Bad day. Out of sorts. Same shit. Sigh. I can't be happy like this. I need to re-assess the situation. Later. When I'm clearer. Throbbing headache right now. So, it's Halloween. Yay, woop-dee-doo. I would go buy chocolate bar treats, if I had energy, money, time for such foolishness and so on. Maybe I need to see a doctor.
Mood: nasty
Drinking: cold coffee, and I'm out
Listening To: This River is Wild, The Killers
Hair: having a tenuous future
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Monday, October 30, 2006
Back Home Weather
Still windy. Hail warning, though sun's out at the moment. Another party in my dreams last night. This one not at that same club though. A house party maybe. Perhaps inspired by the house party I am to attend this weekend for my brother-in-law's birthday. I know it's on my mind. Having to find some entertaining (but not done to death at past parties) games. Having to find time to cook something for a pot luck affair in the middle of insane crazy day. And of course the boy is turning 40. Wow! We are growing up. I guess. Well, he certainly has. He's still got a few years on me though, so maybe there's hope for me yet. Perhaps I'm making progress. I get all melancholy when I think back to when I first met my brother-in-law. I think I was 13. Perhaps 14. Though no older. I think I met him the late spring just before my 14th birthday, or early summer just after. It was the first time I got drunk on Hermit's Wine. We drank wine and ate white peppermints and told silly jokes and laughed and had a good time. Months later, in late fall, we became friends. And we've been ever since. It was unexpected, but completely logical that he should be family now. And we're having a party. He doesn't know. Don't tell him, okay? He said he didn't want a party. This worries me a bit. Just a smidge. He could balk. We'll see. At least it's not going to be a total surprise party like we did one year for my sister. That freaked her out big time! We learned a lesson there.
Mood: achy joints
Drinking: coffee with cream (the almost last of the Mexican Morning)
Listening To: Train from Kansas City, Neko Case (this is as country as I get)
Hair: something's gotta give
Mood: achy joints
Drinking: coffee with cream (the almost last of the Mexican Morning)
Listening To: Train from Kansas City, Neko Case (this is as country as I get)
Hair: something's gotta give
Goodbye My Lover
What a weekend! Crazy weather. Wind and rain drowning out the music, the tv. Some lightning and thunder. Some wet snow and ice pellets.
Last night I dreamed about a bar that is becoming a recurring place in my dreams. It's a new place for me. Hasn't been around in my dreams very long. A huge night club, many rooms, dance music, though I've never seen a dance floor there, it's extremely dark in there, like the walls and ceiling and floor have been painted black. Hefty cover charge to get in, like 20 bucks or something, pretty outrageous for no band nor deejay that I've seen. It's the kind of place where everyone is wearing designer-look clothes. Girls in skimpy dresses and four inch strappy sandals, men in Armani. In every dream I've had about this place I'm always there for the first time, with someone, or meeting someone, and not feeling so comfortable, not really liking the music so much, put off by the big cover, and I go to the bar and order a glass of red wine . . . it's $25 for a glass, an empty glass. The bartenders only mix cocktails. The place doesn't even sell any beer. But they have wine and champagne, they just don't pour it for you. You pay $25 for a clean glass and then help yourself to the selection from a huge counter in the ladies' room. This freaks me out a little when the bartender first tells me, but then I think $25 for all I can drink in a swanky club is the deal of the century and I head off to find the ladies. In the past I've never made it through the maze of hallways and rooms, but last night I found the facilities. HUGE! Many rooms. No peeing in the pouring section. No washing hands and powdering noses in the peeing or pouring. Fuchsia walls. Plush carpets and fancy settees. Very pleasant. And I couldn't believe the selection of wine. I poured and then went to find whoever I'm there with. Then I noticed the trays of finger foods everywhere, cheese, crackers, grapes, tiny sandwiches, cream puffs, not the usual pretzels and peanuts. It's quite the place. Maybe someday I'll even find out why I'm there.
Not a computer day today. Should've been. Lots to do. But the day was spent curled up. In bed. On the futon. In front of the tv. Listening to music. Sometimes just the dryer. Other times only the wind and rain. I made scones for breakfast. From scratch. Which is not as impressive as it might sound. Maybe pancakes tomorrow.
I've just realised I'm going to miss my friend's play next weekend. Damn! Why does that always happen to me?
Tonight I practiced reading Tarot for the first time in a long time. My cards. I did the lay-out writing down what I thought it meant and then checked myself with the books. I didn't do half bad for someone who hasn't touched a card in about 8 or 9 years. It's on my list you know, to practice Tarot a few times a week for . . . I forget how long, maybe a month. The idea was to get good at it again just for my own amusement, but someone found out I used to do this and wants a reading. So it's good motivation to practice I suppose.
Sad tonight. Melancholy. This too will pass in time.
Mood: crampy
Drinking: water
Listening To: Star Witness, Neko Case
Hair: think olivia newton john getting physical, yep, it's a headband
Last night I dreamed about a bar that is becoming a recurring place in my dreams. It's a new place for me. Hasn't been around in my dreams very long. A huge night club, many rooms, dance music, though I've never seen a dance floor there, it's extremely dark in there, like the walls and ceiling and floor have been painted black. Hefty cover charge to get in, like 20 bucks or something, pretty outrageous for no band nor deejay that I've seen. It's the kind of place where everyone is wearing designer-look clothes. Girls in skimpy dresses and four inch strappy sandals, men in Armani. In every dream I've had about this place I'm always there for the first time, with someone, or meeting someone, and not feeling so comfortable, not really liking the music so much, put off by the big cover, and I go to the bar and order a glass of red wine . . . it's $25 for a glass, an empty glass. The bartenders only mix cocktails. The place doesn't even sell any beer. But they have wine and champagne, they just don't pour it for you. You pay $25 for a clean glass and then help yourself to the selection from a huge counter in the ladies' room. This freaks me out a little when the bartender first tells me, but then I think $25 for all I can drink in a swanky club is the deal of the century and I head off to find the ladies. In the past I've never made it through the maze of hallways and rooms, but last night I found the facilities. HUGE! Many rooms. No peeing in the pouring section. No washing hands and powdering noses in the peeing or pouring. Fuchsia walls. Plush carpets and fancy settees. Very pleasant. And I couldn't believe the selection of wine. I poured and then went to find whoever I'm there with. Then I noticed the trays of finger foods everywhere, cheese, crackers, grapes, tiny sandwiches, cream puffs, not the usual pretzels and peanuts. It's quite the place. Maybe someday I'll even find out why I'm there.
