scientific fact: everyone feels, sometimes, as if their lives should have/already have a selected soundtrack appropriate for every bitty moment. that is the beauty of mp3 players - they offer, if fully charged, countless hours of grooves fit for soundtracking. folks can even make their own playlists fit for varied occasions! 'wandering' playlist, 'christmukkah' playlist, 'gym - ughhhhh' playlist, 'cooking with nobody' playlist and so on. my current life soundtrack doesn't need those aforementioned pre-selected playlists, though. i've set my week-of-december-13th-through-19th soundtrack to play only three albums: the tragically hip's 'world container', leslie feist's 'the reminder' and buck 65's 'situation'. so far this week (today is thursday, meaning there rests only two days of week left) there has not been one event or occurance that could not be suited to a song on my crunched-up, canadian soundtrack. let me explain:
sundaysundaysunday!the 13th: night of rowdy staff party. want to dance my pants (uh, dress?) off. prepare for a long night of the boogie, drinkie and (unexpectedly) drama with buck 65's "cop shades". sample:
just listen, listen to this, listen to this,
loosen yourself up, toes in one, learn your lesson,
swallow this to burn your stress and earn your blessing...
monday?monday!the early hours of the 14th: still at rowdy staff party. enjoying blueberry vodka and soda water far too much. watching friends kiss friends. watching date touch other girls. confront date, get let down, get angry, get another drink. i turn to feist's "past in present". sample:
the scarlet letter isn't black
gotta know who's got your back
he comes in right in front of you
he comes telling you the truth...
monday, monday, mundane the 14th: rararar didn't sleep all night thanks to date drama and a last-minute blueberry bomb (tastier sister to the jaegerbomb) before hailing a cab for home. get over my cranks, get over the night, get a great group of kids at work, get a chilly walk in afterwards. walk to buck 65's "dang". sample:
dangdiggydanggidangdiggydiggydangdiggydang...
mondaaaaaaywhenwillyouend?!the14th: walk my way downtown to see a) k. mcg, b) work schedule and c) where my laptop is in former date's apartment. see schedule first, see former date, the lovely lady he brought home second, manage to remember laptop and see kelli third. hover with frustration and embarassment, consume a coors light and a handful of french fries. kelli pats my head as i think of the tragically hip's "fly". sample:
i don't want them to see me like this,
they way they like to kick people when they're down,
you said, 'please stop worrying about this
they stop kicking once you're down'...
tuesdayNEWDAYthe15th: feeling good, feeling grateful for good friends and family and christmas is coming and sweet mother of lord i love my bed and books. cue feist's "i feel it all". sample:
i feel it all! i feel it all!
the wings are wide, the wings are wide!
wild card inside, wild card inside
...oooooh i'll be the one to break my heart!
tuesdayNEWNIGHTWOOWOOthe15th: i'm drinking sleeman's and eating sweet potato fries with a nice friend. we are silly and argue over videogames. i would have chosen a buck65 song here but clam chowder were playing and their cover of elton john's "rocket man" is just so nice. so rocket man is the exception to my pre-made playlist. it's only fair that i have one exception.
wednesdaythe16th: meet former date for lunch and feel caught between extreme fatigue and severe frustration. settle for shouting a snappy, "go fuck yourself" and then run back to apologize. think to feist's "how my heart behaves". sample:
the cold heart will burst
if mistrusted first.
the calm heart will break
if given a shake...
wednesdaynightHOUSECLEANINGthe16th: clean the entire apartment and bake cookies. wrap presents and begin a new book. break toilet accidentally. dance in my lack-of-pants to buck65's "shutterbuggin'". sample:
flashy flash! watch the birdie!
trashy trash! wash the dirt-ay!
thursdaythe17th: run errands, speak to few, purchase unnecessary leopard-print dress and eat noodles and eggs before work. think little of past few days and lots of family thrill to come. pretend i am a rockstar whilst in the shower. sport kilt. prepare to work a student night at the cover-charge booth. the tragically hip's "yer not the ocean" sets the tone. sample:
yer not the ocean,
yer up to my chin,
yer not the ocean
yer not coming in...
my week, so far, in song. not a terrible number of songs. only one real exception (rocket man). all canadian-written, canadian-performed goodness to a mess of a decemberish week. so much relevance between song and situation, i'm beginning to wonder why big-deal movies spend so, so much on lengthy soundtracks to begin with.
12/17/2009
12/15/2009
and in the spirit of the season...
a fantasy christmas survey/wishlist! fun, no?
Have you been naughty or nice this year? nice, nice, nice...and only a little naughty. granted, my naughty behaviours were fair given the circumstances. that's what happens when you work at a sticky pub.
What do you want most for Christmas? a certain future, a stocking filled with chocolate and a good life for me and my family.
Do you believe in Father Christmas? i believe he goes by the name "wal-mart" now.
What is your favorite food at Christmas? ah, jeez. aunt connie's potato salad is my most favorite side dish. mom's butterscotch pie is the best dessert. a big breakfast on christmas morning is probably my favorite meal with the family, though.
Have you started your Christmas shopping yet? yes, and i'm nearly finished! all wrapped up!
What is your favorite Christmas song? it's a tie between band-aid's "do they know it's christmas" and paul mccartney's "simply having (a wonderful christmas time)". band-aid's song nearly kills me, it's so sad. paul mccartney's song just makes me laugh.
What is your favorite Christmas movie? pssh. puh-leeze. national lampoon's 'christmas vacation' wins.
What is your best memory of Christmas? the entirety of last christmas.
What do you look forward to most at Christmas? just hanging out and making visits with my family. i also always look forward to bonding with the girls again in kelli's basement.
What are you doing for Christmas this year? i'm going back home to cb for a couple of weeks. i'll probably spend most of my time between my house and kelli mcgean's house and that's the way i like it.
Who do you want to kiss under the mistletoe? justin timberlake...obviously.
What kind of Christmas tree do you have? it's artificial but it's adorable.
Do you take part in a secret santa? i do sometimes. this year, i donated a few gifts to 'toys for tots' instead.
Do you go to any Christmas parties? oh, plenty.
Have you ever had a white Christmas? certainly...but most of our christmases are green and rainy.
How early do you wake up on Christmas morning? depends entirely on kelly. sometimes we're up freakishly early (6am - no jokes) and sometimes we get a little bit of rest (around 8:30 or 9:00am). when we were children, kelly would wake up the whole house often before 5:00am because she'd been waiting in bed all night, awake, for santa to come. cute!
Do you still get a stocking? i do! i get one from mom and dad...er...santa...and one from my barnes grandparents. they're both amazing socks of treats.
How many Christmas cards do you normally send out? only a handful to my most important friends, family members and co-workers.
What is your Christmas wish? that my little family has countless more christmases together. please.
Have you been naughty or nice this year? nice, nice, nice...and only a little naughty. granted, my naughty behaviours were fair given the circumstances. that's what happens when you work at a sticky pub.
What do you want most for Christmas? a certain future, a stocking filled with chocolate and a good life for me and my family.
Do you believe in Father Christmas? i believe he goes by the name "wal-mart" now.
What is your favorite food at Christmas? ah, jeez. aunt connie's potato salad is my most favorite side dish. mom's butterscotch pie is the best dessert. a big breakfast on christmas morning is probably my favorite meal with the family, though.
Have you started your Christmas shopping yet? yes, and i'm nearly finished! all wrapped up!
What is your favorite Christmas song? it's a tie between band-aid's "do they know it's christmas" and paul mccartney's "simply having (a wonderful christmas time)". band-aid's song nearly kills me, it's so sad. paul mccartney's song just makes me laugh.
What is your favorite Christmas movie? pssh. puh-leeze. national lampoon's 'christmas vacation' wins.
What is your best memory of Christmas? the entirety of last christmas.
What do you look forward to most at Christmas? just hanging out and making visits with my family. i also always look forward to bonding with the girls again in kelli's basement.
What are you doing for Christmas this year? i'm going back home to cb for a couple of weeks. i'll probably spend most of my time between my house and kelli mcgean's house and that's the way i like it.
Who do you want to kiss under the mistletoe? justin timberlake...obviously.
What kind of Christmas tree do you have? it's artificial but it's adorable.
Do you take part in a secret santa? i do sometimes. this year, i donated a few gifts to 'toys for tots' instead.
Do you go to any Christmas parties? oh, plenty.
Have you ever had a white Christmas? certainly...but most of our christmases are green and rainy.
How early do you wake up on Christmas morning? depends entirely on kelly. sometimes we're up freakishly early (6am - no jokes) and sometimes we get a little bit of rest (around 8:30 or 9:00am). when we were children, kelly would wake up the whole house often before 5:00am because she'd been waiting in bed all night, awake, for santa to come. cute!
Do you still get a stocking? i do! i get one from mom and dad...er...santa...and one from my barnes grandparents. they're both amazing socks of treats.
How many Christmas cards do you normally send out? only a handful to my most important friends, family members and co-workers.
What is your Christmas wish? that my little family has countless more christmases together. please.
guess what?!
the happiest of new years - 2009.
i have five days left of work in halifax until i trip my way back to cape breton!
i have five days left of work in halifax until i trip my way back to cape breton!
within those five days, i am expecting a visit from two dear, far-away friends.
within the past five days, i had an unexpected reunion with another dear, far-away friend.
my lovely little sister is finishing her last exam as i type this and she will be doing some much-deserved lounging for the next few days.
i believe it will be another bunkers new years eve!
i feel as if there are one million plus one things to really enjoy and appreciate this christmas.
i know that my mother and i will cry at church and i know that our annual christmas eve party will be another night of food and madness.
i know that i am lucky and i can't wait to really see it and feel it again.
12/14/2009
in the name of love
violent kissing in front of his mother. that’s what my first boyfriend and i had. smooshing, sweating, slippery and salivative slops of face-touching in the middle of the gymnasium floor. it always seemed to happen just as lonestar’s “amazed” came to its climax and my boyfriend’s mother, a french teacher at our school, made her last chaperonic round. she’d disappear for a moment, behind a smoke machine or something and feigned our make-out safety. always, always, though, i’d catch a glimpse of her salmon-pink cardigan and her notably highlighted and choppy ‘do. she’d glare at me and pass whispers to her colleagues. she’d pull my spit-covered boyfriend into her car at ten o’clock (when the dances concluded) and either talk too much or not at all. she would smile gently to me in class and would always make me feel welcome in her home. i felt, at the time, that she was a sort-of enemy. she wanted to foil my plans to win her son over with my wicked-good snogging skills! she gave me dirty looks! she was nicer to me as a student before i publicly licked her boy’s face! i was convinced that the entire rest of my LIFE rested on her; i was in love with her son, he was “the one”. she should learn to love more, too, and judge less. little did i realize how cool she was about our entire escapade into lipgloss and breath mints. she took what was in front of her, a couple of CHILDREN sucking face, and managed still smile to us both and treat us maturely enough not to rip us limb-for-limb from each other. she never once told her son to break things off with me. she never lectured me regarding our ages and our involvement. she never really made me feel uncomfortable and she never pointed out how twisted our sexual lives might end with a begininng involving parentally-witnessed heavy petting.
now, her son is one my closest friends. throughout thick self-discoveries with one another in junior high and thin levels of patience for each other in high school we learned to love each other either behind closed doors or only platonically. during our undergraduate degrees we were provinces apart and we could only know of each other through drunken phone calls at 3am and the occasional christmas break. there have been periods of time when we didn’t talk to each other much at all (mostly due to romantic involvement with our new “ones”). there have been shitty drunks and punches in the face (my bad) and there have been culinary adventures and plans made and broken and now we are lucky enough to live within five minutes of one another. he is the only male peer in my life whom i KNOW will call me from mexico or australia if a frantic message is left on his phone. a bonus, too: his mother no longer makes me worry regarding her approval. i don’t know if it’s because my eighth grade hormones have settled snugly away to
their proper cabinets or because her son and i no longer smash our faces together. point is, she's a wonderful woman and mother and i feel lucky to know her.
