Post-breakup some women go out and get haircuts or a new pair of strappy sandals. Girls like Shan and I buy new cars and real estate.
Scrolling through the listings for condos it's hard to determine which one will feel like home so you need to visit. Gawd. I've seen a bachelor pad with painfully painted orange kitchen cabinets - occurred to me he may have been high at the time. Another with a fuse box above the bed - wonder what that controlled. A cemetery next door - at least the neighbors won't be learning to play an electric guitar at midnight. And of course, the frat boy house that had a very tangible hangover odor left over from a Thursday night fuck-we're-out-of-tequila-party. Tough to choose just one, I know.
The search went on... and then I found it. I set my heart on something that was currently unavailable and kind of in my area. Typical.
It's soo beautiful. Walking in I felt it was already my space. Crown mouldings, long hallway, ceramic tile, wood floors, big balconies... wow. I dreamily placed my furniture, hung drapes and picture frames, invited friends for bbq's, took long baths (which I rarely do but in that huge tub who could resist), curled up on the couch, made dinners, unpacked everything and woke up stretching in the morning sun in my brand new bedroom. Oh, how I want this.
Now that I have the best friends a girl could ever ask for, a family that isn't quite right but is alright, a passion for doing all things passionate, and a true desire to live as authentically as possible, isn't it about time my availability-luck changes? Yeah, I thought so too.
*** UPDATE ***
So I didn't get this condo... I got one that is far more me, a beautiful space that I can't wait to stretch out in knowing it is mine. All mine.
Sometimes we need to sit back and realize things aren't meant to be because we are meant for something better.
Monday, April 09, 2007
Friday, April 06, 2007
Starting over, again, but this time in Egyptian cotton sheets.
Since I started this blog with 'sans hot pink sheets' and ended it in 600 thread count Egyptian cotton ones, one would think I got out unscathed or even better off. Not exactly, on both counts.
There it is, the numb feeling that accompanies a break up. The bizarre and somehow programmed headshake as you're suddenly jolted into thinking "What the fuck happened?" The breath that threatens to hold itself in until your lungs start to shake with primal need. The relentless questions that flood the mind of; what was my fault, what was his, will it always be this way, will I always hurt, will I forever be alone, am I, can I forgive, can I go back, if I go back will it be different... it is never different. Ever. It's the nightmare that keeps you alert midday, it's in the sideways look he gives you and you wonder yet again, is this it? This is it, isn't it. It's happening. And there we are, single again.
The end of a relationship always brings the necessary autopsy and leaves you wondering, what exactly was my part in all of this? I could play the blame-game and say it was all his fault, but the fact is there are three sides to every story - mine, his, and the Truth.
Here's how the report would read.
Visible signs of injury? Not to the naked or even most scientifically trained eye
Forced entry? Nope. A completely willing participant
Toxicology report? Plenty, though none induced from food, drink, or chemical sources
Cause of death? Under investigation
So again, what was my part in all of this anyway? I approach new love with reckless abandon accepting that I can get hurt at any time. I am a true believer in Happily Ever After and know that it comes with hard work, dedication, compassion and trust. Though it's not so easy to trust someone with your heart is it? To trust it won't be obliterated it in actions or with words. To believe that you can believe, safely. Like bike riding, I think I need a love-helmet.
There are millions of reasons for breakups none of which make perfect sense when your heart is trying to heal. You rationalize, beg, crave, miss, despise, romanticize, resent, and hope against hope that someone will change, grow, mature, love the way you love, and want the same things. You remember all the times you spooned, cooked, forked, and giggled. You seem to keep an entire Encyclopedia Britannica on the things you loved and wished you could go back and live in just those moments. The moments that were just 'us.' Life doesn't go that way.
There is victory in pain, in knowing we can and will move on. In seeing the Truth for what it was with all your warts and scars. All your baggage you hope to unpack with someone else one day. One day but not today. For now, I will revel here among my baggage, loving it because it is mine, going through it and keeping what serves me and leaving the rest. Living one day at a time in my Egyptian cotton sheets.
There it is, the numb feeling that accompanies a break up. The bizarre and somehow programmed headshake as you're suddenly jolted into thinking "What the fuck happened?" The breath that threatens to hold itself in until your lungs start to shake with primal need. The relentless questions that flood the mind of; what was my fault, what was his, will it always be this way, will I always hurt, will I forever be alone, am I, can I forgive, can I go back, if I go back will it be different... it is never different. Ever. It's the nightmare that keeps you alert midday, it's in the sideways look he gives you and you wonder yet again, is this it? This is it, isn't it. It's happening. And there we are, single again.
The end of a relationship always brings the necessary autopsy and leaves you wondering, what exactly was my part in all of this? I could play the blame-game and say it was all his fault, but the fact is there are three sides to every story - mine, his, and the Truth.
Here's how the report would read.
