), new cheques with my name and new address printed in the top left corner, my official acceptance into the Maritime Writers' workshop (hmmm, maybe I CAN go if I don't get the scholarship), and a letter from a friend with two new books. I can't help myself of course, flip open the books, and soon I'm lost . . . taking an impromptu break from work . . . oops! The bus to Fredericton, Edmundston and beyond has left the town and I missed it, packages must wait another day . . . I'm absorbed.
Something triggers a memory . . . I'm 12, on the edge of adolescence, in a matter of months I will be staying out all night, running around with boys, drinking, smoking, experimenting . . . but for right now I'm 12 and I'm alone in my parents bedroom. I'm lying on the bed (green bedspread) fiddling with the tuner on the clock radio. The radio rests in the middle of a headboard that is sectioned in three -- a sliding door on each end, open in the centre. I'm 12 and I have no idea there is a big world outside my house . . . or more precisely that I am in it. We don't have cable or satellite television. This is before MTV, before VCRs, before . . .
I'm 12 years old and carefully turning the AM radio dial to discover the world. Mostly static, the whine of signals, the local station playing Back to the Bible comes in loud and clear but I can't get Fredericton or Saint John there's too much white noise. But suddenly there's music and it's clear. A channel I've never heard before, songs I don't know . . . You can ring my bell, ring my bell . . . and then an announcer saying, Dubya-N-BC, stressing the N, holding it in his mouth. He talks strange, pronounces things differently, plays music I've never heard before. I lay back and listen until my mom makes me turn it off and go to bed. I return in the daytime but the channel only magically appears at night. My dad says the air is clearer then, that the radio picks up signals from way down in the states, as far away as New York City. At night I listen to WNBC and feel like I'm partaking in the world . . . this is live radio, the man speaking to me is right then sitting in a booth in New York City and I'm listening . . . I'm listening along with thousands of others from who even knows where . . . but I'm a part of it. I'm in it.
This is my first memory (though it may not be the first time) of me questioning what was beyond Miramichi, beyond New Brunswick, beyond Canada even. This is the beginning of the development of the curiosity and instinct that led me to Toronto . . . to Sackville even . . . that will lead me to other places. I'm glad to have thought of this today.
Mood: Achy
Drinking: Cold coffee
Listening To: The hum of my computer
Hair: . . . oh boy! Touchy subject today.
Something triggers a memory . . . I'm 12, on the edge of adolescence, in a matter of months I will be staying out all night, running around with boys, drinking, smoking, experimenting . . . but for right now I'm 12 and I'm alone in my parents bedroom. I'm lying on the bed (green bedspread) fiddling with the tuner on the clock radio. The radio rests in the middle of a headboard that is sectioned in three -- a sliding door on each end, open in the centre. I'm 12 and I have no idea there is a big world outside my house . . . or more precisely that I am in it. We don't have cable or satellite television. This is before MTV, before VCRs, before . . .
I'm 12 years old and carefully turning the AM radio dial to discover the world. Mostly static, the whine of signals, the local station playing Back to the Bible comes in loud and clear but I can't get Fredericton or Saint John there's too much white noise. But suddenly there's music and it's clear. A channel I've never heard before, songs I don't know . . . You can ring my bell, ring my bell . . . and then an announcer saying, Dubya-N-BC, stressing the N, holding it in his mouth. He talks strange, pronounces things differently, plays music I've never heard before. I lay back and listen until my mom makes me turn it off and go to bed. I return in the daytime but the channel only magically appears at night. My dad says the air is clearer then, that the radio picks up signals from way down in the states, as far away as New York City. At night I listen to WNBC and feel like I'm partaking in the world . . . this is live radio, the man speaking to me is right then sitting in a booth in New York City and I'm listening . . . I'm listening along with thousands of others from who even knows where . . . but I'm a part of it. I'm in it.
This is my first memory (though it may not be the first time) of me questioning what was beyond Miramichi, beyond New Brunswick, beyond Canada even. This is the beginning of the development of the curiosity and instinct that led me to Toronto . . . to Sackville even . . . that will lead me to other places. I'm glad to have thought of this today.
Mood: Achy
Drinking: Cold coffee
Listening To: The hum of my computer
Hair: . . . oh boy! Touchy subject today.