anyway, this young man and myself were playing a game of dice last week and we had nostalgia on the brain. over a bowl of salt and vinegar chips and plastic beer cups we took a lolling trip down the memory road and ended up asking ourselves, “how could we possibly be so stupid then?”. obviously it was impolite and probably hurtful to his mother to see us wrapped around each other so often. more notably, though, how could we have just ignored her so fully only for the sake of our sexual gratification? have our practices then affected our current romantic situations? if we had been a little more thoughtful, would we have been more aware of our future sexual and romantic selves?
we got on the topic of past and present thanks to our combined terrible romantic track records. for two people so young (we are both twenty-two), it seems ridiculous to have such a build-up of failed loves and dates. each terribly burnt and blistered once, we share a similar problem of not knowing what to do with ourselves once involved with a new partner. he seems to find himself involved with girls wanting serious, committed relationships and who are willing to do anything (even call thirty times in a row!) to make them happen. naturally, they don’t happen. i seem to find myself beginning dating adventures with wanting something fun and light, getting seriously involved somewhere in the middle and then frightening myself (or them) off so that one of us makes a speedy and messy jump to something new. this man and myself are rather exhausted from all of this up-and-down, pull-and-push, want-need-loathe cycle. we’re so, so young and have so, so much more life to get through and love and hate! how did our dating failures come to take over 50% of our days’ concern? we decided that our flip-flopping ways of the bow and arrow are likely a result of our first wades into the sea of love. remember what i said about how our public make-outs were rather rude? well, maybe those times are experiences we haven’t yet learned lessons from. perhaps we’re too quick to judge those around us as doing something to get in the way of our fun. we could be getting too caught up in the rush of a great kiss or a thoughtful gesture to really see what’s standing on the other side. we only take what is happening to us and for us at immediate value and ignore the potential spaces for karma to interrupt later. we’ll swap spit if we want to (not with each other now, clearly) and whoever doesn’t like it can SUCK IT! we’ll love as we do and we’ll be the good people we are but we’ll forget how good others can be too. we’ll share and be shared with but not fully take in the ways of which a share can be used or misused. we’ll say nice things and mean them but we’ll mean the mean things we say more. we’ll forget that we’re not the only two daters in the world who’ve been through romantic hell and hilarity and we’ll come to the conclusion that:
it was probably a good thing to give in to our tiny hearts as kids. it was likely awesome of us to learn our french-kissing skills from each other as we are now a) still great friends and b) pro kissers (i am only sort-of kidding). dealing with rumors at school might have given us a thicker skin than we wouldn’t have otherwise and having his mother watch over us was probably much safer than having her not. kissing unabashedly at thirteen now, at twenty-two, offers us a little insight and a lot of room for humbling as we shovel our ways through laughs, tears and sighs, all in the name of love. In the name of love! What more? In the name of love!
now, her son is one my closest friends. throughout thick self-discoveries with one another in junior high and thin levels of patience for each other in high school we learned to love each other either behind closed doors or only platonically. during our undergraduate degrees we were provinces apart and we could only know of each other through drunken phone calls at 3am and the occasional christmas break. there have been periods of time when we didn’t talk to each other much at all (mostly due to romantic involvement with our new “ones”). there have been shitty drunks and punches in the face (my bad) and there have been culinary adventures and plans made and broken and now we are lucky enough to live within five minutes of one another. he is the only male peer in my life whom i KNOW will call me from mexico or australia if a frantic message is left on his phone. a bonus, too: his mother no longer makes me worry regarding her approval. i don’t know if it’s because my eighth grade hormones have settled snugly away to
their proper cabinets or because her son and i no longer smash our faces together. point is, she's a wonderful woman and mother and i feel lucky to know her.
anyway, this young man and myself were playing a game of dice last week and we had nostalgia on the brain. over a bowl of salt and vinegar chips and plastic beer cups we took a lolling trip down the memory road and ended up asking ourselves, “how could we possibly be so stupid then?”. obviously it was impolite and probably hurtful to his mother to see us wrapped around each other so often. more notably, though, how could we have just ignored her so fully only for the sake of our sexual gratification? have our practices then affected our current romantic situations? if we had been a little more thoughtful, would we have been more aware of our future sexual and romantic selves?
we got on the topic of past and present thanks to our combined terrible romantic track records. for two people so young (we are both twenty-two), it seems ridiculous to have such a build-up of failed loves and dates. each terribly burnt and blistered once, we share a similar problem of not knowing what to do with ourselves once involved with a new partner. he seems to find himself involved with girls wanting serious, committed relationships and who are willing to do anything (even call thirty times in a row!) to make them happen. naturally, they don’t happen. i seem to find myself beginning dating adventures with wanting something fun and light, getting seriously involved somewhere in the middle and then frightening myself (or them) off so that one of us makes a speedy and messy jump to something new. this man and myself are rather exhausted from all of this up-and-down, pull-and-push, want-need-loathe cycle. we’re so, so young and have so, so much more life to get through and love and hate! how did our dating failures come to take over 50% of our days’ concern? we decided that our flip-flopping ways of the bow and arrow are likely a result of our first wades into the sea of love. remember what i said about how our public make-outs were rather rude? well, maybe those times are experiences we haven’t yet learned lessons from. perhaps we’re too quick to judge those around us as doing something to get in the way of our fun. we could be getting too caught up in the rush of a great kiss or a thoughtful gesture to really see what’s standing on the other side. we only take what is happening to us and for us at immediate value and ignore the potential spaces for karma to interrupt later. we’ll swap spit if we want to (not with each other now, clearly) and whoever doesn’t like it can SUCK IT! we’ll love as we do and we’ll be the good people we are but we’ll forget how good others can be too. we’ll share and be shared with but not fully take in the ways of which a share can be used or misused. we’ll say nice things and mean them but we’ll mean the mean things we say more. we’ll forget that we’re not the only two daters in the world who’ve been through romantic hell and hilarity and we’ll come to the conclusion that:
it was probably a good thing to give in to our tiny hearts as kids. it was likely awesome of us to learn our french-kissing skills from each other as we are now a) still great friends and b) pro kissers (i am only sort-of kidding). dealing with rumors at school might have given us a thicker skin than we wouldn’t have otherwise and having his mother watch over us was probably much safer than having her not. kissing unabashedly at thirteen now, at twenty-two, offers us a little insight and a lot of room for humbling as we shovel our ways through laughs, tears and sighs, all in the name of love. In the name of love! What more? In the name of love!
12/07/2009
here's the deal...
i've been neglecting my blog lately for many reasons (mostly work-related). i am feeling well and doing decent things and i try to eat enough servings of fruits and veggies a day - no worries.
this uneventful update will be followed with a whirlwind of excitement and glitz in a few days. i just need to screw my head back on straight and put on something other than a 1) bathrobe, 2) button-down, 3) kilt or 4) a kilt.
much love and sillies,
jenner
11/21/2009
you ARE awesome: the photography edition
two-wit, two-woo (times 8!)
aaahhhhhaaaalp i'm falling out of bed and into a watery abyss!
makin' out. because it feels so good.
this one says, "you are loved."
reminds me of my backyard and hanging out laundry when i was a child.
nawwww!
that'd be nice.
a few photos that have been making my day(s). enjoy!
11/09/2009
feelings, wo-o-o feelings (!)
i've noticed there's some big-time cranking going on lately. could be the short days. makes sense - but getting angry doesn't. here's something hilarious to soothe your strained wrists (from clenching) and your jagged teeth (from gnashing). there's no need to feel so alone and sad in the month of november. it's only silly to see yourself as alone in a world of heartache when a songwriter can CONNECT so CLEARLY with everyone. listen below:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CyBcHUe4WeQ
and, for your sensual pleasure, the lyrics:
(thanks, 1975 and albert morris)
feelings!
feelings, nothing more than feelings
trying to forget my feelings of love
teardrops rolling down my face
trying to forget my feelings of love
feelings, for all my life i'll feel it
i wish i'd never met you, girl; you'll never come again
feelings! wo-o-o feelings!
wo-o-o feel you again in my arms
feelings, feelings like i've never lost you
and feelings like i've never have you again in my heart
feelings, for all my life i'll feel it
i wish i'd never met you, girl; you'll never come again
feelings, feeling like i've never lost you
and feelings like i've never have you again in my life
feelings! wo-o-o feelings!
wo-o-o feelings again in my arms
feeeeeeelings!
songwriting genius, my friends. the words feel and feelings are used over 21 times (!!). some might call that literary thrift. i hope you're all giggling with me!
11/08/2009
fredericton (vrrrrroom!)
roof livin'.
good evening ma belles and my hombres. i am writing simply to inform you of my upcoming visit to fredericton. i'm looking to watch some live music, eat some fresh foods (courtesy of the market) and see as many familiar and friendly faces as possible. i can't wait to smell the owl's nest again and track down a winter warmer for my craving belly. if the weather's nice i want to hang around outside all day and turn rosy-cheeked and crusty-nosed with you, old friends.
i hope you're all free for a small adventure or two and i hope that whether or not you like my flailing hugs that you agree to one anyway.
p.s. - there's a waterhouse/slaughterhouse/watermouse show (aka kelly waterhouse and the dukes) at gordie's pub on friday (the 13th!). let's go stomping.
11/07/2009
i love november!
hallow's eve has come and gone and now we're left with a chilly november. aside from a surprise snowstorm friday morning (which, when noticed, caused me to throw a miniature temper tantrum) i've got to say that this month seems pretty groovy so far.
it's a combination of the crisp air and dead leaf smell mixed in a bowl of friendly times and nearing towards christmas spirit. it's cute little veterans selling poppies in public places and needing mittens to keep my hands from chapping. it's remembering to fill out my countless applications and dreaming about my future career(s). it's my sister's birthday and it's clementine season.
this past week involved a wingding night with friends i hadn't seen in weeks, a birthday spectacle day with the sister and a neocitran night of cartoons, blankets and slippers. i am snug as a bug in this month and if it happens to drag itself out longer than expected i will not utter a peep.
10/31/2009
happy halloween happy list
in the spirit of spooky time, i've decided to compile a list of all of the things about halloween that make me grin:
- candy corn! it's inappropriate any other time of year
- watching various monsters/vikings/sailors/witches/nurses/etc walk casually through the streets of halifax. it's like being on a different planet for a day where zombies and vampires can live together in harmony. amazing!
- seeing the kiddies at work dress up. one of my students and her twin dressed as a washer and dryer. it's impossible to have a bad day after witnessing a dryer try to sit comfortably in a desk chair.
- teeny-tiny treats that don't make me feel too terribly for over-indulging.
- extra-special (themed) food drives that take place in light of the day/night of spooking and giving (see: trick-or-eat). neat!
- the simpsons halloween episodes! i love the one where groundskeeper willy turns into some sort of flesh-eating giant bagpipe spider.
- piecing together homemade costumes. in my third year my roommates and i dressed as three blind mice. all we needed to purchase were tails and canes. in my fourth year, i dressed as a clown and i managed to scrounge up a nose for the event. this year i'm caught between going as a lumber(jill), a ragdoll or a leopard. going as a leopard has its turn-ons as part of the costume would involve a cozy bathrobe, but cats are so overdone. thoughts?
- this whole mix of mischievous intentions and generous hands. on what other holiday can you combine complete, debaucherous madness and complimentary snacks?
list complete, friends. i hope you're all safe tonight and that if you do happen to take out some little trick-or-treaters that you take extra precautions to keep them safe, healthy and warm. and you, yourselves, whether you're dressing up and getting down or hitting the books, be safe, please.
happy halloween!