Not a computer day today. Should've been. Lots to do. But the day was spent curled up. In bed. On the futon. In front of the tv. Listening to music. Sometimes just the dryer. Other times only the wind and rain. I made scones for breakfast. From scratch. Which is not as impressive as it might sound. Maybe pancakes tomorrow.
I've just realised I'm going to miss my friend's play next weekend. Damn! Why does that always happen to me?
Tonight I practiced reading Tarot for the first time in a long time. My cards. I did the lay-out writing down what I thought it meant and then checked myself with the books. I didn't do half bad for someone who hasn't touched a card in about 8 or 9 years. It's on my list you know, to practice Tarot a few times a week for . . . I forget how long, maybe a month. The idea was to get good at it again just for my own amusement, but someone found out I used to do this and wants a reading. So it's good motivation to practice I suppose.
Sad tonight. Melancholy. This too will pass in time.
Mood: crampy
Drinking: water
Listening To: Star Witness, Neko Case
Hair: think olivia newton john getting physical, yep, it's a headband
Friday, October 27, 2006
In My Heaven
Another late night last night. Couldn't sleep. Anxiety in the middle of the week. Got up and worked for almost three hours. Then slept late. Of course. The dreams are driving me crazy anyway, so even sleep isn't very restful. GET OUT OF MY HEAD! Oh, it's so frustrating.
Going home next weekend. Arrive Friday night. Leave Monday morning. A full schedule in between.
Mood: tired and cranky
Drinking: coffee, blonde
Listening To: I'm Your Man, Leonard Cohen
Hair: still attached at the roots
Going home next weekend. Arrive Friday night. Leave Monday morning. A full schedule in between.
Mood: tired and cranky
Drinking: coffee, blonde
Listening To: I'm Your Man, Leonard Cohen
Hair: still attached at the roots
Thursday, October 26, 2006
We Don't Need to Be Wonderful Initially
Not the most productive day yesterday. Knee acting up. Crampy stomach. I went out in the rain and then couldn't get warmed back up. I was pretty sleepy too. So I found myself with the heat cranked; wearing my fuzzy socks, fleece pants, a tank top, t-shirt, pull-over and cardigan; wrapped to my neck in my bed's comforter; curled into the fetal on the futon in front of the tv. And I didn't move most of the late afternoon and all evening. I appear to have warmed up today. My knee is still aching though.
I like Wednesday night television. There are no hollywood shows that I watch so I get to watch the CBC. Last night on the Dragon's Den there was a woman who had seized upon Dr. Emoto's water theory and was touting essenced water sprays. She sang to the water. I thought it was really cool, but why anyone would buy her water when we can all meditate upon our own water, is beyond me. But there are probably people who would. But other than the lone female dragon (why only one?) nobody on the panel had any idea what this lady was talking about. They thought she was a freak. Watching this show week after week, I've noticed that they don't know much (or anything) about health concerns or natural alternatives or organics or anything . . . isn't that an absolutely HUGE market right now? Isn't that like saying they've never heard of the Internet for godsake? Whenever anyone comes in front of them and says anything about health conscious people reading the labels, they seem to tune out. As if the idea that people read labels is a bit absurd. These are some of the most successful and rich business people in the country. And this disturbs me somewhat. I don't know, I just expect that if you're going to have all this success and make tons of money, you should know something. I suppose they know stuff about the industries they are in. Obviously. Still, they've let a lot of good natural products go by the wayside without investing, just because they don't get it.
Mood: so-so
Drinking: mexican morning, almost black
Listening To: Denis Waitley, The Platinum Collection
Hair: purchased new shampoo yesterday
I like Wednesday night television. There are no hollywood shows that I watch so I get to watch the CBC. Last night on the Dragon's Den there was a woman who had seized upon Dr. Emoto's water theory and was touting essenced water sprays. She sang to the water. I thought it was really cool, but why anyone would buy her water when we can all meditate upon our own water, is beyond me. But there are probably people who would. But other than the lone female dragon (why only one?) nobody on the panel had any idea what this lady was talking about. They thought she was a freak. Watching this show week after week, I've noticed that they don't know much (or anything) about health concerns or natural alternatives or organics or anything . . . isn't that an absolutely HUGE market right now? Isn't that like saying they've never heard of the Internet for godsake? Whenever anyone comes in front of them and says anything about health conscious people reading the labels, they seem to tune out. As if the idea that people read labels is a bit absurd. These are some of the most successful and rich business people in the country. And this disturbs me somewhat. I don't know, I just expect that if you're going to have all this success and make tons of money, you should know something. I suppose they know stuff about the industries they are in. Obviously. Still, they've let a lot of good natural products go by the wayside without investing, just because they don't get it.
Mood: so-so
Drinking: mexican morning, almost black
Listening To: Denis Waitley, The Platinum Collection
Hair: purchased new shampoo yesterday
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
For Reasons Unknown
Wicked crazy dream last night. It's possible I am being influenced by the television. I'm terrified to turn it off and hear scratching in the walls at night. Maybe there is none to be heard. Maybe I imagined the whole thing. Still, I'm not ready to go into the silence. Anyway, the crazy dream!
I dreamed I got a new job as a private security guard. I had to work for an ex-boyfriend/dealer and his new wife and kid. There was a security shack in the yard and I went there to relieve the day guy (I was supposed to do nights). The guy was one of my cousins, which was kind of weird, and he didn't seem at all competent in this job as he showed me around the house and gave me the details of the nightly routine. Across the road from the house there was a lane with an old orange school bus parked in it. One of the jobs as security was to drive the bus back over the hill once an hour to check on the crops and make sure nobody was in there stealing anything. This panicked me a bit, I hadn't realized I'd have to drive a bus and I'd never driven one before so I was a little freaked out.
While my cousin was showing me around telling me what to do, the family started to settle into their house for the evening. We were to lock them in and set the perimeter alarm. Just as we were getting ready to do that, we were attacked by a rival drug dealer and his thugs (all people I knew, in that way that everyone in a small town knows each other). I got shot with an electric stun gun. It was still daylight, a mid-summer evening, anyone driving past could clearly see what was happening. These thugs also had a bus, one of those old buses that you see in movies and on tv. The kind you'd see on a show like MASH, transporting a bunch of the locals to another village. All the doors on the bus flung open and a half dozen guys overwhelmed the house, holding the man at gunpoint and making him show them where everything was stashed. He was blubbering, convinced we'd all be shot as soon as the bus was loaded. They emptied the house and piled the inside of the bus to the ceiling in no time. As they climbed into the bus, hanging out the doors and windows, and started to pull out, the guy went crazy, running after them holding a huge brown wooden cross, pleading for God to help, crying that he was ruined. I couldn't believe it, seemed like the stupidest thing to do, he'd get himself shot. And I wondered if that was the plan, if he was truly ruined maybe he was suicidal.
