I have to get up mega early in the morning. Blah. So much to do before catching the 10:30 bus to Moncton. I'm taking Austin Clarke's writing workshop at Frye Festival. I wanted to do more, but hey, it is what it is and I'm glad. Stacy will meet me later and we'll have supper at one of our favourite restaurants and then come to my place. Saturday we're going to the Giant Flea Market and then into Moncton for a Wellness Expo. I might go to a book launch on Saturday too, depending. Think I'll be taking the bus home and Stacy will be going to Miramichi at the end of the day.
Meeting with the landlord at 9am tomorrow to renew lease with slight rent increase. One of the boys is staying most of the summer. He's a quiet one. You'd never know he was in the house. The others will be back in the fall I'm told. I don't mind. I missed the boy on the other side of my bedroom wall as soon as he left. It's just too quiet here without them.
Mood: sleepy
Drinking: orange pekoe and water
Listening To: washer wailing out another load
Hair: someone give me kids so i can be a soccer mom
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Paying Attention
My horoscope told me to pay particular attention to the messages in my dreams this week. And I have been. And I've been learning lots. But there's this one dream I'm just not getting. I've no idea where it came from. I dreamed I went to see Simple Plan play in a club in Mississauga. It was a club I used to go to quite a bit when I lived in Etobicoke. I forget what it was called, but it was huge, warehouse-like with many different bars and a huge dancefloor. Anyway, I dreamed I went there to see Simple Plan. I was close to the stage on the dancefloor when the band came out and started to play and I saw that my sister's ex-boyfriend was on guitar. I was surprised. I mean if he joined a big name band like that surely we'd hear about it. And he generally always played in country bands, so this was unexpected.
Anyway, I didn't much care who was in the band because I was dancing and having the best time. I kind of forgot he was even there. But by the end of the show he had noticed me and as I was getting my stuff together to leave afterward one of the bouncers came up to me and told me he had asked to see me backstage. So I went. Mostly because I really wanted to meet all the other Simple Plan guys! And get autographs and things. So I went backstage, which was actually a band bus in the parking lot out back. None of the other guys were there though, just me and him and a few roadies. He was all hyper like he always was, glad to see me, asking tons of questions about the family and folks, talking a mile a minute. I was a bit disappointed that I wasn't getting to meet anyone, but we had a beer and chatted and gradually I found that I was having a good time. Talking to him wasn't so bad.
Then in the way of so many of my dreams things shifted into a fast forward montage showing us spending lots of time together, staying up all night laughing and talking, me being pulled on-stage with the band at another club show, me backstage meeting people, us having dinner in a nice restaurant, me and the band running from crazy fans to get on the bus, holding coats over our heads to hide from cameras . . . yes, it was like I was having a love affair with him! (This totally freaks me out.) Anyway, it was like a May-December romance, nothing long-term, just a lot of hanging out for a few months while we in the same city. Then they were going on world tour and I was going on a retreat, a farm in Kirkland Lake, where I was going to work on a book. So we'd had this really great time but it had run its course and everyone was okay with that, we weren't sad or anything.
In the final scene of the dream we're standing on a wagon path by a cedar fence at the edge of a field with waist high hay blowing in the wind. We hug goodbye. I can't help smiling. He grins and walks away. I know I'll never see him again. I turn to walk toward the farm house where I'm staying and I think to myself, "That wasn't so bad. Maybe height doesn't matter."
And then I woke up.
A very bizarre dream. VERY bizarre! And seriously what does it mean? Is my subconscious saying I need to give short guys I find a bit repulsive more of a chance and maybe I'll be pleasantly surprised? Do I need to see Simple Plan? Am I going to run into my sister's ex soon? Should I be running off with the next guitar strummer I meet? Thoughts anyone? I'm just baffled by it. And a bit embarrassed. Thank God there were no sex scenes. Other than the hug and some handholding I spared myself anything more graphic.
Speaking of musicians . . . Charlie says Denise and Richie give love a bad name. Hah! But seriously, it's music festival week here and every where about town there are kids playing their guitars and violins and what have you, buskering in the streets, it's kind of cool.
Mood: headachy
Drinking: rooibos herbal tea with a splash of skim milk
Listening To: Let Her Cry, Hootie and the Blowfish
Hair: tightly wound
Anyway, I didn't much care who was in the band because I was dancing and having the best time. I kind of forgot he was even there. But by the end of the show he had noticed me and as I was getting my stuff together to leave afterward one of the bouncers came up to me and told me he had asked to see me backstage. So I went. Mostly because I really wanted to meet all the other Simple Plan guys! And get autographs and things. So I went backstage, which was actually a band bus in the parking lot out back. None of the other guys were there though, just me and him and a few roadies. He was all hyper like he always was, glad to see me, asking tons of questions about the family and folks, talking a mile a minute. I was a bit disappointed that I wasn't getting to meet anyone, but we had a beer and chatted and gradually I found that I was having a good time. Talking to him wasn't so bad.
Then in the way of so many of my dreams things shifted into a fast forward montage showing us spending lots of time together, staying up all night laughing and talking, me being pulled on-stage with the band at another club show, me backstage meeting people, us having dinner in a nice restaurant, me and the band running from crazy fans to get on the bus, holding coats over our heads to hide from cameras . . . yes, it was like I was having a love affair with him! (This totally freaks me out.) Anyway, it was like a May-December romance, nothing long-term, just a lot of hanging out for a few months while we in the same city. Then they were going on world tour and I was going on a retreat, a farm in Kirkland Lake, where I was going to work on a book. So we'd had this really great time but it had run its course and everyone was okay with that, we weren't sad or anything.
In the final scene of the dream we're standing on a wagon path by a cedar fence at the edge of a field with waist high hay blowing in the wind. We hug goodbye. I can't help smiling. He grins and walks away. I know I'll never see him again. I turn to walk toward the farm house where I'm staying and I think to myself, "That wasn't so bad. Maybe height doesn't matter."
And then I woke up.
A very bizarre dream. VERY bizarre! And seriously what does it mean? Is my subconscious saying I need to give short guys I find a bit repulsive more of a chance and maybe I'll be pleasantly surprised? Do I need to see Simple Plan? Am I going to run into my sister's ex soon? Should I be running off with the next guitar strummer I meet? Thoughts anyone? I'm just baffled by it. And a bit embarrassed. Thank God there were no sex scenes. Other than the hug and some handholding I spared myself anything more graphic.
Speaking of musicians . . . Charlie says Denise and Richie give love a bad name. Hah! But seriously, it's music festival week here and every where about town there are kids playing their guitars and violins and what have you, buskering in the streets, it's kind of cool.
Mood: headachy
Drinking: rooibos herbal tea with a splash of skim milk
Listening To: Let Her Cry, Hootie and the Blowfish
Hair: tightly wound
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
More Stories than Walt Disney
Jacques arrived late last night in a pouring rain storm. The super quiet boy might still be in the house too. But he's so quiet I take no comfort having him here, so I was happy to see Jacques pull into the drive. The house is so big and quiet when it's just me here. I don't know how long he's staying, but after so many months without access to his home I would assume he'll be here for awhile.
*****
Need to buy coffee today. And some produce. God! I want some really good olives! Maybe I'll try Jacob's Larder.
*****
Stacy has decided to cut this weekend's visit short, stay only one night instead of two. I'm a little disappointed, but I totally understand why. She's got a house to get into! Now that's exciting stuff!
*****
Frank McCourt is coming to give a reading in Halifax in June and I want to go! I REALLY want to go. The reading is on the Dalhousie University and actually you can get lodging in the dorm there during the summer months that is much cheaper than staying in a hotel. A return trip by train or bus will only run me 60 and change. It's very tempting. The thing of it is that I've never actually been to Halifax in that way before. I've been there only on trucking excursions. They say trucking is a great way to see the country and they're right you do get to "see" lots, but you don't actually get to get out and interact and "do" anything. So I've never done anything in Halifax before. And that could be an exciting adventure for me. Ah well. The whole thing is likely not worth thinking about anyway. It's too soon. I'll never be able to afford to go.
*****
The editing and rewriting and general probing of my brain continues as I work on my . . . memoir? A friend of mine came up with a pretty good title -- Writing in Spite of Myself. I like it. It fits the project. All this time I've been writing without thinking it was anything, thinking it wasn't writing at all. I've always known I had stories, but I just assumed everyone had the same kinds of stories, or that nobody would find my stories interesting. Now that I've started this project for real and I'm talking to more people about it, I'm seeing things a little differently. I have apparently lived a lot early in life. I always thought I was too young to write a memoir, that I hadn't lived enough yet to be taken seriously. But I'm starting to see that I've learned a lot of big lessons at a young age. I've started opening up more to people, stories are coming up, spilling out, and people want to hear them, are interestd. It kind of freaks me out.
*****
Am meeting a writer friend for coffee this evening and to have AGM 2007 conversation. Will be nice to get out and socialize, hope it's not raining.
Mood: all over the map
Drinking: coffee
Listening To: birds, tons of birds chirping outside my window
Hair: i don't want to talk about it
*****
Need to buy coffee today. And some produce. God! I want some really good olives! Maybe I'll try Jacob's Larder.
*****
Stacy has decided to cut this weekend's visit short, stay only one night instead of two. I'm a little disappointed, but I totally understand why. She's got a house to get into! Now that's exciting stuff!
*****
Frank McCourt is coming to give a reading in Halifax in June and I want to go! I REALLY want to go. The reading is on the Dalhousie University and actually you can get lodging in the dorm there during the summer months that is much cheaper than staying in a hotel. A return trip by train or bus will only run me 60 and change. It's very tempting. The thing of it is that I've never actually been to Halifax in that way before. I've been there only on trucking excursions. They say trucking is a great way to see the country and they're right you do get to "see" lots, but you don't actually get to get out and interact and "do" anything. So I've never done anything in Halifax before. And that could be an exciting adventure for me. Ah well. The whole thing is likely not worth thinking about anyway. It's too soon. I'll never be able to afford to go.
*****
The editing and rewriting and general probing of my brain continues as I work on my . . . memoir? A friend of mine came up with a pretty good title -- Writing in Spite of Myself. I like it. It fits the project. All this time I've been writing without thinking it was anything, thinking it wasn't writing at all. I've always known I had stories, but I just assumed everyone had the same kinds of stories, or that nobody would find my stories interesting. Now that I've started this project for real and I'm talking to more people about it, I'm seeing things a little differently. I have apparently lived a lot early in life. I always thought I was too young to write a memoir, that I hadn't lived enough yet to be taken seriously. But I'm starting to see that I've learned a lot of big lessons at a young age. I've started opening up more to people, stories are coming up, spilling out, and people want to hear them, are interestd. It kind of freaks me out.
*****
Am meeting a writer friend for coffee this evening and to have AGM 2007 conversation. Will be nice to get out and socialize, hope it's not raining.
Mood: all over the map
Drinking: coffee
Listening To: birds, tons of birds chirping outside my window
Hair: i don't want to talk about it
Monday, April 24, 2006
Moving Week
It's turn-over time in my fair town. People have been on the move quietly for a few weeks, but now we're getting into mass exodus mode. Moving vans, half-tons piled high, trailers loaded down, kids carrying mattresses on their backs, suitcases by the curb, all over town yesterday. Only one boy left in my house. The quiet one. All weekend there's been a steady stream of people in and out, all the hugging and take cares, final farewells. I expect the landlord any day now. His mail has started coming in the box again. As much as I bitched about having the students in the house, the quiet will take some getting used to. I don't know that they'll be back in the fall, or whether he'll rent the house again. This year was an experiment, so it's hard to say what will happen. The only thing I know for sure is that I'm staying. I'm home here. I love this place, these people. Every day here is such a joy.
Mood: sinusy
Drinking: coffee
Listening To: email dinging into my inbox
Hair: needing a miracle
Mood: sinusy
Drinking: coffee
Listening To: email dinging into my inbox
Hair: needing a miracle
The Other Song
She's Always A Woman
(Billy Joel)
She can kill with a smile
She can wound with her eyes
She can ruin your faith with her casual lies
And she only reveals what she wants you to see
Yeah, she hides like a child
But she's always a woman to me
She can lead you to love
She can take you or leave you
She can ask for the truth
But she'll never believe you
And she'll take what you give her, as long as it's free
Yeah, she steals like a thief
But she's always a woman to me
CHORUS
Oh-she takes care of herself
She can wait if she wants
She's ahead of her time
Oh-and she never gives out
And she never gives in
She just changes her mind
And she'll promise you more
Than the Garden of Eden
Then she'll carelessly cut you
And laugh while you're bleedin'
But she'll bring out the best
And the worst you can be
Blame it all on yourself
Cause she's always a woman to me
CHORUS
She is frequently kind
And she's suddenly cruel
She can do as she pleases
She's nobody's fool
But she can't be convicted
She's earned her degree
And the most she will do
Is throw shadows at you
But she's always a woman to me
Yes there are better Billy Joel love songs -- Just the Way You Are seems logical. But She's Always a Woman became our song. Yes, the woman character is, for lack of another term, a bit of a bitch. Well that's one interpretation anyway. But in my late teens and early 20's, well . . . I do identify with this woman's behaviour. It's interesting to look back and know who I was then and wonder what happened to me that would allow the Marty train wreck to occur only eight years later. How did I get from strong, cool and cocky to suicidal, abused and beaten down? But that's another post.
That first fall in Toronto, Kevin and I had been together a few times. But we weren't a couple. We weren't exclusive. He had at least two other girls and there were other boys coming and going in my life. Kevin and I hung out a lot, went places and did things. Talked. And sometimes ended up in bed together. I was crushing pretty hard on Kevin though. He was my favourite boy. I wanted to be his favourite girl. I wasn't about to put all my eggs into his basket though. I didn't think getting him into a committed relationship was an option. So I took whatever time I could get with him, had fun, lived in the moment, and hoped to find someone even better elsewhere that would love me as much as I loved him and we'd live happily ever after. I've never been the kind to sit around and pine for a guy.
October 23, 1987. Kevin dropped a crowd of us off at the bar. Me, MB, Tracey, Cindy Lou, and likely Bob, possibly Diane. The Eastwood Park Hotel on Lakeshore West. Kevin had that huge grey truck then, the one with the full-sized backseat. So he was always delivering us places because we all couldn't fit into one taxi. He left. This wasn't uncommon for him to drop us and go off to hang out with different friends, his other girls. We met up with a bunch of people at the club. I was underaged, but the bouncers always let me in. One night I even showed my bank card for ID. The manager always tried to get me to go work for him. There were strippers downstairs. Whenever I was there and on the dancefloor, he would come up to me and try to get me to come dance downstairs. The money was tempting but I knew some of the strippers and their lives were hard. Lots of drugs and prostitution. I wasn't opposed to stripping, but if I was going to do it, I wasn't going to do it in a dangerous dive on Lakeshore.