Visible signs of injury? Not to the naked or even most scientifically trained eye
Forced entry? Nope. A completely willing participant
Toxicology report? Plenty, though none induced from food, drink, or chemical sources
Cause of death? Under investigation
So again, what was my part in all of this anyway? I approach new love with reckless abandon accepting that I can get hurt at any time. I am a true believer in Happily Ever After and know that it comes with hard work, dedication, compassion and trust. Though it's not so easy to trust someone with your heart is it? To trust it won't be obliterated it in actions or with words. To believe that you can believe, safely. Like bike riding, I think I need a love-helmet.
There are millions of reasons for breakups none of which make perfect sense when your heart is trying to heal. You rationalize, beg, crave, miss, despise, romanticize, resent, and hope against hope that someone will change, grow, mature, love the way you love, and want the same things. You remember all the times you spooned, cooked, forked, and giggled. You seem to keep an entire Encyclopedia Britannica on the things you loved and wished you could go back and live in just those moments. The moments that were just 'us.' Life doesn't go that way.
There is victory in pain, in knowing we can and will move on. In seeing the Truth for what it was with all your warts and scars. All your baggage you hope to unpack with someone else one day. One day but not today. For now, I will revel here among my baggage, loving it because it is mine, going through it and keeping what serves me and leaving the rest. Living one day at a time in my Egyptian cotton sheets.
Friday, January 19, 2007
Me-date up-date
It was just the two of us that night, me and the symphony.
Parking right down the street from the Notre Dame Basilica in Old Montreal was easy when you get there over two hours early. I was right in front of a little Italian restaurant I heard rave reviews about so it was my first stop. I parked, paid the attendant and proudly walked towards the restaurant, cell phone in hand. I dropped it. You know flip phones right? Well, it was open. The two parts completely separated from one another and the only words I could muster was "oh fek." This was going to be a true me-date since I'd have to spend the evening totally alone, completely disconnected and couldn't text a soul. My out from my me-date was gone. You know those girlfriends you can count on to call a half hour into the date and dream up a crisis in the event you need to get the hell out?! Yeah. I shook my head and actually giggled to myself the entire walk into the restaurant.
Greeted by the hostess I requested a table for one. She led me to my brightly lit non-romantic table among a bunch of couples and proceeded to remove the second place setting at my table. The looks I got can't even be put into words. I think I got a few "you poor thing, eating alllll aloooone" looks but I didn't care. Part of me had an ego soo big thinking none of them would ever have the courage to do it so I sat. Again, proudly. Ordering a glass of wine, rib steak and escargots was incredibly satisfying. I had arrived. I didn't need that call from a friend, I was perfect company and felt like I was present, in the moment and loving every minute of it. That is, until I felt a repetitive tapping on my shoulder. I looked up to see a waiter not even looking in my direction trying to settle a PEPPERMILL onto my shoulder!!! Seems there was a shelf right behind me and that's where it lived and should have been returned to. Instead, he kept feeling around blindly sensing the thing was going to tip over but never actually bothered to look! I had to say "uhh, excuse me?!" Can you imagine!? He thought I was a shelf! Barely apologetic he left and I thought I would need more wine.
Sip sip sip.
I glanced around trying not to stare at the couples around me, most of which weren't even speaking to one another. Huge sense of relief, I'm having all kinds of conversations in my own head (which wasn't weird at all) and you know what, I'm a pretty good date. After all, I have no strange tics, have all my own teeth, I'm funny, charming, great table manners and have excellent taste in food.
I will confess, I did bring a distraction into the restaurant... a vacation planning magazine filled with pages and pages of all-inclusive resorts. I dreamed as I ate and drank and I couldn't tell what the couples around me were thinking. I didn't care. I finished my last bite, enjoyed the last mouthful of wine and walked to the Symphony.
I sat on a bench wide enough for four but it was only me. And, it was only me for quite a while since the other ticket holders were late. I got more looks there than the restaurant. Again, I didn't care. I was soo proud of myself that I could go to an event in my hometown and not feel out of place being in my place, alone.
Listening to the amazing Kent Nagano conduct the Montreal Symphony Orchestra was magical. But the icing on the cake was sharing the memory with only me on the ride home.
Parking right down the street from the Notre Dame Basilica in Old Montreal was easy when you get there over two hours early. I was right in front of a little Italian restaurant I heard rave reviews about so it was my first stop. I parked, paid the attendant and proudly walked towards the restaurant, cell phone in hand. I dropped it. You know flip phones right? Well, it was open. The two parts completely separated from one another and the only words I could muster was "oh fek." This was going to be a true me-date since I'd have to spend the evening totally alone, completely disconnected and couldn't text a soul. My out from my me-date was gone. You know those girlfriends you can count on to call a half hour into the date and dream up a crisis in the event you need to get the hell out?! Yeah. I shook my head and actually giggled to myself the entire walk into the restaurant.