As the bus lumbered slowly down the road with him running after screaming and waving the cross, all of a sudden a line of people danced onto the road in front of them blocking their path. I say a line because that's what it was, all these men, different ages, different sizes, holding clubs and bats and machetes and axes, shoulder to shoulder like the girls in a chorus line. They moved as a unit and they literally danced out onto the road. Not with high kicks like the chorus girls, but more like a boy band or country line dancers or the dancers from a Michael Jackson video. A line came from the right side of the road and then one came in behind them from the left and behind them from the right until soon there were thousands of armed men on the road dancing toward the drug thieves' bus. They didn't stop dancing as they advanced. It was like some sort of macabre musical.
I woke up before they got to the bus. Weird dream.
Mood: dozy
Drinking: coffee with a generous helping of cream
Listening To:
Hair: like a man's receding hairline (because i had a headband on to keep the hair out of my eyes while doing physical activity yesterday, but since my hair was wet, it dried like that, and stayed that way even after the headband was removed)
I dreamed I got a new job as a private security guard. I had to work for an ex-boyfriend/dealer and his new wife and kid. There was a security shack in the yard and I went there to relieve the day guy (I was supposed to do nights). The guy was one of my cousins, which was kind of weird, and he didn't seem at all competent in this job as he showed me around the house and gave me the details of the nightly routine. Across the road from the house there was a lane with an old orange school bus parked in it. One of the jobs as security was to drive the bus back over the hill once an hour to check on the crops and make sure nobody was in there stealing anything. This panicked me a bit, I hadn't realized I'd have to drive a bus and I'd never driven one before so I was a little freaked out.
While my cousin was showing me around telling me what to do, the family started to settle into their house for the evening. We were to lock them in and set the perimeter alarm. Just as we were getting ready to do that, we were attacked by a rival drug dealer and his thugs (all people I knew, in that way that everyone in a small town knows each other). I got shot with an electric stun gun. It was still daylight, a mid-summer evening, anyone driving past could clearly see what was happening. These thugs also had a bus, one of those old buses that you see in movies and on tv. The kind you'd see on a show like MASH, transporting a bunch of the locals to another village. All the doors on the bus flung open and a half dozen guys overwhelmed the house, holding the man at gunpoint and making him show them where everything was stashed. He was blubbering, convinced we'd all be shot as soon as the bus was loaded. They emptied the house and piled the inside of the bus to the ceiling in no time. As they climbed into the bus, hanging out the doors and windows, and started to pull out, the guy went crazy, running after them holding a huge brown wooden cross, pleading for God to help, crying that he was ruined. I couldn't believe it, seemed like the stupidest thing to do, he'd get himself shot. And I wondered if that was the plan, if he was truly ruined maybe he was suicidal.
As the bus lumbered slowly down the road with him running after screaming and waving the cross, all of a sudden a line of people danced onto the road in front of them blocking their path. I say a line because that's what it was, all these men, different ages, different sizes, holding clubs and bats and machetes and axes, shoulder to shoulder like the girls in a chorus line. They moved as a unit and they literally danced out onto the road. Not with high kicks like the chorus girls, but more like a boy band or country line dancers or the dancers from a Michael Jackson video. A line came from the right side of the road and then one came in behind them from the left and behind them from the right until soon there were thousands of armed men on the road dancing toward the drug thieves' bus. They didn't stop dancing as they advanced. It was like some sort of macabre musical.
I woke up before they got to the bus. Weird dream.
Mood: dozy
Drinking: coffee with a generous helping of cream
Listening To:
Hair: like a man's receding hairline (because i had a headband on to keep the hair out of my eyes while doing physical activity yesterday, but since my hair was wet, it dried like that, and stayed that way even after the headband was removed)
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
I am Pissed
There may be mice, squirrels, or worse nesting in the walls of my house. Yes! I am freaking out thank you very much! Last night, I heard scratching. Upstairs. In the corner maybe, or behind the futon or tv. I made a lot of noise. I slept with the tv cranked. I googled and found people who said mice are repelled by the scents of garlic, mint, and chilli peppers . . . so I put little containers of all three everywhere, upstairs and down. I am freaking! This is it. If I have to live with fuzzy creatures, I will be moving soon as the lease is up in May, if I don't break it and leave right now.
There are no signs of an invasion in my kitchen where such things will congregate. No nibblings. No poop. I'm praying this is going to be okay. Natural repellents for these things? Anyone? Anyone? I so do not want to get into the whole crises of having to trap and kill these bastards on my own.
Mood: apprehensive
Drinking: water
Listening To: fingers flying over the keys
Hair: damp
There are no signs of an invasion in my kitchen where such things will congregate. No nibblings. No poop. I'm praying this is going to be okay. Natural repellents for these things? Anyone? Anyone? I so do not want to get into the whole crises of having to trap and kill these bastards on my own.
Mood: apprehensive
Drinking: water
Listening To: fingers flying over the keys
Hair: damp
Monday, October 23, 2006
Too Little Too Late
As expected when one has a terrible bout of Sunday Night Anxiety, I slept late. You can't get up at 8 when you're still awake from the day before at 6 am. Well you can I suppose, but I don't know how productive your day would be without speed.
I dreamed about an ex-boyfriend. All the exes have been making the rounds in my dreams as of late. When I dream about one guy I always wake up sad, longing to go back into the dream. Basically these dreams are my subconscious telling me that I want a relationship, I'm ready for love. And then I dream about this other guy, the one from last night, and it's like a warning. Tread carefully and carry a big stick lest you fall prey into the beastie's lair again. And it's like, dammit! What the hell?!
I used to be all about the experience. Good or bad. And usually the scarier the better. I wanted to experience everything, every emotion, every situation. I took risks. And now I can't even put myself out there to myself in my own dreams without the subconscious kicking in with a little "too close to the edge" warning. Fuck! I've been over the edge and down the other side and clawed my way back to the top again, I shouldn't be afraid to stand two paces from the ledge and at least peer over. I shouldn't be afraid of heights! I shouldn't be afraid of anything. Consciously, when I'm awake, I know this. I know I can handle whatever comes my way and not fall apart. I just need to convince my subconscious.
Yeah, I'm a little sleep deprived.
Mood: tired and cranky
Drinking: cold coffee
Listening To: How Do I Get It Right, Sass Jordan
Hair: not even going there today
I dreamed about an ex-boyfriend. All the exes have been making the rounds in my dreams as of late. When I dream about one guy I always wake up sad, longing to go back into the dream. Basically these dreams are my subconscious telling me that I want a relationship, I'm ready for love. And then I dream about this other guy, the one from last night, and it's like a warning. Tread carefully and carry a big stick lest you fall prey into the beastie's lair again. And it's like, dammit! What the hell?!