Scotty was all over me that night and I was into it. He was a cutie, funny, a great dancer. He was also a player, a real lady's man (there seemed to be a few of these in our group), and I was fresh blood that he hadn't yet conquested. He was well on his way to conquest that night. We were dancing every dance, flirting, touching, having a great time. The gang had taken over the big wooden booth in the corner by the dance floor. Taking a break from dancing, Scott squeezed a butt cheek onto the end of one bench and pulled me onto his lap. Drinking cc and coke, precariously perched on Scotty's lap with his arms around my waist, hands massaging my thighs, nuzzling my neck with his lips, nipping at my ears. It seemed obvious where we were heading. Until I saw Kevin.
He had just come in and was gazing around the room looking for us. He spotted us, smiled and came over. Walked up to me, sitting on Scotty's lap, held out his hand and said, "Lets dance." And I took his hand and followed him to the dancefloor. And we danced. And we held hands. And we cuddled at the table. And we went home together at the end of the night. And we made love for the first time. We'd had sex before, but this was different. She's Always a Woman was playing on the stereo and the lovemaking lasted until dawn and we fell asleep in each other's arms. All the years that we were together, there was never a night that we didn't sleep in each other's arms. Even when we fought and hated each other, we couldn't stand distance in bed. We talked about that night later and he told me that was when he finally made his decision on what to do about all the girls. I hadn't realised he was struggling with the issue, had never thought that we would become exclusive. Felt certain he was in love with one of the other girls and would eventually weed me out of his life. But instead he picked me, came looking for me at the club, was worried one of the guys would steal me away, that he'd lost his opportunity.
The thing I had with Kevin that I've never had with anyone else is trust. He never lied to me, even when the truth hurt. I knew with 100% certainty that he loved me. He wasn't big on saying it, which sometimes bothered me, but there was no doubt that he did. Sometimes I miss that certainty in my life. Sometimes I miss being held while I'm sleeping. Sometimes I wish I could call him just to hear him say, "You can do it Kel. Just do it." Always when I hear Billy Joel I think of him. And smile.
Mood: lost on memory lane
Drinking: coffee
Listening To: Billy
Hair: tight to my head
(Billy Joel)
She can kill with a smile
She can wound with her eyes
She can ruin your faith with her casual lies
And she only reveals what she wants you to see
Yeah, she hides like a child
But she's always a woman to me
She can lead you to love
She can take you or leave you
She can ask for the truth
But she'll never believe you
And she'll take what you give her, as long as it's free
Yeah, she steals like a thief
But she's always a woman to me
CHORUS
Oh-she takes care of herself
She can wait if she wants
She's ahead of her time
Oh-and she never gives out
And she never gives in
She just changes her mind
And she'll promise you more
Than the Garden of Eden
Then she'll carelessly cut you
And laugh while you're bleedin'
But she'll bring out the best
And the worst you can be
Blame it all on yourself
Cause she's always a woman to me
CHORUS
She is frequently kind
And she's suddenly cruel
She can do as she pleases
She's nobody's fool
But she can't be convicted
She's earned her degree
And the most she will do
Is throw shadows at you
But she's always a woman to me
Yes there are better Billy Joel love songs -- Just the Way You Are seems logical. But She's Always a Woman became our song. Yes, the woman character is, for lack of another term, a bit of a bitch. Well that's one interpretation anyway. But in my late teens and early 20's, well . . . I do identify with this woman's behaviour. It's interesting to look back and know who I was then and wonder what happened to me that would allow the Marty train wreck to occur only eight years later. How did I get from strong, cool and cocky to suicidal, abused and beaten down? But that's another post.
That first fall in Toronto, Kevin and I had been together a few times. But we weren't a couple. We weren't exclusive. He had at least two other girls and there were other boys coming and going in my life. Kevin and I hung out a lot, went places and did things. Talked. And sometimes ended up in bed together. I was crushing pretty hard on Kevin though. He was my favourite boy. I wanted to be his favourite girl. I wasn't about to put all my eggs into his basket though. I didn't think getting him into a committed relationship was an option. So I took whatever time I could get with him, had fun, lived in the moment, and hoped to find someone even better elsewhere that would love me as much as I loved him and we'd live happily ever after. I've never been the kind to sit around and pine for a guy.
October 23, 1987. Kevin dropped a crowd of us off at the bar. Me, MB, Tracey, Cindy Lou, and likely Bob, possibly Diane. The Eastwood Park Hotel on Lakeshore West. Kevin had that huge grey truck then, the one with the full-sized backseat. So he was always delivering us places because we all couldn't fit into one taxi. He left. This wasn't uncommon for him to drop us and go off to hang out with different friends, his other girls. We met up with a bunch of people at the club. I was underaged, but the bouncers always let me in. One night I even showed my bank card for ID. The manager always tried to get me to go work for him. There were strippers downstairs. Whenever I was there and on the dancefloor, he would come up to me and try to get me to come dance downstairs. The money was tempting but I knew some of the strippers and their lives were hard. Lots of drugs and prostitution. I wasn't opposed to stripping, but if I was going to do it, I wasn't going to do it in a dangerous dive on Lakeshore.
Scotty was all over me that night and I was into it. He was a cutie, funny, a great dancer. He was also a player, a real lady's man (there seemed to be a few of these in our group), and I was fresh blood that he hadn't yet conquested. He was well on his way to conquest that night. We were dancing every dance, flirting, touching, having a great time. The gang had taken over the big wooden booth in the corner by the dance floor. Taking a break from dancing, Scott squeezed a butt cheek onto the end of one bench and pulled me onto his lap. Drinking cc and coke, precariously perched on Scotty's lap with his arms around my waist, hands massaging my thighs, nuzzling my neck with his lips, nipping at my ears. It seemed obvious where we were heading. Until I saw Kevin.
He had just come in and was gazing around the room looking for us. He spotted us, smiled and came over. Walked up to me, sitting on Scotty's lap, held out his hand and said, "Lets dance." And I took his hand and followed him to the dancefloor. And we danced. And we held hands. And we cuddled at the table. And we went home together at the end of the night. And we made love for the first time. We'd had sex before, but this was different. She's Always a Woman was playing on the stereo and the lovemaking lasted until dawn and we fell asleep in each other's arms. All the years that we were together, there was never a night that we didn't sleep in each other's arms. Even when we fought and hated each other, we couldn't stand distance in bed. We talked about that night later and he told me that was when he finally made his decision on what to do about all the girls. I hadn't realised he was struggling with the issue, had never thought that we would become exclusive. Felt certain he was in love with one of the other girls and would eventually weed me out of his life. But instead he picked me, came looking for me at the club, was worried one of the guys would steal me away, that he'd lost his opportunity.
The thing I had with Kevin that I've never had with anyone else is trust. He never lied to me, even when the truth hurt. I knew with 100% certainty that he loved me. He wasn't big on saying it, which sometimes bothered me, but there was no doubt that he did. Sometimes I miss that certainty in my life. Sometimes I miss being held while I'm sleeping. Sometimes I wish I could call him just to hear him say, "You can do it Kel. Just do it." Always when I hear Billy Joel I think of him. And smile.
Mood: lost on memory lane
Drinking: coffee
Listening To: Billy
Hair: tight to my head
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Peace
Another gorgeous day! Had such a wonderful time yesterday. Art show was amazing. Stayed up until after 3 am drinking wine, cognac, so much conversation! It's good to connect like that every so often. Healing. I have such a peace in my life. I really feel so fortunate. Had eggs benedict at the Marshlands for breakfast . . . it's not Azure, but for $15 including tip, a pretty damn decent meal and wonderful company.
Thinking of maybe going to the market. Need some stuff at Jean Coutu too. And food stuffs would be good. I am low on supplies.
Mood: glowing
Drinking: nothing
Listening To: Life Becomes Me, The Nadas
Hair: long, loose, golden
Thinking of maybe going to the market. Need some stuff at Jean Coutu too. And food stuffs would be good. I am low on supplies.
Mood: glowing
Drinking: nothing
Listening To: Life Becomes Me, The Nadas
Hair: long, loose, golden
Saturday, April 22, 2006
Outward
Heading to Moncton later today. Supper with friends at a Thai restaurant, then going to Elaine Amyot's opening at a gallery in the Aberdeen Cultural Centre, followed by sleepover at my house. Yay! The wine will be flowing no doubt.
My horoscope says a platonic friendship is going to turn romantic today and surprise me (it shall be very surprising indeed as I can't think of any male friends that I might wander into today, so I shall likely be in the company of women.) The astrologer's advice is to make sure before I do anything to jeopardize the friendship. Aye! Aye! Roger that, Captain. Loud and clear.
So I need to hustle if I'm gonna have company. Swamp out the sty a bit before the 4:15 bus. Gorgeous day here finally! Blue skies. Sunshine. Calm. Aww! So nice.
Mood: happy
Drinking: coffee
Listening To: Kick It, Peaches (featuring Iggy Pop)
Hair: checking out the styles of the rich and famous
My horoscope says a platonic friendship is going to turn romantic today and surprise me (it shall be very surprising indeed as I can't think of any male friends that I might wander into today, so I shall likely be in the company of women.) The astrologer's advice is to make sure before I do anything to jeopardize the friendship. Aye! Aye! Roger that, Captain. Loud and clear.
So I need to hustle if I'm gonna have company. Swamp out the sty a bit before the 4:15 bus. Gorgeous day here finally! Blue skies. Sunshine. Calm. Aww! So nice.
Mood: happy
Drinking: coffee
Listening To: Kick It, Peaches (featuring Iggy Pop)
Hair: checking out the styles of the rich and famous
Friday, April 21, 2006
X-austion
can i touch you to see if you're real?
what a fucking night. dreams. not even dreams. recurring nightmares. i'm starting to enter the world of scary insomnia again. why am i so stressed? you know the nightmares are bad when you can't shake them in the light of day, when the chill remains after morning coffee. luckily i only had time for two to invade because i was only in bed for a couple of hours, most of it spent reading and rolling around and talking to myself. bad people dreams. the one with the serial killer and another one. two from the violent men series. exhausting.
have i been sleeping for all these years? is it magic that makes you appear?
Mood: crusty
Drinking: coffee
Listening To: eyes of a stranger, payolas
Hair:crazy roots
what a fucking night. dreams. not even dreams. recurring nightmares. i'm starting to enter the world of scary insomnia again. why am i so stressed? you know the nightmares are bad when you can't shake them in the light of day, when the chill remains after morning coffee. luckily i only had time for two to invade because i was only in bed for a couple of hours, most of it spent reading and rolling around and talking to myself. bad people dreams. the one with the serial killer and another one. two from the violent men series. exhausting.
have i been sleeping for all these years? is it magic that makes you appear?
Mood: crusty
Drinking: coffee
Listening To: eyes of a stranger, payolas
Hair:crazy roots
Too Much
Words
Coffee
Rain
Work
Books
Dishes
Yogurt
Authors
Games
Lights
Pollen
Laundry
Tea
Parties
Aches
Committments
Bills
Submissions
Dreams
Hair
Bikes
Lies
Birthdays
Trips
Workshops
Caffeine
Plans
Email
Fat
Lint
Spiders
Radio
Garbage
Problems
Stories
Zips
Pages
Mood: overtired
Drinking: not what i'd like
Listening To: boy thrashing around in his kitchen
Hair: not even remotely red
Coffee
Rain
Work
Books
Dishes
Yogurt
Authors
Games
Lights
Pollen
Laundry
Tea
Parties
Aches
Committments
Bills
Submissions
Dreams
Hair
Bikes
Lies
Birthdays
Trips
Workshops
Caffeine
Plans
Fat
Lint
Spiders
Radio
Garbage
Problems
Stories
Zips
Pages
Mood: overtired
Drinking: not what i'd like
Listening To: boy thrashing around in his kitchen
Hair: not even remotely red
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
More Songs
After yesterday's post about the song I got to thinking about other songs. I've had a lot of boyfriends, a surprising number really when you consider that I've been out of the game for so long that many of my friends (the writerly ones anyway) have never known me to have boyfriend. Lots of boys and yet I've wracked my brain and come up with only two songs (Kevin and I had an "our song" but I'll write more about that some other day), makes me wonder what's up with that? What does it mean? If anything.
So I've been thinking about the specific moments when boyfriends and I picked a song, or rather songs picked us, and the simple explanation would seem to be that songs find couples at the precise moment when they fall in love. So I've got a song with the big teenage love of my life and another song with the only guy I've ever loved in my adult life. All of which happened a really long time ago, so it's a little sad. But an interesting theory. There are songs that remind me of different guys -- The Outfield's Your Love, Dwight Yoakham's Try Not to Look So Pretty, anything by Bob Dillion, I Would Walk 500 Miles, You Must Love Me, etc. Lots of tunes take me to different places in my memories with various guys . . . but only two "our song"s. In retrospect I'm a little disappointed that there aren't more songs, that nobody else mattered that much, because you know I invested a lot of time with some of these guys, you kinda expect more.
Mood: allergized
Drinking: earl grey, hot
Listening To: infinity
Hair: outrageous
So I've been thinking about the specific moments when boyfriends and I picked a song, or rather songs picked us, and the simple explanation would seem to be that songs find couples at the precise moment when they fall in love. So I've got a song with the big teenage love of my life and another song with the only guy I've ever loved in my adult life. All of which happened a really long time ago, so it's a little sad. But an interesting theory. There are songs that remind me of different guys -- The Outfield's Your Love, Dwight Yoakham's Try Not to Look So Pretty, anything by Bob Dillion, I Would Walk 500 Miles, You Must Love Me, etc. Lots of tunes take me to different places in my memories with various guys . . . but only two "our song"s. In retrospect I'm a little disappointed that there aren't more songs, that nobody else mattered that much, because you know I invested a lot of time with some of these guys, you kinda expect more.
Mood: allergized
Drinking: earl grey, hot
Listening To: infinity
Hair: outrageous
TNA
This is new. Tuesday Night Anxiety. Can't sleep. Too much rolling round my brain. I'm excited about writerly things. Lots coming up. Lots on the do. Had a meeting tonight to discuss initial planning of AGM 2007. So many great ideas! So little time. What fun!
There's a fan running in the main house. It's been on for DAYS! And at night, when everything is silent, the whirring of that fan drives me absolutely batty.
I cannot possibly take the time to spill my anxiety here. Maybe I should read.
Mood: wired
Drinking: water
Listening To: wind
Hair: wavy
There's a fan running in the main house. It's been on for DAYS! And at night, when everything is silent, the whirring of that fan drives me absolutely batty.
I cannot possibly take the time to spill my anxiety here. Maybe I should read.