Monday, June 06, 2005
Ambushed
Last night I went into the kitchen to make my nightly cup of tea . . . out of the corner of my eye I caught movement by the window. I looked over and there was this BIG ASS spider running across the windowsill. I jumped and screamed . . . and he jumped off the ledge and onto the kitchen chair with a loud plop . . . which made me jump and scream more . . . which only made him run faster, leaping off the chair and onto the floor. Never have I seen such a prison break type of attempted get-away from a spider. If he hadn't panicked and just stayed perfectly still on the window ledge I probably wouldn't have noticed him at all. But this guy was a runner, a jumper, a nervous wreck.
I raced upstairs and got the flyswat, raced back down thinking for sure he would've gone by then and I'd go crazy from wondering when he was going to pop up again. But there he was in the corner, catching his breath, plotting his strategy . . . not the brightest bulb in the pack, he can't say I didn't give him every opportunity for escape. I swatted him and issued a warning to all who might be lurking in the shadows listening, "If I see you, you will die. I am bigger than you. I am the woman of the house. I am strong and I will crush you." Then I went back upstairs and spent the rest of the evening fidgeting and imagining movement, but turning to find nothing there.
I don't mind co-habitating with them as long as I don't have to look at them, as long as they leave me alone. Can't we all just get along?! Must I walk softly and carry a big fly swat?
Mood: Dazed 'n Confused
Drinking: Coffee, organic with real cream
Listening To: Rush, Working Man
Hair: . . . oy!
I raced upstairs and got the flyswat, raced back down thinking for sure he would've gone by then and I'd go crazy from wondering when he was going to pop up again. But there he was in the corner, catching his breath, plotting his strategy . . . not the brightest bulb in the pack, he can't say I didn't give him every opportunity for escape. I swatted him and issued a warning to all who might be lurking in the shadows listening, "If I see you, you will die. I am bigger than you. I am the woman of the house. I am strong and I will crush you." Then I went back upstairs and spent the rest of the evening fidgeting and imagining movement, but turning to find nothing there.
I don't mind co-habitating with them as long as I don't have to look at them, as long as they leave me alone. Can't we all just get along?! Must I walk softly and carry a big fly swat?
Mood: Dazed 'n Confused
Drinking: Coffee, organic with real cream
Listening To: Rush, Working Man
Hair: . . . oy!
Sunday, June 05, 2005
What's Cooking?
I'm cooking supper. I really love cooking . . . and surprisingly I don't even mind cleaning up after myself. I LIKE doing the dishes. Who would've thunk it? I guess I'm just basking in the glow of actually having my own dishes to wash. They've always been somebody else's, never mine and just mine before. Tonight, I'm cooking pork chops and rice (brown rice, not any of that instant stuff from a box). I always cook WAY too much, so I only need to cook twice a week and I'm covered with left-overs the rest of the time. My new skillet is lovely! All my pots and pans are a joy to work with actually. If I had more cash I would buy more food and experiment with different dishes. But for now I have to stick to what's affordable, and what I know I'll enjoy for sure.
I've been busy all weekend, working. Finished bnm yesterday finally. Trying desperately to finish up NB Ink now. Tony's are on tonight . . . but it seems like there's something else I watch on Sundays . . . can't think of what it is though, but I'll probably stumble upon it if I've got time for watching shows later.
Baptised my apartment last night . . . NO, I did not have a gorgeous hunk over for a night of romping around on the queen-size (and I mean mattress, not me). I watched my first viewing of Lost in Translation. I cannot truly say I'm living somewhere until I've watched certain films in that setting. Lost in Translation is one, Vanilla Sky is another and of course Fight Club but I'm inclined to add one more to my list of staples -- Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. I'll have to find time to watch all of these sometime over the next week or two.
But last night I watched Bill Murray and once again I laughed and empathised and cried and felt like I was travelling, felt like I was in a hotel. I just love that movie! She really captures that feeling of travel, when you reach out to anything and anyone that feels familar, safe, and you're not quite yourself and you're not quite someone else and you form these bonds and friendships with people you would never meet otherwise and you'll never meet again.