I used to be all about the experience. Good or bad. And usually the scarier the better. I wanted to experience everything, every emotion, every situation. I took risks. And now I can't even put myself out there to myself in my own dreams without the subconscious kicking in with a little "too close to the edge" warning. Fuck! I've been over the edge and down the other side and clawed my way back to the top again, I shouldn't be afraid to stand two paces from the ledge and at least peer over. I shouldn't be afraid of heights! I shouldn't be afraid of anything. Consciously, when I'm awake, I know this. I know I can handle whatever comes my way and not fall apart. I just need to convince my subconscious.
Yeah, I'm a little sleep deprived.
Mood: tired and cranky
Drinking: cold coffee
Listening To: How Do I Get It Right, Sass Jordan
Hair: not even going there today
What the F@#&?!
I didn't think I'd have Sunday Night Anxiety tonight. I really didn't. Why not? Well, I have nothing to be anxious about. I mean absolutely nothing. I am at the top of my game on every level. I worked nearly 60 hours this week on BnM, finishing stories I've been staring in the face so long I was terrified by them, swallowing my most frightening frogs. Plus I house cleaned and kept the dishes done up every day and did laundry like always and got the groceries and cooked vegetarian meals and ate breakfast and drank water and read books and magazines and watched tv and dvds and wrote creatively and attended a writer's meeting and read submissions for another new magazine I'm involved with and walked and figured my finances out and did yoga and exercised with weights and spoke with family on the phone and slept in late and read poetry aloud and blogged every day and read all 51 blogs on my blogroll everyday and cleaned out my inbox and scrubbed the furnace grates to open them for the season . . . and wasn't tired, and didn't feel like I had no time for anybody or anything. I AM AT THE TOP OF MY GAME. Most weeks I do good to get out of bed every morning. I've never been so at the top of my game.
So yeah, in the past, as I struggled to just keep moving somewhere near the very bottom rung of my game ladder, I expected a little sleeplessness come a Sunday night, a little anxiety at the coming week. So what's up with this?! Why am I here? At the computer again after spending nearly 3 hours in bed rolling around trying to get to sleep.
This makes no sense to me.
Mood: hyper
Drinking: water
Listening To: jazz piano
Hair: greasy
So yeah, in the past, as I struggled to just keep moving somewhere near the very bottom rung of my game ladder, I expected a little sleeplessness come a Sunday night, a little anxiety at the coming week. So what's up with this?! Why am I here? At the computer again after spending nearly 3 hours in bed rolling around trying to get to sleep.
This makes no sense to me.
Mood: hyper
Drinking: water
Listening To: jazz piano
Hair: greasy
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Clunk
Recently I watched a film called Fathers and Sons. Great film! Well worth renting if you haven't seen it. Overall, it's just very real. These characters say the things that we all think but wonder if anybody else thinks that way too. Well, that's how I felt about it anyway. So many parts stuck with me, brought me to tears, inspired me to write.
In the first vignette the father played by Bradley Whitford has a moment outside on the step with his son. They are watching his grandson, his son's son, running and playing in the yard. Whitford's son gets up to go inside and get his camera to capture this "perfect shot" of his boy playing in the water sprinkler. But Bradley Whitford stops him, tells him to just sit down and watch his son. It's a powerful moment, a reminder of how quickly kids grow up and how we should be present in every second. And this really struck a chord with me. I so get that.
I have a lot of friends and family who take pictures of everything. I'm very much the opposite and I don't take very many photographs. I've always had cameras, ever since I was a little kid, but I've never been snap happy, not even when I was young. I don't particularly like photos of events or gatherings, photos with the sole purpose of recording something for your personal records. I probably inherited this from my mother. Growing up, my mom would snap the pictures but then never develop the film. The little canisters would sit in the fridge for years and years. Eventually she might send them away and sometimes they'd turn out and sometimes they'd be too old and ruined, and it never seemed to matter much which way it went.
Don't get me wrong, there are certain kinds of photographs that I love--black & white art house shots, movie stills, photos taken in exotic places I long to visit, photos of people and places I don't know, photos that tell stories, that make me think. I love this kind of photography. I'm not big on scenics, or nature and wildlife. I like people in the shot. I'm more compelled by an old woman's wrinkly face than I am by a moose standing in the trees. It's just a preference.
I remember when we went to see the Rolling Stones in concert and my brother-in-law purchased everyone a disposable camera at the concessions. He's very thoughtful in this way, and I always appreciate everything he does for me. But at the same time there was a part of me that was bothered by the idea that now I had to carry around this camera, I would be expected to take photos and share them later. I really had to be careful that I didn't pop off all the shots before the Stones even took the stage, I was so anxious to be done with this task. At the time I just thought it was the having to hold onto this thing all day that was bothering me. It was a concert so I didn't have a purse or a bag or pockets or anything. But when I saw that scene in the movie I immediately understood that I'm like that with all recording of my life's events photos. I want to see it, experience it, with my own naked eye, not filtered through a lens, not wondering if the light is ok, if I need flash, if I should zoom. I want to be in it, let it engulf me, become part of me. And if I do that, I don't need a photo in order to help me remember. I can be back in that moment in my mind anytime I want.
None of my Bon Jovi pictures turned out. Not a single one. And it doesn't bother me a bit, because I've got not just the concert, but the whole trip, inside me and I call up any part of it and get excited or perturbed or tired or have my mouth water with anticipation or whatever I felt in the moment.
So I get this being in the moment without the camera message that the father was trying to bring home to his son.
Then I go to my dead grandparents' house to spend Thanksgiving and I find myself leafing through old photo albums into the wee hours of the night. People I recognize, events I attended, photos of me, my sisters, my cousins, aunts, uncles, people I don't recognize and perhaps never even met, some occasions I vaguely recall, most I don't remember at all. But it doesn't matter, I know this family. I might not remember that particular card game at the camp but I remember card games. And even the familiar faces are like stranger's faces, young and smooth, and I see things in them that I was too young to have noticed back then. And I wonder who took the photo and why. And the experience rips out my heart and makes me sob with the nostalgic loss of it all. And suddenly I get the other side of it too, the capturing of events for family record. They might have thought they were doing it for them, but really they were doing it for me. They were doing it for me and my sisters and my cousins and all their kids and all their kids' kids, so that we might see them and know them.