10/28/2009
you're not awesome: the bud light beer edition
after a long day of job-juggling i found myself shivering violently on a street-corner on quinpool road this evening. i was unspeakably glad to see the bus and its spitting heaters. i was silly-happy to have found a seat near the back. i was looking mega-fly in my leather jacket and tailored pants (unrelated, whatever). i remembered to pack a book in my handbag and was still thrilled to crack its spine open WHEN I LOOKED ABOVE ME AND CHOKED ON MY OWN PUKE (not really but almost).
strings of bud ight advertisements were snaking around the bus ceiling (you know the area where there are usually federal government, h&m or bell/aliant ads? there). i love beer but i do not love bud or bud light and now i can confidently say that i will sooner chug 10 guiness glasses (please, please don't hold me to this. it won't be good) than sling my lips around the edges of a bud light. the advertisement reads "bud light: an easy-drinking beer. for those who like things that are "easy" and "drinking".
now, maybe this is the fault of my own sick and terribly-farmed mind but i have a sneaking suspicion that bud light is implying that those who enjoy drunk and sexually-free women will enjoy drinking bud light (and, probably, the two things are naturally interrelated). those who drink bud light will have encounters with "things" (THINGS?!) of which are also easy and drinking (or "drinkable", depending on which ad you look at first). beer is a tasty and refreshing beverage that any person consuming should feel lucky to enjoy: you have the financial means to purchase something you definitely do not need and will enjoy it, hopefully, around a group of neat people. why do beer companies so often feel the need to objectify and degrade living, breathing people (hello, coors light girls and the maxim golf bullshit) in order to sell product? WHY DOES IT WORK?
i know why i am so angry and it's because i have a flaming need to flip the bird to bud light.
that said, fuck you, bud light. you're not awesome.
strings of bud ight advertisements were snaking around the bus ceiling (you know the area where there are usually federal government, h&m or bell/aliant ads? there). i love beer but i do not love bud or bud light and now i can confidently say that i will sooner chug 10 guiness glasses (please, please don't hold me to this. it won't be good) than sling my lips around the edges of a bud light. the advertisement reads "bud light: an easy-drinking beer. for those who like things that are "easy" and "drinking".
now, maybe this is the fault of my own sick and terribly-farmed mind but i have a sneaking suspicion that bud light is implying that those who enjoy drunk and sexually-free women will enjoy drinking bud light (and, probably, the two things are naturally interrelated). those who drink bud light will have encounters with "things" (THINGS?!) of which are also easy and drinking (or "drinkable", depending on which ad you look at first). beer is a tasty and refreshing beverage that any person consuming should feel lucky to enjoy: you have the financial means to purchase something you definitely do not need and will enjoy it, hopefully, around a group of neat people. why do beer companies so often feel the need to objectify and degrade living, breathing people (hello, coors light girls and the maxim golf bullshit) in order to sell product? WHY DOES IT WORK?
i know why i am so angry and it's because i have a flaming need to flip the bird to bud light.
that said, fuck you, bud light. you're not awesome.
10/21/2009
i've been asleep for a long, long time
'blonde hair to brown and then brown to white'
- from hey rosetta's "i've been asleep for a long, long time"
but really, i have. my zombie-blues slipped away into an unconscious haze where i spent the past three or four days floating between work and sleep. i've got no symptoms of illness save my extreme fatigue so i'm thinking that i am just plain and plum tuckered-out. save some slight tossing and turning thanks to a kitty on my back (or my belly, or my bum, or on my head...) i've been knocked out all night (and sometimes all day) for long, long periods of time.
strangely enough and so weirdly for me, i have an extreme distaste for coffee during these mumbling days. the smell of coffee alone makes me want to ralph and this, aside from my burning desire for sleepsleepsleepPLEASEsleep, concerns me as coffee was, for a long time, my favorite and most-consumed beverage next to water. also, this whole "just suck it up and push through the day little choo-choo train, you'll wake up in no time!" mantra is only good for short spurts of time as i usually end up crashing and snoring in the worst places (ahem, public transit) where my clearly very-awake neighbour feels uncomfortable with my drool inching closer and closer to his ever-so-nice bench jacket. sigh.
so, caffeine pills are scary to me. sleep ain't 'nough. i'm not a tea drinker and the harder i push my body the harder i hit the pillow (or, as stated, my bus neighbour). if i worked outside i might not have such a sleepy issue as the crisp fall air gives me such thrilling slaps in the paleface. should i be spending my breaks standing roadside, or would that give off the wrong impression? should i just accept my exhaustion for what it is and keep my fingers crossed that it passes with a few more days of rest?
help me out, folks. i can't stand this whole bumbling, mumbling new self. she's a bit of an old bat and she's covered in cat hair - not good, you guys. not. good.
10/16/2009
"hello, my name is zzz...zz...zombie"
two hours of sleep and feelin' GROOVY my friends.
lies, lies, lies.
the day has finally caught up to me and smashed me with the realization that balancing three jobs and living off of energy drinks and coffee is not a healthy way to live. i am literally a walking, barely talking zombie this morning.
i'm about to head to job numero dos, which, thankfully, is the only place of employment requiring my talents today. i am flipping through all of the planning catalogues in my brain in an attempt to figure out how to best fix my ridiculous schedule. tips are so (so) lovely but they're probably not worth shortening my lifespan. being busy is something i'm quite good at but keeping myself occupied with unfulfilling actions might not be something worth bragging about.
have you any idea how i should keep myself financially afloat without grinding myself into the dirt?
wish me luck today. fingers crossed that i don't fall asleep in anyone's soup.
10/06/2009
here is where i tell you a story
in the spirit of the ever-nearing day of october 31st, i will tell you a story of spook and span like you've never known before.
props to m. for inspiring this as she reminded me of scream-barfing from one of her comments.
*note: this is based on a true story - that does not mean my words are all true.
the night sky was dreary and sticky and the sidewalks were slick with sky-sweat and beer. the stairs winding up and down the various capital complex entrances were sheened with the dewy effects of a thunderstorm to come. patrons, sporting wiry, puffy clouds of hair, slipped and slid their way down and through piles of slurring faces. sweat stains turned pink cottons to red, blue to black. my friends and i nested along the barrier of the patio. i drank my pickaroons through a straw. thick, blue smoke turned us grey and white and the cross-hatch music mix of patio playlist and inside indie band made already-swimming heads spin.
the approaching storm did not make for a carefree environment for which to sip and slur. we did not nest for long on the patio. our bellies brimmed with beer and our wallets holding only coin, we walked home.
at 1:30am the intersection at york and george found us hiding from screaming banshees in cars. two years following that night, the apartment building on said intersection was destroyed by a fire. the banshees must have squealed a hex upon which the nearby church could not cleanse.
at 1:45am my stoop welcomed us with slippery arms and promises of indoor fanning. as we climbed the sodden carpet to my sleeping-den, banshees continued to fly by and squeal outside.
finally, at 2:30am, we thought the out-of-doors demons could only be avoided by an exercism. not an exorcism. we literally sweated our way through a symphony of squeals, hoping to drown out the incessant noise with perspiration. once exhausted, sleep stole the light from our eyes and we left our bodies to lie...
4:30am. shaken from sleep, our ripping eyes sprung open and our breath quickened. our ears shook with anticipation as the most terrible sound sat directly beneath my window. a stale smell flung tears from our eyes and for a moment we thought we were just dreaming through a nightmare. lightning cracked and another heave was heard. and another. and then ten in a row. it was almost as if we were growing closer to the sound. no, not physically, we were still bleary in the window, but the aftershock of the strange thrusts of sounds were followed by whimpers, then by profanities. was someone trying to break in? did a screaming banshee get lost behind from its vehicular safety and was this its call of fear? is there a werewolf on the loose?
after wiping the sleep from my eyes and gathering my soul in my hands so that i may push myself closer to the window edge, i gasped in horror. i squelched in disgust and i sneezed in sympathy. what laid restlessly below my window was not a spook. it was not a banshee nor was it a werewolf or thief. the eruption of sound and splash was spewing from the notorious scream-barfer.
not one of the three of us gained much sleep that night.
happy almost halloween!
props to m. for inspiring this as she reminded me of scream-barfing from one of her comments.
*note: this is based on a true story - that does not mean my words are all true.
the night sky was dreary and sticky and the sidewalks were slick with sky-sweat and beer. the stairs winding up and down the various capital complex entrances were sheened with the dewy effects of a thunderstorm to come. patrons, sporting wiry, puffy clouds of hair, slipped and slid their way down and through piles of slurring faces. sweat stains turned pink cottons to red, blue to black. my friends and i nested along the barrier of the patio. i drank my pickaroons through a straw. thick, blue smoke turned us grey and white and the cross-hatch music mix of patio playlist and inside indie band made already-swimming heads spin.
the approaching storm did not make for a carefree environment for which to sip and slur. we did not nest for long on the patio. our bellies brimmed with beer and our wallets holding only coin, we walked home.
at 1:30am the intersection at york and george found us hiding from screaming banshees in cars. two years following that night, the apartment building on said intersection was destroyed by a fire. the banshees must have squealed a hex upon which the nearby church could not cleanse.
at 1:45am my stoop welcomed us with slippery arms and promises of indoor fanning. as we climbed the sodden carpet to my sleeping-den, banshees continued to fly by and squeal outside.
finally, at 2:30am, we thought the out-of-doors demons could only be avoided by an exercism. not an exorcism. we literally sweated our way through a symphony of squeals, hoping to drown out the incessant noise with perspiration. once exhausted, sleep stole the light from our eyes and we left our bodies to lie...
4:30am. shaken from sleep, our ripping eyes sprung open and our breath quickened. our ears shook with anticipation as the most terrible sound sat directly beneath my window. a stale smell flung tears from our eyes and for a moment we thought we were just dreaming through a nightmare. lightning cracked and another heave was heard. and another. and then ten in a row. it was almost as if we were growing closer to the sound. no, not physically, we were still bleary in the window, but the aftershock of the strange thrusts of sounds were followed by whimpers, then by profanities. was someone trying to break in? did a screaming banshee get lost behind from its vehicular safety and was this its call of fear? is there a werewolf on the loose?
after wiping the sleep from my eyes and gathering my soul in my hands so that i may push myself closer to the window edge, i gasped in horror. i squelched in disgust and i sneezed in sympathy. what laid restlessly below my window was not a spook. it was not a banshee nor was it a werewolf or thief. the eruption of sound and splash was spewing from the notorious scream-barfer.
not one of the three of us gained much sleep that night.
happy almost halloween!
9/27/2009
a sunday video
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-c3fvqNlFvc&feature=related
i love, love LOVE this.
norah jones on sesame street.
so lovely.
i love, love LOVE this.
norah jones on sesame street.
so lovely.
9/24/2009
you're not awesome: the terence kealey edition
university of buckingham's vice-chancellor terence kealey wrote in an article for the Times Higher Education magasine:
normal girls - more interested in abs than labs, more interested in pecs than specs, more interested in triceps than tripos - will abjure their lecturers for the company of their peers, but nonetheless, most male lecturers know that, most years, there will be a girl in the class who flashes her admiration and who asks for advice on her essays. what to do? enjoy her! she's a perk.
uh, excuse me while i power-puke all over mr. kealey.
for the guardian's article: http://www.guardian.co.uk/education/mortarboard/2009/sep/23/kealey-female-students-perk#att-most-commented
for the times online's article: http://timesonline.typepad.com/dons_life/2009/09/sex-with-students-is-terence-kealey-as-misunderstood-as-juvenal.html
mr. kealey - you don't make friends with exploitation.
normal girls - more interested in abs than labs, more interested in pecs than specs, more interested in triceps than tripos - will abjure their lecturers for the company of their peers, but nonetheless, most male lecturers know that, most years, there will be a girl in the class who flashes her admiration and who asks for advice on her essays. what to do? enjoy her! she's a perk.
uh, excuse me while i power-puke all over mr. kealey.
for the guardian's article: http://www.guardian.co.uk/education/mortarboard/2009/sep/23/kealey-female-students-perk#att-most-commented
for the times online's article: http://timesonline.typepad.com/dons_life/2009/09/sex-with-students-is-terence-kealey-as-misunderstood-as-juvenal.html
mr. kealey - you don't make friends with exploitation.