Greeted by the hostess I requested a table for one. She led me to my brightly lit non-romantic table among a bunch of couples and proceeded to remove the second place setting at my table. The looks I got can't even be put into words. I think I got a few "you poor thing, eating alllll aloooone" looks but I didn't care. Part of me had an ego soo big thinking none of them would ever have the courage to do it so I sat. Again, proudly. Ordering a glass of wine, rib steak and escargots was incredibly satisfying. I had arrived. I didn't need that call from a friend, I was perfect company and felt like I was present, in the moment and loving every minute of it. That is, until I felt a repetitive tapping on my shoulder. I looked up to see a waiter not even looking in my direction trying to settle a PEPPERMILL onto my shoulder!!! Seems there was a shelf right behind me and that's where it lived and should have been returned to. Instead, he kept feeling around blindly sensing the thing was going to tip over but never actually bothered to look! I had to say "uhh, excuse me?!" Can you imagine!? He thought I was a shelf! Barely apologetic he left and I thought I would need more wine.
Sip sip sip.
I glanced around trying not to stare at the couples around me, most of which weren't even speaking to one another. Huge sense of relief, I'm having all kinds of conversations in my own head (which wasn't weird at all) and you know what, I'm a pretty good date. After all, I have no strange tics, have all my own teeth, I'm funny, charming, great table manners and have excellent taste in food.
I will confess, I did bring a distraction into the restaurant... a vacation planning magazine filled with pages and pages of all-inclusive resorts. I dreamed as I ate and drank and I couldn't tell what the couples around me were thinking. I didn't care. I finished my last bite, enjoyed the last mouthful of wine and walked to the Symphony.
I sat on a bench wide enough for four but it was only me. And, it was only me for quite a while since the other ticket holders were late. I got more looks there than the restaurant. Again, I didn't care. I was soo proud of myself that I could go to an event in my hometown and not feel out of place being in my place, alone.
Listening to the amazing Kent Nagano conduct the Montreal Symphony Orchestra was magical. But the icing on the cake was sharing the memory with only me on the ride home.
Friday, December 15, 2006
Practical: mindful of the results
Wouldn't it be nice to dance through life never thinking of the inevitables of the day to day. To live in a world full of waterlillies, butterflies and rainbows. Where all love is perfect and everything clicks into place without a thought or intention. That it all just happens.
I don't live there, nor do I wish to.
I read a comment on a blog that got me thinking a thousand things so I'll try to be as coherent as possible.
The search for that special someone isn't as simple as dreaming them up. It isn't a picture perfect person for each of us. We need to be practical in asking ourselves questions like; what do I want? What can I accept? Does he/she need a certain sense of humour? Do they have to have an education? There are millions of criteria, either apparent or silent that go into choosing a mate. Magical love isn't the only one. It is a necessary process to think through a possible relationship before getting into it. It is necessary to decline one based on your deal breakers too. It's a sign of maturity and knowing that love alone is not enough.
Practical doesn't mean getting away from romance. It's knowing that you know yourself enough to make the best decision for you and your heart.
I don't live there, nor do I wish to.
I read a comment on a blog that got me thinking a thousand things so I'll try to be as coherent as possible.
The search for that special someone isn't as simple as dreaming them up. It isn't a picture perfect person for each of us. We need to be practical in asking ourselves questions like; what do I want? What can I accept? Does he/she need a certain sense of humour? Do they have to have an education? There are millions of criteria, either apparent or silent that go into choosing a mate. Magical love isn't the only one. It is a necessary process to think through a possible relationship before getting into it. It is necessary to decline one based on your deal breakers too. It's a sign of maturity and knowing that love alone is not enough.
Practical doesn't mean getting away from romance. It's knowing that you know yourself enough to make the best decision for you and your heart.
Thursday, December 14, 2006
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
1 missed call
Why is she calling? Is she ok? Did something happen with so-and-so? Did they talk about it? Will it work out? Is it over? Is it blissful? Is it happening? Did plans change? Are you coming with me tomorrow? It's ok if you're not. It's going to be just him and I anyway, everyone else cancelled. I won't need a buffer. We'll be great. I got a raise. You did too. I inspired someone today and I didn't even say a word. I have plans.
I had all these things to say and I missed her call. Purpose of this rant that makes no sense to any of you - this is a snapshot of what goes on in my brain when I see someone has called and I've missed them. I think of all the things I want to tell them then don't end up speaking to them at all. My friends wouldn't likely appreciate a four minute one-sided conversation message so I leave it at "Hey, it's me, call me back. Bye." Meanwhile, between the Hey and Bye are a few questions, some statements, but always, always an "I love you friend." I just realized as I was writing that sentence that THAT right there is the purpose of this post. I know I don't tell you I love you as often as I could so there it is. To those of you who know it, take it. To those who are new here, I have some for you too.
Wow, total mush... I know. It happens. Shan, remember the Purolator woman? Yeah.
I had all these things to say and I missed her call. Purpose of this rant that makes no sense to any of you - this is a snapshot of what goes on in my brain when I see someone has called and I've missed them. I think of all the things I want to tell them then don't end up speaking to them at all. My friends wouldn't likely appreciate a four minute one-sided conversation message so I leave it at "Hey, it's me, call me back. Bye." Meanwhile, between the Hey and Bye are a few questions, some statements, but always, always an "I love you friend." I just realized as I was writing that sentence that THAT right there is the purpose of this post. I know I don't tell you I love you as often as I could so there it is. To those of you who know it, take it. To those who are new here, I have some for you too.