Mood: Hungry
Drinking: Coffee
Listening To: the sizzle of pork chops in the kitchen
Hair: beyond redemption
I've been busy all weekend, working. Finished bnm yesterday finally. Trying desperately to finish up NB Ink now. Tony's are on tonight . . . but it seems like there's something else I watch on Sundays . . . can't think of what it is though, but I'll probably stumble upon it if I've got time for watching shows later.
Baptised my apartment last night . . . NO, I did not have a gorgeous hunk over for a night of romping around on the queen-size (and I mean mattress, not me). I watched my first viewing of Lost in Translation. I cannot truly say I'm living somewhere until I've watched certain films in that setting. Lost in Translation is one, Vanilla Sky is another and of course Fight Club but I'm inclined to add one more to my list of staples -- Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. I'll have to find time to watch all of these sometime over the next week or two.
But last night I watched Bill Murray and once again I laughed and empathised and cried and felt like I was travelling, felt like I was in a hotel. I just love that movie! She really captures that feeling of travel, when you reach out to anything and anyone that feels familar, safe, and you're not quite yourself and you're not quite someone else and you form these bonds and friendships with people you would never meet otherwise and you'll never meet again.
Mood: Hungry
Drinking: Coffee
Listening To: the sizzle of pork chops in the kitchen
Hair: beyond redemption
Friday, June 03, 2005
Hit Me Baby, One More Time
The summer reality show frenzy started this week with the much anticipated Canadian Idol. I was a bit disappointed with the Moncton coverage. I wanted to see more of the downtown area and I wished somebody from Miramichi had made it on camera . . . but they're not showing everybody's audition so maybe there will be Miramichiers to cheer on next week. I was excited by the girl from Nackawic though. I hope she goes far. It would be really cool to have a New Brunswicker to vote for.
Quite by accident the other night I found myself watching Dancing with the Stars on ABC. I hadn't seen any promos for this show, had no idea what it was about, but here's the thing -- I absolutely love competitive dance. I watch competitions all the time when I can catch them on tv. The tango, waltz, rumba, samba, cha cha, fox trot, jive -- I love them all! So stumbling upon a reality show that pairs celebrities with professional dancers, makes them compete and allows me to vote for my favourite online is just a great concept in my book. Certainly enough to pique my interest and get me to tune in . . . and from the moment New Kids cutie, Joey McIntyre (I loved him on Boston Public), cha cha cha-ed his little tush across the floor I was hooked!
There are six celebrities competing including heavy-weight boxing champ, Evander Holyfield, and the original Bachelorette, Trista Sutter (yes, Ryan was there in the audience cheering her on). The couple I enjoyed the least was supermodel, Rachel Hunter, and her professional partner, Jonathan Roberts. They danced the waltz but she really seemed clumsy. It could have been that she had been ill all that day, throwing up . . . but it just looked like he was hanging on for dear life to keep her in place . . . like Laverne Defazio at her first ballroom lesson . . . just very awkward and geeky to my eye. But the judges didn't totally hate them.
I voted for Trista and Louis . . . because the judges gave them a bad score and I thought they were great. The results will be a combination of the professional judges scores as well as the viewers votes and the couple with the least score gets kicked off next week I believe. I hope ABC doesn't prematurely give this one the axe as they so often do *cough* Push, Nevada.
Last night I watched NBC's Hit Me Baby, One More Time. Okay, I was really looking forward to this show that puts former greats back in the limelight in a competition against one another, but I have to confess at times I was left scratching my head, wondering if the network had done something to the mics to make these people sound terrible. Canada's own Loverboy started things off with one of my faves "Working for the Weekend" and I was dumbfounded -- is it possible Mike Reno can no longer sing?! MIKE RENO! He did redeem himself slightly a bit later in the program when the band did a cover of Enrique's "Hero" but only slightly.
Not so for A Flock of Seagulls . . . they were just terrible no matter what they sang. I've never heard "I Ran" sound quite so raunched out, like they'd just come off a week-long drunk where they smoked 200 packs of cigarettes. Yes, it was THAT bad.
It really makes you think about bands like U2 and Bon Jovi . . . still together, still making albums and actually selling them . . . singing stronger than ever. There's something to be said for longevity.
I was never a Tiffany fan, but I guess she did okay. CeCe Peniston was pretty good. But Arrested Development got the audience vote and won the first episode. I'm not at all familiar with their music, but they had the most modern sound and really performed, got the audience involved. I totally agree they deserve to win. But it was a strange mix of music styles to have compete against one another . . . apples, oranges . . . mouldy bread . . . you know.