9/16/2009
pigpen diaries
the following post is dedicated to k. mcg.
thanks, lady, for sticking around from the years of oversized roots pull-overs and embellished jeans to the more current button-downs, scarves and powersuits. i hope we take our buttoned-down selves all the way into orthopaedic, velcro-snap shoes. you rock.
you must remember when my parents booted me out of the front door the day of my sixteenth birthday and told me to find a job. aside from a stint at the northside guest home, you must also remember my second and most time-consuming job: that of cashier at the local superstore. you must also remember, then, the grump i put on regarding how i was (seemingly) the only one out of all of the girls to be forced into labour once legal (don't worry, v. i know you rocked a uniform, too!). so when i was appointed from cashier to clean-up during a four month hiatus of store reno, you probably recall the stories from my then alias, pigpen.
i became a pigpen only because i was asked to dust things on free weeknights and weekends. the store was undergoing a massive facelift and the constant changes in size and shape of my former place of employment left me with endless shelves, counters, cans, etc., to dust. i was coated in dust more often than not. my clothes were greyed and my face filthied. i was dust. i voiced my dirty complaints to k. mcg., claiming that if i kept dusting things for long enough, i'd start to wear out friends' hairdos and nasal cavities. i'd rub off of my cat and even she'd slither away disgusted. i was nearly at the point of traveling with my own brown cloud when i was forgiven of whatever grocery sins i'd committed and sent back to deal with the general public.
i thought of that point in my life today, k., because it was time to empty the vacuum filter and dust case. aside from the t-ring on my finger and a different set of cleaning clothes, i'm back to my old, pigpen self. i've been sneezing all morning and i've got a mad urge to keep these clothes on and pigroll myself all over your newly-fashioned apartment. for some reason, this strikes me as hilarious.
the point is not that i'm dirty (and always have been) but that the most mundane, daily tasks often hit a recollective nerve and you are usually involved. it's neat to recognize/vocalize the fact that we've been close since pre-adolescence, it's more neat to have an entire carrying case of memories that back those years up.
i hope my brief entry into the pigpen diaries made you laugh and not regret befriending a little cloud of dust ten years ago. to be safe, perhaps it's best we not see each other today - your curls might fall out.
9/07/2009
don't stop 'til you get enough
hello hello!
i've decided to make a mega-quick, super-fun trip to cb this upcoming weekend. hurray! i'm wondering about places and faces: where will my favorite cb faces be and in which places? lads and lassies - would you like to go dancing avec moi? how about a hike through the cabot trail? rock climbing? eating (my favorite!)? tell me when and where and i will meet you there in (likely) inappropriate attire. remember, i haven't laid a foot or a tear on the island since january 2nd. i'm looking to smash in as much fun as physically possible in a period of three days. let's treat this as a challenge: no sleep, no drama, no rollies (please.) and no excuses. on y va!
9/06/2009
celebrate good times (come on!)
i have not really written much regarding the state of my father's health post hospital discharge. what i chalk it up to is utter exhaustion and a near-complete fizzle of yearn to talk of all things terrifying, beautiful and hospitalized. he's been home as of july 21st, an exact six months after having been initially admitted to the infirmary. though wordlessly thrilled to go home, he admits he was so afraid to leave the familiarity of hospital life: where, with his every bite of food or cautious step, there would be immediate attention and assistance. it's not that dad was assuming my mother would not be helpful or safe for him to lean on, he was just so used to having an entire team of nurses and specialists following him through his days. anyway, the fear wore off and i'm jubilantly telling you that he's again driving his own truck.
mom and dad came to halifax on wednesday for dad's bajillionth biopsy. dad drove the car from our home in cb all the way to the causeway before mom took over the wheel. when i asked him how it felt to be one more step closer to normalcy and familiarity with driving being an easily-accomplished task again, dad admitted that although it feels nice, it's certainly nice enough for him to be able to get himself a glass of water whenever he pleases. he told me that there's reason enough to smile in his ability to open a door without someone spotting him. he said that just sitting down and not getting exhausted makes him smile for life. when a member of his transplant team called later in the afternoon to confirm that dad's biopsy showed no signs of organ rejection, it was impossible to wipe the grin from his face once again.
he's become so much more mellow than he's ever been. everyone's always told me that i inherited my father's temper so now that it does not exist can i blame my temper on genetics? i likely shouldn't blame it on anything. in fact, i should probably just leave my rage in the dust to die considering how much more difficult life could be. there's not much to feel upset with when you're endlessly grateful for being able to breathe without intubated assistance. it seems petty and infantile to twist about an unpleasant day when there've been days or months lacking memories due to heaps of narcotics pulsing through your system. to feel so angry with another person that raising a voice or hand is an uncontrollable urge is so stupid when anger and violence contribute nothing to a happy heart (or justice, or fairness, or comfort, etc...).
dad's new attitude and grateful heart have rubbed off on the entire family. scars and journals are constant, tangible reminders of hell past, making today that much more worthy of grins and graces. whew.
mom and dad came to halifax on wednesday for dad's bajillionth biopsy. dad drove the car from our home in cb all the way to the causeway before mom took over the wheel. when i asked him how it felt to be one more step closer to normalcy and familiarity with driving being an easily-accomplished task again, dad admitted that although it feels nice, it's certainly nice enough for him to be able to get himself a glass of water whenever he pleases. he told me that there's reason enough to smile in his ability to open a door without someone spotting him. he said that just sitting down and not getting exhausted makes him smile for life. when a member of his transplant team called later in the afternoon to confirm that dad's biopsy showed no signs of organ rejection, it was impossible to wipe the grin from his face once again.
he's become so much more mellow than he's ever been. everyone's always told me that i inherited my father's temper so now that it does not exist can i blame my temper on genetics? i likely shouldn't blame it on anything. in fact, i should probably just leave my rage in the dust to die considering how much more difficult life could be. there's not much to feel upset with when you're endlessly grateful for being able to breathe without intubated assistance. it seems petty and infantile to twist about an unpleasant day when there've been days or months lacking memories due to heaps of narcotics pulsing through your system. to feel so angry with another person that raising a voice or hand is an uncontrollable urge is so stupid when anger and violence contribute nothing to a happy heart (or justice, or fairness, or comfort, etc...).
dad's new attitude and grateful heart have rubbed off on the entire family. scars and journals are constant, tangible reminders of hell past, making today that much more worthy of grins and graces. whew.
8/23/2009
my newest love is: 'nice, nice, very nice'
dan mangan's a sweet 25 years old, hails from vancouver and his newest album (available for listening here: http://www.danmanganmusic.com/site/chameleonplayer_pop_up.html) 'nice, nice, very nice' is perfectly true to its title. i urge you violently (yes.) to visit his website (here: http://www.danmanganmusic.com/) and read some of his reviews, dig his blog and, most importantly, take advantage of the pop-up music player. the device contains the ditties from 'nice, nice, very nice' (album, nicely enough, named after a kurt vonnegut poem), a pinch of tunes from 'roboteering EP' and a handful of songs from 'postcards and daydreaming' as well.
mangan's music sometimes makes me want to wash dishes quietly and independently (see: you silly git) and it sometimes make me long for fuzzy company and a wooden floor for flailing (see: sold). he's got big things to say and he says them simply. my favorite review is of the hour/ottawa express who exclaim:
mangan's music sometimes makes me want to wash dishes quietly and independently (see: you silly git) and it sometimes make me long for fuzzy company and a wooden floor for flailing (see: sold). he's got big things to say and he says them simply. my favorite review is of the hour/ottawa express who exclaim:
“There’s a rasp in Dan Mangan’s voice. It surfaces when he reaches for certain notes. And though music teachers world over would be getting the cane ready, folks who like their music fresh, off the cuff sounding, will dig it. Who needs gloss when you have heart? Mangan’s quest is a hard one: to slip in alongside the many singer songwriters mining Canadian soil, and leave something of distinction for us to ponder. And by crikey, methinks he’s done it. The endearing vocal, stripped down guitar plucking, some horns when a song needs to swell; it all comes together in a dozen memorable tunes that sound as good as they appear on paper. Plus there’s a robot song. Hoorah!”
they also gave him a four-star stamp alongside their review and i must agree. he's infecting the day and the night. when i am serving countless jaegerbombs at the filthiest bar downtown to the tune of pitbull's newest song (by the way: barf) i am longing for the smooth peanut butter voice that dan mangan spews.
friends, enjoy. and, if any of you are anywhere near vancouver between now and august 29th please try and smash your way in to one of two dan mangan shows. both shows are held by the vancouver east cultural centre and both are sold out...you might want to consider sporting a hefty camera and claiming to be part of some sort of media group in order to get in.
8/22/2009
from mother jones
http://www.motherjones.com/politics/2009/09/fiji-spin-bottle
the above link hails from the september/october digital issue of motherjones magazine. the reporter, anna lenzer, dug herself into some incredibly dangerous happenings for the sake of this article. despite an intro featuring said upsetting personal account, what i found most ugly about the entire mess she writes of is the exhaustion and acceptance expressed by fiji government regarding its country name-turned-brand. anyway, i'll stop rambling and leave the good stuff to motherjones. thanks to www.feministing.com for nudging me toward this story.
the above link hails from the september/october digital issue of motherjones magazine. the reporter, anna lenzer, dug herself into some incredibly dangerous happenings for the sake of this article. despite an intro featuring said upsetting personal account, what i found most ugly about the entire mess she writes of is the exhaustion and acceptance expressed by fiji government regarding its country name-turned-brand. anyway, i'll stop rambling and leave the good stuff to motherjones. thanks to www.feministing.com for nudging me toward this story.
8/19/2009
bibliotheque
happy fact: the halifax regional library located on spring garden road has three floors of bliss within its walls.
sad fact: the halifax regional library is not air-conditioned and has no ceiling fans. it was closed yesterday due to "extreme heat".
one of the most enriching buildings in the city was so unbelievably uncomfortable that all librarians, researchers, readers, writers and students were forced to board up the doors and head for the nearest body of water. when i hopped off the bus to arrive at my favorite stop, my heart broke. i wasn't upset only for myself (who happened to being craving new music and books) but for the volume of treasures undergoing potential ruin inside. why are there air-conditioners and fans inside of the majority of downtown restaurants and shopping areas but not inside of the library? why are pages and people being put in uncomfortable (and crinkly) situations in one building but not in the others? does it have anything to do with where money is being spent and where it is not?
this closure reminded me of something else worth discussion: that the public washrooms available in the library have been neglected for (what appears to be) at least fifteen years. stall doors are crippled, hand-dryers are bust, sinks are cracking and even the toilet paper dispensers are ripped from their hinges. two stalls per floor mean line-ups and traffic jams whereas the park lane mall boasts fifteen (+) stalls in its facilities (not to mention the public washrooms located within empire theatres, located a sweet ten steps away). why is our free, public-friendly learning place falling to pieces and our capital-wrangling toy store under constant renewal?
it doesn't seem fair to me that documents dating generations past might shrivel up and die in this heat when our lip balms and rubber boots are in no danger of in-store destruction. to sacrifice one group of people (who happen to be enjoying material things at no cost) to the scorching sun and allow another group of people (who enjoy another public place at a certain cost) comforts and shields from health issues that come with over-heating is ridiculous. i understand that the demographic of library-frequenters versus those who frequent restaurants, malls and shops varies at different times of day, days of the week and months of the year and that, in some cases, some people always and only choose one place of visitation (and/or expenditure). i know too that government funding is tricky and tweeze-y and if a particular, privately-owned business so chooses to install hot-weather comforts for its clientele then there should be little blocks in the road to choose otherwise. regardless, i feel it is high time for funding the necessities and comforts at the spring garden road memorial library. the building itself was erected in 1951 and its name was birthed from casualties from WWI and WWII. it is 2009 and the library is growing older and more decrepid and the h.r.m. best zip up their social-savvy suit to offer some financial aid to its library.
funny, too: i jaunted my way to the library this morning to check out the books and cds which i so craved the day before. i'm lucky i made it in time. as i was leaving the building, an announcement was made claiming the library would have to close again today at 2pm since working conditions were borderline unhealthy. after the announcement was made, i stomped back to the reservation desk and parked next to the comment box. furiously filling out my little yellow card (and using both sides), i urged the h.r.m. to get their buns off the toaster re: library health. cutting hours on workers and patrons leaves me with a rotten taste in my mouth and i know it's not just because i've got a wad on dressing in there.
i want any and all of you reading this to look at your own public libraries. are they being kept in order? is the material satisfactory? are you afraid of any beams overhead causing you harm as you browse? are the open hours standing true to their claims? find out who is accountable for your grievances and write letters. be open about your concerns and speak up about shitty deals. situations and services can't improve until someone pokes out the obvious flaws in them. speaking up about public service needs is a lot like noting someone's booger caught in their nostril. the face is fine, the person is lovely but there's an enormous bat smooshed just inside of their nose-cave. the bat will sit and stare back at you all day unless you point it out to the person housing it. after a moment of blushing and slight fumbling, better things ensue and no one's staring at snot anymore. treat your public service grievances as nostril boogs. point them out and everyone wins.
