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Thursday, March 31, 2005
So Soon I'm tired folks. Just four days after I come back from my first training trip and I am about to embark on another one. We're headed to Ottawa for this one and I'm preparing myself for lots of learning ahead...although I seem to be quite good at skirting around it and not having anyone notice. I've been running around the past two days in that headless-chicken mode and I feel a bit frazzled as a result. I'm prepping for the summer and I suddenly realized I have so many choices. Last year I was stressed because I had nothing to do until things came up at the last minute, but this year I've discovered that having more options doesn't lower stress levels at all. I'm working on applications (which I despise by the by) and trying to see what jobs would fit me better. With many opportunities comes stress and lots of consideration, but also lots of excitement which I'm glad about. Keeping me calm on the fast-paced walks/jogs to and from campus is the wonderful Benjamin Gibbard, front man for both The Postal Service and Death Cab for Cutie. I'm back on my indie music kick and I miss Cliff a lot now (J's best friend from back home) because he always introduced me to new stuff. The sweetest thing was when he burned me a couple CDs for the long bus trips when J and I went to the States in the fall. He's a sweet guy and I miss him a fair bit. I suppose he might not know that, but here it is. It sucks that when you break up with someone you kind of have to break up with all their friends too. 6:23 pm Wednesday, March 30, 2005
Home For A Rest  Tour Managing can be fun! I am home. I am tired, but I am home. My four day weekend in Quebec felt like it was much longer than four days; by mid-evening on the first day my mind was already full of history and touristy type information. But after all that, I am feeling better about the job I am about to do in a month and if you ever need to know anything about Quebec City or Montreal, I am The Gal to ask. During the fours days I realized the following: I cannot for the life of me get up at 6:30 in the morning and go to bed at 1:00 in the morning for three nights in a row and still be chipper. I like anything stone. Buildings, roads, colours (like stone-blue). It'd be cool to have a name like that, Stone. Mmm, sounds hunky. I am a sucker for red.    And churches (they always seem to be the prettiest buildings around).     And French architecture in general.      The cities are gorgeous and I'm excited to be heading back soon. The old parts of town are wonderfully preserved and they have lovely European flair. A fun new band named The Breakfast is out there. I saw them at a bar called Le Swimming while in Montreal (yes, we made time to go out and have fun). The name still makes me think...of all things, Le Swimming? Does that sound better in French or something? The Quebecois are excellent bread makers, maple syrup extracters and fruit lovers. Mmm...fresh food that doesn't come from a freezer box. Wonderbread and canned fruit will never be the same. The phrase "like a bat out of hell" can be hilarious when used at the right time by the right person. During the four days while I was gone, I ate at McDonalds twice and had a McFlurry both times (the Caramel Oreo Cookie Crunch comes highly recommended). While having a traditional Quebecois dinner one night with a live band and all, I actually got up to do some type of dance that goes with fiddles and drums and tambourines and I honestly felt like I was in that scene from Titanic where Rose dances below deck. Except I didn't have a pretty dress on and the people weren't Irish. And nothing was really similar...except that I was having fun like she was. I love crepes. Crepes everywhere! French is incredibly sexy. Hearing boys speak French makes me swoon. Stick him in a suit, add spray of cologne and you won't be able to get me off him. I am small but fast. Yours Truly won the Easter egg hunt on Sunday morning. My prize was a two pound bag of Easter eggs. My roommates now love me (more than they already did of course). I had absolutely no urge whatsoever to check my e-mail or use the internet while I was gone. Really! I got in late on Sunday night and after swapping stories with Tanya, I gave in. After filtering through all seventy-one messages I did the blog surfing thing. Not as hooked as I thought, but still hooked. 