Still, I'm not giving up on this show just yet. I'm interested to see next week's episode for a couple of reasons. First, The Knack, The Motels and Tommy Tutone are all on the same show, which should make for either an interesting or terribly sad competition. Second, Vanilla Ice is going to compete and when he was on The Surreal Life he was so anti- Ice, Ice, Baby . . . that I have to wonder what has happened to get him on that stage embracing that old image he hates so much. It should be interesting and hopefully more fun than this first episode, which totally sucked.
Mood: Freezing to death!! If this is 31 degrees . . . I'm in trouble
Drinking: Coffee still
Listening To: the lawnmower next door . . . honest to God, how often do you "really" have to cut the grass to have a healthy lawn?
Hair: Blah! I need to find a local salon . . . scary!
Quite by accident the other night I found myself watching Dancing with the Stars on ABC. I hadn't seen any promos for this show, had no idea what it was about, but here's the thing -- I absolutely love competitive dance. I watch competitions all the time when I can catch them on tv. The tango, waltz, rumba, samba, cha cha, fox trot, jive -- I love them all! So stumbling upon a reality show that pairs celebrities with professional dancers, makes them compete and allows me to vote for my favourite online is just a great concept in my book. Certainly enough to pique my interest and get me to tune in . . . and from the moment New Kids cutie, Joey McIntyre (I loved him on Boston Public), cha cha cha-ed his little tush across the floor I was hooked!
There are six celebrities competing including heavy-weight boxing champ, Evander Holyfield, and the original Bachelorette, Trista Sutter (yes, Ryan was there in the audience cheering her on). The couple I enjoyed the least was supermodel, Rachel Hunter, and her professional partner, Jonathan Roberts. They danced the waltz but she really seemed clumsy. It could have been that she had been ill all that day, throwing up . . . but it just looked like he was hanging on for dear life to keep her in place . . . like Laverne Defazio at her first ballroom lesson . . . just very awkward and geeky to my eye. But the judges didn't totally hate them.
I voted for Trista and Louis . . . because the judges gave them a bad score and I thought they were great. The results will be a combination of the professional judges scores as well as the viewers votes and the couple with the least score gets kicked off next week I believe. I hope ABC doesn't prematurely give this one the axe as they so often do *cough* Push, Nevada.
Last night I watched NBC's Hit Me Baby, One More Time. Okay, I was really looking forward to this show that puts former greats back in the limelight in a competition against one another, but I have to confess at times I was left scratching my head, wondering if the network had done something to the mics to make these people sound terrible. Canada's own Loverboy started things off with one of my faves "Working for the Weekend" and I was dumbfounded -- is it possible Mike Reno can no longer sing?! MIKE RENO! He did redeem himself slightly a bit later in the program when the band did a cover of Enrique's "Hero" but only slightly.
Not so for A Flock of Seagulls . . . they were just terrible no matter what they sang. I've never heard "I Ran" sound quite so raunched out, like they'd just come off a week-long drunk where they smoked 200 packs of cigarettes. Yes, it was THAT bad.
It really makes you think about bands like U2 and Bon Jovi . . . still together, still making albums and actually selling them . . . singing stronger than ever. There's something to be said for longevity.
I was never a Tiffany fan, but I guess she did okay. CeCe Peniston was pretty good. But Arrested Development got the audience vote and won the first episode. I'm not at all familiar with their music, but they had the most modern sound and really performed, got the audience involved. I totally agree they deserve to win. But it was a strange mix of music styles to have compete against one another . . . apples, oranges . . . mouldy bread . . . you know.
Still, I'm not giving up on this show just yet. I'm interested to see next week's episode for a couple of reasons. First, The Knack, The Motels and Tommy Tutone are all on the same show, which should make for either an interesting or terribly sad competition. Second, Vanilla Ice is going to compete and when he was on The Surreal Life he was so anti- Ice, Ice, Baby . . . that I have to wonder what has happened to get him on that stage embracing that old image he hates so much. It should be interesting and hopefully more fun than this first episode, which totally sucked.