Wow, total mush... I know. It happens. Shan, remember the Purolator woman? Yeah.
Monday, December 11, 2006
Canada Day... plus a hundred and some odd days.
I love love love love this picture!!! Shan, you are stunning.
Ex Files
I finally developed two rolls of film that I had been too lazy to take in. Knowing some of my pictures would be from the fabulous vacation I took this year and one ex. I was anxious for the former... in the sentence, not lover. So excitedly I get back to my car, rip open the envelope and there is the summer-fling-ex, right on top. Of the pile. Sighing, I shift past those of him curled up on my couch attempting to look sexy and irresistible.
I flip to pictures of our Canada Day party at Shannon's - which I'm attempting to post with no luck. All smiling faces we're drinking and having an amazing party. I giggle remembering what Booger said to me as he poured shots all over the counter and how he almost set the curtains on fire then BAM!... a snapshot of me and the Big Ex. There we are in, I have to say, one of the best pictures of us ever taken. I felt sick. Instead of sinking into it I dialed the only person I knew who would understand. I love that she answered. Despite it being more than six months since the Big Breakup she listened and empathized. "I know exactly how that feels" were the perfect string of words I needed to hear.
Every now and again the universe throws something at me, almost as if to say "Are you ready for this?" (who here is humming that 80's dance track?). Sigh. I wasn't ready to see him and he has occupied some of my thoughts of the last 36 hours, though mostly focusing on the reasons we aren't together. Far too many times I would pine over what could have been. This time it wasn't, and I know that now.
I flip to pictures of our Canada Day party at Shannon's - which I'm attempting to post with no luck. All smiling faces we're drinking and having an amazing party. I giggle remembering what Booger said to me as he poured shots all over the counter and how he almost set the curtains on fire then BAM!... a snapshot of me and the Big Ex. There we are in, I have to say, one of the best pictures of us ever taken. I felt sick. Instead of sinking into it I dialed the only person I knew who would understand. I love that she answered. Despite it being more than six months since the Big Breakup she listened and empathized. "I know exactly how that feels" were the perfect string of words I needed to hear.
Every now and again the universe throws something at me, almost as if to say "Are you ready for this?" (who here is humming that 80's dance track?). Sigh. I wasn't ready to see him and he has occupied some of my thoughts of the last 36 hours, though mostly focusing on the reasons we aren't together. Far too many times I would pine over what could have been. This time it wasn't, and I know that now.
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Thanks ICS delivery guy!
You ever have those days where you've thrown your hair up in a clip too lazy to blow dry? You have thrown on clothes that are too early in the wardrobe rotation because you're too tired to iron? Then you schlep your way into the office feeling not too rested but just ok?
Today is one of those for me except getting into the elevator the ICS delivery guy said such a wonderful thing to me and it made my day. Ever since then I have been walking on cloud nine.
How great is it that when people say genuinely kind things, or give us a little smile that it could change the whole outlook of our day. I wonder how my day would have turned out if someone had flipped me the mighty bird on the way in. See what a difference a word makes!
Share a smile people... telling someone they have a natural beauty works too.
Today is one of those for me except getting into the elevator the ICS delivery guy said such a wonderful thing to me and it made my day. Ever since then I have been walking on cloud nine.
How great is it that when people say genuinely kind things, or give us a little smile that it could change the whole outlook of our day. I wonder how my day would have turned out if someone had flipped me the mighty bird on the way in. See what a difference a word makes!
Share a smile people... telling someone they have a natural beauty works too.
Monday, December 04, 2006
From the archives.... edited and still relevant
Turning thirty was a shock. Not in the way you might think… it was as if someone turned on a light switch and suddenly everything was clear, everything made perfect sense. Well, almost everything. I am going to die. We all are and it is my mortality and that of those around me that I am most concerned with. This life is our only chance to make anything of ourselves, to have a life as full as possible. Full, like most other things, is relative. For some, working at a corner store, making enough just to have food on the table and perhaps go out on a Friday night to play bingo is full. Not for me. I crave, and for the most part have, a life full of passion, fulfillment and purpose. I try to do as much good as possible but really – how is selling advertising fulfilling my purpose? I suppose I’m as afraid of life as I am of death. I wish I could freeze frame all the great moments or hit pause while I’m trying to make a decision so I don’t lose a moment of it.
I’m afraid of wasting time. I’m afraid of investing so much and it not being enough. I'm afraid of not knowing my direction. I’m afraid of having my heart broken again. Feeling a hurt that you can never put into words but is soo tangible you swear you could take a bite out of it.
The more I live the more I die and that fact is one that I have spent hours pondering and have shed tears over. It’s so short. I know the true living moments are in those frames when you’re making key choices, it’s all a journey, one day at a time, blah blah blah… I get it. I really do but in my heart I’m petrified. Right now I’m in the midst of growth that breaks me and enlightens me all at the same time. Maybe I’m not really afraid of life – just life right now.