Mood: wired
Drinking: water
Listening To: wind
Hair: wavy
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Our Song
Islands In The Stream (Kenny Rogers & Dolly Parton)
(Barry Gibb/Maurice Gibb/Robin Gibb)
Baby, when I met you there was peace unknown
I set out to get you with a fine tooth comb
I was soft inside, there was somethin' going on
You do something to me that I can't explain
Hold me closer and I feel no pain
Every beat of my heart
We got somethin' goin' on
Tender love is blind
It requires a dedication
All this love we feel
Needs no conversation
We ride it together, ah-ah
Makin' love with each other, ah-ah
Islands in the stream
That is what we are
No one in-between
How can we be wrong
Sail away with me to another world
And we rely on each other, ah-ah
From one lover to another, ah-ah
I can't live without you if the love was gone
Everything is nothin' if you got no one
And you did walk in tonight
Slowly loosen' sight of the real thing
But that won't happen to us and we got no doubt
Too deep in love and we got no way out
And the message is clear
This could be the year for the real thing
No more will you cry
Baby, I will hurt you never
We start and end as one, in love forever
We can ride it together, ah-ah
Makin' love with each other, ah-ah
Islands in the stream
That is what we are
No one in-between
How can we be wrong
Sail away with me to another world
And we rely on each other, ah-ah
From one lover to another, ah-ah
Sail away
Oh, come sail away with me
Why Islands in the Stream you ask? Pathetic, I know. But quite simple really -- you can't choose your song! Songs just happen.
In the fall of 1984, Kenny and Dolly were at the top of the charts. You could not turn on the radio without hearing this. And it wasn't just on the country stations either, it was a cross-over hit. At night the radio would pick up WNBC out of New York. Songs like Break My Stride, Dirty Laundry . . . and Islands in the Stream. I had a curfew, had to be in the yard by 10. This sucked but at least I didn't have to be in the house. Ronnie and I would sit in Dad's car, listen to the radio and make out. It was the black LTD, a massive beast, we could lay quite comfortably across the seat. And we did. And nobody ever checked on us!
I was 14 and he was 17, a mess of raging teenage hormones. Lord, I do not envy anyone having to run that gamut of emotion again. It felt like you'd just bust from the feelings, like there was no way your body could possibly contain it all. We were crazy nuts about each other.
Anyway, back to the song. The first night I took Ronnie home it was pouring rain. We were soaked and had no place to go. So I went home early to get out of the weather and we went outside and for the first time sat in Dad's car so we could be alone, and also because Ronnie was so shy it was killing him to be in the house and have to talk to Dad. We were still very new. I'd only seen him a couple of times. I was nervous being alone with him. The radio was on, you couldn't see out the windows because it was raining so hard, rain thrumming the roof, and we talked, you know the kind of things you talk about when you're just getting to know someone -- who are your parents? any siblings? what do you want to do when you graduate? I asked the questions mostly, many of them were questions Mom had asked me about the boy and I didn't know any of the answers, so I thought I'd better find out.
So we talked for awhile and then the conversation petered. Islands in the Stream came on the radio. Our eyes locked. I was trembling, felt like my heart leapt into my head and was pounding so loud they'd hear it inside. He brushed my face with his hand, cupped my chin, leaned in, kissed me, and I saw fireworks. This was no ordinary kiss, it lasted hours, but I was completely in love with him after the first verse. After that night I thought I'd die if I couldn't be with him. Back then we'd make mixed cassette tapes, recording current songs off the radio. So that week when I was making a tape I put Islands in the Stream on it so I could be reminded of that night in the car. The next time I saw Ronnie he also had made a new tape, and he'd put the song on it too.
And that's how it became our song. It wasn't planned, wasn't discussed, just happened. A shared moment neither one of us ever wanted to forget.
Mood: hyper
Drinking: coffee
Listening To: Kenny & Dolly
Hair: oy! you DO NOT want to know!
(Barry Gibb/Maurice Gibb/Robin Gibb)
Baby, when I met you there was peace unknown
I set out to get you with a fine tooth comb
I was soft inside, there was somethin' going on
You do something to me that I can't explain
Hold me closer and I feel no pain
Every beat of my heart
We got somethin' goin' on
Tender love is blind
It requires a dedication
All this love we feel
Needs no conversation
We ride it together, ah-ah
Makin' love with each other, ah-ah
Islands in the stream
That is what we are
No one in-between
How can we be wrong
Sail away with me to another world
And we rely on each other, ah-ah
From one lover to another, ah-ah
I can't live without you if the love was gone
Everything is nothin' if you got no one
And you did walk in tonight
Slowly loosen' sight of the real thing
But that won't happen to us and we got no doubt
Too deep in love and we got no way out
And the message is clear
This could be the year for the real thing
No more will you cry
Baby, I will hurt you never
We start and end as one, in love forever
We can ride it together, ah-ah
Makin' love with each other, ah-ah
Islands in the stream
That is what we are
No one in-between
How can we be wrong
Sail away with me to another world
And we rely on each other, ah-ah
From one lover to another, ah-ah
Sail away
Oh, come sail away with me
Why Islands in the Stream you ask? Pathetic, I know. But quite simple really -- you can't choose your song! Songs just happen.
In the fall of 1984, Kenny and Dolly were at the top of the charts. You could not turn on the radio without hearing this. And it wasn't just on the country stations either, it was a cross-over hit. At night the radio would pick up WNBC out of New York. Songs like Break My Stride, Dirty Laundry . . . and Islands in the Stream. I had a curfew, had to be in the yard by 10. This sucked but at least I didn't have to be in the house. Ronnie and I would sit in Dad's car, listen to the radio and make out. It was the black LTD, a massive beast, we could lay quite comfortably across the seat. And we did. And nobody ever checked on us!
I was 14 and he was 17, a mess of raging teenage hormones. Lord, I do not envy anyone having to run that gamut of emotion again. It felt like you'd just bust from the feelings, like there was no way your body could possibly contain it all. We were crazy nuts about each other.
Anyway, back to the song. The first night I took Ronnie home it was pouring rain. We were soaked and had no place to go. So I went home early to get out of the weather and we went outside and for the first time sat in Dad's car so we could be alone, and also because Ronnie was so shy it was killing him to be in the house and have to talk to Dad. We were still very new. I'd only seen him a couple of times. I was nervous being alone with him. The radio was on, you couldn't see out the windows because it was raining so hard, rain thrumming the roof, and we talked, you know the kind of things you talk about when you're just getting to know someone -- who are your parents? any siblings? what do you want to do when you graduate? I asked the questions mostly, many of them were questions Mom had asked me about the boy and I didn't know any of the answers, so I thought I'd better find out.
So we talked for awhile and then the conversation petered. Islands in the Stream came on the radio. Our eyes locked. I was trembling, felt like my heart leapt into my head and was pounding so loud they'd hear it inside. He brushed my face with his hand, cupped my chin, leaned in, kissed me, and I saw fireworks. This was no ordinary kiss, it lasted hours, but I was completely in love with him after the first verse. After that night I thought I'd die if I couldn't be with him. Back then we'd make mixed cassette tapes, recording current songs off the radio. So that week when I was making a tape I put Islands in the Stream on it so I could be reminded of that night in the car. The next time I saw Ronnie he also had made a new tape, and he'd put the song on it too.
And that's how it became our song. It wasn't planned, wasn't discussed, just happened. A shared moment neither one of us ever wanted to forget.
Mood: hyper
Drinking: coffee
Listening To: Kenny & Dolly
Hair: oy! you DO NOT want to know!
Monday, April 17, 2006
Flying
Going through the blog archives looking for kernels is tricky business. Some things I just mentioned in passing, never elaborated at all. I'm reminded of so much. It's memory overload. This morning I was thinking about Kevin again. Been thinking about him a lot lately, moreso now that I'm looking back and seeing all I've written about him.
When I was 16 my parents let me go to Toronto with Ronnie and his father for March Break. I hated Ronnie's father but I was more than willing to endure his abuse in order to get out of Barnettville. I'd never really been anywhere before, one overnight trip to Maine when I was about 9 or 10. A few weekend camping excursions to Fundy National Park with Stacy and her parents. A couple of drama festivals at UNB in Fredericton. But that was pretty much it. I'd never seen anything like Montreal, like the 401. I'd never been on a major highway or ate at a truck stop. Never been so far away from home for so long. Ronnie slept a lot of the way there, but not me. I wanted to see everything, to absorb it through my skin and keep it with me always. Nothing could have prepared me for my first sight of Toronto. We topped a hill around 1 or 2 in the morning and suddenly there were lights stretching in the distance as far as I could see. It was the most beautiful thing, absolutely breathtaking. Even Ronnie's father was smiling and cheerful as we crossed the city and headed south toward Isabel's.
I could not believe the miniscule house we were going to stay at. All the rooms were so tiny and jam packed with stuff. It felt cluttered, but really I think they just didn't have any place to put anything. Ronnie and I slept upstairs in an open loft-like room with many beds. It turned out a lot of people came and went at Isabel's, they could sleep many and had been for years. That's the first time I met Kevin. He was 24, very tall, slim and blonde. I didn't see him much because he worked all day and didn't hang around with us at night. We were all younger. He was a bit aloof, confident, cocky, sarcastic and I thought gorgeous. I don't even know if I spoke to him, I was so shy I never said much of anything to anyone that whole week. But he left a lasting impression on me.
Immediately after that trip I started planning to go to Toronto after I graduated. Even though I was only in the 10th grade I spent hours in my guidance counsellor's office looking through university calendars, choosing possible pursuits of study and seeing what prerequisites I would need to get in. Ryerson, with it's downtown location, leaped to the top right away, but I wasn't sold on journalism. I wanted to go to their theatre school. Nobody wanted me to leave the province. Not my teachers, or my parents, or my boyfriend or anyone. And nobody wanted me to get into a program that would pretty much guarantee living in poverty for the rest of my days. I was smart. I could be anything I wanted. I could study law. Why would I waste my life on something in the arts?
They talked me out of theatre studies, but couldn't talk me out of Ryerson. I just switched my focus to journalism. I'd done my homework. At that time there were very few places to study journalism, and only one place in province at the community college in Woodstock. They couldn't really press that one because afterall they'd been the ones insisting all along that I get a degree and that program didn't offer one. There was King's College in Nova Scotia but they didn't offer a broadcast component and I insisted I wanted to go into broadcasting, because that was where the money was, afterall they'd been very insistent that I go into something with high earning potential. I half-heartedly applied to Concordia and Carleton, just in case I didn't get into Ryerson, but I was leaving the province upon graduation, no doubt about it. I may have lost the battle but I definitely won the war.
So I applied to Ryerson, got in, and Ronnie asked Isabel if I could board with them during the school year. They were quite used to having boarders, said yes, and there I was heading off to live with my then ex-boyfriend's relatives in Toronto. Before I left I remember Stacy and I sitting in the middle of the road between our houses, smoking and chatting. We'd be right around Alden's house now I suppose, but then it was just woods. I told her about this house I was going to live in, the family, the adorable son. I joked that I'd seduce him and he'd be my boyfriend in no time. I really was kidding. I thought I was too young and insecure for someone like Kevin. I never thought he'd give me a passing look. I just wasn't in his league. I imagined he only went out with real women and I was just a girl.
But of course the joke was on me, we did get together. And one night we were talking about our first impressions of one another and I found out that I also had a lasting impact upon him that first visit when I was 16 years old. He said he expected Ronnie to show up with a kid, a skinny scrawny twig of a girl. He took one look at me and said to himself, "Whoa! Ronnie's got his hands full there. He's got himself a real woman." Two years later when Kevin learned that I was going to move into his house he joked with his friend Brent that Ronnie was making a big mistake leaving me there with him. That he'd have me in no time. He was really joking. He's not the kind of guy that would ever steal a girl from a friend or family. He didn't know Ronnie and I broke up.
It was funny how we both joked about getting together. I like to think it was love at first sight. We certainly had something going on, chemistry, a zing, big time zha zha zhu. He was the best lover I've ever had, though I really shouldn't tell anyone that anymore. What is up with guys anyway? If you don't want to know the truth, why ask the question? If you really want to make a man happy, pretend you've never had an orgasm before, tell him he's the only one who's ever been able to bring you to climax. DO NOT tell him your ex was the best lay you ever had, rather than rising to the challenge most men wither at the hint of competition. In my experience anyway.
I think Kevin was my favourite lover because he was the only one I ever really loved, we had a strong soul connection. I've been in serious like with other guys but everyone always gets compared to Kevin and nobody ever measures up. We completed each other's sentences, knew what the other was thinking just by a look or a nod or a touch. I was with him longer than anyone else. He's the only boyfriend I seriously entertained notions of marriage. If we could have come to terms with the issues of drugs, children and my committment phobia, we likely would have married. Maybe we would have even been happy. His family was the only one other than my own that I ever felt welcomed into, that I ever loved like they were mine.
Don't get the wrong idea, I'm not pining for the one that got away or anything like that. We had lots of problems, I don't believe it was healthy for either of us to be together for the long haul. But there were some good things too, and those are the things that I'm looking for with someone else, those things and so much more. I know exactly what I want, and exactly what I don't. What I'm willing to compromise on and what my dealbreakers are. And until I find someone who's got a lot of what I want, compromises I can live with and no dealbreakers, I'm perfectly fine with being on my own . . . though this crazy vow of celibacy that I pledged in racier tumultous times (and it was badly needed, necessary even to get my life under control) now seems more absurd with every passing day. I need to re-examine, rewrite my code of conduct, at the very least allow myself a fuck buddy, some recreational sex, no strings, no emotions. But not a slew of guys, just one, on call, just for sex. I used to have the best fuck buddy . . . ah, but that's another post for another day.
Mood: damp, like the weather
Drinking: coffee
Listening To: Why Does It Always Rain on Me, Coldplay
Hair: needs shampoo, cut, colour
When I was 16 my parents let me go to Toronto with Ronnie and his father for March Break. I hated Ronnie's father but I was more than willing to endure his abuse in order to get out of Barnettville. I'd never really been anywhere before, one overnight trip to Maine when I was about 9 or 10. A few weekend camping excursions to Fundy National Park with Stacy and her parents. A couple of drama festivals at UNB in Fredericton. But that was pretty much it. I'd never seen anything like Montreal, like the 401. I'd never been on a major highway or ate at a truck stop. Never been so far away from home for so long. Ronnie slept a lot of the way there, but not me. I wanted to see everything, to absorb it through my skin and keep it with me always. Nothing could have prepared me for my first sight of Toronto. We topped a hill around 1 or 2 in the morning and suddenly there were lights stretching in the distance as far as I could see. It was the most beautiful thing, absolutely breathtaking. Even Ronnie's father was smiling and cheerful as we crossed the city and headed south toward Isabel's.
I could not believe the miniscule house we were going to stay at. All the rooms were so tiny and jam packed with stuff. It felt cluttered, but really I think they just didn't have any place to put anything. Ronnie and I slept upstairs in an open loft-like room with many beds. It turned out a lot of people came and went at Isabel's, they could sleep many and had been for years. That's the first time I met Kevin. He was 24, very tall, slim and blonde. I didn't see him much because he worked all day and didn't hang around with us at night. We were all younger. He was a bit aloof, confident, cocky, sarcastic and I thought gorgeous. I don't even know if I spoke to him, I was so shy I never said much of anything to anyone that whole week. But he left a lasting impression on me.