12:57 am Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Hooked I am proud to say that I didn't get my first computer until I was 16 years old. By that time I was in Grade 10 and it was pretty standard that you had to hand in assignments that were typed up, double spaced, fresh from the printer. I am proud to say that I used a typewriter instead. The word 'draft' made my heart sink because I know I'd have to type up a copy, get it 'edited' (read: someone scrawling over my pages in red pen), and then type up another 'good copy'. This got bad in Grade 8 when I had to do TWO drafts. I was hunched over the typewriter for days. And this wasn't the kind of typewriter that had the automatic white-out dispenser either, if I made a typo, I had to pull the paper out, apply the white-out, wait for it to dry and try to insert the paper properly to make sure the letters would line up. September of 1999 was a good month. I was 16 and I had a computer. With Internet. I felt a bit awkward at first because I didn't know what to do really. There were no websites for me to visit, I didn't have anyone on my ICQ list and there was only one other person that I exchanged e-mails with (take a guess - yes, it was Jason, quel surprise). Almost six years later and I am most definitely hooked. I read a whole bunch of different blogs daily, take courses online, keep up with friends on MSN and receive about seventeen e-mails a day (I know that's a small number compared to some other important-types or web celebs, but it's a fair amount for me!). The thing is, I'm leaving tomorrow morning for Quebec City and Montreal and I've been having mini-anxiety attacks because I will be without my precious e-mail for four whole days. Four days! No internet, no blogs, no e-mail. Part of me says that this will be a good exercise in...something about not depending on the net for everything. And yes, I might survive the four days and come back refreshed, having realized that I do not need to give in to technology, that I do not need to be oppressed yada yada yada. Or I'll come back on Sunday night, turn on my computer, check up on everyone's blogs and do the e-mail thing for hours on end. Yeah, probably the second one. 7:42 pm Monday, March 21, 2005
I (heart) My Roomie       Tanya and I just spent our entire Sunday sleeping in, talking about boys and sex, eating, whining about getting fat, laughing, trying to figure out our inexplicable and increasingly messed up lives, telling stories, talking to each other for hours on MSN even though our rooms are next to each other, asking where all the nice boys are, and wondering when one will love us (individually, not as a pair - though don't we make a lovely one?). We do make quite the pair. We're both Tauruses, two very similar peas in the sometimes suffocating pod of life, who seem to go through the same kinds of problems but on different days. Sometimes it feels like we're a married couple. I look terrible today. No you don't. You say that all the time. That's because I think you're pretty all the time. I look fat in this. No you don't. You wouldn't tell me even if I did. Sigh. You're not fat. But this strange, husband-wife banter we've got going on is comforting in a familiar and funny way. We say good morning, have a nice day, how was your day and good night. We are honest and make fun of each other, we share the bathroom mirror (she's taller than I am so she uses the upper half and I, the lower), she helps me curl my enormous amount of hair, we share food and eat each others' leftovers. We walk to class together on Mondays and Wednesdays, sing songs, procrastinate together but also make sure the other one does their work. She does the dishes and I put them away. We share bottles of wine, dance together and look out for one another at bars and clubs. She folds my laundry and I get her to try new foods. We support and reassure each other, share secrets, sorrows and joys, are not embarrassed to smell bad or look terrible in front of each other (this happens often), we cook, eat and watch TV together, have tons of fun, we pee with the door open and brush our teeth together at night before bed. We call each other 'Dear'. And I wouldn't have it any other way. 3:15 am Friday, March 18, 2005
Friday In Fragments On Friday you wake up groggy and wanting to lay in bed for another hour - at least - because a phone call made at one in the morning turned into an almost two hour conversation that left you respecting and appreciating your friend Matt more than you already did. You reach over and hit the Snooze button for the third time and notice the back of your hand - a name and a phone number scrawled messily in red pen by a drunk boy last night. You remember the converstaion with Craig over a basket of fries so hot that you burned your tongue and loud screaming from drunken girls. You are still amazed when people tell you they read your blog. You remember that green beer is not your thing and that you still think St. Paddy's Day is silly. Friday mornings in your house are not usually hectic, but this morning with three girls running on very similar schedules and just one bathroom, it caused a bit of rushing and a lot of "Are you done yet?" and