I’m afraid of wasting time. I’m afraid of investing so much and it not being enough. I'm afraid of not knowing my direction. I’m afraid of having my heart broken again. Feeling a hurt that you can never put into words but is soo tangible you swear you could take a bite out of it.
The more I live the more I die and that fact is one that I have spent hours pondering and have shed tears over. It’s so short. I know the true living moments are in those frames when you’re making key choices, it’s all a journey, one day at a time, blah blah blah… I get it. I really do but in my heart I’m petrified. Right now I’m in the midst of growth that breaks me and enlightens me all at the same time. Maybe I’m not really afraid of life – just life right now.
Sunday, December 03, 2006
A full week of me-date
For the last few months I have been consumed with the idea of going on vacation alone. I thought Prague, maybe Asia, perhaps even Iceland but I could never make the decision enough to sit and plan it out. I guess it didn't feel right.
If I go to the Czech Republic, Thailand or Iceland I want to share it with someone. The experience, the memories, and frankly, the hotel bill. It's expensive if you're traveling and don't want to sleep in a hostels small room with 11 other people. I wouldn't get any sleep thinking buddy beside me was rummaging through my back pack looking for floss or tube socks. See, I want to hold hands on the Charles Bridge, kiss in a hot spring in Reykjavik and rent a two-man scooter and dodge the rickshaw drivers in Chiang Mai.
When I go away alone I'm going to an all-inclusive. I know, I know, I always said I hated those places blabbering that they were a waste of time and money. That was before I knew that silence and serenity were actually good for me. Besides, they have day trips in Antigua, Punta Cana, the Mayan Riviera to see and explore! Some places have 16th century villages, others have Mayan ruins dating from 250 - 900 ad. I don't know which one I'll choose yet but I think a last minute deal in March sounds like a recipe for bliss.
Imagine it, the very last minute I book time off and hop a plane to who-knows-where. And so I wait. Weeeee.......
If I go to the Czech Republic, Thailand or Iceland I want to share it with someone. The experience, the memories, and frankly, the hotel bill. It's expensive if you're traveling and don't want to sleep in a hostels small room with 11 other people. I wouldn't get any sleep thinking buddy beside me was rummaging through my back pack looking for floss or tube socks. See, I want to hold hands on the Charles Bridge, kiss in a hot spring in Reykjavik and rent a two-man scooter and dodge the rickshaw drivers in Chiang Mai.
When I go away alone I'm going to an all-inclusive. I know, I know, I always said I hated those places blabbering that they were a waste of time and money. That was before I knew that silence and serenity were actually good for me. Besides, they have day trips in Antigua, Punta Cana, the Mayan Riviera to see and explore! Some places have 16th century villages, others have Mayan ruins dating from 250 - 900 ad. I don't know which one I'll choose yet but I think a last minute deal in March sounds like a recipe for bliss.
Imagine it, the very last minute I book time off and hop a plane to who-knows-where. And so I wait. Weeeee.......
Push vs. pull...
As children we were all told 'no, you can't have that' at one time or another. If you grew up in my house it was a clear sign that the object was desirable and worth crawling through tiny Lego pieces on your knees for. Yeah, I had three brothers.
Things that repel me, things that hurt, things and people that push me away, general unavailability continue to be attractive qualities... until now. I figure I've done that long enough. Right in front of me I have something really good pulling me in... and I'm letting it.
Things that repel me, things that hurt, things and people that push me away, general unavailability continue to be attractive qualities... until now. I figure I've done that long enough. Right in front of me I have something really good pulling me in... and I'm letting it.
Thursday, November 23, 2006
I have a date!
After careful consideration of all options, things to do in and around the city, I have finally decided where to take myself. I'm going to the symphony.
Clicking my mouse I checked off the highest price ticket for the best seat for the Montreal Symphony Orchestra Holiday show.
Cost per ticket: $61.00
Number of tickets: click arrow up to 1 please.
Check out.
There's a really terrific feeling associated with not wanting or needing to take anyone anywhere. There doesn't have to be fake laughs, sitting next to someone who may not be enjoying the show, awkward moments when your knees touch, feeling like you have to entertain the other person like you're in an episode of Romper Room, or the inevitable uncomfortable first kiss (although those are really great sometimes aren't they...).
I figure I'll take myself out to dinner. Enjoy a really good glass of wine, stroll over to the venue and sit myself down among hand-holding couples, families, silver anniversary achievers and feel great about being on a date with the one and only me.
Clicking my mouse I checked off the highest price ticket for the best seat for the Montreal Symphony Orchestra Holiday show.
Cost per ticket: $61.00
Number of tickets: click arrow up to 1 please.
Check out.
There's a really terrific feeling associated with not wanting or needing to take anyone anywhere. There doesn't have to be fake laughs, sitting next to someone who may not be enjoying the show, awkward moments when your knees touch, feeling like you have to entertain the other person like you're in an episode of Romper Room, or the inevitable uncomfortable first kiss (although those are really great sometimes aren't they...).