Immediately after that trip I started planning to go to Toronto after I graduated. Even though I was only in the 10th grade I spent hours in my guidance counsellor's office looking through university calendars, choosing possible pursuits of study and seeing what prerequisites I would need to get in. Ryerson, with it's downtown location, leaped to the top right away, but I wasn't sold on journalism. I wanted to go to their theatre school. Nobody wanted me to leave the province. Not my teachers, or my parents, or my boyfriend or anyone. And nobody wanted me to get into a program that would pretty much guarantee living in poverty for the rest of my days. I was smart. I could be anything I wanted. I could study law. Why would I waste my life on something in the arts?
They talked me out of theatre studies, but couldn't talk me out of Ryerson. I just switched my focus to journalism. I'd done my homework. At that time there were very few places to study journalism, and only one place in province at the community college in Woodstock. They couldn't really press that one because afterall they'd been the ones insisting all along that I get a degree and that program didn't offer one. There was King's College in Nova Scotia but they didn't offer a broadcast component and I insisted I wanted to go into broadcasting, because that was where the money was, afterall they'd been very insistent that I go into something with high earning potential. I half-heartedly applied to Concordia and Carleton, just in case I didn't get into Ryerson, but I was leaving the province upon graduation, no doubt about it. I may have lost the battle but I definitely won the war.
So I applied to Ryerson, got in, and Ronnie asked Isabel if I could board with them during the school year. They were quite used to having boarders, said yes, and there I was heading off to live with my then ex-boyfriend's relatives in Toronto. Before I left I remember Stacy and I sitting in the middle of the road between our houses, smoking and chatting. We'd be right around Alden's house now I suppose, but then it was just woods. I told her about this house I was going to live in, the family, the adorable son. I joked that I'd seduce him and he'd be my boyfriend in no time. I really was kidding. I thought I was too young and insecure for someone like Kevin. I never thought he'd give me a passing look. I just wasn't in his league. I imagined he only went out with real women and I was just a girl.
But of course the joke was on me, we did get together. And one night we were talking about our first impressions of one another and I found out that I also had a lasting impact upon him that first visit when I was 16 years old. He said he expected Ronnie to show up with a kid, a skinny scrawny twig of a girl. He took one look at me and said to himself, "Whoa! Ronnie's got his hands full there. He's got himself a real woman." Two years later when Kevin learned that I was going to move into his house he joked with his friend Brent that Ronnie was making a big mistake leaving me there with him. That he'd have me in no time. He was really joking. He's not the kind of guy that would ever steal a girl from a friend or family. He didn't know Ronnie and I broke up.
It was funny how we both joked about getting together. I like to think it was love at first sight. We certainly had something going on, chemistry, a zing, big time zha zha zhu. He was the best lover I've ever had, though I really shouldn't tell anyone that anymore. What is up with guys anyway? If you don't want to know the truth, why ask the question? If you really want to make a man happy, pretend you've never had an orgasm before, tell him he's the only one who's ever been able to bring you to climax. DO NOT tell him your ex was the best lay you ever had, rather than rising to the challenge most men wither at the hint of competition. In my experience anyway.
I think Kevin was my favourite lover because he was the only one I ever really loved, we had a strong soul connection. I've been in serious like with other guys but everyone always gets compared to Kevin and nobody ever measures up. We completed each other's sentences, knew what the other was thinking just by a look or a nod or a touch. I was with him longer than anyone else. He's the only boyfriend I seriously entertained notions of marriage. If we could have come to terms with the issues of drugs, children and my committment phobia, we likely would have married. Maybe we would have even been happy. His family was the only one other than my own that I ever felt welcomed into, that I ever loved like they were mine.
Don't get the wrong idea, I'm not pining for the one that got away or anything like that. We had lots of problems, I don't believe it was healthy for either of us to be together for the long haul. But there were some good things too, and those are the things that I'm looking for with someone else, those things and so much more. I know exactly what I want, and exactly what I don't. What I'm willing to compromise on and what my dealbreakers are. And until I find someone who's got a lot of what I want, compromises I can live with and no dealbreakers, I'm perfectly fine with being on my own . . . though this crazy vow of celibacy that I pledged in racier tumultous times (and it was badly needed, necessary even to get my life under control) now seems more absurd with every passing day. I need to re-examine, rewrite my code of conduct, at the very least allow myself a fuck buddy, some recreational sex, no strings, no emotions. But not a slew of guys, just one, on call, just for sex. I used to have the best fuck buddy . . . ah, but that's another post for another day.
Mood: damp, like the weather
Drinking: coffee
Listening To: Why Does It Always Rain on Me, Coldplay
Hair: needs shampoo, cut, colour
Movie Moments
I watched "Final Cut" tonight, a dvd starring Robin Williams. In the not so distant future implanted microchips record every single moment of our lives. When we die a "cutter" like Robin Williams character edits the footage of our entire life down to a 90 minute'ish memorial film. It's an interesting premise. Got me thinking about my footage so far. I tend to see my life in film terms anyway. I don't know why. I don't know if it's the way other people think about their lives, if it's normal. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I see my dreams like movies, and I have a lot of dreams. Or that I visualize a lot of things that come to pass. So in a way I'm planning a lot of the shots, rehearsing, before things happen. One of my exes used to say I saved things, that I never said anything until the situation I had planned to say it in came up. He'd never known anyone like that before. I hadn't really thought about it before, but it is what I do. Nobody ever noticed before him or if they did, they didn't call me on it.
Not that I'm very deliberately living my life, calling all the shots, planning every conversation. It's not like that, I just believe in the power of visualization, believe in anticipating predictable situations and being prepared. But the most movie-like moments of my life have all been unexpected, a surprise. And I don't know if other people don't have as many of these moments as I do or if they don't recognise them when they happen or if they just don't talk about it, but it really seems that I have quite a lot of movie scenes playing out in my life on a regular basis. And last night I was reminded of one of them when talk turned to questions of where I grew up and went to high school etc. I've probably written about this here already before, but here it is again anyway.
Eighth grade in the spring, we were hanging out a little bit with my cousin and her friends in Blackville. Being a year younger and from Barnettville, we were not exactly the first choice of friends by the popular stuck-up village girls but they didn't say too much on account of my cousin. I didn't care that they really didn't want us around because my parents would actually let me go to Blackville and stay all night at my cousin's house, where I'd get to go to all the Catholic Hall dances and hang around John's Take-Out and under the bridge and Herbie's Pool Hall and meet boys. I was very interested in any activity that would allow me to meet boys, could put up with a lot of crap as long as I got to meet boys.
I knew how to deal with boys. I understood boys. It was the girls I couldn't read. I expected more from girls I think. I expected them to be more open and honest, to mean what they say and say what they mean. My Blackville cousin and her friends didn't do this though. They said one thing and meant another.
For weeks my cousin complained about a boy who wouldn't leave her alone, who kept chatting her up and asking her to dance, no matter how much she'd ignore him and turn him down. It was all she talked about, how disgusting and creepy this boy was and how much she hated him. I went with her to the next dance and the boy was there. She pointed him out to me and hoped he would leave her alone. He noticed us, smiled and started walking over to us. She was freaking out, asking me to help her. He came up to us, said hello and then asked me to dance. I had zero interest in this boy but thought it might help my cousin if I danced with him, ended up dancing with him most of the night. It seems like we might even have made out in a dark corner for awhile or went for a walk or something. It was a long time ago, I don't really remember. But I do remember that my cousin was livid. She wouldn't even speak to me. I had betrayed her, stolen the boy, how could I have done this to her, yada yada yada. I just thought the whole thing was foolish, why go on and on about the boy being a pain if she really liked him? I mean if she couldn't tell me she liked him, who could she tell? I would've never given the guy a second glance if I thought she had any interest.
But that wasn't a movie moment, I'm off track explaining how that Blackville cousin never told me the truth about anything. The spring of grade eight my cousin and I were still friends (though that would change before school even broke for summer). Rare for us to be walking around Blackville, just the two of us without the brood, but late one Sunday afternoon I found myself alone with her walking toward Herbie's Pool Hall where I would disappear out behind and walk the tracks back to Barnettville. I believe this might have been a forbidden excursion, unsanctioned by my parents. It was about 4pm and overcast, ugly rain clouds boiling in the sky, that dead air that sometimes precedes a bad thunderstorm. I was in a hurry to get home before the storm, before supper, before Mom and Dad figured out I'd left the Barnettville Road. There were a few people standing outside the pool hall. I don't remember who all was standing there, though I knew everyone of them except him. Him, I remember. Hands in his jeans pockets. Jean jacket open. Light coloured snap shirt. Hair curling around his ears. Crooked nose. Dark eyes. Shy sideways grin. I thought he was the most adorable guy I'd ever laid eyes on. And he was looking at me. I don't know if I smiled, if I said hello, or if I was dumbstruck, but as soon as we were out of earshot I demanded to know who that boy was. My cousin shrugged like he was nobody special, said his name was Jeffrey, said he had a girlfriend already, said he'd never go out with somebody like me anyway. And I believed her. My heart sank.
Movie moment number two happened later in August, the summer before grade nine. Stacy and I went to the Chatham Exhibition. A Friday night seems likely, as that is when most young people go to the Chatham Exhibition. It was just the two of us, not sure how we got there, but we were wandering around playing games and getting on rides. It was very crowded and we knew lots of people, it seemed like everyone from our school had picked the same night to go. Walking through the crowd we turned a corner and found ourselves facing our arch enemies, a girl from our road and her best friend from Renous. We hated each other, but we'd still speak to one another, say hello, especially if we had something we could throw in the other's face like about a boy we'd gone out with or something. So when we came face to face all four of us flinched and pasted on our phoney smiles as we met up in the crowd. We said hello and then I noticed they weren't alone as the two boys (I believe Gary, my now brother-in-law, might have been one) stepped up alongside them. I saw him! Jeffrey! My jaw might have dropped. I'm certain my eyes went big. Huge intake of breath. May even have stepped back or flinched like I was punched. And Jeffrey looked equally as surprised to see me. Oh and how those girls preened and gloated that they were there with these gorgeous boys and we were there alone. I could not get away fast enough. It was terrible, but a movie moment.
Fall, grade nine, with the first school dance coming up. That was the year we were part of a church youth group and got to meet boys from White Rapids, Chelmsford and Millerton that we would never have met otherwise. For dances students were allowed to sign in one guest that didn't go to our school. Stacy had promised a boy from Chelmsford at our youth group that she would sign him into this dance. The only time we got to see those guys was once a month at our meeting. I didn't think he'd show up. I thought she'd be wasting her sign-in power on him. A friend of mine had convinced me to go out with a boy she knew at the dance, but I'd have to sign him in and he'd only come if his buddy could come.
The signing in thing was a really big deal, EVERYONE signed somebody in, whole gangs of drop-outs and kids from other schools would come to these things. Our best friend, Donna, had just started dating a new boy, Ronnie, that she was signing in. Our other best friend, Gloria, had just started dating her future husband, David, that she was signing in. There was nobody left in the school to sign in my date's buddy. So I convinced Stacy to do it. Convinced her the church group guy wouldn't show up anyway and my guy's buddy was cute, so why not?
I was excited about that dance. We were a little drunk when we got there. People were hanging around outside the school in the driveway. I remember making our way through crowds, saying hi to people we knew, when we came across a couple of guys from our road and they were talking about this idiot boy from Chelmsford that they wanted to beat up. It was the boy from our youth group! The one Stacy had promised she'd take to the dance. I felt like crap that I had talked her out of signing him in. I felt even crappier when I realised neither my guy nor his buddy showed up. We talked to the principal and tried to convince him to let us change Stacy's sign-in at the last minute, but he wouldn't let her. We didn't know what to do and the teachers were ushering everyone inside and getting ready to close the doors for the night. So Stacy told me to go on in and she'd stay outside with him, we'd hook up after the dance and go home. I felt like double crap! But there was nothing to be done about it. I was the last person admitted into the first high school dance Fall 1984.
I stepped into the loud music and flashing lights of the cafeteria. The place was packed. I stood in the doorway at the top of the stairs scanning the room for friends. Gloria spotted me and called out to me, waved. There were a whole lot of people standing around, surrounding the chairs my friends were sitting in. I went over, excused myself through the crowd, turned around to say hi and there he was! Jeffrey! With my friend Donna sitting on his lap. Not Jeffrey at all, Donna introduced him to me. This was her new boyfriend, Ronnie. I had been crushed seeing him with my arch rival, but I was even more crushed seeing him with one of my best friends. I didn't hang around long, a boy asked me to dance and I went off with him, spent the whole night dancing and kissing and smoking in the art room.
A few weeks later Donna asked me if I wanted to go out with Ronnie. She wasn't that into him and he was apparently interested in me. I said yes and the rest of course is history. I remember walking around that first night with him, talking about all the near meetings we'd had. When we finally met, finally got together, there was that excitement of being with someone new but there was also this feeling like "Ah, there you are." It was comfortable, like I had known him forever. From the moment we laid eyes on each other there was a sort of recognition. He felt it too. We talked about it later. He had tried to find out who I was but nobody knew or nobody would tell him. He nearly fell off his chair at that dance when I stepped into the circle. So we became somewhat volatile and mismatched sweethearts. My first real boyfriend. It lasted off and on and mostly on until I graduated and moved away. We're still friends, still talk, he still calls to wish me happy birthday.
We were supposed to be together for the time that we were, nothing more, nothing less. I know this because of the movie moments. They are unscripted, unplanned, and generally knock me off my feet. But they are strong indications that I'm on the right path, I'm where I'm supposed to be, I'm meeting someone important in my life. That's the way I see it anyway. It's the only thing that makes sense to me. And watching that movie tonight I would hope these would be the moments that would make it into my memorial film. If I was the cutter the Ronnie montage would be blips . . . him standing in front of Herbie's pool hall sneaking a shy look at me, his grin when he saw me at the Chatham Exhibition, the shocked look on both our faces when I stepped through the crowd at the school dance, him shivering on a chair in my kitchen, us kissing in my dad's car, us on my parent's living room floor, us on the step with his car parked at the edge of my driveway the outline of someone sitting in the middle, me sobbing as loud and hard as I ever have into my pillow, us asleep on the couch, us walking in the rain and holding hands, us pulled over on the 401, me standing in the window watching him drive away on Foch with tears streaming down my face, us sitting on cots in the basement having a serious discussion, him and Gary standing at the front of the United church . . . the whole thing would take 15 seconds and the music background would be a few bars of Islands in the Stream.
Mood: contemplative
Drinking: water
Listening To: my jaw snapping
Hair: still ponied, forever ponied until I take the scissors to the mess
Not that I'm very deliberately living my life, calling all the shots, planning every conversation. It's not like that, I just believe in the power of visualization, believe in anticipating predictable situations and being prepared. But the most movie-like moments of my life have all been unexpected, a surprise. And I don't know if other people don't have as many of these moments as I do or if they don't recognise them when they happen or if they just don't talk about it, but it really seems that I have quite a lot of movie scenes playing out in my life on a regular basis. And last night I was reminded of one of them when talk turned to questions of where I grew up and went to high school etc. I've probably written about this here already before, but here it is again anyway.