the occasional "Fuckfuckfuck". It hits you as you get dressed that after living together for more than six months has caused your monthly cycles to sync up and that this morning was a classic example of a lot (if not too much) estrogen in one house. You run out of the house five minutes off schedule, having not had breakfast and with your hair uncombed and sopping wet. You thank the powers that be for a gorgeous day that warrants the taking off of your yellow knit scarf and for conditioner. You run around for a bit, doing errands and then head to a class during which you learn about passive constructions and proceed to get really nervous about academic essay writing despite the fact that others have told you your writing is good, that the blog is 'like a book' and that you are a Writer, even though you still don't consider yourself to be one. You leave class hungry and wondering what the day will bring. And though they did not notice how you stood there and smiled at them from behind, you see Tudor and Laura holding each other on a bench outside, snuggling in the sun. He holds her close, she whispers something, he kisses her forehead and she buries her face in the groove of his neck. You feel a bit voyeuristic and you want to tell them that this is not the 'groping' they speak of so often. This is sweet and soft and intimate and though it makes you ache for something just like that, something more than what you have right now, you walk away with a genuine smile, happy for them, happy that moments like that exist, happy that although it's taken a beating, your idealism has not died. But when you cringe at the sound of cheering during the University's Open House, you wonder about being cynical and jaded. After a very dry roasted chicken with mango chutney panini and an hour sitting in an armchair with the daily Jumble and your journal, a woman comes up to you. You remove the earphones and hear Vietnamese being spoken at you. Sorry? You are not Vietnamese? You smile. You get that a lot. No. Well, my father is half Vietnamese, but my mother is Chinese so I'm a bit of a mix. You smile. You are very beautiful, very pretty face. You smile again. You laugh a little. Well, thank you, thank you very much. You are reminded of the boy last night (whose phone number you have scrawled on the back of your hand, the ink so dark that it didn't wash off in the shower this morning) and how he kept saying that you were beautiful, so beautiful, and how he embarrassed you by telling all his friends. On Friday you meet with Chris and you look hard into his eyes in an attempt to debunk anything, everything. You frown and pout a little, he jokes and laughs. He speaks of being jaded, being hurt and hurting others, being emotionally unavailable. Your brow wrinkles in an attempt to understand his frustrating crypticness. You give up, exasperated, and laugh with him. Boys. At least you like his taste in music. You notice the couple next to you who are doing the crossword together. You eat two brownies and remember that you really like coconut. You get a ride home in an Audi with leather interior from Ashley and lie on the couch feeling antsy. You want to go out, but not to a bar or a club. You want to lounge with people, in a comfy room, doing nothing in particular but having a good time nonetheless. This feeling stays with you through several MSN conversations with a messed up keyboard until you head over to Jill's for a movie night in PJs. You realize that you really like the lyric I can feel so unsexy for someone so beautiful. You like run on sentences and terribly long blog entries. And then you realize that there is something to be said for transience because it is always the temporary, fleeting moments that matter. Always the random people and little details that you notice, like how the back of your hands get veiny when they're cold and how he scratches a lot. You have an appreciation for the little things because you know that it is always the temporary that can brighten, ruin or inspire your days. 9:41 pm Wednesday, March 16, 2005
Rediscovering My Loves - sunshine, thank goodness the days are getting longer - the Vagina Monologues, if you're in the KW area April 5-8, come see the show! - getting 100% on midterms and essays, w00t - weekend trips to Quebec City and Montreal! - precious, precious sleep - bobby pins and putting my hair up - yellow knit scarves - unexpectedly finding chocolate Easter eggs in my pocket - walking in the middle of the road (when there's no cars around) My love for Alanis is still alive, but after a full month of listening to just 2 of her CDs, I have to admit that I need a change. FOOD. FoodfoodfoodfoodFOOD. Yogurt and granola. Up until last year, I never thought that yogurt and granola would ever come together to form edible anything, be it