Thursday, March 31, 2005
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.
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.
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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:
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!
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.
Sunday, March 13, 2005
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.
Thursday, March 10, 2005
A Slight Utopia
I want to capture this. I want to bottle this feeling and carry it around with me, open it up and breathe it in whenever I need a pick me up.
I bounced to school after sleeping in and found Mikey D and Marta on campus who, at 11:20am this morning, called me a drunken strumpet. Then I couldn't stop day dreaming and smiling at my notes in religion class. I wandered happily for a bit, and couldn't get enough human interaction. At 2:30 I forced myself to go home to do laundry, only to bump into Greg who asked if I was drunk or high on sugar. Can't a girl be bubbly without alcohol or some form of substance abuse?
I'm in such a good mood, I can't stop smiling, I'm skipping as I walk, I giggle randomly, I'm giddy! And I really don't know why. But I don't care! I feel great!
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
Getting linked from someone online is like getting a hug in real life. There's always someone's link list and it's good that you're on that, but it's even better when they dedicate a post to one of your posts. Surprisingly and happily, Leah decided that she liked this post of mine and gave me two whole wonderful sentences full of loevly words in her post about how people should read my post! That made my night.
I felt kind of bad when I took down my sidebar info, which included a long list of links to other blogs, but now I can give out hugs in link form in my posts. So now I'm here to spread the linky love around.
My friend Wes and some his friends just launched The Naked Geek, an uber cool tech site where all sorts of geeky things go on, so if you'd like to, go check it out.
Everyone! Spread the linky love! (Can you tell I really like that phrase?)
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
I want to do strange things like get a tattoo and buy a pair of fairy wings and run around with them and take photos of the adventure.
I told Chris last night that I was happy and in an excellent mood. He asked if I had a date or something. I laughed. No, I didn't have a date and like we both agreed, I don't need a date to be in a good mood. I don't know why I was so happy yesterday, but I've been like that a lot lately. The sun's been out (except for dreary yesterday) and listening to Alanis is keeping that bounce in my step. On Friday I went to the museum and sang karaoke, on Saturday I danced, on Sunday I had a girls' night in with Austin Powers, PJ pants and loads of junk food.
I got a midterm back today on which I received 100% (w00t) and then had lunch with Mark who has curly hair and the prettiest green eyes with flecks of hazel. We chatted about movies and Indian food; he wears a gorgeous ring made from abalone and I cringe at his sunglasses. Tanya and I have long chats about boys and we giggle over our old flames and potential new ones. Our eyes open wide as we share stories and secrets. We laugh, she gasps and tells me I'm bad. I will take Chris to try strange foods on Friday and he will eat spicily and cry like a girl. I will most likely laugh and then we will share cookies.
It's a beautiful day outside (but the wind is so sharp it feels like it will peel your face off) and my uppity mood is only being pecked at by this essay looming over my head. It's due tomorrow and though I barely know what I'm doing, I know that it will get done and things will be fine in the end. Optimism to the rescue again.
Sunday, March 06, 2005
The best conversations I've been having recently are had with Annia. After a full year and a half of being in different cities, we clicked again over the demise of our relationships (although she's doing a good job of keeping hers intact long after the ruin of mine) and the stupid obliviousness of most boys. We're teaching each other to stick up for ourselves, to say and believe in what we think and have the strength to proclaim, You can't put sour milk back in the fridge. You just can't, because then someone won't know about it and they'll ingest it and get sick right there on your kitchen floor.
It's a cute little metaphor that only applies sometimes, because as we all know, there are always exceptions to the rule. Like one time last week, Annia actually had old milk with her cereal and she was fine. And I refuted the statement that you should just throw the damn sour milk out with the idea that with some time, sour milk can become yogurt. Or cheese if you wait long enough.
But just how long are we expected to wait? While you go on with your days waiting for that milk to become something else, something useful and edible again, you're going to have a nasty smell coming out of the fridge. Every time you open it to get something to eat you'll smell it and get sick. You'll lose your appetite. The putridness of it will seep out of there and invade your kitchen, your living room, your clothes and you will reek of someone who is trying to turn sour milk into yogurt or cheese.
And now everyone knows. They know you as the weird person who keeps bad milk and for some reason no one can fathom, you can't throw it out. But it'll become yogurt one day, or cheese! you say. They look at you funny and you start to think, Maybe sour milk is just that, sour milk. And maybe one day it will become something good again, but I don't have that kind of technology or that much patience. You realize that you once had fresh milk that did your body good and you might have yogurt or cheese one day, but right now, all you've got is really smelly sour milk. And do you really want to eat homemade yogurt or cheese made from milk that just sits there for long enough?
One day, you finally break the cycle of opening your fridge, smelling the bad milk and throwing up by opening it one last time, throwing up one last time, and chucking the damn thing into the garbage.