Lesson learned: pictures of the Rolling Stones on stage, unimportant and unnecessary; pictures of me and Sherry at the concert, not a bad idea; pictures of everyone at Christmas as my mom's house; absolutely vital.
Mood: reflective
Drinking: coffee with cream
Listening To: My Funny Valentine, Miles Davis
Hair: razoring its way into a mullet if i'm not careful
In the first vignette the father played by Bradley Whitford has a moment outside on the step with his son. They are watching his grandson, his son's son, running and playing in the yard. Whitford's son gets up to go inside and get his camera to capture this "perfect shot" of his boy playing in the water sprinkler. But Bradley Whitford stops him, tells him to just sit down and watch his son. It's a powerful moment, a reminder of how quickly kids grow up and how we should be present in every second. And this really struck a chord with me. I so get that.
I have a lot of friends and family who take pictures of everything. I'm very much the opposite and I don't take very many photographs. I've always had cameras, ever since I was a little kid, but I've never been snap happy, not even when I was young. I don't particularly like photos of events or gatherings, photos with the sole purpose of recording something for your personal records. I probably inherited this from my mother. Growing up, my mom would snap the pictures but then never develop the film. The little canisters would sit in the fridge for years and years. Eventually she might send them away and sometimes they'd turn out and sometimes they'd be too old and ruined, and it never seemed to matter much which way it went.
Don't get me wrong, there are certain kinds of photographs that I love--black & white art house shots, movie stills, photos taken in exotic places I long to visit, photos of people and places I don't know, photos that tell stories, that make me think. I love this kind of photography. I'm not big on scenics, or nature and wildlife. I like people in the shot. I'm more compelled by an old woman's wrinkly face than I am by a moose standing in the trees. It's just a preference.
I remember when we went to see the Rolling Stones in concert and my brother-in-law purchased everyone a disposable camera at the concessions. He's very thoughtful in this way, and I always appreciate everything he does for me. But at the same time there was a part of me that was bothered by the idea that now I had to carry around this camera, I would be expected to take photos and share them later. I really had to be careful that I didn't pop off all the shots before the Stones even took the stage, I was so anxious to be done with this task. At the time I just thought it was the having to hold onto this thing all day that was bothering me. It was a concert so I didn't have a purse or a bag or pockets or anything. But when I saw that scene in the movie I immediately understood that I'm like that with all recording of my life's events photos. I want to see it, experience it, with my own naked eye, not filtered through a lens, not wondering if the light is ok, if I need flash, if I should zoom. I want to be in it, let it engulf me, become part of me. And if I do that, I don't need a photo in order to help me remember. I can be back in that moment in my mind anytime I want.
None of my Bon Jovi pictures turned out. Not a single one. And it doesn't bother me a bit, because I've got not just the concert, but the whole trip, inside me and I call up any part of it and get excited or perturbed or tired or have my mouth water with anticipation or whatever I felt in the moment.
So I get this being in the moment without the camera message that the father was trying to bring home to his son.
Then I go to my dead grandparents' house to spend Thanksgiving and I find myself leafing through old photo albums into the wee hours of the night. People I recognize, events I attended, photos of me, my sisters, my cousins, aunts, uncles, people I don't recognize and perhaps never even met, some occasions I vaguely recall, most I don't remember at all. But it doesn't matter, I know this family. I might not remember that particular card game at the camp but I remember card games. And even the familiar faces are like stranger's faces, young and smooth, and I see things in them that I was too young to have noticed back then. And I wonder who took the photo and why. And the experience rips out my heart and makes me sob with the nostalgic loss of it all. And suddenly I get the other side of it too, the capturing of events for family record. They might have thought they were doing it for them, but really they were doing it for me. They were doing it for me and my sisters and my cousins and all their kids and all their kids' kids, so that we might see them and know them.
Lesson learned: pictures of the Rolling Stones on stage, unimportant and unnecessary; pictures of me and Sherry at the concert, not a bad idea; pictures of everyone at Christmas as my mom's house; absolutely vital.
Mood: reflective
Drinking: coffee with cream
Listening To: My Funny Valentine, Miles Davis
Hair: razoring its way into a mullet if i'm not careful
Saturday, October 21, 2006
Back of Your Car
Went grocery shopping. My cupboard was literally bare, so much so that I couldn't even fix myself anything to eat before I went. And now that I'm a breakfast person (see my list) I was FAMISHED in all caps by the time I arrived at the grocery store. Bought a shitload of food. And I am the newest member of my local Co-Op. After a year of shopping at Save-Easy and following many months of renovations in their store, I have decided that I really like Co-Op best. It is a longer walk. If I want to walk there and back, I can't purchase as much as I could at Save-Easy and carry it all home. But the hilly walk feels fantastic when I can do it both ways, and if I can't carry my purchases, I can always catch a cab. I got these Amy's California veggie burgers. Had one last night on a Country Harvest whole wheat bagel with green onions, relish, ketchup, mustard, and it was scrum! Very good. I'm gonna make quesadillas! I'm gonna have baked potatoes with sour cream! I'm gonna have some frigging salad! Oh, life is good I tell ya. Another day of cleaning up on frozen stir-fry leftovers in my freezer and I would've cracked up.
Speaking of cracks . . . going on 3am in the night, I had just started to drift into a dream, sleep was on the rise, when a crack of thunder shook the house, rattling the windows, shaking all the things on the nightstand, knocking over things on my kitchen counter, scaring the god damn crap out of me! It was like a bomb or something. Heavy, heavy rain. High winds. Lightning had to have struck something around here someplace. It was crazy. I couldn't stand it, had to get up and unplug everything, then couldn't stand to be in bed, so I sat downstairs for an hour and read. At one point I poured myself a shot of scotch but I held out, didn't drink it, because I'm very close to having two weeks without any alcohol. And I want to cross it off my list.
Last night I watched the 1930 Oscar winning film, All Quiet on the Western Front. I did not have high expectations for this one really. Parts have been restored but it's still in a state of disrepair, you can see the cracks in the film throughout, and in the style of the first talkies nobody's mouth matches up with the sound. It's a war movie about the first world war, made before the second even happened. I didn't recognize any of the actors' names. So, I didn't hold out much hope. But as it turns out, it's really a compelling film, still, after all this time. It holds up. The battle scenes were insane. I imagine they had more than one close call when they were filming. I'm sure they nearly blew themselves up many times. If you haven't seen it, it's definitely worth a look.
In other news, I'm addicted to Dave's blog.
Mood: upbeat
Drinking: coffee, mexican morning blend, organic, fair trade, with real cream (YESSS!!)
Listening To: Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow, Amy Winehouse (don't know who she is? find some of her tunes, download, buy an album, add her to your music collection right now, she's fabulous!)