Eighth grade in the spring, we were hanging out a little bit with my cousin and her friends in Blackville. Being a year younger and from Barnettville, we were not exactly the first choice of friends by the popular stuck-up village girls but they didn't say too much on account of my cousin. I didn't care that they really didn't want us around because my parents would actually let me go to Blackville and stay all night at my cousin's house, where I'd get to go to all the Catholic Hall dances and hang around John's Take-Out and under the bridge and Herbie's Pool Hall and meet boys. I was very interested in any activity that would allow me to meet boys, could put up with a lot of crap as long as I got to meet boys.
I knew how to deal with boys. I understood boys. It was the girls I couldn't read. I expected more from girls I think. I expected them to be more open and honest, to mean what they say and say what they mean. My Blackville cousin and her friends didn't do this though. They said one thing and meant another.
For weeks my cousin complained about a boy who wouldn't leave her alone, who kept chatting her up and asking her to dance, no matter how much she'd ignore him and turn him down. It was all she talked about, how disgusting and creepy this boy was and how much she hated him. I went with her to the next dance and the boy was there. She pointed him out to me and hoped he would leave her alone. He noticed us, smiled and started walking over to us. She was freaking out, asking me to help her. He came up to us, said hello and then asked me to dance. I had zero interest in this boy but thought it might help my cousin if I danced with him, ended up dancing with him most of the night. It seems like we might even have made out in a dark corner for awhile or went for a walk or something. It was a long time ago, I don't really remember. But I do remember that my cousin was livid. She wouldn't even speak to me. I had betrayed her, stolen the boy, how could I have done this to her, yada yada yada. I just thought the whole thing was foolish, why go on and on about the boy being a pain if she really liked him? I mean if she couldn't tell me she liked him, who could she tell? I would've never given the guy a second glance if I thought she had any interest.
But that wasn't a movie moment, I'm off track explaining how that Blackville cousin never told me the truth about anything. The spring of grade eight my cousin and I were still friends (though that would change before school even broke for summer). Rare for us to be walking around Blackville, just the two of us without the brood, but late one Sunday afternoon I found myself alone with her walking toward Herbie's Pool Hall where I would disappear out behind and walk the tracks back to Barnettville. I believe this might have been a forbidden excursion, unsanctioned by my parents. It was about 4pm and overcast, ugly rain clouds boiling in the sky, that dead air that sometimes precedes a bad thunderstorm. I was in a hurry to get home before the storm, before supper, before Mom and Dad figured out I'd left the Barnettville Road. There were a few people standing outside the pool hall. I don't remember who all was standing there, though I knew everyone of them except him. Him, I remember. Hands in his jeans pockets. Jean jacket open. Light coloured snap shirt. Hair curling around his ears. Crooked nose. Dark eyes. Shy sideways grin. I thought he was the most adorable guy I'd ever laid eyes on. And he was looking at me. I don't know if I smiled, if I said hello, or if I was dumbstruck, but as soon as we were out of earshot I demanded to know who that boy was. My cousin shrugged like he was nobody special, said his name was Jeffrey, said he had a girlfriend already, said he'd never go out with somebody like me anyway. And I believed her. My heart sank.
Movie moment number two happened later in August, the summer before grade nine. Stacy and I went to the Chatham Exhibition. A Friday night seems likely, as that is when most young people go to the Chatham Exhibition. It was just the two of us, not sure how we got there, but we were wandering around playing games and getting on rides. It was very crowded and we knew lots of people, it seemed like everyone from our school had picked the same night to go. Walking through the crowd we turned a corner and found ourselves facing our arch enemies, a girl from our road and her best friend from Renous. We hated each other, but we'd still speak to one another, say hello, especially if we had something we could throw in the other's face like about a boy we'd gone out with or something. So when we came face to face all four of us flinched and pasted on our phoney smiles as we met up in the crowd. We said hello and then I noticed they weren't alone as the two boys (I believe Gary, my now brother-in-law, might have been one) stepped up alongside them. I saw him! Jeffrey! My jaw might have dropped. I'm certain my eyes went big. Huge intake of breath. May even have stepped back or flinched like I was punched. And Jeffrey looked equally as surprised to see me. Oh and how those girls preened and gloated that they were there with these gorgeous boys and we were there alone. I could not get away fast enough. It was terrible, but a movie moment.
Fall, grade nine, with the first school dance coming up. That was the year we were part of a church youth group and got to meet boys from White Rapids, Chelmsford and Millerton that we would never have met otherwise. For dances students were allowed to sign in one guest that didn't go to our school. Stacy had promised a boy from Chelmsford at our youth group that she would sign him into this dance. The only time we got to see those guys was once a month at our meeting. I didn't think he'd show up. I thought she'd be wasting her sign-in power on him. A friend of mine had convinced me to go out with a boy she knew at the dance, but I'd have to sign him in and he'd only come if his buddy could come.
The signing in thing was a really big deal, EVERYONE signed somebody in, whole gangs of drop-outs and kids from other schools would come to these things. Our best friend, Donna, had just started dating a new boy, Ronnie, that she was signing in. Our other best friend, Gloria, had just started dating her future husband, David, that she was signing in. There was nobody left in the school to sign in my date's buddy. So I convinced Stacy to do it. Convinced her the church group guy wouldn't show up anyway and my guy's buddy was cute, so why not?
I was excited about that dance. We were a little drunk when we got there. People were hanging around outside the school in the driveway. I remember making our way through crowds, saying hi to people we knew, when we came across a couple of guys from our road and they were talking about this idiot boy from Chelmsford that they wanted to beat up. It was the boy from our youth group! The one Stacy had promised she'd take to the dance. I felt like crap that I had talked her out of signing him in. I felt even crappier when I realised neither my guy nor his buddy showed up. We talked to the principal and tried to convince him to let us change Stacy's sign-in at the last minute, but he wouldn't let her. We didn't know what to do and the teachers were ushering everyone inside and getting ready to close the doors for the night. So Stacy told me to go on in and she'd stay outside with him, we'd hook up after the dance and go home. I felt like double crap! But there was nothing to be done about it. I was the last person admitted into the first high school dance Fall 1984.
I stepped into the loud music and flashing lights of the cafeteria. The place was packed. I stood in the doorway at the top of the stairs scanning the room for friends. Gloria spotted me and called out to me, waved. There were a whole lot of people standing around, surrounding the chairs my friends were sitting in. I went over, excused myself through the crowd, turned around to say hi and there he was! Jeffrey! With my friend Donna sitting on his lap. Not Jeffrey at all, Donna introduced him to me. This was her new boyfriend, Ronnie. I had been crushed seeing him with my arch rival, but I was even more crushed seeing him with one of my best friends. I didn't hang around long, a boy asked me to dance and I went off with him, spent the whole night dancing and kissing and smoking in the art room.
A few weeks later Donna asked me if I wanted to go out with Ronnie. She wasn't that into him and he was apparently interested in me. I said yes and the rest of course is history. I remember walking around that first night with him, talking about all the near meetings we'd had. When we finally met, finally got together, there was that excitement of being with someone new but there was also this feeling like "Ah, there you are." It was comfortable, like I had known him forever. From the moment we laid eyes on each other there was a sort of recognition. He felt it too. We talked about it later. He had tried to find out who I was but nobody knew or nobody would tell him. He nearly fell off his chair at that dance when I stepped into the circle. So we became somewhat volatile and mismatched sweethearts. My first real boyfriend. It lasted off and on and mostly on until I graduated and moved away. We're still friends, still talk, he still calls to wish me happy birthday.
We were supposed to be together for the time that we were, nothing more, nothing less. I know this because of the movie moments. They are unscripted, unplanned, and generally knock me off my feet. But they are strong indications that I'm on the right path, I'm where I'm supposed to be, I'm meeting someone important in my life. That's the way I see it anyway. It's the only thing that makes sense to me. And watching that movie tonight I would hope these would be the moments that would make it into my memorial film. If I was the cutter the Ronnie montage would be blips . . . him standing in front of Herbie's pool hall sneaking a shy look at me, his grin when he saw me at the Chatham Exhibition, the shocked look on both our faces when I stepped through the crowd at the school dance, him shivering on a chair in my kitchen, us kissing in my dad's car, us on my parent's living room floor, us on the step with his car parked at the edge of my driveway the outline of someone sitting in the middle, me sobbing as loud and hard as I ever have into my pillow, us asleep on the couch, us walking in the rain and holding hands, us pulled over on the 401, me standing in the window watching him drive away on Foch with tears streaming down my face, us sitting on cots in the basement having a serious discussion, him and Gary standing at the front of the United church . . . the whole thing would take 15 seconds and the music background would be a few bars of Islands in the Stream.
Mood: contemplative
Drinking: water
Listening To: my jaw snapping
Hair: still ponied, forever ponied until I take the scissors to the mess
Sunday, April 16, 2006
Easter
Grey dreary day. Achy. Slept late. Wings in the oven for dinner with tossed romaine and slabs of pumpernickle. One glass of wine left in the bottle gifted to me last weekend. Yesterday's hike was fabulous. Chickadees landed on my palm and took seeds. One even lingered picking over the seeds until finding just the right one. Several squirrels. A beautiful golden retriever wet from a swim in the lake. Even a snake. Great conversation. Couldn't ask for a better afternoon.
A Bridget Jones moment enroute to dinner last night. Strutting along the sidewalk head held high, hair silky and flowing, face flawless and dewy, wearing high-heeled shoes, sheer black blouse, grey wool dress jacket, best new jeans, white gold and diamond K round my neck, carrying plant in full bloom for host gift, turning young male heads and feeling quite happy about it . . . a woman behind me on the sidewalk yells, "Don't look down!" Casually turning my head to see what she's talking about, smiling, keep strutting as I see a man on a roof, smile at him, step off the sidewalk, go over on my ankle, pitch forward onto neighbour's lawn landing on knees and one hand (other hand saves the plant), people rushing from all over to rescue me while I lay there laughing my guts out and trying in vain to erase grass stains off my not so new anymore jeans. No matter. I arrived fashionably late but alive and humbled. Had a great evening, super company, wonderful food and drinks. Very nice time. Thinking I should start inviting more people to my place. I'm not really equipped for big dinner parties, but one or two at a time should be feasible. It's been a difficult few months financially since the Toronto trip, but I should see the light at the end of the tunnel soon. And with more money I should be able to do more things. One would hope.
Stacy is coming in a couple of weeks for the weekend. I can't wait! It's going to be a jam-packed visit, lots going on. Frye Fest. Natural Healing Expo. Gigantic Flea Market. Much good food and drinks I'm sure. With any luck I'll have some cash by then.
Mood: splitting headache
Drinking: coffee
Listening To: nothing right now, just shut down itunes
Hair: ponied
A Bridget Jones moment enroute to dinner last night. Strutting along the sidewalk head held high, hair silky and flowing, face flawless and dewy, wearing high-heeled shoes, sheer black blouse, grey wool dress jacket, best new jeans, white gold and diamond K round my neck, carrying plant in full bloom for host gift, turning young male heads and feeling quite happy about it . . . a woman behind me on the sidewalk yells, "Don't look down!" Casually turning my head to see what she's talking about, smiling, keep strutting as I see a man on a roof, smile at him, step off the sidewalk, go over on my ankle, pitch forward onto neighbour's lawn landing on knees and one hand (other hand saves the plant), people rushing from all over to rescue me while I lay there laughing my guts out and trying in vain to erase grass stains off my not so new anymore jeans. No matter. I arrived fashionably late but alive and humbled. Had a great evening, super company, wonderful food and drinks. Very nice time. Thinking I should start inviting more people to my place. I'm not really equipped for big dinner parties, but one or two at a time should be feasible. It's been a difficult few months financially since the Toronto trip, but I should see the light at the end of the tunnel soon. And with more money I should be able to do more things. One would hope.
Stacy is coming in a couple of weeks for the weekend. I can't wait! It's going to be a jam-packed visit, lots going on. Frye Fest. Natural Healing Expo. Gigantic Flea Market. Much good food and drinks I'm sure. With any luck I'll have some cash by then.
Mood: splitting headache
Drinking: coffee
Listening To: nothing right now, just shut down itunes
Hair: ponied
Saturday, April 15, 2006
Silver Lining
Beauty morning here on the Tantramarsh. Sunshine. Blue skies. Calm (that's relative, the day would perhaps be considered windy elsewhere). Thirteen degrees says Environment Canada. So my walk is on, not rained out. We're going to a bird sanctuary near Amherst. Apparently the birds will land right on fingertips and eat out of your palm. I wish I had a camera, I'd take pictures. My description later will have to do.
Sleeping problems last night, got up at 3am and went online played mind numbing games until after 4. Then returned to the sheets where I rolled around until nearly 6. Restless. Some pain in my legs. Couldn't get comfortable. Shifting pillows every few minutes. Mostly couldn't quiet my mind. Writing when I should be sleeping. Woke five hours later at 11. It's funny how I never set an alarm anymore. I just wake up after five hours, though sometimes more, which usually freaks me out.
What does one wear when visiting birds? Besides my worst shoes in case it's muddy.
Mood: excited
Drinking: coffee
Listening To: Open Road, Bryan Adams
Hair: loose for now
Sleeping problems last night, got up at 3am and went online played mind numbing games until after 4. Then returned to the sheets where I rolled around until nearly 6. Restless. Some pain in my legs. Couldn't get comfortable. Shifting pillows every few minutes. Mostly couldn't quiet my mind. Writing when I should be sleeping. Woke five hours later at 11. It's funny how I never set an alarm anymore. I just wake up after five hours, though sometimes more, which usually freaks me out.
What does one wear when visiting birds? Besides my worst shoes in case it's muddy.
Mood: excited
Drinking: coffee
Listening To: Open Road, Bryan Adams
Hair: loose for now
Friday, April 14, 2006
Barely Listening
I can't open the bottle of Coke in my fridge. It used to be that nothing was too tight for me. I had the bartender death clutch, could unscrew (and screw ;-) anything. I'll try again later, but in the meantime I've used the last of the flat diet cola for mixing with mister jack daniels . . . and I did not have enough to offset the amount of liquor I had already poured onto ice into the tall glass . . . soooo, here I am, with one stiff drink.
I've been going through my blog, sequestering posts that could be something more, something publishable even. I've been inspired since the AGM weekend, maybe I haven't been wasting my time here, maybe there's something to this blog business. I've extracted over 97,000 words. That's right! Who knew? That's a big ass book. Of course it needs editing, rewriting, reworking . . . and the guts to try. I'm big on editing skills, a bit low on guts. But working on it.