Mood: Freezing to death!! If this is 31 degrees . . . I'm in trouble
Drinking: Coffee still
Listening To: the lawnmower next door . . . honest to God, how often do you "really" have to cut the grass to have a healthy lawn?
Hair: Blah! I need to find a local salon . . . scary!
Hammer to Fall
Mom, Sherry, Paulina and Anna visited me for a few hours yesterday. Mom didn't have to stay at the hospital, which was good, but still the doctor only "thinks" he knows what's wrong with her, they didn't run any tests . . . and she has more pills to take . . . has to come back in a couple of weeks for a check up. So, fingers crossed that this round of medication makes a difference.
We went to Wendy's for lunch and once again this Sackville Wendy's redeems the chain. I'm telling you if you're in Moncton and you're thinking of eating at Wendy's, get on that highway and drive the half-hour to the one in Sackville, because there is simply no comparison. I had a baked potato with broccolli and cheese. Haven't had one of those in forever. Yummy!
We took the girls to the swan pond and watched the swans and ducks swimming around. They enjoyed that. The kids really liked my apartment, though they got a little confused when it came time for them to go home . . . I think they thought I'd be going too. I think Mom felt better seeing the place with my stuff in it and knowing that I'm not homesick or anything. I got a little lump in my throat seeing the kids drive away though . . . it's the only tinge of homesickness since I got here. But I mist up just looking at the kids sometimes, when they say something particularly cool or cute. I guess I'm just a sentimental old fool when it comes to nieces and nephew. It was a nice little visit though and nobody got hurt on the steps :-)
I need to rest my legs -- BIG TIME! My hip is way out of whack and my knees are a mess. Everytime I go up that hill I swell to the size of I don't what. I don't need to go to the university again until Tuesday . . . and I just bought groceries to do me for two weeks . . . so I'm settling in for a nice resting of my legs cause they need it. When I get like this I need to take it easy or it just gets worse.
The trouble is I haven't been able to take it easy at all this past two weeks. I've had to go, go, go, to stay on top of the moving, the cleaning, the shopping, and everything, which wouldn't have been a problem if the weather had been stable and I hadn't been in flare. But to go like that when my body is telling me not to can be bad, it just makes the flare last longer and be more painful. So, the question is can I stay home, resting and stretching but not doing mega-hours of housework or computing work in a single sitting, until Tuesday evening when I have to go to class? We'll see.
It would probably be the best thing to do but I really wanted to go to the Market tomorrow morning . . . and I wanted to check out the library . . . and find the paint store . . . and see if Frenchy's has any nice summer clothes . . . and go to the Jean Coutu for Raid and things . . . and . . .
Mood: Optimistic
Drinking: Coffee with cream
Listening To: Queen (we're not worthy!)
Hair: Unruly
We went to Wendy's for lunch and once again this Sackville Wendy's redeems the chain. I'm telling you if you're in Moncton and you're thinking of eating at Wendy's, get on that highway and drive the half-hour to the one in Sackville, because there is simply no comparison. I had a baked potato with broccolli and cheese. Haven't had one of those in forever. Yummy!
We took the girls to the swan pond and watched the swans and ducks swimming around. They enjoyed that. The kids really liked my apartment, though they got a little confused when it came time for them to go home . . . I think they thought I'd be going too. I think Mom felt better seeing the place with my stuff in it and knowing that I'm not homesick or anything. I got a little lump in my throat seeing the kids drive away though . . . it's the only tinge of homesickness since I got here. But I mist up just looking at the kids sometimes, when they say something particularly cool or cute. I guess I'm just a sentimental old fool when it comes to nieces and nephew. It was a nice little visit though and nobody got hurt on the steps :-)
I need to rest my legs -- BIG TIME! My hip is way out of whack and my knees are a mess. Everytime I go up that hill I swell to the size of I don't what. I don't need to go to the university again until Tuesday . . . and I just bought groceries to do me for two weeks . . . so I'm settling in for a nice resting of my legs cause they need it. When I get like this I need to take it easy or it just gets worse.
The trouble is I haven't been able to take it easy at all this past two weeks. I've had to go, go, go, to stay on top of the moving, the cleaning, the shopping, and everything, which wouldn't have been a problem if the weather had been stable and I hadn't been in flare. But to go like that when my body is telling me not to can be bad, it just makes the flare last longer and be more painful. So, the question is can I stay home, resting and stretching but not doing mega-hours of housework or computing work in a single sitting, until Tuesday evening when I have to go to class? We'll see.