I figure I'll take myself out to dinner. Enjoy a really good glass of wine, stroll over to the venue and sit myself down among hand-holding couples, families, silver anniversary achievers and feel great about being on a date with the one and only me.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
I cried over spilt milk
Waking at 4am to my fever breaking and the feeling of shards of glass in my throat wasn't my ideal mid-sleep happening. I fell back to sleep every other half hour and waking each time I needed to swallow. My neck feels like I've been clotheslined by a UFC Champion and my hair hurt when I got into the shower. I hate being sick. I still have a fever.
Whenever I'm sick I am always still hungry. I know, that's weird but anyway, I needed to eat breakfast and take my vitamins so I poured myself a bowl of Special K which I think gets soggy in record time just to piss me off. I mean, I love the stuff but it sogs up like a sponge. I usually eat it pretty quickly. So here I am walking into my bathroom to get my vitamins and sploosh - cereal goes pouring all over my counter, down the front and all over the floor splashing up onto my feet. Shitshitshit. Do I really need this today? Like really. Now I have a decision to make - considering the sog-factor, do I clean it up right now or grab my vitamins and leave it until I'm done? Hating a mess I cleaned it up... quickly. Feeling quite proud of myself that my cereal hasn't reached unbearable sog yet I walk over to the couch where I take my usual seat and watch Canada AM. Sitting down I poured another quarter of my cereal into my lap, all over my pyjama bottoms and onto the couch which dripped slowly onto the floor. Shitty McShitShit shit! I get up to get the coolness of the milk away from my bottom and I dump cereal all over my coffee table and carpet. Tears have formed in my eyes. I'm swearing every mother f-ing thing I can think of. I see milk dripping off the side of my table onto the floor and I scream $%@# it! I take off my pyjama bottoms with my one free hand and stand bare-bummed wearing nothing but a tank top eating my breakfast watching the news.
I love my life.
Whenever I'm sick I am always still hungry. I know, that's weird but anyway, I needed to eat breakfast and take my vitamins so I poured myself a bowl of Special K which I think gets soggy in record time just to piss me off. I mean, I love the stuff but it sogs up like a sponge. I usually eat it pretty quickly. So here I am walking into my bathroom to get my vitamins and sploosh - cereal goes pouring all over my counter, down the front and all over the floor splashing up onto my feet. Shitshitshit. Do I really need this today? Like really. Now I have a decision to make - considering the sog-factor, do I clean it up right now or grab my vitamins and leave it until I'm done? Hating a mess I cleaned it up... quickly. Feeling quite proud of myself that my cereal hasn't reached unbearable sog yet I walk over to the couch where I take my usual seat and watch Canada AM. Sitting down I poured another quarter of my cereal into my lap, all over my pyjama bottoms and onto the couch which dripped slowly onto the floor. Shitty McShitShit shit! I get up to get the coolness of the milk away from my bottom and I dump cereal all over my coffee table and carpet. Tears have formed in my eyes. I'm swearing every mother f-ing thing I can think of. I see milk dripping off the side of my table onto the floor and I scream $%@# it! I take off my pyjama bottoms with my one free hand and stand bare-bummed wearing nothing but a tank top eating my breakfast watching the news.
I love my life.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Drop Zone continued... or not.
Ok, so I've stopped falling and I made it. Weeeee....... Although, I've caught something terrible which has given me swollen glands (not the good kinds) and a fever - which may explain the rest of this post but we'll see. I figure writing under the influence of heat fighting off bacteria is better than drooling on my keyboard through a Nyquil haze so here we go.
Starting out a new relationship we're all gung-ho right? Making our esthetics appointments, extra grooming, endless emails back and forth, texts, all trying to express the ultimate joy you feel when you're with someone. Your heart skips beats and you feel "ohhh, this time is different. Now I really know what I want and I want what I know. I enjoy this person. We get along sooo well. We're like two puzzle pieces..." Click. The pieces come together and so it begins.
I'm usually the one who leaves pretty much everything all out on the table - or so the saying goes. I hide nothing, expose everything, and still think this is a good idea. I believe it's a mature way to start out a relationship when you're in your 30's. That, and the quick qualification round.
Have kids? Want any? Smoke? Addicted? Live in this city? Yeah, I have geographicus faraway isbetteris. GFI. The further you are the more I'm attracted to you but whatever... this isn't about that. So, how well do you groom? Clean home? Dirty fingernails? Play an instrument? Are you generous to your community? Are you angry? Do you drive? Yeah, that's another important one, if you live 800km's away you best have a license. And a car. That is operational. That isn't your mothers. Speaking of which, do you live with your mom? Cuz that, my friend, is the most non-sexy thing going. Well, that and back hair.
The whole process, well, it's almost like those monkeys that pick bugs off each other eh? Wait, does that come later in the relationship? I think so. Ok, so then it's like the Newlywed Game (commitment-phobes look away and breathe into the bag) where if all the answers match then they should be together. I wish I had a quiz. I wish I had a crystal ball to tell me when someone would hit Release.