Hair: should schedule a cut next time i'm heading to the river
Speaking of cracks . . . going on 3am in the night, I had just started to drift into a dream, sleep was on the rise, when a crack of thunder shook the house, rattling the windows, shaking all the things on the nightstand, knocking over things on my kitchen counter, scaring the god damn crap out of me! It was like a bomb or something. Heavy, heavy rain. High winds. Lightning had to have struck something around here someplace. It was crazy. I couldn't stand it, had to get up and unplug everything, then couldn't stand to be in bed, so I sat downstairs for an hour and read. At one point I poured myself a shot of scotch but I held out, didn't drink it, because I'm very close to having two weeks without any alcohol. And I want to cross it off my list.
Last night I watched the 1930 Oscar winning film, All Quiet on the Western Front. I did not have high expectations for this one really. Parts have been restored but it's still in a state of disrepair, you can see the cracks in the film throughout, and in the style of the first talkies nobody's mouth matches up with the sound. It's a war movie about the first world war, made before the second even happened. I didn't recognize any of the actors' names. So, I didn't hold out much hope. But as it turns out, it's really a compelling film, still, after all this time. It holds up. The battle scenes were insane. I imagine they had more than one close call when they were filming. I'm sure they nearly blew themselves up many times. If you haven't seen it, it's definitely worth a look.
In other news, I'm addicted to Dave's blog.
Mood: upbeat
Drinking: coffee, mexican morning blend, organic, fair trade, with real cream (YESSS!!)
Listening To: Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow, Amy Winehouse (don't know who she is? find some of her tunes, download, buy an album, add her to your music collection right now, she's fabulous!)
Hair: should schedule a cut next time i'm heading to the river
Friday, October 20, 2006
Naked As We Came
A lot of the time I dream I'm on a train. It's not the train I take to Miramichi every few weeks to check in with the office and visit family. No, this train is like a series of luxury cars that rich people might have had in the 20s or 30s. Old. Lush. Open concept. I dream I'm on this train all the time, heading home to my mother. I always have to try and find a deejaying gig for when I arrive, in order to pay my way, it's like I have no money and I'm earning my way home from a great distance. And by deejaying I mean like music at parties, which I've never done in my real life. The train is crowded above and beyond capacity it seems. People milling around everywhere, not enough bar stools, sofas, ottomans, tables and chairs for everyone. Waiters in tuxes serve champagne, red and white wines, canapes, cheese, and other snacks. And all the passengers are people I know, that I grew up with, or from the community. People that have nothing to do with my waking life. Like I ran into Quentin W. and asked if he had heard about Babe. That sort of thing. Weird. And I spend hours and hours, trolling the train, speaking with everyone, trying to find someone who knows of a party that I can deejay when we arrive. I dream this all the time. It's a little bizarre. I have no idea what it means. I'm on a journey? I need to talk to people? I've got to look for gigs? No friggin' idea.
Mood: good
Drinking: coffee, instant and black, yes folks groceries still haven't happened
Listening To: Bittersweet Symphony, Lukas Rossi Rockstar
Hair: shimmery
Mood: good
Drinking: coffee, instant and black, yes folks groceries still haven't happened
Listening To: Bittersweet Symphony, Lukas Rossi Rockstar
Hair: shimmery
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Poor Pete Is A Bit Self-Conscious
Slept late today. Not unneeded. Been working hard. Been working long hours. Have not been breaking like I need to in order to keep my joints in good shape. Things winding down. We now return to our regular broadcasting schedule. It is the rainy season. I need to get outside, walk in the rain, just walk for godsake. I'm like a shut-in. I think I'll take in the Kubrick film festival on the weekend. I think I deserve a break and what better way to spend my time than in an ancient single-screen movie house watching A Clockwork Orange, The Shining, Dr. Strangelove, Eyes Wide Shut and Full Metal Jacket! It's pretty darn exciting. I remember making my brother watch Full Metal Jacket with me when he got into his head that joining the forces would be fun and an easy way to make a living. I know, I am evil.
I also want to drop by the Salvation Army Thrift Store and see what's new. Haven't been in good long while. And I could use some winter attire, some picture frames. I need to start thinking about Christmas and kids gifts. Not that I'll be picking those up at the Salvation Army, but I'm feeling a shopping excursion coming on. I want to get up early and go to the market and the bookstore and just walk around with coffee and relax. I need to decompress. I've been in a pressure cooker this past little while. I haven't got the mail in a week. It's been straight out.
Mood: a little bit hungry and the larder needs some help
Drinking: vanilla rooibos
Listening To: Not the Same, Ben Folds
Hair: razored
I also want to drop by the Salvation Army Thrift Store and see what's new. Haven't been in good long while. And I could use some winter attire, some picture frames. I need to start thinking about Christmas and kids gifts. Not that I'll be picking those up at the Salvation Army, but I'm feeling a shopping excursion coming on. I want to get up early and go to the market and the bookstore and just walk around with coffee and relax. I need to decompress. I've been in a pressure cooker this past little while. I haven't got the mail in a week. It's been straight out.
Mood: a little bit hungry and the larder needs some help
Drinking: vanilla rooibos
Listening To: Not the Same, Ben Folds
Hair: razored
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Where's the Love?
"I've just landed a job in Chatham and I'm in Newcastle, oh my God! What am I gonna do?" Janice tosses her nail file onto the coffee table and falls back into the couch with a dramatic sigh.
"It'll be alright," I say. "Other people do it."
"But Cindy, it's all the way across the river, IN CHATHAM!"
I can tell she's getting set to work herself up into a real doozey of a fit, best to humour her. "Well, let's look at this logically," I say. Her face brightens and she sits up, leans closer, hopeful.
"You don't have any money, right?"
She nods.
"And the rent's due, right?"
"Yes," she says.
"And there's absolutely no food in the house, right?"
"Well, there are those crackers from Christmas," she says.
"Yeah, I'm not real sure they count. So, there's no food, right?"
She shrugs.
"So you need a job, right?"
"Well duh!" She rolls her eyes.
"And it just so happens that you've got a job, right?"
"Cindy! You're missing the point. It's in CHATHAM."
"Oh yeah, that's right. It's in Chatham. Well my dear, sizing things up from all angles, pros and cons, I can only see one solution."
"Well!" Janice cries. "What is it?"
"It's really quite simple, you'll just have to buy a helicopter."
"A helicopter! Cindy! For the love of God, be serious."
"I AM serious. Way I see it you need a helicopter if you're gonna work all the way on the other side of the river in Chatham . . . OK . . . there might be another way . . . and this is just a wild idea. It's kinda out there. But maybe, just maybe, it's just crazy enough to work."