It would probably be the best thing to do but I really wanted to go to the Market tomorrow morning . . . and I wanted to check out the library . . . and find the paint store . . . and see if Frenchy's has any nice summer clothes . . . and go to the Jean Coutu for Raid and things . . . and . . .
Mood: Optimistic
Drinking: Coffee with cream
Listening To: Queen (we're not worthy!)
Hair: Unruly
Thursday, June 02, 2005
. . .
I was going to post about my writing workshop tonight . . .
But I don't even know what to say . . .
I had to go last, at the end of three hours of reading and discussion . . . finally, I got my 15 minutes, after class was supposed to have ended . . . with the most subtle and dense work I have . . . excerpted from a longer piece so it doesn't even have an ending . . .
It wasn't pretty . . .
I'm not sure it was at all accurate . . .
Or maybe it was and I'm not writing for these girls . . .
Or maybe it was and the thing's just not working . . .
All I know is . . .
I feel like crap.
But I don't even know what to say . . .
I had to go last, at the end of three hours of reading and discussion . . . finally, I got my 15 minutes, after class was supposed to have ended . . . with the most subtle and dense work I have . . . excerpted from a longer piece so it doesn't even have an ending . . .
It wasn't pretty . . .
I'm not sure it was at all accurate . . .
Or maybe it was and I'm not writing for these girls . . .
Or maybe it was and the thing's just not working . . .
All I know is . . .
I feel like crap.
Company Coming
Mom, Sherry and kids are dropping by today. Well hopefully Mom will be coming. They are in Moncton this morning so she can see a specialist . . . there's some concern they might admit her and keep her for awhile. She's not real happy about that, but I think it's a great idea if it helps to get to the bottom of the situation and get her back on the mend. It's only eight bucks to take the bus into Moncton and it goes several times each day, I could visit.
Also have my class this evening, the workshop portion, which should be interesting. Yesterday I got accepted into the Maritime Writers' Workshop at UNB in July. I've applied for financial assistance, a scholarship. I think they only give one per discipline, which means they'll take the one with the most potential who also needs the cash. Being poor won't be enough and I can't go if I don't get the funding . . . so it's still a long shot. We'll see.
Mood: Dozy
Drinking: Coffee
Listening To: Genesis, Paperlate
Hair: Just plain old dirty
Also have my class this evening, the workshop portion, which should be interesting. Yesterday I got accepted into the Maritime Writers' Workshop at UNB in July. I've applied for financial assistance, a scholarship. I think they only give one per discipline, which means they'll take the one with the most potential who also needs the cash. Being poor won't be enough and I can't go if I don't get the funding . . . so it's still a long shot. We'll see.
Mood: Dozy
Drinking: Coffee
Listening To: Genesis, Paperlate
Hair: Just plain old dirty
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
Does Drano kill?
Okay, so I survived my trip to the grocery store . . . next time maybe I will try Save-Easy. How expensive can it really be? And that walk was killer today! Killer!
Anyway, I had so much stuff that I had to cab home. We're driving along Main Street chatting about the weather when all of a sudden this little dog runs right out in front of us. I think it was a puppy with no street sense. The driver jammed on the breaks and swerved, just missing the little bugger. I looked back in the mirror and I could see him running in and out of the street like nothing had happened. If someone didn't take him out of there, I'm sure he didn't live 10 minutes after we drove through.
When we opened the trunk to unpack my groceries we discovered that they had all been upturned and driven forward in the trunk from when he slammed on the brakes. After I got the bags in the house and started putting things away, I noticed that the Drano had leaked . . .
I'm pretty sure it didn't get on any of the food . . . especially not the chicken . . .
I'm living dangerously now! Consuming questionable food products and nobody here with me to call 911. I'll stay close to the phone, just in case.
Mood: Inquisitive
Drinking: Nothing at all
Listening To: Birds and traffic
Hair: the slicked back shiny way-high ponytail
Anyway, I had so much stuff that I had to cab home. We're driving along Main Street chatting about the weather when all of a sudden this little dog runs right out in front of us. I think it was a puppy with no street sense. The driver jammed on the breaks and swerved, just missing the little bugger. I looked back in the mirror and I could see him running in and out of the street like nothing had happened. If someone didn't take him out of there, I'm sure he didn't live 10 minutes after we drove through.