tomorrow i'll spend my afternoon break crafting and perfecting a direct letter to the h.r.m. and i will keep you updated on what response(s) are offered. i will try to keep my sass and snot factors low. fingers crossed.
sad fact: the halifax regional library is not air-conditioned and has no ceiling fans. it was closed yesterday due to "extreme heat".
one of the most enriching buildings in the city was so unbelievably uncomfortable that all librarians, researchers, readers, writers and students were forced to board up the doors and head for the nearest body of water. when i hopped off the bus to arrive at my favorite stop, my heart broke. i wasn't upset only for myself (who happened to being craving new music and books) but for the volume of treasures undergoing potential ruin inside. why are there air-conditioners and fans inside of the majority of downtown restaurants and shopping areas but not inside of the library? why are pages and people being put in uncomfortable (and crinkly) situations in one building but not in the others? does it have anything to do with where money is being spent and where it is not?
this closure reminded me of something else worth discussion: that the public washrooms available in the library have been neglected for (what appears to be) at least fifteen years. stall doors are crippled, hand-dryers are bust, sinks are cracking and even the toilet paper dispensers are ripped from their hinges. two stalls per floor mean line-ups and traffic jams whereas the park lane mall boasts fifteen (+) stalls in its facilities (not to mention the public washrooms located within empire theatres, located a sweet ten steps away). why is our free, public-friendly learning place falling to pieces and our capital-wrangling toy store under constant renewal?
it doesn't seem fair to me that documents dating generations past might shrivel up and die in this heat when our lip balms and rubber boots are in no danger of in-store destruction. to sacrifice one group of people (who happen to be enjoying material things at no cost) to the scorching sun and allow another group of people (who enjoy another public place at a certain cost) comforts and shields from health issues that come with over-heating is ridiculous. i understand that the demographic of library-frequenters versus those who frequent restaurants, malls and shops varies at different times of day, days of the week and months of the year and that, in some cases, some people always and only choose one place of visitation (and/or expenditure). i know too that government funding is tricky and tweeze-y and if a particular, privately-owned business so chooses to install hot-weather comforts for its clientele then there should be little blocks in the road to choose otherwise. regardless, i feel it is high time for funding the necessities and comforts at the spring garden road memorial library. the building itself was erected in 1951 and its name was birthed from casualties from WWI and WWII. it is 2009 and the library is growing older and more decrepid and the h.r.m. best zip up their social-savvy suit to offer some financial aid to its library.
funny, too: i jaunted my way to the library this morning to check out the books and cds which i so craved the day before. i'm lucky i made it in time. as i was leaving the building, an announcement was made claiming the library would have to close again today at 2pm since working conditions were borderline unhealthy. after the announcement was made, i stomped back to the reservation desk and parked next to the comment box. furiously filling out my little yellow card (and using both sides), i urged the h.r.m. to get their buns off the toaster re: library health. cutting hours on workers and patrons leaves me with a rotten taste in my mouth and i know it's not just because i've got a wad on dressing in there.
i want any and all of you reading this to look at your own public libraries. are they being kept in order? is the material satisfactory? are you afraid of any beams overhead causing you harm as you browse? are the open hours standing true to their claims? find out who is accountable for your grievances and write letters. be open about your concerns and speak up about shitty deals. situations and services can't improve until someone pokes out the obvious flaws in them. speaking up about public service needs is a lot like noting someone's booger caught in their nostril. the face is fine, the person is lovely but there's an enormous bat smooshed just inside of their nose-cave. the bat will sit and stare back at you all day unless you point it out to the person housing it. after a moment of blushing and slight fumbling, better things ensue and no one's staring at snot anymore. treat your public service grievances as nostril boogs. point them out and everyone wins.
tomorrow i'll spend my afternoon break crafting and perfecting a direct letter to the h.r.m. and i will keep you updated on what response(s) are offered. i will try to keep my sass and snot factors low. fingers crossed.
8/18/2009
drool.
well, good morning. how about that sun? pretty hot? i know what you're thinking: no sun is anywhere close to being as hot as the bags beneath my eyes, the mouthguard-looking-thingy in my mouth. the combination of bags and guard provide me with the tools i need to frighten off peeping toms (an ever-increasing problem living in halifax) and offer me the privacy and silence i require for metro trips. with an accidental sliver of blood and drool slinking down my face, i am the most efficient and sexy catch of the week for any single frankenmonster.
the above photograph was taken post-peridontal plastic surgery, which is just a fancy way of saying that my gums were fixed with the skin taken from the roof of my mouth. the procedure took no longer than twenty minutes and left me laughing with a numb and drool-y face. it also left me with dressings that resemble upside-down mouthguards and a pink-stained grin. what makes the surgery worth writing about is its post-requisite of a restful day. meaning: i had to
take an entire day off of work.
i don't know what to do with myself! i feel fine, save a slight chin pang. it's beautiful outside, but i've been asked to refrain from physical activity so that i do not increase my heart rate (and blood flow). i've got empty cupboards needing filling but until the numbness wears off entirely, i don't think i'll set foot in public in case someone thinks i am a blood-drinking hockey player vampire (by the way, that is the worst type of vampire. know how i know? there hasn't been a twilight book written about one of those yet. BLAM!).
a blanket in the patch of grass i call a yard might calm me down. i'll lay out, i'll finish chuck palahniuk's "rant" and i'll start the next book on my reading list (which so happens to be another treat by sicky mr. p called "survivor"). i'll twitch and squirm because days off feel unnatural. i'll worry about laundry and who covered for me at the centre today. i'll eat ice cream and wear a bathing suit around the apartment. i'll nap whenever i want to...i will solve a crossword puzzle...
i will enjoy this day off, bloody face and all.
8/15/2009
some learnin's
i am borrowing this neat idea from a fellow blogfriend (and real friend) to kick-start my re-admittance into postland. inhale and exhale followers, here's a few things to learn about yours truly (you are, after all, reading about my inner tics, tricks and piss-offs, it's about time the basics bubble out):
What time did you get up this morning? morning? you must mean afternoon. i woke up at 2:30pm but only because i worked downtown until the wee hours of the am.
How do you like your steak? not moving, not mooing, mostly not bleeding: medium? the flip-floppy choice.
What was the last film you saw at the cinema? Funny People. it was more stressful and uncomfortable than anything else. not funny.
What is your favorite TV show? news, saturday night live (if i'll ever catch it again) and my guilty pleasure: so you think you can dance.
If you could live anywhere in the world where would it be? rome. i'd return with stories, language, tricks, tans and an unnerving, innate desire to make things my way.
What did you have for breakfast? raisin toast and a tomato and spinach omelette.
What is your favorite cuisine? potluck.
What foods do you dislike? after years of trying to give them a home in my belly, i am still not a big fan of mushrooms. i also dislike raspberries. also: green peppers too often ruin the taste of everything else around them.
Favorite place to eat? in bed with close company.
Favorite dressing: balsamic vinnie. toss, toss, toss.
What kind of vehicle do you drive? heels, sneakers, sandals.
What are your favorite clothes? green blanket.
Where would you visit if you had the chance? i would immediately go to calgary to catch up with vanessa. i'd then like to slither on to london to visit lindsey. i'd then hop on a plane to foggy little london town (the transatlantic one) and i'd stay with miss meghan for a good length of time. after that, i might take mr. w's suggestions seriously and visit australia.
Cup 1/2 empty or 1/2 full? it's half empty if i am working at the bar. that way, i can replenish the drink and therefore make some more money. if i am not working at the bar, the cup is half full. pace is the trick.
Where would you want to retire? in a land of comfort, familiarity and certainty. probably somewhere in cape b. or fred-land.
Favorite time of day? 7pm.
Where were you born? north sydney.
What is your favorite sport to watch? spring-board diving.
Bird watcher? only for hummingbirds.
Are you a morning person or a night person? night. mornings can pinch and squeeze.
Do you have any pets? kitty lady puss cat who is suffering from a hot weather sickness. poor barfing whisker-face.
Any new and exciting news you'd like to share? yes. mom and dad are home and happy. daddio barbequed not very long ago.
What did you want to be when you were little? belle from beauty and the beast. after my kindergarten teacher told me that wasn't very likely, i chose to be a police officer.
What is your best childhood memory? digging holes and climbing on rocks over water; sharing tuna sandwiches.
Are you a cat or dog person? cat.
Are you married? absolutely not.
Always wear your seat belt? always.
Been in a car accident? a very small one when i was much smaller.
Any pet peeves? self-righteous body-grabbers, always-angry folk, the noises that come with having a stuffy nose, the new black eyed peas song.
Favorite pizza toppings? spinach, feta cheese, tomato, sausage, pineapple. yess.
Favorite flower? tulips and daffodils.
Favorite ice cream? hoof prints or butterscotch ripple.
Favorite fast food restaurant? dairy queen.
How many times did you fail your driver's test? ...never.
From whom did you get your last email? a lovely cb girl. i miss her face and her pointy-finger dances.
Which store would you choose to max out your credit card? chapters, superstore and ikea. see: stuffwhitepeoplelike.com
Do anything spontaneous lately? nearly daily.
Like your job? i love all three of them very much, though one of them stresses me out beyond belief. sigh.
Broccoli? my favorite veggie!
What was your favorite vacation? p.e.i. trips with my family when kelly and i still wore matching swimwear, a spontaneous montreal meet in november.
Last person you went out to dinner with? the one so many refer to as "the thug".
What are you listening to right now? snow lion - feist
What is your favorite color? i like black and white. crispy.
How many tattoos do you have? i have none of those - there are enough scars on my bod to stain my skin instead.
Coffee Drinker? of course!
What time did you get up this morning? morning? you must mean afternoon. i woke up at 2:30pm but only because i worked downtown until the wee hours of the am.
How do you like your steak? not moving, not mooing, mostly not bleeding: medium? the flip-floppy choice.
What was the last film you saw at the cinema? Funny People. it was more stressful and uncomfortable than anything else. not funny.
What is your favorite TV show? news, saturday night live (if i'll ever catch it again) and my guilty pleasure: so you think you can dance.
If you could live anywhere in the world where would it be? rome. i'd return with stories, language, tricks, tans and an unnerving, innate desire to make things my way.
What did you have for breakfast? raisin toast and a tomato and spinach omelette.
What is your favorite cuisine? potluck.
What foods do you dislike? after years of trying to give them a home in my belly, i am still not a big fan of mushrooms. i also dislike raspberries. also: green peppers too often ruin the taste of everything else around them.
Favorite place to eat? in bed with close company.
Favorite dressing: balsamic vinnie. toss, toss, toss.
What kind of vehicle do you drive? heels, sneakers, sandals.
What are your favorite clothes? green blanket.
Where would you visit if you had the chance? i would immediately go to calgary to catch up with vanessa. i'd then like to slither on to london to visit lindsey. i'd then hop on a plane to foggy little london town (the transatlantic one) and i'd stay with miss meghan for a good length of time. after that, i might take mr. w's suggestions seriously and visit australia.
Cup 1/2 empty or 1/2 full? it's half empty if i am working at the bar. that way, i can replenish the drink and therefore make some more money. if i am not working at the bar, the cup is half full. pace is the trick.
Where would you want to retire? in a land of comfort, familiarity and certainty. probably somewhere in cape b. or fred-land.
Favorite time of day? 7pm.
Where were you born? north sydney.
What is your favorite sport to watch? spring-board diving.
Bird watcher? only for hummingbirds.
Are you a morning person or a night person? night. mornings can pinch and squeeze.
Do you have any pets? kitty lady puss cat who is suffering from a hot weather sickness. poor barfing whisker-face.
Any new and exciting news you'd like to share? yes. mom and dad are home and happy. daddio barbequed not very long ago.
What did you want to be when you were little? belle from beauty and the beast. after my kindergarten teacher told me that wasn't very likely, i chose to be a police officer.
What is your best childhood memory? digging holes and climbing on rocks over water; sharing tuna sandwiches.
Are you a cat or dog person? cat.
Are you married? absolutely not.
Always wear your seat belt? always.
Been in a car accident? a very small one when i was much smaller.