Really, what's the point? You smell bad, you keep throwing up and people think you're crazy. And all for what? To prove to yourself that you can make yogurt or cheese (that'll probably just make you sick anyway)? Honestly, you can buy that stuff at the grocery store. There's a near unlimited supply and it's what normal people do. Not everyone can make yogurt or cheese. So the next time the milk expires, Annia and I say: Throw it the fuck out and move on because nothing good will come of keeping it.
Saturday, March 05, 2005
I've decided that being single would be best under the following conditions:
- I'm in my mid-twenties
- I've got a great job that I love
- The weather is always sunny and beautiful
- I make lots of money at said great job
- Tons of fun auditions for various dramatic type things are always a part of my schedule
- I live in a spacious, fantastically decorated apartment/loft (with or without neato roommates)
- Apartment/loft is situated in downtown Toronto or other uber-metropolitan area
- I've got a few really good girlfriends
- And a couple cute boy-friends wouldn't hurt
- I get to spend free time at art galleries and the ROM (when it's not under construction)
- Jazz/fusion/electronica/funk is playing in the background
- My friends and I live like people do on TV shows
People have been asking me a lot, "So how does it feel to be single?" It doesn't feel any different really...life is pretty much the same, but happier almost. I'm keeping busy with random things, random people, the mix of which ends up being pretty darn fancy. It's gorgeous outside, I'm in a good mood, I just had a fun audition for a film, I finally bought milk; things are good. I'm listening to miles_gurtu right now and this kind of music (they call it electronica, but I like jazz-fusion) always makes me bounce a bit. It also totally makes me feel chic and sophisticated enough to live in the city and throw/go to fancy parties until I settle down with kids and all. Too bad that lifestyle is way out of my reach (and exists only on TV - boo). But who says I can't have a good time anyway?
Wednesday, March 02, 2005
Prepare For Whining (With Some Silver Lining At The End)
I'm beyond stressed.
I haven't done course readings for a month, I'm missing class leftrightandcenter, I've written one of three papers that are due this week and though I've been given extensions on the other two, I'll be researching and writing non-stop until next Thursday. If my luck keeps up I'm sure there will be something else due after that. I hate essays and prefer midterms. I miss the long gone days of 'projects'.
I auditioned and got a part in the Vagina Monologues (yay!) so there's rehearsals for that to add to my schedule. Training for the new job this spring involves learning the history of Ottawa, Montreal and Quebec and being quizzed once a week - it feels like I'm taking an additional history course now!
In the last two days I've eaten an English muffin, 2/3 of a cucumber, a cup of peach slices, my last Fishermen's Friend, 2 Michelina's frozen entrees, 2 nectarines and 2 Advil Cold & Sinus pills. I'm also sipping Robitussin out of the bottle. What? The spoons are all the way downstairs.
Highlights to keep in mind lest I pull my hair and, screaming, jump into bed to hide for a week:
- Most of the things I'm doing are fun and fairly enjoyable
- I got invited by the people at work to some Emerging Leaders Dinner
- The illness, after 20 hours in bed, is starting to go away
- I'm having breakfast with the Dean of Students tomorrow (my friend won a raffle and his prize was to switch places with the Dean for a day, so naturally he scheduled the Dean to have breakfast with me...do
- I'm on an Alanis kick and her music keeps me sane to and from school
- When I opened the door for Mikey D today, he greeted me with, "Hi friend!"
I went to Health Services yesterday and can safely say that they do little to calm your worries or heal your sickly body. I sat in the waiting room for an hour, draining their water cooler supply to soothe my phlegmy coughing throat and finally spoke to a nurse and told her all of my coughy-achy-oh-I'm-not-feeling-well-at-all problems. When she left I slept for a bit with my face against the wall. The doctor finally came to see me and to test me for strep throat, stuck a swab down my throat and wiggled it around only to have that send me into another fit of coughs. Nope, not strep. What is it then? Just a cold.
I'm disappointed, folks. At least if it were strep I would be totally validated in feeling this crappy. But now that I know it's just a cold, I feel like I should just suck it up instead.
He gave me a handful of Advils, a bottle of Robitussin the size of my thumb and sent me on my way.
Sucking it up was not easy this morning. My head felt like it weighed more than my whole body and I wandered around like a zombie. I got up for half an hour and decided (after applying my mascara - boo) that I felt way too crappy to go to class. So I went back to bed (nothing smeared though - yay). I got up for work later on, but then called in sick. Back to bed. I finally got up at 7pm and promptly did my laundry and made a soup (from scratch!). I realized that I was more productive tonight in two hours than I have been all week.
So even though I'm sick, I'm allowed to be awake past 1am and blogging because I've only been up for about 6 hours.
Hm. Nothing to do really. I think I'm going back to bed.