a snack or a meal. But I am now a wiser gal and can declare, Yes! Lots of granola can make expired yogurt good again! Oh, who am I kidding. I'm not eating yogurt with granola people, I'm eating yogurt-covered granola clusters. Peanuuuuuuut, peanut butter! In the last 2 days, I've eaten half a jar of the ooey-gooey stuff and I can't get enough. The many manifestations of my peanut buttery love: Peanut butter on crackers, english muffins, toast, celery, or if you have nothing edible in your house, lick it off a spoon, a knife, or your finger. Futhermore, the yumminess factor of peanut butter (as if it's not good enough on it's own) is enhanced with: banana, honey, apple, jam, raisins (think jam, but in pre-processing solid form), and pickles. Yes, pickles! You should try it, really. Next to try is peanut butter with cheese. Update: Thursday at eight seventeen pee-emm and all the peanut butter is gone. Gone, gone, gone. 11:49 pm Tuesday, March 15, 2005
How Very Hollywood  My first ever glam headshot. Remember when I so very briefly mentioned going to an audition for a film a few weeks ago? I now have a good reason to flesh out that story for y'all now. The audition was for a film called Sleeping Dogs and I have to give credit to J for forwarding the info to me, otherwise I would have never found out about it. The day before the audition, my new friend Erin took pretty photos of me and my dear friend Tudor helped out by giving me clear skin with his super Photoshopping skills. I had fun with my first ever set of headshots and was glad they only took 2.5 hours total to get them taken, touched up and printed. I went to the audition not knowing what to expect. I had only ever done theater, amateur-amateur theater at that, and this was a film, a real film with a real director and producer and everything. They asked for headshots and a resume (I made the resume in 20 minutes that morning), I really had no idea what I was getting myself into. But I figured that I love acting enough to totally not care, so I gathered my guts and went anyway. I met people there who have been doing this kind of thing for years; people who had agents, people who were amateur-professionals or professional-amateur actors or however you want to say it. I felt nervous. I squirmed in my chair, fiddled with my sign up sheet, tried to act cool, like I had been doing this all my life. Of course I wanted a part in the film, but I didn't expect anything at all. They were nice to me and said, "Great, thank you". They would be in touch through e-mail. A week passed and I wondered if they could tell when they watched the audition tapes over and over again. I wondered if they could see that I had no real training, that I had never taken classes (and really, I can't even remember if I had even gone to a workshop before). I was a girl who just knew that she liked acting and decided to audition for something one day. I got a part then and I haven't stopped since. And it looks like I won't have to. (Text is difficult to work with when trying to convey excitement, so read the next bit imagining me as excited, happy, anxious, honoured and giddy as you can.) I finally got an e-mail from the producer which said the following: Dear Shirley, I GOT A CALLBACK!!! *insert jumping around in room clapping hands and yelling "I GOT A CALLBACK!" here* This.Is.SO.Neat. I can barely believe it and all I can think is I got a caaaaaaalllbaaaaaaaaaack. I can't believe it. I got a callback! For a film! A real film! *breath* But I return to humbleness here. I'm still not expecting anything from this because there's probably going to be people more talented than I when I re-audition. And who knows what will happen. I told friends that I went to and came out of the audition not expecting anything, that I was there purely for the experience. And it doesn't matter whether I get the role or not because already, this has been one heck of an experience. 1:44 am Sunday, March 13, 2005
By June     I think that by then, life and things will be good permanently. I will be like this girl, wearing pink and playing with water fountains in Toronto. Things have been hazy lately. I'm keeping busy and doing lots of expensive things like going to a Fantasia party and spending $40 on a jar of Sweet Snow - raspberry flavoured body powder. That was topped by a $50 Indian dinner on Friday night BUT followed by free bowling. Sleeping in, goofy pictures, cheap wine and a phone call at 2am that I can only half remember made my Saturday and yay to good friends who treat you to lunch at Wendy's when all the breakfast places are filled with the post-bar crowd on Sunday mornings. So this is all fun and good, but I still wish I had bottled that Slight Utopia from Thursday, I think I need a sniff. |
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