Any pet peeves? self-righteous body-grabbers, always-angry folk, the noises that come with having a stuffy nose, the new black eyed peas song.
Favorite pizza toppings? spinach, feta cheese, tomato, sausage, pineapple. yess.
Favorite flower? tulips and daffodils.
Favorite ice cream? hoof prints or butterscotch ripple.
Favorite fast food restaurant? dairy queen.
How many times did you fail your driver's test? ...never.
From whom did you get your last email? a lovely cb girl. i miss her face and her pointy-finger dances.
Which store would you choose to max out your credit card? chapters, superstore and ikea. see: stuffwhitepeoplelike.com
Do anything spontaneous lately? nearly daily.
Like your job? i love all three of them very much, though one of them stresses me out beyond belief. sigh.
Broccoli? my favorite veggie!
What was your favorite vacation? p.e.i. trips with my family when kelly and i still wore matching swimwear, a spontaneous montreal meet in november.
Last person you went out to dinner with? the one so many refer to as "the thug".
What are you listening to right now? snow lion - feist
What is your favorite color? i like black and white. crispy.
How many tattoos do you have? i have none of those - there are enough scars on my bod to stain my skin instead.
Coffee Drinker? of course!
8/03/2009
7/18/2009
ick.
waitressing/bartending is coming to me fairly easily so far. now working three jobs, i am a little more tired than i usually am, but i am happy. serving is fairly simple: if i smile, ask questions, am kind, quick and energetic, both the patron and i leave satisfied. lovely! obviously this doesn't work for absolutely everyone: some people are just sad. some people might be having terrible days. some patrons might not know their own assholery...and some patrons do, and abuse it, because they're just plain, old shitty people.
last night i had my first notable encounter with the impossibly-rotten...granted, i had a great night otherwise: j.y. came by for a laugh at my serving self, i met so many hilarious sailors (the tallships are here in halifax) and it was retro night (!!!), which meant i got to sing along with some of my guiltiest pleasures (please cue aha's "take on me"). despite the night-long laugh, all of the retro-boogie dance parties and surprise visits in the world could not have suppressed my anger with one particular incident.
a group of young guys came in (as they usually do) and nothing really stood out about them other than they all wore buzz-cuts and polo t-shirts. they were all fairly easy to deal with in the beginning and though their tips were lackluster i kept returning to their table to check on them. around the end of their time at the bar, one of them requested i come with the drink. my head then thought, "ha haaaaaaaaaa sooooo creative, so debonaire! he must have sat thinking THAT ONE up all night! oh, barf. i love that i can be reduced to a drink accompaniment: pay for the drink, get a jb for free! no, no, no thanks. pull down your collar." my mouth then said, "haha! no, i'm sorry i do not come with your drink. enjoy." and i walked away to serve someone else.
i wasn't bothered by the comment; i'd heard it before. i was bothered by the large group of male friends around said popped-collar patron just staring down at me from their seats to witness my reaction. i felt momentarily vulnerable and it was uncomfortable. i was thankful to see the group move from their table to the dance floor.
a couple of favorite customers of mine from last night were seated along the edge of the dance floor. these guys were great! they were incredibly nice and easy to please. they offered me no lame pick-up lines and shook my hand at the end of the night. cute. anyway, i made my way to the edge of the dance floor to serve the favorite folks. i successfully convinced them to order another round and just as i was about to turn away to make their drinks i felt an enormously painful pull on my buttocks. it felt like someone grabbed onto the whole thing and just PULLED for a second. it hurt, i was offended and i was superMEGAPISSED. i immediately swung around to see what creep belonged to the disgusting hands that grabbed me and when i saw creepy buzz-cut pop-collar man, i chased after him. i wasn't quick enough; the crowd was thick and i had a tray of empties in one hand. i searched for a bouncer, kept my eye on the dirtbag, and said, "ah, hi. that guy just grabbed my ass. i'm not alright with that." i saw him run over to sludgebucket and i walked away from there, i only assumed everything would be taken care of (meaning: turdburger would be asked to leave).
the rest of the night went well. things got busier, calmed down, no problems. i was still feeling pretty gross having had a big part of me picked up, pulled away and put back again. just because it sticks out does not mean it's for touching. a body is like a powerline in that only those trained and confirmed perfect for the job should be let anywhere near powerlines. without the right credentials and training, those touching the powerlines could severely burn themselves, electricute themselves or damage the line itself, potentially cutting power from those needing it. unless a person has been confirmed as an appropriate sexual partner, touching and grabbing is a no. inappropriate, unwarranted touching oppresses, victimizes and hurts. it is scary and it makes the victim feel completely objectified. if some sort-of jackass can't seem to care for the aforementioned reasons why inappropriate touching sucks, he or she can scrape the bottom of the barrel and just worry about him or herself: gasp! you mean i might get kicked out?!
anyway, things slowed down. the music was getting slower and last call was wrapping up. i was cleaning tables when the bouncer i had approached earlier came over to me. he explained that although the young man had indeed been asked to leave he was also "just a twerpy kid". i was confused: just a twerpy kid? he was old enough to enter, yeah? we're taught in elementary school the "body" song ("my body's nobody's body but mine"). the bouncer explained, "well, he was drunk and he's pretty young. i don't know if he knew any better. you girls can come to us if anyone ever gets aggressive with you or offends you." i was shocked. i WAS offended. is there a level of sleaze of which a patron must adhere to before i search for external help? this seemed ridiculous. i explained to him that i was INCREDIBLY offended and had the guy not escaped my grip i would have asked him to leave myself. the whole reason why the bouncers are there are to help, and no doubt they do, but the main reason why i scrambled to find this particular bouncer was because i trusted he could help me. help me, he did, ass-man was kicked out (and, from what the door-girls tell me, the bouncer was not too polite about it), but i'm not sure what he was getting at by telling me what i already knew and already felt. maybe he doesn't gauge a pinch on the bum reason enough to kick out a "poor twerp"...so what is reason enough?
i've been taught not to put up with crap. have patience, sure, but not for crap (for the record: crap, in this case, means anything unpleasant, unfavorable, uncomfortable, useless and smelly). the waitresses training me do not put up with crap. they encourage waitresses to see a bouncer about any out-of-control, uncomfortable situation of concern. the bouncers, all of them, seem sweet and true-blue to what the waitresses say: they ARE here to help...but i feel that we shouldn't even have to deal with situations that require their assistance and that when we do, we shouldn't need excuses for the offensive behaviour of others. while certain forms of assault are certainly of a greater concern than others, there should be no mental table-of-contents and grading-scheme for each individual physical boundary pushed. ultimately, i think the bouncer and i saw eye-to-eye by the end of our conversation (even despite m.j.'s "beat it" pounding in the background) and we understood one another a little better after weighing both sides.
he was trying to explain to me that by offering a defense for the snotchomper, he was attempting to make me feel better or less scared that ass-grabbery would happen again. i suppose that's fair. "he's just a twerp, he's drunk, you're better than him." i wasn't afraid that it was going to happen because my anger level was so high that i am sure had anyone else tried anything fresh there'd be teeth to sweep. i was afraid that everyone was under the impression that it's not such a huge deal to be grabbed. he felt obviously sorry that i'd been under that impression and we cleared it up and both got back to work...but something still feels icky.
last night i had my first notable encounter with the impossibly-rotten...granted, i had a great night otherwise: j.y. came by for a laugh at my serving self, i met so many hilarious sailors (the tallships are here in halifax) and it was retro night (!!!), which meant i got to sing along with some of my guiltiest pleasures (please cue aha's "take on me"). despite the night-long laugh, all of the retro-boogie dance parties and surprise visits in the world could not have suppressed my anger with one particular incident.
a group of young guys came in (as they usually do) and nothing really stood out about them other than they all wore buzz-cuts and polo t-shirts. they were all fairly easy to deal with in the beginning and though their tips were lackluster i kept returning to their table to check on them. around the end of their time at the bar, one of them requested i come with the drink. my head then thought, "ha haaaaaaaaaa sooooo creative, so debonaire! he must have sat thinking THAT ONE up all night! oh, barf. i love that i can be reduced to a drink accompaniment: pay for the drink, get a jb for free! no, no, no thanks. pull down your collar." my mouth then said, "haha! no, i'm sorry i do not come with your drink. enjoy." and i walked away to serve someone else.
i wasn't bothered by the comment; i'd heard it before. i was bothered by the large group of male friends around said popped-collar patron just staring down at me from their seats to witness my reaction. i felt momentarily vulnerable and it was uncomfortable. i was thankful to see the group move from their table to the dance floor.
a couple of favorite customers of mine from last night were seated along the edge of the dance floor. these guys were great! they were incredibly nice and easy to please. they offered me no lame pick-up lines and shook my hand at the end of the night. cute. anyway, i made my way to the edge of the dance floor to serve the favorite folks. i successfully convinced them to order another round and just as i was about to turn away to make their drinks i felt an enormously painful pull on my buttocks. it felt like someone grabbed onto the whole thing and just PULLED for a second. it hurt, i was offended and i was superMEGAPISSED. i immediately swung around to see what creep belonged to the disgusting hands that grabbed me and when i saw creepy buzz-cut pop-collar man, i chased after him. i wasn't quick enough; the crowd was thick and i had a tray of empties in one hand. i searched for a bouncer, kept my eye on the dirtbag, and said, "ah, hi. that guy just grabbed my ass. i'm not alright with that." i saw him run over to sludgebucket and i walked away from there, i only assumed everything would be taken care of (meaning: turdburger would be asked to leave).
the rest of the night went well. things got busier, calmed down, no problems. i was still feeling pretty gross having had a big part of me picked up, pulled away and put back again. just because it sticks out does not mean it's for touching. a body is like a powerline in that only those trained and confirmed perfect for the job should be let anywhere near powerlines. without the right credentials and training, those touching the powerlines could severely burn themselves, electricute themselves or damage the line itself, potentially cutting power from those needing it. unless a person has been confirmed as an appropriate sexual partner, touching and grabbing is a no. inappropriate, unwarranted touching oppresses, victimizes and hurts. it is scary and it makes the victim feel completely objectified. if some sort-of jackass can't seem to care for the aforementioned reasons why inappropriate touching sucks, he or she can scrape the bottom of the barrel and just worry about him or herself: gasp! you mean i might get kicked out?!
anyway, things slowed down. the music was getting slower and last call was wrapping up. i was cleaning tables when the bouncer i had approached earlier came over to me. he explained that although the young man had indeed been asked to leave he was also "just a twerpy kid". i was confused: just a twerpy kid? he was old enough to enter, yeah? we're taught in elementary school the "body" song ("my body's nobody's body but mine"). the bouncer explained, "well, he was drunk and he's pretty young. i don't know if he knew any better. you girls can come to us if anyone ever gets aggressive with you or offends you." i was shocked. i WAS offended. is there a level of sleaze of which a patron must adhere to before i search for external help? this seemed ridiculous. i explained to him that i was INCREDIBLY offended and had the guy not escaped my grip i would have asked him to leave myself. the whole reason why the bouncers are there are to help, and no doubt they do, but the main reason why i scrambled to find this particular bouncer was because i trusted he could help me. help me, he did, ass-man was kicked out (and, from what the door-girls tell me, the bouncer was not too polite about it), but i'm not sure what he was getting at by telling me what i already knew and already felt. maybe he doesn't gauge a pinch on the bum reason enough to kick out a "poor twerp"...so what is reason enough?
i've been taught not to put up with crap. have patience, sure, but not for crap (for the record: crap, in this case, means anything unpleasant, unfavorable, uncomfortable, useless and smelly). the waitresses training me do not put up with crap. they encourage waitresses to see a bouncer about any out-of-control, uncomfortable situation of concern. the bouncers, all of them, seem sweet and true-blue to what the waitresses say: they ARE here to help...but i feel that we shouldn't even have to deal with situations that require their assistance and that when we do, we shouldn't need excuses for the offensive behaviour of others. while certain forms of assault are certainly of a greater concern than others, there should be no mental table-of-contents and grading-scheme for each individual physical boundary pushed. ultimately, i think the bouncer and i saw eye-to-eye by the end of our conversation (even despite m.j.'s "beat it" pounding in the background) and we understood one another a little better after weighing both sides.
he was trying to explain to me that by offering a defense for the snotchomper, he was attempting to make me feel better or less scared that ass-grabbery would happen again. i suppose that's fair. "he's just a twerp, he's drunk, you're better than him." i wasn't afraid that it was going to happen because my anger level was so high that i am sure had anyone else tried anything fresh there'd be teeth to sweep. i was afraid that everyone was under the impression that it's not such a huge deal to be grabbed. he felt obviously sorry that i'd been under that impression and we cleared it up and both got back to work...but something still feels icky.