"What?" she says, hopeful again.
"Well, if the helicopter thing falls through, and you know I really have high hopes for that, plans for the heli-pad on the roof all done up in my head . . . but on the off chance that it falls through, to save house and home and my stomach, well, you could . . . and I don't say this lightly, I know it'd be a sacrifice . . . but well . . . you could always . . . take a cab."
Mood: trying to get the tongue out of my cheek
Drinking: coffee, cold, instant, with skim . . . does it get any worse?
Listening To: Beautiful, Goldfrapp
Hair: the hair! the hair! always the freaking hair!
"It'll be alright," I say. "Other people do it."
"But Cindy, it's all the way across the river, IN CHATHAM!"
I can tell she's getting set to work herself up into a real doozey of a fit, best to humour her. "Well, let's look at this logically," I say. Her face brightens and she sits up, leans closer, hopeful.
"You don't have any money, right?"
She nods.
"And the rent's due, right?"
"Yes," she says.
"And there's absolutely no food in the house, right?"
"Well, there are those crackers from Christmas," she says.
"Yeah, I'm not real sure they count. So, there's no food, right?"
She shrugs.
"So you need a job, right?"
"Well duh!" She rolls her eyes.
"And it just so happens that you've got a job, right?"
"Cindy! You're missing the point. It's in CHATHAM."
"Oh yeah, that's right. It's in Chatham. Well my dear, sizing things up from all angles, pros and cons, I can only see one solution."
"Well!" Janice cries. "What is it?"
"It's really quite simple, you'll just have to buy a helicopter."
"A helicopter! Cindy! For the love of God, be serious."
"I AM serious. Way I see it you need a helicopter if you're gonna work all the way on the other side of the river in Chatham . . . OK . . . there might be another way . . . and this is just a wild idea. It's kinda out there. But maybe, just maybe, it's just crazy enough to work."
"What?" she says, hopeful again.
"Well, if the helicopter thing falls through, and you know I really have high hopes for that, plans for the heli-pad on the roof all done up in my head . . . but on the off chance that it falls through, to save house and home and my stomach, well, you could . . . and I don't say this lightly, I know it'd be a sacrifice . . . but well . . . you could always . . . take a cab."
Mood: trying to get the tongue out of my cheek
Drinking: coffee, cold, instant, with skim . . . does it get any worse?
Listening To: Beautiful, Goldfrapp
Hair: the hair! the hair! always the freaking hair!
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
This is Good News!
Hello Kellie!
Here's your horoscope for OCTOBER 17, 2006.
Career and financial successes might finally come your way, Kellie, after months and perhaps even years of striving. The emotional support you receive today from those who have been working with you can be very gratifying, and is likely to last for a long time. If you like what you're doing at this time, chances are you'll be doing it for a while. If you're totally committed to your current profession, keep up the good work! Enjoy!
You know I can't say I'm completely surprised by this, I've had a feeling about it. This going to print thing really agrees with me. I'm excited about my work again! And when you're excited you have more energy and just feel better all around. You look forward to waking up in the morning and all that. It's about frigging time!
Mood: good
Drinking: coffee, instant with skim cuz i'm out of everything and temporarily broke
Listening To: one of the guys practice a presentation for class today
Hair: head bands are back right?
Here's your horoscope for OCTOBER 17, 2006.
Career and financial successes might finally come your way, Kellie, after months and perhaps even years of striving. The emotional support you receive today from those who have been working with you can be very gratifying, and is likely to last for a long time. If you like what you're doing at this time, chances are you'll be doing it for a while. If you're totally committed to your current profession, keep up the good work! Enjoy!
You know I can't say I'm completely surprised by this, I've had a feeling about it. This going to print thing really agrees with me. I'm excited about my work again! And when you're excited you have more energy and just feel better all around. You look forward to waking up in the morning and all that. It's about frigging time!
Mood: good
Drinking: coffee, instant with skim cuz i'm out of everything and temporarily broke
Listening To: one of the guys practice a presentation for class today
Hair: head bands are back right?
Monday, October 16, 2006
Wacky Tobacky
Yesterday I put the fuzzy sheets on my bed, New Brunswick sheets. They are the devil! I'm telling ya, you never want to get out of bed with those things. It doesn't help that I'm not well. This sinus/throat thing continues, perhaps worsens. It looks like another soup day for me.
I watched Woody Allen's Match Point last night. I liked it, despite being a little predictable plot-wise at times. I liked the idea of luck in life. Scarlett Johannsen is one of my favourites. When was the last time Woody Allen filmed outside of New York? I totally didn't even think he did that, ever! lol He always has the greatest sets and music.
And I'm off, no time to chitchat today. Duty calls.
Mood: stuffed up, sore throat, pain around my eyes
Drinking: coffee (the last of the folgers finally!) with skim
Listening To: Wait, Get Set Go
Hair: long enough to pull up again
I watched Woody Allen's Match Point last night. I liked it, despite being a little predictable plot-wise at times. I liked the idea of luck in life. Scarlett Johannsen is one of my favourites. When was the last time Woody Allen filmed outside of New York? I totally didn't even think he did that, ever! lol He always has the greatest sets and music.
And I'm off, no time to chitchat today. Duty calls.
Mood: stuffed up, sore throat, pain around my eyes
Drinking: coffee (the last of the folgers finally!) with skim
Listening To: Wait, Get Set Go
Hair: long enough to pull up again
Sunday, October 15, 2006
There's A Girl
I need to toss this pancake mix. It must be expired or something. I cannot make good pancakes! They taste like shit. And in case you didn't happen to know, pancakes is one of those things that I excel at. It's a mix, how hard can it be, right? Surprisingly, not as easy as one might think. Lots of practice (remember the pancake phase?) before I was able to turn out perfect pancakes every time. And now they're gone to shit, no matter what I do. Tossing the box.
Strange dream last night (yeah, what else is new, right?) I dreamed I was driving around a big city with a friend's ex-husband (who I've never met in real life, by the way). I had Paulina and Anna with me. This guy was such a wimpy idiot. Pretty boy tho. I was trying to take the kids to a video store. There was a lot of traffic. He dropped us off in the middle of an 8-lane. Said, "You're pretty good at dodging traffic, right?" and just stopped in the middle lane of 8 lanes of traffic! Crazy man! I was freaking, I could pick Anna up and run, but Paulina was too big to carry. And this was freaking me out. That I couldn't carry her to safety. I think I dreamed this because I was just thinking about how old the kids are getting, how Paulina's changing her looks, how Samuel's reading everything and the missus' favourite word is "actually." No more babies. It's kinda sad. Not sad enough for me to have one, but kinda sad nonetheless.