Oh, found my point... *thanks for your patience by the way*
...if you're still reading...
There I was in a relationship that we both thought was incredible, passionate, enlightening, growing even after a very short period of time. Things were moving along so well. We laughed, we talked, we cooked, we kissed for hours, we touched all the time, we were being us. The real us. And click. The sound of the puzzle pieces separating themselves from each other and my half went plummeting down the Drop Zone. I didn't even know I had a ticket to get on the thing. I thought I was going to be in the "It's a small world" ride like the one in Florida. It's a smooth boat ride through happy villages with dancing people and smiling faces. Now I just want to beat those happy bastards with an oar. Not really. Ok, maybe half of me does knowing they're made out of resin.
Point being, I didn't expect the Drop Zone otherwise I would have gotten out of the cue. I'm afraid of hypothetical heights. Although, even with that fear I don't think it's the fall that got me - I think it's that no one was at the bottom to catch me.
Starting out a new relationship we're all gung-ho right? Making our esthetics appointments, extra grooming, endless emails back and forth, texts, all trying to express the ultimate joy you feel when you're with someone. Your heart skips beats and you feel "ohhh, this time is different. Now I really know what I want and I want what I know. I enjoy this person. We get along sooo well. We're like two puzzle pieces..." Click. The pieces come together and so it begins.
I'm usually the one who leaves pretty much everything all out on the table - or so the saying goes. I hide nothing, expose everything, and still think this is a good idea. I believe it's a mature way to start out a relationship when you're in your 30's. That, and the quick qualification round.
Have kids? Want any? Smoke? Addicted? Live in this city? Yeah, I have geographicus faraway isbetteris. GFI. The further you are the more I'm attracted to you but whatever... this isn't about that. So, how well do you groom? Clean home? Dirty fingernails? Play an instrument? Are you generous to your community? Are you angry? Do you drive? Yeah, that's another important one, if you live 800km's away you best have a license. And a car. That is operational. That isn't your mothers. Speaking of which, do you live with your mom? Cuz that, my friend, is the most non-sexy thing going. Well, that and back hair.
The whole process, well, it's almost like those monkeys that pick bugs off each other eh? Wait, does that come later in the relationship? I think so. Ok, so then it's like the Newlywed Game (commitment-phobes look away and breathe into the bag) where if all the answers match then they should be together. I wish I had a quiz. I wish I had a crystal ball to tell me when someone would hit Release.
Oh, found my point... *thanks for your patience by the way*
...if you're still reading...
There I was in a relationship that we both thought was incredible, passionate, enlightening, growing even after a very short period of time. Things were moving along so well. We laughed, we talked, we cooked, we kissed for hours, we touched all the time, we were being us. The real us. And click. The sound of the puzzle pieces separating themselves from each other and my half went plummeting down the Drop Zone. I didn't even know I had a ticket to get on the thing. I thought I was going to be in the "It's a small world" ride like the one in Florida. It's a smooth boat ride through happy villages with dancing people and smiling faces. Now I just want to beat those happy bastards with an oar. Not really. Ok, maybe half of me does knowing they're made out of resin.
Point being, I didn't expect the Drop Zone otherwise I would have gotten out of the cue. I'm afraid of hypothetical heights. Although, even with that fear I don't think it's the fall that got me - I think it's that no one was at the bottom to catch me.
Stop the ride, I want to get off.
I wish life was more like a calm wave pool that we could wade in for hours, days, weeks, accepting the tiny jostles that come our way.
Today I find myself strapped into the Drop Zone tower at 780 feet and someone just hit the Release button. Shit.
...to be continued...
Today I find myself strapped into the Drop Zone tower at 780 feet and someone just hit the Release button. Shit.
...to be continued...
Friday, November 10, 2006
Star light star bright...
Reading My so-called love life's blog where she shared some of her dreams and asked us to do the same if we were so inclined. I guess I never thought of putting pen to paper and making a top ten list. So, here goes in no particular order...
1. Travel Eastern Europe, Prague specifically
2. Have a conversation with my sisters
3. Learn to let go
4. Work for a non-profit organization
5. Visit Chiang Mai, Thailand
6. Play the violin, well
...wow, this is tougher than I thought...
7. Build a home with someone I love, having children ties into this too
8. Invent a board game
9. Publish my book
10. Finish this list... Check!
And, like My so-called asked, what are yours?
1. Travel Eastern Europe, Prague specifically
2. Have a conversation with my sisters
3. Learn to let go
4. Work for a non-profit organization
5. Visit Chiang Mai, Thailand
6. Play the violin, well
...wow, this is tougher than I thought...
7. Build a home with someone I love, having children ties into this too
8. Invent a board game
9. Publish my book
10. Finish this list... Check!
And, like My so-called asked, what are yours?
Get by with a little help from my friends...
You know, there is really nothing better than having lunch with a friend who always leaves you feeling better than before.