Mood: nostalgic
Drinking: jacks & coke
Listening To: Cuts Like a Knife, Bryan Adams
Hair: could it be that i'll get drunk and pull a freida? all those women in the movies always look so sexy after they chop off their hair in a fit of passion
I've been going through my blog, sequestering posts that could be something more, something publishable even. I've been inspired since the AGM weekend, maybe I haven't been wasting my time here, maybe there's something to this blog business. I've extracted over 97,000 words. That's right! Who knew? That's a big ass book. Of course it needs editing, rewriting, reworking . . . and the guts to try. I'm big on editing skills, a bit low on guts. But working on it.
Mood: nostalgic
Drinking: jacks & coke
Listening To: Cuts Like a Knife, Bryan Adams
Hair: could it be that i'll get drunk and pull a freida? all those women in the movies always look so sexy after they chop off their hair in a fit of passion
Grey & Blue
The day is grey outside, kinda blue in here. Partly weather caused, partly hormonal. Just a small case of the Blahs! Nothing major. Construction on the cocoon hasn't begun. No need to send in a posse. Indeed a brief walk might fix everything.
I've been invited out for a walk tomorrow afternoon followed by dinner, which is something to look forward to this holiday weekend. I may also have a sidekick to attend the local wine tasting event coming up in a few weeks, that I blew off a gig in Miramichi so I could attend . . . which means I've GOT to attend.
I'm feeling so blessed these days. Everything has fallen into place. When you step back and allow the universe to work its magic, things just happen. Sometimes I can't believe this is my life. I'm so far removed from where I used to be 10 years ago, even less time than that. Just the other day talking to Mom about painting I was reminded of painting the washrooms at the Power Track. My boy and I painted the ladies one night. Hah! What a disaster that paint job turned out to be! Neither one of us had ever painted anything before and we couldn't keep our hands off one another long enough to accomplish much anyway. Painted it green and it dried blue. And I think I just left it that way. Darren and I (but mostly Darren) painted the men's, which was of course a much better job, and a different kind of night. Sometimes I just want to call him up so we can argue about something silly. From there to here, who would've ever imagined I'd become all respectable? Who knew I could look after myself? I certainly never imagined, though I had hoped.
I've got to do some writing today, some writing that takes me back to more volatile times, to that bedroom again. I don't know how many times I will have to relive the heartbreak and humiliation before it will be done. I'm always surprised that I'm still able to summon tears when I go there. Because on the one hand I see it totally for what it was and I've forgiven myself for putting myself into harm's way like that, I've analyzed it to death and I know exactly what happened and more importantly why. Yet I'm still able to step back and feel the raw hurt, the fear and despair. I'm able to step into it like it was yesterday. I guess it'll just be that way until it isn't, until maybe I've got everything out of it that I can use. This seems to be the way of writers. A friend of mine seems to be doing the same thing, writing about the same girl over and over. Writing is the greatest healer, Magie said, and she was right. That's probably another reason why I'm a little blue today, because I know where the story's going. It's a little odd to be so sad and happy all at the same time though.
Mood: just okay, but happy
Drinking: coffee, the super cheap stuff (i will splurge and buy good coffee for stacy's upcoming visit . . . even tho she's not that into coffee, any excuse to splurge)
Listening To: Clocks, Coldplay
Hair: i'm seriously going to go at it myself . . . or i'll have to price cuts here, I cannot possibly lug this mop to Frye
I've been invited out for a walk tomorrow afternoon followed by dinner, which is something to look forward to this holiday weekend. I may also have a sidekick to attend the local wine tasting event coming up in a few weeks, that I blew off a gig in Miramichi so I could attend . . . which means I've GOT to attend.
I'm feeling so blessed these days. Everything has fallen into place. When you step back and allow the universe to work its magic, things just happen. Sometimes I can't believe this is my life. I'm so far removed from where I used to be 10 years ago, even less time than that. Just the other day talking to Mom about painting I was reminded of painting the washrooms at the Power Track. My boy and I painted the ladies one night. Hah! What a disaster that paint job turned out to be! Neither one of us had ever painted anything before and we couldn't keep our hands off one another long enough to accomplish much anyway. Painted it green and it dried blue. And I think I just left it that way. Darren and I (but mostly Darren) painted the men's, which was of course a much better job, and a different kind of night. Sometimes I just want to call him up so we can argue about something silly. From there to here, who would've ever imagined I'd become all respectable? Who knew I could look after myself? I certainly never imagined, though I had hoped.
I've got to do some writing today, some writing that takes me back to more volatile times, to that bedroom again. I don't know how many times I will have to relive the heartbreak and humiliation before it will be done. I'm always surprised that I'm still able to summon tears when I go there. Because on the one hand I see it totally for what it was and I've forgiven myself for putting myself into harm's way like that, I've analyzed it to death and I know exactly what happened and more importantly why. Yet I'm still able to step back and feel the raw hurt, the fear and despair. I'm able to step into it like it was yesterday. I guess it'll just be that way until it isn't, until maybe I've got everything out of it that I can use. This seems to be the way of writers. A friend of mine seems to be doing the same thing, writing about the same girl over and over. Writing is the greatest healer, Magie said, and she was right. That's probably another reason why I'm a little blue today, because I know where the story's going. It's a little odd to be so sad and happy all at the same time though.
Mood: just okay, but happy
Drinking: coffee, the super cheap stuff (i will splurge and buy good coffee for stacy's upcoming visit . . . even tho she's not that into coffee, any excuse to splurge)
Listening To: Clocks, Coldplay
Hair: i'm seriously going to go at it myself . . . or i'll have to price cuts here, I cannot possibly lug this mop to Frye
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Mooning
Feeling a little unmotivated and listless this afternoon. We're in the moon again, I won't bore you with the kazillion details, but we all know what the moon does to me. So, I've got a severe case of the yawns today.
What a beauty day! I just want to go sit outside, listen to music and drink . . . beer? martinis? something cold and refreshing. I just want to sit and not have to think. No such luxury. Lots to do.
Mood: shaky
Drinking: nothing, thinking wine with dinner tonight
Listening To: Heart Like A Wheel, Steve Miller Band
Hair: if it gets any thicker, my face will disappear
What a beauty day! I just want to go sit outside, listen to music and drink . . . beer? martinis? something cold and refreshing. I just want to sit and not have to think. No such luxury. Lots to do.
Mood: shaky
Drinking: nothing, thinking wine with dinner tonight
Listening To: Heart Like A Wheel, Steve Miller Band
Hair: if it gets any thicker, my face will disappear
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
A Meme for the Day
1.Do you still talk to the person you lost your virginity to?: yes
2. What would you do with 1,000 plastic spoons?: put them in the cupboard for when the kids visit
3.What kind of music did you listen to in elementary school?: Grease Soundtrack, Saturday Night Fever Soundtrack, David Soul, Kris Kristofferson, Shaun Cassidy
4. What kind of music do you listen to now?: Everything except country, mostly alternative and folk rock
5. What is the best thing about your current job?: That I work from home
6. Are you against same sex marriage?: Absoutely NOT!
7. Have you been on a date in the past week?: Sadly, no
8. Where are you going on your next vacation?: I'm not sure, but Italy calls to me
9. Quote a song lyric: "Just victims of the inhouse driveby, they say jump you say how high."
10. Are most of the friends in your life new or old?: New
11. Do you own any furniture from Ikea?: No
12. Do you like your parents?: Yeah, my parents are okay
13. Do you live with them?: No
14. Where are you from?: Miramichi NB
15. Tell us about the last conversation you had?: With Jason via MSN. Letting me know when I called that Jenn was out for a walk.
16. Where do you see yourself in one month?: Right here, getting ready for mini-trip to Miramichi, to deliver workshop, to take workshop, to get my haircut, to check in at the office, to see the kids and my dog and everyone else
17. What is your favorite smell?: Lilacs
18. Do you consider yourself bi-polar?: DI could very well be . . .
19. What is the time and the outside temperature right now?: Dunno
20. Have you ever done anything vindictive to your coworker?: No
21. Have you ever gone to therapy?: Nope, but that's not to say I shouldn't have
22. Have you ever Played Spin the Bottle?: hah! yes. eons ago
23. Have you ever Toilet Papered someone's house?: oops! yeah. sorry wilson.
24. Have you ever liked someone but never told them?: The story of my life is liking people and NOT telling them, or telling them too late or too early. My timing sucks.
26. Have you ever had a crush on your brother or sister's friend?: Not so much. One of my bar boys was one of my sister's exes tho.
27. Have you ever been to a nude beach?: No. I'm not really a beach person.
28. Have you ever drank Jack Daniels?: All the time
29. Have you ever had sex on the beach?: The drink, yes. The actual sex . . . it's fuzzy, I think so.
30. Have you ever had a stalker?: Well, there was this one guy we had to lie and say I moved and nobody knew where
31. Have you ever been in love?: Once, many infatuations though, several purely sexual relationships
32. Have you ever gone skinny dipping?: I have, but not since I was a teenager
33. Have you ever laughed so hard you cried?: I have, the best feeling
34. Have you ever gone to a party where you were the only sober one there?: god no!
35. Have you ever been cheated on?: Yes
36. Have you ever had sex with one of your MySpace friends?: I don't have MySpace friends
37. Have you ever felt betrayed by your best friend?: never
38. Have you ever felt like you were just completely rhino raped?: hmmm, a little confused about this, but I'm going to say yes
39. Have you ever lied to your parents?: Hell yeah
40. Have you ever been out of the country?: I have but not in a long time
41. Have you ever thrown up from working out?: No
42. Have you ever gotten a haircut so bad that you wore a hat for a month?: No, I only had one intolerable haircut and I just had someone else cut it over again
43. Have you ever eaten three meals from three different fast food places in one day?: I'm pretty sure I probably did when I lived in Toronto
44. Have you ever gotten so wasted you didnt know what was going on? Yeah, it happens
45. Have you ever spied on someone you had a crush on?: Yes, but not in a really long time
47. Have you ever seen your best friend naked?: no.
48. Have you ever fell in love with someone elses partner?: not in love, in like or lust tho
49. Have you ever had your heartbroken by someone you love?: Yeah, I've been the blubbering broken-hearted way too many times
50. If you could change anything that has happened in the last six months would you?: Nope. Probably not. Cuz today is a beauty day and I'm happy and I wouldn't want to mess with that.
Mood: happy
Drinking: coffee
Listening To: Start Me Up, Rolling Stones
Hair: low pony
2. What would you do with 1,000 plastic spoons?: put them in the cupboard for when the kids visit
3.What kind of music did you listen to in elementary school?: Grease Soundtrack, Saturday Night Fever Soundtrack, David Soul, Kris Kristofferson, Shaun Cassidy
4. What kind of music do you listen to now?: Everything except country, mostly alternative and folk rock
5. What is the best thing about your current job?: That I work from home
6. Are you against same sex marriage?: Absoutely NOT!
7. Have you been on a date in the past week?: Sadly, no
8. Where are you going on your next vacation?: I'm not sure, but Italy calls to me
9. Quote a song lyric: "Just victims of the inhouse driveby, they say jump you say how high."
10. Are most of the friends in your life new or old?: New
11. Do you own any furniture from Ikea?: No
12. Do you like your parents?: Yeah, my parents are okay
13. Do you live with them?: No
14. Where are you from?: Miramichi NB
15. Tell us about the last conversation you had?: With Jason via MSN. Letting me know when I called that Jenn was out for a walk.
16. Where do you see yourself in one month?: Right here, getting ready for mini-trip to Miramichi, to deliver workshop, to take workshop, to get my haircut, to check in at the office, to see the kids and my dog and everyone else
17. What is your favorite smell?: Lilacs
18. Do you consider yourself bi-polar?: DI could very well be . . .
19. What is the time and the outside temperature right now?: Dunno
20. Have you ever done anything vindictive to your coworker?: No
21. Have you ever gone to therapy?: Nope, but that's not to say I shouldn't have
22. Have you ever Played Spin the Bottle?: hah! yes. eons ago
23. Have you ever Toilet Papered someone's house?: oops! yeah. sorry wilson.
24. Have you ever liked someone but never told them?: The story of my life is liking people and NOT telling them, or telling them too late or too early. My timing sucks.
26. Have you ever had a crush on your brother or sister's friend?: Not so much. One of my bar boys was one of my sister's exes tho.
27. Have you ever been to a nude beach?: No. I'm not really a beach person.
28. Have you ever drank Jack Daniels?: All the time
29. Have you ever had sex on the beach?: The drink, yes. The actual sex . . . it's fuzzy, I think so.
30. Have you ever had a stalker?: Well, there was this one guy we had to lie and say I moved and nobody knew where
31. Have you ever been in love?: Once, many infatuations though, several purely sexual relationships
32. Have you ever gone skinny dipping?: I have, but not since I was a teenager
33. Have you ever laughed so hard you cried?: I have, the best feeling
34. Have you ever gone to a party where you were the only sober one there?: god no!
35. Have you ever been cheated on?: Yes
36. Have you ever had sex with one of your MySpace friends?: I don't have MySpace friends
37. Have you ever felt betrayed by your best friend?: never
38. Have you ever felt like you were just completely rhino raped?: hmmm, a little confused about this, but I'm going to say yes
39. Have you ever lied to your parents?: Hell yeah
40. Have you ever been out of the country?: I have but not in a long time
41. Have you ever thrown up from working out?: No
42. Have you ever gotten a haircut so bad that you wore a hat for a month?: No, I only had one intolerable haircut and I just had someone else cut it over again
43. Have you ever eaten three meals from three different fast food places in one day?: I'm pretty sure I probably did when I lived in Toronto
44. Have you ever gotten so wasted you didnt know what was going on? Yeah, it happens
45. Have you ever spied on someone you had a crush on?: Yes, but not in a really long time
47. Have you ever seen your best friend naked?: no.
48. Have you ever fell in love with someone elses partner?: not in love, in like or lust tho
49. Have you ever had your heartbroken by someone you love?: Yeah, I've been the blubbering broken-hearted way too many times
50. If you could change anything that has happened in the last six months would you?: Nope. Probably not. Cuz today is a beauty day and I'm happy and I wouldn't want to mess with that.
Mood: happy
Drinking: coffee
Listening To: Start Me Up, Rolling Stones
Hair: low pony
Monday, April 10, 2006
Another Manic Monday
Back to the real world then. And a crush of work. Overwhelming. At least I was too tired to have the usual battle with Sunday Night Axiety. It seems to have hit me full in the stomach this morning though. How do you spell diarrhea? I've got an issue of bnm online long overdue, bnm print needs things asap, wfnb PR, housecleaning, a walk, errands, laundry, unpacking, and somewhere in there I need to find time to write something creatively for me, personally.
The dilemma is if I put the creative writing first, if I get started, I won't want to stop. I want to go all day. And I no longer have the luxury of doing that. If I leave it to last I never get to it. If I start it somewhere in the middle I have problems getting into a creative headspace. I know I need to start doing it first, and I need to be disciplined with my writing time, limit myself to an hour or so. It shouldn't be so hard to do the only thing in the world that truly makes you happy. One would think once you've identified the thing that brings peace to the world that the rest would be easy. Not so. But I'm going to really try harder. I have to. This not producting work thing is becoming ridiculous.