Stayed up to watch Saturday Night Live last night because The Killers were on. Haven't seen it in years. It's not the greatest, but I was struck that it was much worse the last time I tuned in. It seemed improved. I had some laughs in the monologue and skits off the top. I fell asleep right after The Killers did When You Were Young. They likely did another number later on. The show didn't even start until 1am though because of the race, and I was beat. Up early yesterday. Worked almost 9 hours on bnm. Washed every dish in the house because I "accidentally" may have sprayed them all with Raid. Did laundry. Watched the original "All the King's Men." Cooked breakfast, lunch and dinner, plus soy dogs as a late night snack. Am so NOT enjoying soy dogs. Next time I will spring for the more expensive, but likely more tasty, veggie dogs. My veggie meatballs are fantastic. I don't know if it's the absence of red meat in my diet or the excitement of a print bnm, but something is going on. I'm doing better at focusing, at being excited to get up in the morning. This is good.
Mood: pretty good
Drinking: coffee, with the last of the cream, and I'm broke til thursday, oy!
Listening To: How Do I Get It Right, Sass Jordan
Hair: i had a fleeting moment last night when i thought brunette! like a luscious chocolate or something, nothing burgundy
Strange dream last night (yeah, what else is new, right?) I dreamed I was driving around a big city with a friend's ex-husband (who I've never met in real life, by the way). I had Paulina and Anna with me. This guy was such a wimpy idiot. Pretty boy tho. I was trying to take the kids to a video store. There was a lot of traffic. He dropped us off in the middle of an 8-lane. Said, "You're pretty good at dodging traffic, right?" and just stopped in the middle lane of 8 lanes of traffic! Crazy man! I was freaking, I could pick Anna up and run, but Paulina was too big to carry. And this was freaking me out. That I couldn't carry her to safety. I think I dreamed this because I was just thinking about how old the kids are getting, how Paulina's changing her looks, how Samuel's reading everything and the missus' favourite word is "actually." No more babies. It's kinda sad. Not sad enough for me to have one, but kinda sad nonetheless.
Stayed up to watch Saturday Night Live last night because The Killers were on. Haven't seen it in years. It's not the greatest, but I was struck that it was much worse the last time I tuned in. It seemed improved. I had some laughs in the monologue and skits off the top. I fell asleep right after The Killers did When You Were Young. They likely did another number later on. The show didn't even start until 1am though because of the race, and I was beat. Up early yesterday. Worked almost 9 hours on bnm. Washed every dish in the house because I "accidentally" may have sprayed them all with Raid. Did laundry. Watched the original "All the King's Men." Cooked breakfast, lunch and dinner, plus soy dogs as a late night snack. Am so NOT enjoying soy dogs. Next time I will spring for the more expensive, but likely more tasty, veggie dogs. My veggie meatballs are fantastic. I don't know if it's the absence of red meat in my diet or the excitement of a print bnm, but something is going on. I'm doing better at focusing, at being excited to get up in the morning. This is good.
Mood: pretty good
Drinking: coffee, with the last of the cream, and I'm broke til thursday, oy!
Listening To: How Do I Get It Right, Sass Jordan
Hair: i had a fleeting moment last night when i thought brunette! like a luscious chocolate or something, nothing burgundy
Saturday, October 14, 2006
Humpty Dumpty
I'm really not liking my neighbours this year. We've got lots of loud music (you know the kind, with the bass that won't quit), lots of friends over, lots of drug smoking in the house. I think they don't realize how well the sound carries, how thin the walls really are, how terrible that shit really smells, because I will hear them shushing people for me when things get WAY out of hand. They're not completely inconsiderate. But I'm getting vengeful, nonetheless. I want to invite everyone I know and all their kids for a middle of the week sleep-over from hell during exams :-) Hah! I'll show them.
Mood: blurry
Drinking: skim milk (i know! it's a phase)
Listening To: rain on the skylight
Hair: i don't want to talk about it
Mood: blurry
Drinking: skim milk (i know! it's a phase)
Listening To: rain on the skylight
Hair: i don't want to talk about it
Friday, October 13, 2006
Life is Short
I don't watch The Today Show on NBC in the morning. Never have. Likely never will. Usually I'm not up, but even if I am, it's just not my thing. I can do with a little Regis sometimes, but the only thing I'm likely to turn on is Seamus in the A.M. If you've been following, you know I've pretty much given up on all American "news" programming. I haven't even checked out Katie Couric's new digs. But all that aside, I stumbled into Meredith Vieira's new blog and I'm quite enjoying it. Surprise, surprise.
Clearing today, thank the goddess! My joints and brain couldn't handle another wet one. I feel like yesterday was called on account of rain.
My bank is screwing with my life a bit. They always hold part of cheques deposited until the cheque clears or five business days. So this means I've got a bunch of money in my account that I can't touch until late next week. Meantime I've got a payment due on Tuesday. If I make the payment, I'm left penniless until next Thursday or so. And in the meantime I need things, like food. I've got 20 bucks in my wallet. Must stretch it out I guess. Payments come first. Food is a luxury item around these parts.
It's Friday the 13th. The Grudge 2 opens today. I am not going. I am SOOO not going. I turn the channel whenever it previews. At any rate it's not playing here. The Trailer Park Boys opens here tonight instead. And given the 20 buck financial situation, I'll not be going to that either. The Vogue has a new website. Now I'll always know what's playing. And who knows, maybe one day, I'll even go.
Mood: boppy
Drinking: coffee
Listening To: Bittersweet Symphony, The Verve
Hair: waiting to get hairapy
Clearing today, thank the goddess! My joints and brain couldn't handle another wet one. I feel like yesterday was called on account of rain.
My bank is screwing with my life a bit. They always hold part of cheques deposited until the cheque clears or five business days. So this means I've got a bunch of money in my account that I can't touch until late next week. Meantime I've got a payment due on Tuesday. If I make the payment, I'm left penniless until next Thursday or so. And in the meantime I need things, like food. I've got 20 bucks in my wallet. Must stretch it out I guess. Payments come first. Food is a luxury item around these parts.
It's Friday the 13th. The Grudge 2 opens today. I am not going. I am SOOO not going. I turn the channel whenever it previews. At any rate it's not playing here. The Trailer Park Boys opens here tonight instead. And given the 20 buck financial situation, I'll not be going to that either. The Vogue has a new website. Now I'll always know what's playing. And who knows, maybe one day, I'll even go.
Mood: boppy
Drinking: coffee
Listening To: Bittersweet Symphony, The Verve
Hair: waiting to get hairapy
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