As I'm walking towards him in the parking lot he exclaims, "wow, you're looking great!"
Knowing I've been working out and on a new skin care regime I proudly say "Thanks friend!" and smile while cocking my head sideways.
Talk over burgers and fries includes how he loves, absolutely loves his new job, then moves onto his love life, the lack of mine and general rules of how to be and not to be in a relationship.
"How'd you get soo hooked up over this guy in just a month?" he asks about my recent break up. Since we only have an hour for lunch and we've already filled the first twenty minutes with how-are-you's I sing him the "dating is different in your 30's" theme song. Oddly enough, being that he's been a relationship for the last eight years he understood every lyric. Sex in the City fan perhaps? Didn't ask.
Sidebar: I'll compose the lyrics one day, likely in the form of poetry but if I wrote it today it would either come out like a "Hit the road Jack" ditty or a rip off of Whitney's "I will always love you" - who by the way is looking really great since getting off the crack.
... Aaaanyway, point of this was to share how amazing my friends are. I don't know how they know but whenever I need a pick-me-up they are right there...
If anyone's got some dating rules for the 30 somethings I'd love to hear 'em!
As I'm walking towards him in the parking lot he exclaims, "wow, you're looking great!"
Knowing I've been working out and on a new skin care regime I proudly say "Thanks friend!" and smile while cocking my head sideways.
Talk over burgers and fries includes how he loves, absolutely loves his new job, then moves onto his love life, the lack of mine and general rules of how to be and not to be in a relationship.
"How'd you get soo hooked up over this guy in just a month?" he asks about my recent break up. Since we only have an hour for lunch and we've already filled the first twenty minutes with how-are-you's I sing him the "dating is different in your 30's" theme song. Oddly enough, being that he's been a relationship for the last eight years he understood every lyric. Sex in the City fan perhaps? Didn't ask.
Sidebar: I'll compose the lyrics one day, likely in the form of poetry but if I wrote it today it would either come out like a "Hit the road Jack" ditty or a rip off of Whitney's "I will always love you" - who by the way is looking really great since getting off the crack.
... Aaaanyway, point of this was to share how amazing my friends are. I don't know how they know but whenever I need a pick-me-up they are right there...
If anyone's got some dating rules for the 30 somethings I'd love to hear 'em!
Thursday, November 09, 2006
Livin' on the edge
So I've been watching a lot of Miami Ink lately, you know that show on TLC which features a tattoo shop... well, I've been wondering whether or not I want a tattoo. I see people who are getting symbols to live by, people to get over - or under, love to let go of, pet to hold on to, or simply a piece of art they can admire and have admired. I'm really not sure what kind of permanent message I would have inked onto my person. Since it's there for life it's not an easy decision.
From watching the show I've learned responsible tattooing is an art form, not something I understood before. It's wearable creativity. But, unlike a painting on your wall, you can't stuff in it your hall closet when you get sick of looking at it (which is probably a good argument for placement on your ass or back), nor can you pass it along to anyone after your death. It holds no commercial value on the market yet is of priceless value to you. How cool.
So I've been thinking, what would I get? Tough call. I see people getting fairies, tool boxes, skateboards, lips, dog faces, bubbles, flowers, religious symbolism, Asian characters, In Memoriams... I don't know if I am committed to an idea or image enough to have it inked on my body.
...sigh...
I think I'll know it when I see it. Maybe by then I won't want it. I guess for now, instead of getting a ridiculous arm band, Daffy Duck, candy cane, or my name in case I forget spelled in Japanese backwards tattooed across my back I'll hold off.
You know, I think I'm too much of a chicken anyway. I like to believe I could have this Zen-like message violently stained on me by a machine designed to prick me 54,912 times in the same freakin' spot. I like to believe that one day I'll know what that message is! Truth be known, I will have that message figured out one day but more than likely will have it on a post-it taped to my monitor.
From watching the show I've learned responsible tattooing is an art form, not something I understood before. It's wearable creativity. But, unlike a painting on your wall, you can't stuff in it your hall closet when you get sick of looking at it (which is probably a good argument for placement on your ass or back), nor can you pass it along to anyone after your death. It holds no commercial value on the market yet is of priceless value to you. How cool.
So I've been thinking, what would I get? Tough call. I see people getting fairies, tool boxes, skateboards, lips, dog faces, bubbles, flowers, religious symbolism, Asian characters, In Memoriams... I don't know if I am committed to an idea or image enough to have it inked on my body.
...sigh...
I think I'll know it when I see it. Maybe by then I won't want it. I guess for now, instead of getting a ridiculous arm band, Daffy Duck, candy cane, or my name in case I forget spelled in Japanese backwards tattooed across my back I'll hold off.
You know, I think I'm too much of a chicken anyway. I like to believe I could have this Zen-like message violently stained on me by a machine designed to prick me 54,912 times in the same freakin' spot. I like to believe that one day I'll know what that message is! Truth be known, I will have that message figured out one day but more than likely will have it on a post-it taped to my monitor.
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