7/16/2009
home stretch
"these are twisted times when trust and truth collide,
when a stranger's love could make your heart explode.
i want to give it all back! if i could give it all back
i'd send a thousand suns to warm your worthy lungs.
i don't wish for this alone."
[from hey rosetta!'s "a thousand suns"]
the time has come, friends and followers. dad is scheduled to be dismissed from the hospital on tuesday.
_ahem_
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!FINALLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!THANKFREAKINGTIMEANDPATIENCEANDHAAAGHHHHAHAHAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
more on this later. for now, please feel joyful with me.
7/12/2009
ha-ha-haiku for the sun.
toasty-bright light-ball
your vitamin d rays ran
and were missed too long.
you make your return
skins pinken, grins grow, eyes squint
toes sit stuck with sand.
tolerable lakes
fill up with noise-junked fam'lies
i don't mind a bit.
if you come back soon
do not invite your wet friends
you know who they are.
7/08/2009
numero deux.
the only place where summer can truly be felt lately is at my place of work. days at the centre are not nearly at demanding as usual because not very many kids signed up for summer camps/sessions. thanks to the decline in enrollment i was driven to search for a second job. i've been digging, pounding, calling, e-mailing, writing, flinging and grinning for the majority of this week (i know it's only wednesday, but i'm impatient) and today i made a successful connection. my last resume (of the day) was eagerly thrust into the waiting hands of a manager-on-duty for a notoriously beer-involved bar in halifax. turns out he's from eskasoni and is very familiar with my hometown. we joked around for a bit, had a quick chat regarding my dire lack of bar-related work experience and he sent me on my way, promising to call me within the next few days. i turned on my (high) heel, began a brisk strut down the street and dug around for some music. once my headphones were in, though, i noticed that my tunes had some sort of skipping/hollering quality to them that i never noticed before. i took out my headphones, the skipping/hollering sounds grew closer and the noises seemed to have a raspy/breath-y quality. the manager-man from eskasoni had been chasing me down the street. once he caught up to me, he informed me that i'll begin my new job tomorrow evening at midnight. wahoo! wish me luck, internet-friends. if you know me well enough, you know how clumsy i am and how badly i'll need your luck.
happy list
today's happy list included:
- a morning met with a brand new brown (and green!) mug. gratitude shout out to j. y...coffee tastes so much better when sips come with cheeky grins.
- a mega-relaxed day at work with mega-cool new and old kiddies, brand new markers (YESSSSSS! you have no idea how thrilling new coloring supplies are to me now) and a fantastic lunch chat with a co-worker re: falling out of moving planes (he's tried it!).
- the best break yet: when i visited dad, he was sitting up on the side of his bed, enjoying a glass of gingerale. bliss.
- my loving mother sending me off to dance class with a mars bar and an apple. that was lovely.
- modern dance class featuring live percussion and rusty, sweaty jb. i am going to hurt in the morning and i am going to love every wince.
- songs on the busride home.
- coming home to an apartment tidied by one little sister.
- emails!
- the perfect banana: sort-of green, snappy, a little bitter and fairly firm. tasty!
that is all.
- a morning met with a brand new brown (and green!) mug. gratitude shout out to j. y...coffee tastes so much better when sips come with cheeky grins.
- a mega-relaxed day at work with mega-cool new and old kiddies, brand new markers (YESSSSSS! you have no idea how thrilling new coloring supplies are to me now) and a fantastic lunch chat with a co-worker re: falling out of moving planes (he's tried it!).
- the best break yet: when i visited dad, he was sitting up on the side of his bed, enjoying a glass of gingerale. bliss.
- my loving mother sending me off to dance class with a mars bar and an apple. that was lovely.
- modern dance class featuring live percussion and rusty, sweaty jb. i am going to hurt in the morning and i am going to love every wince.
- songs on the busride home.
- coming home to an apartment tidied by one little sister.
- emails!
- the perfect banana: sort-of green, snappy, a little bitter and fairly firm. tasty!
that is all.
7/02/2009
a eulogy for a favorite mug.
yesterday, brown mug smashed its way to ceramic heaven.
brown mug cost me $0.50 at the salvation army across the street from my former apartment on york st. the mug has accompanied me on moves from york street to the goody shop, from the goody shop to forest acres, from forest acres all the way to halifax and has even tagged along for various bring-your-own-drinking-devices parties and gatherings.
brown mug helped me through the grossest hours of the morning pre-work and class. it has met the lips of countless friends and a handful of significant others. brown mug always treated my friends and family well and held tight to whatever liquid goodness it was asked to briefly home.
brown mug was, sometimes, the most able body to stop tears and fears. armed with hot tea and a safety handle, brown mug never asked questions or gave me any lip if my hands were probably too unsteady to hold it.
brown mug was great! i was sure i was going to grow old and wrinkly with my little mug. i planned on living a long life with my super-duo relaxing team of mug and mets t-shirt. now, sans brown mug, it's time to let go of past assumptions and uneducated guesses. i think i'm now ready to accept any clean mug as my own. still, i will look back fondly at various appearances brown mug has made in my memory.
7/01/2009
a letter of thanks
dear canada,
happy birthday! you've got 142 years of life behind you and you're still looking fairly sharp. despite your rulers' tendencies to swipe work away from the folks in my hometown and turn chubby cheeks away from many a starvin' marvin, i still like you. you are vast! you are diverse! you've got a pile of brilliant people living amongst your land-y bones! there's something about you that makes me want to stick around for years to come. don't get me wrong, i think our established free-love, open relationship is beneficial for the both of us; while i gallavant past your borders and experience the elements of which you simply cannot provide (and i do not hold this against you), you take a much-needed mini-break from one more person who tends to shower for 20+ minutes. a fraction of your resources are held and one of your inhabitants comes back loving you all the more. really, canada, i have a lot to thank you for. considering today is your day of birth and you had a rocky, drunken start (merci, john a. macdonald) i feel appropriate expressing a list of developments, features, folks, histories and memories of which i am grateful for. keep in mind, canada, that this list is of my own heart and there are many other things of which to express grace for. without any further digression, thank you for the following:
1. the music churned from one end to the other. from wintersleep, omnikrom, the guess who, the tragically hip and the tom fun orchestra, you keep me in a constant state of canadian sing-song.
2. with thanks for your music i also thank you for cbc and all of its websites, updates, song banks and articles.
3. cliche: maple syrup is awesome. nice choice on the flag.
4. thank you for the literal land you carry. it's pretty wild how a person can travel only between newfoundland and new brunswick and still encounter many a diverse terrain. rocks, sand, forests, bogs, beaches, fields, tundra, lakes, cliffs and mountains keep you lovingly pock-marked. try your best to keep your bumps, lumps and soggy parts the way they are.
5. for alden nowlan.
6. for your drama and theatrical literature.
7. for the countless, caring faces, goodness and brilliant features in the people who live here.
8. thank you for cape breton island. really, it's something special. i don't know if i'll ever manage to check out every nook and cranny but i'm thankful the nooks and crannies are in volume enough to feel that way.
9. thank you for passionate scenes and many an opportunity to enjoy them. the aforementioned music and theatre departments are lovely but so are the people who consider themselves to be sports nuts, mountain climbers, fine artists, botanists, fisherfolks, writers, academics, dancers, photographers, back-packers and countless other exciting elements ready for digging hands and feet. thanks for enabling a sticky pick and combination of nearly everything.
10. thanks for fresh air and a relatively peaceful environment (in comparison with some of your neighbours).
11. socialized healthcare and education are generally kept in good shape 'round your parts. bravo.
12. for letting us enjoy what you have to offer. i'm sorry so many of your natural resources are abused and i'm sorry for my terrible shower habits. i will try to change.
13. thanks for an often ridiculous, mostly hilarious and occasionally offensive history. it's too bad not every single canadian can experience a history class with dr. michael dawson.
there are some things, canada, that i'd like you to change. you treat your aboriginal communities poorly. women still have not reached a favorable level of comfort, safety and fair-treatment within your borders. your elections are irritating and invasive and i don't like that you've stuck your fingers into violent situations overseas. too many people live on your streets and eat nothing of nutrition. in certain places you've got some drug and violence issues needing stopping and i hear that saskatchewan is nothing special. despite my distaste for celine dion and the irvings, you've got a strong hold on my heart and i'll love you until you die. you're a dainty 142 years young so i pray i'm long dead before you are. either way, let neither of us race to the finish line, i still have too many things worth discovering about you and thanking you for.
sincerely and severely,
jb
happy birthday! you've got 142 years of life behind you and you're still looking fairly sharp. despite your rulers' tendencies to swipe work away from the folks in my hometown and turn chubby cheeks away from many a starvin' marvin, i still like you. you are vast! you are diverse! you've got a pile of brilliant people living amongst your land-y bones! there's something about you that makes me want to stick around for years to come. don't get me wrong, i think our established free-love, open relationship is beneficial for the both of us; while i gallavant past your borders and experience the elements of which you simply cannot provide (and i do not hold this against you), you take a much-needed mini-break from one more person who tends to shower for 20+ minutes. a fraction of your resources are held and one of your inhabitants comes back loving you all the more. really, canada, i have a lot to thank you for. considering today is your day of birth and you had a rocky, drunken start (merci, john a. macdonald) i feel appropriate expressing a list of developments, features, folks, histories and memories of which i am grateful for. keep in mind, canada, that this list is of my own heart and there are many other things of which to express grace for. without any further digression, thank you for the following:
1. the music churned from one end to the other. from wintersleep, omnikrom, the guess who, the tragically hip and the tom fun orchestra, you keep me in a constant state of canadian sing-song.
2. with thanks for your music i also thank you for cbc and all of its websites, updates, song banks and articles.
3. cliche: maple syrup is awesome. nice choice on the flag.
4. thank you for the literal land you carry. it's pretty wild how a person can travel only between newfoundland and new brunswick and still encounter many a diverse terrain. rocks, sand, forests, bogs, beaches, fields, tundra, lakes, cliffs and mountains keep you lovingly pock-marked. try your best to keep your bumps, lumps and soggy parts the way they are.
5. for alden nowlan.
6. for your drama and theatrical literature.
7. for the countless, caring faces, goodness and brilliant features in the people who live here.
8. thank you for cape breton island. really, it's something special. i don't know if i'll ever manage to check out every nook and cranny but i'm thankful the nooks and crannies are in volume enough to feel that way.
9. thank you for passionate scenes and many an opportunity to enjoy them. the aforementioned music and theatre departments are lovely but so are the people who consider themselves to be sports nuts, mountain climbers, fine artists, botanists, fisherfolks, writers, academics, dancers, photographers, back-packers and countless other exciting elements ready for digging hands and feet. thanks for enabling a sticky pick and combination of nearly everything.
10. thanks for fresh air and a relatively peaceful environment (in comparison with some of your neighbours).
11. socialized healthcare and education are generally kept in good shape 'round your parts. bravo.
12. for letting us enjoy what you have to offer. i'm sorry so many of your natural resources are abused and i'm sorry for my terrible shower habits. i will try to change.