Mood: whipped
Drinking: coffee
Listening To: One, Johnny Cash
Hair: Dunno as I can wait til May to chop, tempted to go at it myself
The dilemma is if I put the creative writing first, if I get started, I won't want to stop. I want to go all day. And I no longer have the luxury of doing that. If I leave it to last I never get to it. If I start it somewhere in the middle I have problems getting into a creative headspace. I know I need to start doing it first, and I need to be disciplined with my writing time, limit myself to an hour or so. It shouldn't be so hard to do the only thing in the world that truly makes you happy. One would think once you've identified the thing that brings peace to the world that the rest would be easy. Not so. But I'm going to really try harder. I have to. This not producting work thing is becoming ridiculous.
Mood: whipped
Drinking: coffee
Listening To: One, Johnny Cash
Hair: Dunno as I can wait til May to chop, tempted to go at it myself
Sunday, April 09, 2006
Inspiration
Late last night someone shot off fireworks right outside the bedroom window. The room flashbulbed white light. At first I thought a car had exploded at the lights. But fireworks seem more logical and there was no evidence of an explosion. I woke early this morning and found something to read for the open set, an earlier blog entry actually. I shortened it somewhat and cleaned it up a bit for pacing and clarity. A post about when I was forced to enter that beauty pageant. Now we can move on from seedy motels to beauty queens. It seems logical to me.
The open set at the Ice House was actually quite nice. I wasn't too excited to be going there, but for the size group we had, it really worked. I am so lucky to know all these people. I feel so fortunate sometimes to have so many talented and remarkable people in my life. The readings were a brilliant cap to an amazing weekend. I so enjoy hearing everyone's work. I was surprised by the way everyone responded to my piece. They laughed really hard. They really seemed to enjoy it. I read half the first go round the table and then the other half on a second round. At the end they were all laughing and even clapped. Kind of wild. Everyone said I should be trying to publish that stuff. I've never really thought of it as "real" writing. I've never had so much encouragement at one time as I did this whole weekend. At every turn someone was telling me how much they enjoyed things and how much I needed to focus and seek publishing. I'm actually inspired by it. I'm feeling really good about my work so far, the work left to be done.
On the ride home I was told people are worried about me, worried that I'm working too hard on other things and not working hard enough on my own writing. They told me the woman they'd sat with at the banquet just kept saying that I needed to do nothing but write, nothing, just write all the time. Of course, one needs to also pay the bills. There is always that. I do need to strive for better balance though. I know I do. And I'm feeling inspired to do something about it. I feel like I can. This feeling may disappear in a day or two, but for now, it feels really good.
Jan and Marilyn were kind enough to give me a little sightseeing tour of the area when we arrived back in Sackville. I had no idea there was a huge beautiful lake so close by. I knew of the lake, but thought it was way off in the woods, not within walking distance! And there's a beach! With swimming in the summer. How cool is that? Every day that passes I fall more in love with this town. I decided last week that I will buy a house here. Now don't get all excited, it'll take years I'm sure to find the right house, to be able to finance such an endeavour. But where there's will there's always a way, and I've got the will. How odd.
Mood: happy and light, optimistic and excited, inspired
Drinking: diet cola
Listening To: Wake Up, Waltham
Hair: brown scrunchy
The open set at the Ice House was actually quite nice. I wasn't too excited to be going there, but for the size group we had, it really worked. I am so lucky to know all these people. I feel so fortunate sometimes to have so many talented and remarkable people in my life. The readings were a brilliant cap to an amazing weekend. I so enjoy hearing everyone's work. I was surprised by the way everyone responded to my piece. They laughed really hard. They really seemed to enjoy it. I read half the first go round the table and then the other half on a second round. At the end they were all laughing and even clapped. Kind of wild. Everyone said I should be trying to publish that stuff. I've never really thought of it as "real" writing. I've never had so much encouragement at one time as I did this whole weekend. At every turn someone was telling me how much they enjoyed things and how much I needed to focus and seek publishing. I'm actually inspired by it. I'm feeling really good about my work so far, the work left to be done.
On the ride home I was told people are worried about me, worried that I'm working too hard on other things and not working hard enough on my own writing. They told me the woman they'd sat with at the banquet just kept saying that I needed to do nothing but write, nothing, just write all the time. Of course, one needs to also pay the bills. There is always that. I do need to strive for better balance though. I know I do. And I'm feeling inspired to do something about it. I feel like I can. This feeling may disappear in a day or two, but for now, it feels really good.
Jan and Marilyn were kind enough to give me a little sightseeing tour of the area when we arrived back in Sackville. I had no idea there was a huge beautiful lake so close by. I knew of the lake, but thought it was way off in the woods, not within walking distance! And there's a beach! With swimming in the summer. How cool is that? Every day that passes I fall more in love with this town. I decided last week that I will buy a house here. Now don't get all excited, it'll take years I'm sure to find the right house, to be able to finance such an endeavour. But where there's will there's always a way, and I've got the will. How odd.
Mood: happy and light, optimistic and excited, inspired
Drinking: diet cola
Listening To: Wake Up, Waltham
Hair: brown scrunchy
Saturday Goes Down Too
Good day today. Felt better after finally getting some sleep. Different kind of day because I didn't go to workshops or the meeting. I helped set up, sold books, tried to run a sound system, and other little odds 'n ends. Lunched with the crew at Dimitri's. Record book sales! Met lots of new people, saw some people I haven't seen in forever. I ran into a woman I only met once, many years ago, and she still remembered the story I read. That was pretty cool.
Lee accompanied me back to the warehouse when we had time before the banquet. My witness to the insanity here! Neither one of us know the city well enough to find friends. We cleared a space and talked about music and plays and books while I ironed and dressed, spending a quick hour before heading to the party. I realised too late that the dress pants I packed are a little bit too big. Brand new. Purchased at Christmas. Worn once. Expensive. Dammit! But I've apparently lost weight. I had thought I've gained recently. Needed to wear a belt. Like NEEDED to! In order to keep the pants around my waist. That's insane.
Long evening! Food was a long time coming, but very good once it arrived. We had no problems occupying ourselves though. I nearly snorted wine out my nose several times from all the laughing. Met Elizabeth's husband for the first time. He's wonderful. I want them to come to Sackville and visit. Drink much wine and laugh with me. Take me out to continue the quest for the perfect Irish man. Perhaps at a seedy motel, who knows. I kept thinking that's how Jenn and Jason will be in a few more years. The high school sweethearts thing works every once in awhile.
Great readings. Sketchy sound system. But we got through it. So far it's been a really enjoyable weekend. Went for drinks at the hotel after the banquet. Met a handsome man with dark hair. Whenever this happens I always wonder if it's him, the predicted one, but no, this one was married. And much too quiet I think to sweep me off my feet. I so hope the prophet wasn't embellishing that part of the prediction, because I'm ready to be swept. It's seriously high time. I have my doubts such a man exists though, I'm not easily swept away. But I would never say never about anything.
I've got that buzz in my head. The one I get when I'm around creative souls. It's nice.
Mood: better
Drinking: nothing right now, red stuff all night
Listening To: street noises, much louder here than at home
Hair: that's it! I can't live like this any longer! Going short, last weekend of May!
Lee accompanied me back to the warehouse when we had time before the banquet. My witness to the insanity here! Neither one of us know the city well enough to find friends. We cleared a space and talked about music and plays and books while I ironed and dressed, spending a quick hour before heading to the party. I realised too late that the dress pants I packed are a little bit too big. Brand new. Purchased at Christmas. Worn once. Expensive. Dammit! But I've apparently lost weight. I had thought I've gained recently. Needed to wear a belt. Like NEEDED to! In order to keep the pants around my waist. That's insane.
Long evening! Food was a long time coming, but very good once it arrived. We had no problems occupying ourselves though. I nearly snorted wine out my nose several times from all the laughing. Met Elizabeth's husband for the first time. He's wonderful. I want them to come to Sackville and visit. Drink much wine and laugh with me. Take me out to continue the quest for the perfect Irish man. Perhaps at a seedy motel, who knows. I kept thinking that's how Jenn and Jason will be in a few more years. The high school sweethearts thing works every once in awhile.
Great readings. Sketchy sound system. But we got through it. So far it's been a really enjoyable weekend. Went for drinks at the hotel after the banquet. Met a handsome man with dark hair. Whenever this happens I always wonder if it's him, the predicted one, but no, this one was married. And much too quiet I think to sweep me off my feet. I so hope the prophet wasn't embellishing that part of the prediction, because I'm ready to be swept. It's seriously high time. I have my doubts such a man exists though, I'm not easily swept away. But I would never say never about anything.
I've got that buzz in my head. The one I get when I'm around creative souls. It's nice.
Mood: better
Drinking: nothing right now, red stuff all night
Listening To: street noises, much louder here than at home
Hair: that's it! I can't live like this any longer! Going short, last weekend of May!
Friday, April 07, 2006
Friday Night Down
Getting sick sucks. Readings over. Pretty good event I think. Well attended. Only a few mistakes. I was too looped to know whether it worked or not. It's a rainy night in Freddy. Cold inside. Warmer out. But wet. I need sleep. I need for my horoscope to stop being so fucking right on. I need to write something. But not here.
Mood: tired
Drinking: nuttin, shiraz earlier
Listening To: nothing
Hair: long and loose
Mood: tired
Drinking: nuttin, shiraz earlier
Listening To: nothing
Hair: long and loose
Two Plus Hours and Counting
Leaving for Fredericton and a weekend in the company of writers in about two hours time. They said they'd pick me up around 9:30. I am a bit zonked. Could not sleep last night. The last time I looked at the clock it was 4:30. Tres disturbing numbers to see when you know the alarm will buzz at 6:07 and you have to rise no matter what. I couldn't stop thinking about hosting the event tonight. Last year, in Moncton, I wasn't nervous . . . I don't think I had enough sense to be nervous. But Moncton is also a different town than Fredericton. Different attitude. I'm more at home in Moncton. Fredericton seems cold in comparison. And the line-up of authors is a bit stunning. And I suddenly realised I haven't really thought about what I'm going to say. I don't have any material. No jokes. What the hell!
And to top it all off, I'm feeling sick. Sigh. No, I mean like sore throat, headachy sick, not stomach nerves sick. Like I'm taking the flu or something. Nice. Hopefully, it's nothing that a few glasses of wine won't clear up. I haven't had any wine all week. I think that's why I'm sick! A glass a day keeps the flu away.
Anyway, the thing that was bothering me the other day has worked itself out, for the time being anyway. So, I don't have to make a special trip home. I'm not planning on going again until the last weekend in May. I should be in super duper kid withdrawal by then.
I'm off! Have a good weekend. Wish me luck!
Mood: jittery
Drinking: coffee
Listening To: This Year's Love, David Gray
Hair: drying naturally
And to top it all off, I'm feeling sick. Sigh. No, I mean like sore throat, headachy sick, not stomach nerves sick. Like I'm taking the flu or something. Nice. Hopefully, it's nothing that a few glasses of wine won't clear up. I haven't had any wine all week. I think that's why I'm sick! A glass a day keeps the flu away.
Anyway, the thing that was bothering me the other day has worked itself out, for the time being anyway. So, I don't have to make a special trip home. I'm not planning on going again until the last weekend in May. I should be in super duper kid withdrawal by then.
I'm off! Have a good weekend. Wish me luck!
Mood: jittery
Drinking: coffee
Listening To: This Year's Love, David Gray
Hair: drying naturally
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Another Meme
1. Yourself: stressed
2. Your Lover: non-existent
3. Your Hair: greying
4. Your Mother: aging
5. Your Father: stubborn
6. Your Favorite Item: dvds
7. Your Dream Last Night: multiple
8. Your Favorite Drink: wine
9. Your Dream Home: rustic
10. The Room You Are In: lofty
11. Your Pet: hairy
12. Who You Are Now: starving
13. Who You Want to be Like Ten Years From Now: angelina
14. What You Want to be Ten Years From Now: content
15. What You're Not: organised
16. Your Best Friend: computer
17. One of Your Wishlist Items: travel
18. Your Gender: lass
19. The Last Thing You Did: coffee
20. What You Are Wearing: navy
21. Your Favorite Weather: sunshine
22. Your Favorite Book: many
23. The Last Thing You Ate: chips
24. Your Life: okay
2. Your Lover: non-existent
3. Your Hair: greying
4. Your Mother: aging
5. Your Father: stubborn
6. Your Favorite Item: dvds
7. Your Dream Last Night: multiple
8. Your Favorite Drink: wine
9. Your Dream Home: rustic
10. The Room You Are In: lofty
11. Your Pet: hairy
12. Who You Are Now: starving
13. Who You Want to be Like Ten Years From Now: angelina
14. What You Want to be Ten Years From Now: content
15. What You're Not: organised
16. Your Best Friend: computer
17. One of Your Wishlist Items: travel
18. Your Gender: lass
19. The Last Thing You Did: coffee
20. What You Are Wearing: navy
21. Your Favorite Weather: sunshine
22. Your Favorite Book: many
23. The Last Thing You Ate: chips
24. Your Life: okay
Where Do I Belong?
| You Belong in Paris |
 Stylish and a little sassy, you were meant for Paris. The art, the fashion, the wine, the men! Whether you're enjoying the cafe life or a beautiful park... You'll love living in the most chic place on earth. |
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
I Want A Fucking Cigarette
If I thought the remaining kid next door had anything to smoke other than hallucinogenic substances I'd be over there begging him for a smoke. I'm so not kidding. What a night! What a stupid crazy nuts night! Thank goodness I decided to pick up a half dozen sweets at the store today. I NEVER do that! My subconscious psychic abilities must've been working overtime. But now they come in handy for comfort.
My mother would be very upset if she thought I aired the family laundry in public . . . Oy! So, out of respect to my mother, I won't. I thought when I moved out that I would gain the peace of mind of not knowing that my sisters have. That I could stop worrying about my family making the RCMP headlines for heinous crimes. NOT that there wouldn't be a need to worry mind you, but just that I'd be out of the loop on a situation I can't control anyway . . . no such luck, babe! How many times can I say OY! in the same fucking paragraph? Oy!
And somehow this is worse, this worrying from a distance, being half in and half out of the loop. God dammit! If I didn't have to be in Fredericton this weekend, I'd be enroute to Miramichi. I may have to go next week anyway, find the cash up my ass somewhere. We'll see what becomes of the weekend.
And for now, I drink and I think and I crave cigarettes and I pray nothing really bad happens.
Mood: angry, upset, worried
Drinking: jack and coke
Listening To: Godiva's on tv
Hair: loosely pulled back
My mother would be very upset if she thought I aired the family laundry in public . . . Oy! So, out of respect to my mother, I won't. I thought when I moved out that I would gain the peace of mind of not knowing that my sisters have. That I could stop worrying about my family making the RCMP headlines for heinous crimes. NOT that there wouldn't be a need to worry mind you, but just that I'd be out of the loop on a situation I can't control anyway . . . no such luck, babe! How many times can I say OY! in the same fucking paragraph? Oy!