When we opened the trunk to unpack my groceries we discovered that they had all been upturned and driven forward in the trunk from when he slammed on the brakes. After I got the bags in the house and started putting things away, I noticed that the Drano had leaked . . .
I'm pretty sure it didn't get on any of the food . . . especially not the chicken . . .
I'm living dangerously now! Consuming questionable food products and nobody here with me to call 911. I'll stay close to the phone, just in case.
Mood: Inquisitive
Drinking: Nothing at all
Listening To: Birds and traffic
Hair: the slicked back shiny way-high ponytail
Chores?! Ewww!
I got up at a decent time this morning. I had set my alarm last night when I realised I forgot to take out the trash and there were way too many June Bugs flying around to chance it at midnight like I did last week. I've actually been waking up really early on my own since I got here . . . like a baby, I haven't been sleeping through the night. But last night I slept pretty good, only woke a couple of times, and still got up before my alarm actually went off.
Lugging the trash to the curb I ran into my landlord's general contractor, who does all the renovations for him . . . there seem to be a lot of people who help him out. I see them all the time. He hasn't been here at all since I moved though. It's really quiet here most of the time with just me. I'm getting totally spoiled. In the fall a bunch of people are leasing his house (3 guys and a girl or vice versa, university faculty or grad students I think). It might be nice to know there are people right here with me in case anything happens . . . but on the other hand it's going to get much louder I would think.
I'm trying to get up the zest to walk all the way to the grocery store on the edge of town. It's a Co-Op and I think it's less expensive than the Save-Easy downtown. I actually was able to buy some pork chops there last week, whereas I've never seen any affordable meat at the Save-Easy. If I don't go today, I'll have to wait until Friday and I'm out of coffee cream . . . soooo, I'm gonna have to get my crap together and just do it. Maybe if I take my time, my legs won't swell too bad. Last night walking to the bank and to my course, my legs really hurt. They were terribly swollen and they still hurt quite a bit today. It's the temperature change again, from damp and cold to glorious heat. I'll adjust soon I'm sure. As long as the weather holds.
There's a spider trying to capture a house fly on my skylight (mental note -- buy Raid! Go quick!) I opened the skylight hoping that the fly would escape, that the spider might leave as well, go sun himself on the roof or something. But the fly is too stupid to find his way out and the spider is too smart to give up the hunt.
Mood: my knees are on fire
Drinking: Coffee
Listening To: Styx, Crystal Ball
Hair: Return of the Scrunchie!
Lugging the trash to the curb I ran into my landlord's general contractor, who does all the renovations for him . . . there seem to be a lot of people who help him out. I see them all the time. He hasn't been here at all since I moved though. It's really quiet here most of the time with just me. I'm getting totally spoiled. In the fall a bunch of people are leasing his house (3 guys and a girl or vice versa, university faculty or grad students I think). It might be nice to know there are people right here with me in case anything happens . . . but on the other hand it's going to get much louder I would think.
I'm trying to get up the zest to walk all the way to the grocery store on the edge of town. It's a Co-Op and I think it's less expensive than the Save-Easy downtown. I actually was able to buy some pork chops there last week, whereas I've never seen any affordable meat at the Save-Easy. If I don't go today, I'll have to wait until Friday and I'm out of coffee cream . . . soooo, I'm gonna have to get my crap together and just do it. Maybe if I take my time, my legs won't swell too bad. Last night walking to the bank and to my course, my legs really hurt. They were terribly swollen and they still hurt quite a bit today. It's the temperature change again, from damp and cold to glorious heat. I'll adjust soon I'm sure. As long as the weather holds.
There's a spider trying to capture a house fly on my skylight (mental note -- buy Raid! Go quick!) I opened the skylight hoping that the fly would escape, that the spider might leave as well, go sun himself on the roof or something. But the fly is too stupid to find his way out and the spider is too smart to give up the hunt.
Mood: my knees are on fire
Drinking: Coffee
Listening To: Styx, Crystal Ball
Hair: Return of the Scrunchie!
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