13. thanks for an often ridiculous, mostly hilarious and occasionally offensive history. it's too bad not every single canadian can experience a history class with dr. michael dawson.
there are some things, canada, that i'd like you to change. you treat your aboriginal communities poorly. women still have not reached a favorable level of comfort, safety and fair-treatment within your borders. your elections are irritating and invasive and i don't like that you've stuck your fingers into violent situations overseas. too many people live on your streets and eat nothing of nutrition. in certain places you've got some drug and violence issues needing stopping and i hear that saskatchewan is nothing special. despite my distaste for celine dion and the irvings, you've got a strong hold on my heart and i'll love you until you die. you're a dainty 142 years young so i pray i'm long dead before you are. either way, let neither of us race to the finish line, i still have too many things worth discovering about you and thanking you for.
sincerely and severely,
jb
6/30/2009
a not-so-happy fact.
i have a new book on my hands (surprise!). thanks to a particularly hilarious/all-knowing pair of friends, i was presented with "vaginas: an owners manual" by dr. carol livoti and elizabeth topp. the two authors are a mother-daughter duo and they tackle vaginal needs and issues as minor as lubricants and as major as infertility, viruses/diseases/infections and cancer. in addition to a seemingly well-balanced serving of the things those vaginally-inclined need to know, livoti and topp include pagely snippets of facts (think: the happy and not-so-happy facts from eve ensler's "the vagina monologues") about our peaches, plums and pears. these facts (which i assume to be valid) have kept me shocked, awed and appalled for the past twenty-four hours. i had NIGHTMARES about my vagina last night. i felt like throwing a party in my pants after reading certain insertions. and then there was this:
"The speculum was invented by J. Marion Sims, who also founded the New York Infirmary and is called the "Father of American Gynecology." He wasn't a very nice man, and most historians will back us up on that. He pioneered gynecological surgery by practicing on slaves, without consent and certainly without the benefit of anesthesia...Women have inquired about surgery to move the clitoris closer to the vagina. This is probably a bad idea, in that moving it would cut off its nerve supply. Another flimsy theory on improving women's sexual responsiveness is to "unhood" the clitoris (removing the fold that covers it). This is fraught with risk. The clitoris is so sensitive that it's a short hop from pleasure to pain. These women may have trouble sitting down or wearing tight pants, and forget about horseback riding. This is not an operation that has ever been popular. Conversely, a hundred years ago, removing the clitoris was not uncommon in New York City for women who were "too demanding". Thanks again, J. Marion Sims...His statue is in Central Park, so feel free to go and throw rocks at it" (pp. 34-59).
allllllright. so. the duck lips were invented by some old coot sans vagina. now i know. i also know now that the "father of american gynecology", in order to "father" (and let us not even touch patriarchy right now) the field, made practice out of the already-oppressed only to oppress them further. gynecology, now, (i hope!) is a field necessary and present to help those with vaginas or those wishing to have one. it seems creepy, twisted and squirmy for such a vital part of sexual health to have been born of torture, punishment and "discipline".
i'm sure notes were taken. i'm sure surgeries were modified and altered to produce healthier results for the patients treated...and the fact that sims' speculum hasn't changed much in one hundred years is a screaming indication that gynecology's existence may not be so were it not for j. marion sims...even still, i feel pretty gross right now knowing that my vaginal health stands on a history of pain, injury and injustice. had i known of the copper reproduction of sims in central park i might have prepared for the bike-tour with a pair of steel-toed boots.
6/23/2009
the sweetest thing.
my mother turned 50 years old yesterday. the usual markers of another year lived felt uncomfortably different than previous june 22nds. no one in the family dared to ask aloud about the strange brew of cake and quiet, well-wishing cards and concerned phone calls, gifts and more quiet. both my sister and i had to work during the day and when our shifts wrapped up, rather than choosing a treated dinner out or a cooked meal in, mom just asked for an ordered pizza. my sister and i made sure she got what she wanted but i think we both felt somewhat disappointed with the melancholy sitting above our cheesy plates and heads.
after the food was consumed and the dishes were washed mom and i drove to the hospital to visit dad for the usual evening visit (mom tends to visit him once or twice during the day as well). earlier that day, i spent my lunch break at the hospital with dad. we caught up on the weekend's events (i had been in fredericton, he had lots of family visitors) and we had our own small celebration of father's day. dad looked pretty clean and bright - his hair was cut (finally!), he'd been in-and-out of bed a handful of times over the past few hours and he'd been sleeping fairly well over the weekend - but i felt incredibly sad as i said good-bye to him. dad's five-month stay in the icu smashed me in the face as i recognized how many events have been celebrated with tubes and monitors present. first, mom and dad's 29th anniversary. then, valentine's day. family and friends-of-family birthday came and went. both kelly and i spent our reading weeks studying in the dim waiting room. there was dad's 50th birthday, there was easter and there was graduation day. there was mother's day, father's day and then, finally, my mother's birthday. on top of all of these events normally defined as "special", there'd been so many other celebratory days: dad's first surgery, his survival through the various others, dad's efforts in physio, his successful heart transplant. now, we celebrate dad's "first steps" and the respirator being removed from his room. so much has passed and all the while we continue to change and learn ways to celebrate those parts of life previously living in the realm of unfamiliarity. i left the room quickly and grabbed my coat from the waiting room.
when i emerged from the waiting room i tried to flee from the reception desk with a brief "see you later" so that i could run and re-collect in peace. the receptionist, now practically an adopted member to our family, caught my eye before i turned to run and asked, "jenna, are you okay?" naturally i lose my composure, crack in half and nod to say "yes" as i cry into my hands. this woman jumped around her desk to hug me. when i finally managed to find my voice i found myself trying to explain my tears with, "today is mom's birthday". the woman, who has seen countless of the aforementioned new sorts of celebrations of life and health, somehow made sense of my short answer. she held on, nodded and seemed to get what my mouth wasn't saying: this is real and it's been real for a while.
after the snot and tears ceased to fall from my face, the receptionist and i had a quick chat about mom's birthday, about how this was her 50th one for celebrating and about how the plans of a movie night with dad would be the best way to really celebrate until further notice. as we were chatting, a nurse from the ward stopped by to say hello. she picked up on the birthday talk, gave me a wink and ran off.
back to the post-pizza drive to the hospital; mom and i arrived later than usual and caught the same winking nurse on our way into the hospital. she offered mom her celebratory greetings and after a short talk we were back on our way to dad's room. upon arrival, the receptionist barred mom and i off from the unit and said, "you can't go in just yet...he's using the...bathroom." mom, nosy as she is, peeked into the unit enough to see that the curtain of dad's room was not closed, meaning he certainly was not visibly busy. regardless, we weren't permitted to enter until someone gave us the "okay", so we sat in silence, worrying about what might be going on.
after five minutes or so, the receptionist slipped into our room and informed us that dad was now ready for visitors. we were discussing possible issues dad might have been having as we entered the unit. we turned the corner from the nurses' station in order to reach dad's room and stopped and stared for a good five seconds before either of us could make any noise. the door of dad's room had been covered with bright, red signs that screamed, "HAPPY 50th BIRTHDAY!". gloves had been blown up with air and tied at the end to make balloons bearing my mother's name. scantily-clad magazine ladies were taped around mom's red, white and latex birthday homage. after our initial surprise started to fade, mom and i were in tear-stained stitches upon entering dad's room. once inside, a handful of nurses surrounded mom and clapped their way through the "happy birthday" song. again, there were tears, there was laughing and dad was positively beaming.
as soon as the nurses left the room, dad pulled an envelope out from beneath his blankets. on the envelope was mom's name in familiar-but-scribbly penmanship. mom opened the card, we read it together, and it was signed with dad's name, an "i love you" and some xo's to boot. clearly one of the nurses thought to find a card for dad to present to mom. clearly the entire unit must be a little wacky and maybe they've known us for too long...but after mom stopped crying and settled into the chair next to dad, i think some of the looming strangeness of the day took off.
plenty of small symbols (and large acts) of kindness happen all of the time and our familiy is lucky enough to witness many of them. with the combination yesterday of familiar and unfamiliar elements - a familiar act of kindness performed by an unfamiliar group of people -completely flipped my mother's day around for the better. and, judging by dad's grin, i am certain that he was feeling pretty groovy about having signed off a card for his pretty lady. it was the sweetest thing that's ever come from me crying in front of a receptionist. it was one of the sweetest moments i'd ever witnessed. i had to share.
after the food was consumed and the dishes were washed mom and i drove to the hospital to visit dad for the usual evening visit (mom tends to visit him once or twice during the day as well). earlier that day, i spent my lunch break at the hospital with dad. we caught up on the weekend's events (i had been in fredericton, he had lots of family visitors) and we had our own small celebration of father's day. dad looked pretty clean and bright - his hair was cut (finally!), he'd been in-and-out of bed a handful of times over the past few hours and he'd been sleeping fairly well over the weekend - but i felt incredibly sad as i said good-bye to him. dad's five-month stay in the icu smashed me in the face as i recognized how many events have been celebrated with tubes and monitors present. first, mom and dad's 29th anniversary. then, valentine's day. family and friends-of-family birthday came and went. both kelly and i spent our reading weeks studying in the dim waiting room. there was dad's 50th birthday, there was easter and there was graduation day. there was mother's day, father's day and then, finally, my mother's birthday. on top of all of these events normally defined as "special", there'd been so many other celebratory days: dad's first surgery, his survival through the various others, dad's efforts in physio, his successful heart transplant. now, we celebrate dad's "first steps" and the respirator being removed from his room. so much has passed and all the while we continue to change and learn ways to celebrate those parts of life previously living in the realm of unfamiliarity. i left the room quickly and grabbed my coat from the waiting room.
when i emerged from the waiting room i tried to flee from the reception desk with a brief "see you later" so that i could run and re-collect in peace. the receptionist, now practically an adopted member to our family, caught my eye before i turned to run and asked, "jenna, are you okay?" naturally i lose my composure, crack in half and nod to say "yes" as i cry into my hands. this woman jumped around her desk to hug me. when i finally managed to find my voice i found myself trying to explain my tears with, "today is mom's birthday". the woman, who has seen countless of the aforementioned new sorts of celebrations of life and health, somehow made sense of my short answer. she held on, nodded and seemed to get what my mouth wasn't saying: this is real and it's been real for a while.
after the snot and tears ceased to fall from my face, the receptionist and i had a quick chat about mom's birthday, about how this was her 50th one for celebrating and about how the plans of a movie night with dad would be the best way to really celebrate until further notice. as we were chatting, a nurse from the ward stopped by to say hello. she picked up on the birthday talk, gave me a wink and ran off.
back to the post-pizza drive to the hospital; mom and i arrived later than usual and caught the same winking nurse on our way into the hospital. she offered mom her celebratory greetings and after a short talk we were back on our way to dad's room. upon arrival, the receptionist barred mom and i off from the unit and said, "you can't go in just yet...he's using the...bathroom." mom, nosy as she is, peeked into the unit enough to see that the curtain of dad's room was not closed, meaning he certainly was not visibly busy. regardless, we weren't permitted to enter until someone gave us the "okay", so we sat in silence, worrying about what might be going on.
after five minutes or so, the receptionist slipped into our room and informed us that dad was now ready for visitors. we were discussing possible issues dad might have been having as we entered the unit. we turned the corner from the nurses' station in order to reach dad's room and stopped and stared for a good five seconds before either of us could make any noise. the door of dad's room had been covered with bright, red signs that screamed, "HAPPY 50th BIRTHDAY!". gloves had been blown up with air and tied at the end to make balloons bearing my mother's name. scantily-clad magazine ladies were taped around mom's red, white and latex birthday homage. after our initial surprise started to fade, mom and i were in tear-stained stitches upon entering dad's room. once inside, a handful of nurses surrounded mom and clapped their way through the "happy birthday" song. again, there were tears, there was laughing and dad was positively beaming.
as soon as the nurses left the room, dad pulled an envelope out from beneath his blankets. on the envelope was mom's name in familiar-but-scribbly penmanship. mom opened the card, we read it together, and it was signed with dad's name, an "i love you" and some xo's to boot. clearly one of the nurses thought to find a card for dad to present to mom. clearly the entire unit must be a little wacky and maybe they've known us for too long...but after mom stopped crying and settled into the chair next to dad, i think some of the looming strangeness of the day took off.
plenty of small symbols (and large acts) of kindness happen all of the time and our familiy is lucky enough to witness many of them. with the combination yesterday of familiar and unfamiliar elements - a familiar act of kindness performed by an unfamiliar group of people -completely flipped my mother's day around for the better. and, judging by dad's grin, i am certain that he was feeling pretty groovy about having signed off a card for his pretty lady. it was the sweetest thing that's ever come from me crying in front of a receptionist. it was one of the sweetest moments i'd ever witnessed. i had to share.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