And somehow this is worse, this worrying from a distance, being half in and half out of the loop. God dammit! If I didn't have to be in Fredericton this weekend, I'd be enroute to Miramichi. I may have to go next week anyway, find the cash up my ass somewhere. We'll see what becomes of the weekend.
And for now, I drink and I think and I crave cigarettes and I pray nothing really bad happens.
Mood: angry, upset, worried
Drinking: jack and coke
Listening To: Godiva's on tv
Hair: loosely pulled back
Details
I do not want to write another word on couples. On the words they tell each other. On detail. I have no interest in this. I want insight. This All Happened, Michael Winter
This speaks to me. Details. They drive me nuts. And even more than the details themselves, the people who demand them. They get on my ever-loving last freaking nerve. Big time. Maybe I'm odd (oh yeah, I'm certainly a little odd) but I lose interest in novels with too many details. I've stopped reading books after learning the main character was blonde when I had imagined a brunette. Should the author have mentioned the blonde thing a bit earlier in the story? Perhaps . . . but here's the thing--if there's not some really important reason for the character to be blonde (like a botched dye job) what the hell is the difference? Let me have my brunette for godsake!
It rattles me when someone asks questions about what characters look like in my stories. Because if it doesn't matter, I don't tell. The detail seekers also get quite perturbed with me when I won't tell, when I reply, "What do you think?" I want the reader to have a unique experience. I mean that's what I want from a book. I can't handle a book that leaves nothing to my imagination. Show me so much, but leave me something to contribute.
I realize this aversion to details in my writing is a natural extension of my personality. I'm the kind of person who just wants to know enough so I can go and get it done. I don't want to make a list. I don't want to weigh the pros and cons. I don't want to sit around and talk about it. In one sentence tell me what needs to happen and I'll jump in. I'll make mistakes, change course, switch gears accordingly, but I'll keep on it until it's done. That's the way I live, through trial and error. Detail people do prep work to lessen their chances of error. They don't do well on the fly, are easily shaken when something unplanned drops into their schedule. They are prepared and don't like to just go with it. The world needs all kinds. Sometimes I wish I had more patience to make lists and plan things out. And I'm sure the detail people sometimes wish they could think quicker on their feet.
Whenever I think about this I'm reminded of philosophy classes at Ryerson. I didn't really understand different personality types back then. I was just a kid. All I knew was I wanted to beat my head off the desk most of the time. I had this really great prof in Philosophy of Art. I loved that class! I just wanted to suck that man's mind dry. I wanted as much info as could possibly be crammed into the hour or two class. We could not progress fast enough to please me. But there were a whole lot of obsessive note-taking details freaks in that class. And they drove me crazy. We wouldn't get anywhere, halfway through the first background point with a dozen more to go before we could get into the meat of the discussion, when their hands would fly up and the questions would start . . . And it all seemed so logical and simple to me, blood vessels bursting in my brain as I screamed in my mind, "For godsake! It's just Plato's theory! It is what it is and it doesn't matter if he was right or wrong, that's not what this is about. Accept the theory, so we can get to the point."
Those kids annoyed me big time. They talked about these ancient dead philosopher's theories as if they could change their minds. The point of the class was not to poke holes in the philosophies. And I wanted to get to the fun part, the point of the class, the part where we'd look at paintings and sculptures and discuss what the different philosophers would have thought about them. Instead we'd spend most of the class trying to get a bunch of people to accept each philosopher's premise. It was the most annoying class I ever took and I wrote the best essay of my academic life for that prof. I just got it and I got it quickly. There were some people in that class who should've signed up for psych or soc or something though, philosophy was so not their thing.
*****
No dreams tonight. I've been thrown by the time-change, staying up later and later, and tonight I made the colossal mistake of taking the non-drowsy sinus meds instead of the sleepy ones. So there you go. No sleep means no dreams. Non-drowsy meds mean a tingling head, dry mouth, nervous energy, and so on. Sometimes I miss the drugs of the truck driver trade. Sometimes I miss not sleeping. Imagine how much I could get done. But alas my chemical fund has dried up and blown away.
*****
I have a crush on Delia's rabbi on Everwood. If I could ever find a nice Jewish boy I think I might convert.
*****
This weekend is WFNB AGM weekend in Fredville. I'll be heading that way on Friday. I'm to emcee the opening event on Friday night at Brewbaker's. Lots of people reading from their latest books. Saturday is workshops, the business meeting, the banquet etc. I'm going to help out rather than take workshops. I'm a little workshopped out right now . . . though I've got Austin Clarke coming up at the end of the month during Frye Fest and an intensive one with Sandra Phinney in Miramichi sometime in May. I just didn't want to get bogged down into the full schedule of things at the AGM. Instead, I'll help with registrations and at the book table, etc. It'll be maybe a bit more relaxing and less brain strain. Hopefully, I'll get to see some people I haven't seen in awhile and have a great time. The AGM is usually pretty good fun. I can't recall one where I didn't have a good time, though this is the first year for me being on the Board. That could have an effect.
*****
I love this Black Eyed Peas song with the Pulp Fiction music. You just can't not dance. It's been too long since I went out dancing. I think The Constantines played George's Roadhouse tonight . . . or is it tomorrow night? I really need to bite the bullet and go to something on my own. I can't just sit here and wait for someone to invite me out. NOBODY KNOWS I'M HERE! Of course, money is a big problem right now anyway. It costs money to go out. To go anywhere, other than the usual walk about town that I do everyday anyway.
Mood: oddball
Drinking: orange pekoe (but not king cole)
Listening To: Pump It, Black Eyed Peas
Hair: brown scrunchied
This speaks to me. Details. They drive me nuts. And even more than the details themselves, the people who demand them. They get on my ever-loving last freaking nerve. Big time. Maybe I'm odd (oh yeah, I'm certainly a little odd) but I lose interest in novels with too many details. I've stopped reading books after learning the main character was blonde when I had imagined a brunette. Should the author have mentioned the blonde thing a bit earlier in the story? Perhaps . . . but here's the thing--if there's not some really important reason for the character to be blonde (like a botched dye job) what the hell is the difference? Let me have my brunette for godsake!
It rattles me when someone asks questions about what characters look like in my stories. Because if it doesn't matter, I don't tell. The detail seekers also get quite perturbed with me when I won't tell, when I reply, "What do you think?" I want the reader to have a unique experience. I mean that's what I want from a book. I can't handle a book that leaves nothing to my imagination. Show me so much, but leave me something to contribute.
I realize this aversion to details in my writing is a natural extension of my personality. I'm the kind of person who just wants to know enough so I can go and get it done. I don't want to make a list. I don't want to weigh the pros and cons. I don't want to sit around and talk about it. In one sentence tell me what needs to happen and I'll jump in. I'll make mistakes, change course, switch gears accordingly, but I'll keep on it until it's done. That's the way I live, through trial and error. Detail people do prep work to lessen their chances of error. They don't do well on the fly, are easily shaken when something unplanned drops into their schedule. They are prepared and don't like to just go with it. The world needs all kinds. Sometimes I wish I had more patience to make lists and plan things out. And I'm sure the detail people sometimes wish they could think quicker on their feet.
Whenever I think about this I'm reminded of philosophy classes at Ryerson. I didn't really understand different personality types back then. I was just a kid. All I knew was I wanted to beat my head off the desk most of the time. I had this really great prof in Philosophy of Art. I loved that class! I just wanted to suck that man's mind dry. I wanted as much info as could possibly be crammed into the hour or two class. We could not progress fast enough to please me. But there were a whole lot of obsessive note-taking details freaks in that class. And they drove me crazy. We wouldn't get anywhere, halfway through the first background point with a dozen more to go before we could get into the meat of the discussion, when their hands would fly up and the questions would start . . . And it all seemed so logical and simple to me, blood vessels bursting in my brain as I screamed in my mind, "For godsake! It's just Plato's theory! It is what it is and it doesn't matter if he was right or wrong, that's not what this is about. Accept the theory, so we can get to the point."
Those kids annoyed me big time. They talked about these ancient dead philosopher's theories as if they could change their minds. The point of the class was not to poke holes in the philosophies. And I wanted to get to the fun part, the point of the class, the part where we'd look at paintings and sculptures and discuss what the different philosophers would have thought about them. Instead we'd spend most of the class trying to get a bunch of people to accept each philosopher's premise. It was the most annoying class I ever took and I wrote the best essay of my academic life for that prof. I just got it and I got it quickly. There were some people in that class who should've signed up for psych or soc or something though, philosophy was so not their thing.
*****
No dreams tonight. I've been thrown by the time-change, staying up later and later, and tonight I made the colossal mistake of taking the non-drowsy sinus meds instead of the sleepy ones. So there you go. No sleep means no dreams. Non-drowsy meds mean a tingling head, dry mouth, nervous energy, and so on. Sometimes I miss the drugs of the truck driver trade. Sometimes I miss not sleeping. Imagine how much I could get done. But alas my chemical fund has dried up and blown away.
*****
I have a crush on Delia's rabbi on Everwood. If I could ever find a nice Jewish boy I think I might convert.
*****
This weekend is WFNB AGM weekend in Fredville. I'll be heading that way on Friday. I'm to emcee the opening event on Friday night at Brewbaker's. Lots of people reading from their latest books. Saturday is workshops, the business meeting, the banquet etc. I'm going to help out rather than take workshops. I'm a little workshopped out right now . . . though I've got Austin Clarke coming up at the end of the month during Frye Fest and an intensive one with Sandra Phinney in Miramichi sometime in May. I just didn't want to get bogged down into the full schedule of things at the AGM. Instead, I'll help with registrations and at the book table, etc. It'll be maybe a bit more relaxing and less brain strain. Hopefully, I'll get to see some people I haven't seen in awhile and have a great time. The AGM is usually pretty good fun. I can't recall one where I didn't have a good time, though this is the first year for me being on the Board. That could have an effect.
*****
I love this Black Eyed Peas song with the Pulp Fiction music. You just can't not dance. It's been too long since I went out dancing. I think The Constantines played George's Roadhouse tonight . . . or is it tomorrow night? I really need to bite the bullet and go to something on my own. I can't just sit here and wait for someone to invite me out. NOBODY KNOWS I'M HERE! Of course, money is a big problem right now anyway. It costs money to go out. To go anywhere, other than the usual walk about town that I do everyday anyway.
Mood: oddball
Drinking: orange pekoe (but not king cole)
Listening To: Pump It, Black Eyed Peas
Hair: brown scrunchied
Monday, April 03, 2006
Step-Mom
Last night was one long dream, a mini-series, instead of a bunch of vignettes. In the dream I had a new boyfriend. Couldn't really see him very well, not enough to recognize him if I see him in the street today, but he had dark hair and was sort of average-sized not overly tall or short, fat or slim.
We'd been together for awhile because we were living together. I think it was his house because it wasn't the sort of style house I'd be likely to buy on my own, but it was a nice bungalow, very bright and modern. He was divorced. Two kids. A girl around 8 years old and a baby about 18 months. I could see his ex-wife more clearly. Tallish, slight, blue eyes, blonde bob, working mom, dressed in stylish suits. I've had divorced boyfriends before and this ex-wife was not like any of the ones I've encountered in the real world. She wasn't psychotic. Her children were her biggest priority. She was reasonable and grown-up. Polite to me, grateful even when I would take the girls at the last minute if something at her work came up unplanned.
I caught a few minutes of a sitcom last night, The New Adventures of Old Christine I think it's called. I also watched that one with Henry Winkler this weekend sometime. And in both of them the couples are split but get along with each other and any new partners that enter the mix. I think that's where this dream was coming from, because certainly it hasn't been my experience that women are okay with me being around their husbands or kids.
As mini-series go, this dream sucked big time, a real yawner. It was like a month in the daily life of a functional new family. A few minor spats because the kids wanted to stay a little longer and weren't ready when their mother came to get them, but otherwise smooth sailing. And you'd probably think I'd welcome the lack of drama, be more rested from total immersion into one long straight thought rather than the bumpy ride of blips that usually take hold. But no, it's still an exhausting process. I still wake more tired than when I went to sleep. Boring is tiresome too.
Mood: frantic
Drinking: coffee
Listening To: just the hum of the computer
Hair: somewhere in this mess lies buried a beautiful head of hair
We'd been together for awhile because we were living together. I think it was his house because it wasn't the sort of style house I'd be likely to buy on my own, but it was a nice bungalow, very bright and modern. He was divorced. Two kids. A girl around 8 years old and a baby about 18 months. I could see his ex-wife more clearly. Tallish, slight, blue eyes, blonde bob, working mom, dressed in stylish suits. I've had divorced boyfriends before and this ex-wife was not like any of the ones I've encountered in the real world. She wasn't psychotic. Her children were her biggest priority. She was reasonable and grown-up. Polite to me, grateful even when I would take the girls at the last minute if something at her work came up unplanned.
I caught a few minutes of a sitcom last night, The New Adventures of Old Christine I think it's called. I also watched that one with Henry Winkler this weekend sometime. And in both of them the couples are split but get along with each other and any new partners that enter the mix. I think that's where this dream was coming from, because certainly it hasn't been my experience that women are okay with me being around their husbands or kids.
As mini-series go, this dream sucked big time, a real yawner. It was like a month in the daily life of a functional new family. A few minor spats because the kids wanted to stay a little longer and weren't ready when their mother came to get them, but otherwise smooth sailing. And you'd probably think I'd welcome the lack of drama, be more rested from total immersion into one long straight thought rather than the bumpy ride of blips that usually take hold. But no, it's still an exhausting process. I still wake more tired than when I went to sleep. Boring is tiresome too.
Mood: frantic
Drinking: coffee
Listening To: just the hum of the computer
Hair: somewhere in this mess lies buried a beautiful head of hair
Juno Night
Honest to god, why do they insist on letting Ben do these red carpet things? He made a complete idiot out of himself with Pamela Anderson. Such a joke that she was hosting anyway. The sound quality on some of those performances was terrible. Kalan Porter needs to freaking eat something! The boy is anorexic or something. Rex Goudie is the sweetest. Jacob Hoggard just gets weirder and weirder. I loved, loved, loved Coldplay (though they had some sound problems). Black Eyed Peas was the most enjoyable performance for me. And what a night for Michael Buble! And the whole thing wrapped up by 10pm. Only in Canada.
Mood: insane
Drinking: nothing
Listening To: some sort of infomercial on tv telling me how to lose weight without starving or setting foot in the gym . . . eat more, exercise less, virtually impossible to fail, lose the weight in 6 weeks . . . blah, blah, blah . . . hmmm, is that a moneyback guarantee . . .
Hair: beyond redemption
Mood: insane
Drinking: nothing
Listening To: some sort of infomercial on tv telling me how to lose weight without starving or setting foot in the gym . . . eat more, exercise less, virtually impossible to fail, lose the weight in 6 weeks . . . blah, blah, blah . . . hmmm, is that a moneyback guarantee . . .
Hair: beyond redemption
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)