Reality Check

I like to think of myself as a fairly grounded person. Yes, I'm flighty and flaky and totally spastic, but underneath all of that, I try not to get genuinely excited for much. I kinda like balance, and have come to expect excitement to be followed by disappointment.

It's just the way it goes.

Today I got my hopes up. Today, I thought there was something that would ... alleviate most of my worries.

Today, I was sorely disappointed.

Reminder to self: Stay grounded in reality - for stability's sake.

I've been found out, so now I'll never explore

A couple of months ago I heard about The XX through Miss Parlour and, well, I kinda thought they kicked ass.

When I bought their cd, I knew, they did kick ass. That cd is seriously, easily, one of the best I have heard this year, and, in case you haven't noticed, I have been listening to a lot of good music lately.

Sarin and I got tickets to their show the moment we found out they were coming - and this was months ago.

A few weeks ago, Lis bought a ticket and a flight to come out for the show.

This is how excited we all were for it. Seriously, the cd is ridic and if you don't love it, well, I think you might be stupid.

Anyways.

The show was tonight, and well ... it was lackluster.

First, the sound licked elephant balls.

Second, with an album as good as theirs, you forget that they are a relatively new band. That their shit isn't as tight as say, well, The YYYs shouldn't surprise us. I mean, he actually warned us about that.

But, as Miss Sarin stated, 'It felt like we were watching my buddy's band in high school."

They just weren't as ... perfect as I had hoped.

This doesn't mean their cd isn't brilliant or that they aren't headed for greatness, just that their first show in Vancouver left something to be desired.

I still heart The XX

Law of Inertia

I have always been the youngest in my family and amongst most of my friends, not to mention the eternal single girl. And I've always loved it - both positions allow for a certain degree of irresponsibility, which I bask in.

While I love being the youngest and love my single life, they are currently causing me to move away from my friends.

You see, most of my friends are all grown-up.

They have houses, and significant others, and children, and real grown-up worries.

I, on the other hand, am amassing frequent flyer miles, a lot of random stories, and pretty much standing still.

These people that have helped me grow are now grown. They have their own lives to worry about and comparatively, mine feels somewhat insignificant.

Not that they would ever make me feel like that. Never. They are too classy for that - and smarter because I would raise some serious hell.

But here I am, wandering through an insignificant existence. With nothing to show other than some fabulous shoes and a pretty decent wardrobe, there is actually nothing significant about my life - right now. God do I hope that this is a right now thing.

My biggest worry - this blog will be my only legacy. No kids. No great love. Nothing beyond a few unimportant words on the internet.

sigh.

As Sir Isaac Newton stated: A body persists in a state of rest or of uniform motion unless acted upon by an external force.

I need an external force. Something fierce.

Howdy Pardner!

Ok, so the second edition of baby bump is happening this week and I realized, I haven't really told you about baby bump or about my business partner, Lis.

Lis and I worked at the Crowne Plaza together. We were friends, mainly because her parents paid me and she wanted to be just like me.

So, Lis and I go WAY back.

Last winter I was in Edmo to visit my ma. Chunk and I went to Lis' for dinner, where we came up with the idea of a maternity consignment sale, over dinner and wine. Cool right?

Why am I involved in a maternity clothing consignment sale?

Well, because I think it's a really smart idea. Why the hell would you spend a ton of money on maternity clothes - you're only going to wear them for 8 months MAYBE. And then seriously, do you want to be reminded of how big you were when you're not prego anymore? I don't understand!

Anyways, I also kinda wanted to see an idea from idea to execution. You know, to see if a couple of trouble makers could make something useful.

Before I go any further, you gotta know how awesome Lis has been as a business partner. There have been very few bumps, the only one I can think of being when I was being cheap about a tagging gun. Yes, I'm retarded leotarded. Whatevs.

But Lis has been kick-ass awesome. She has let me run wild with the stuff I want to run wild with. I mean, I built a website in a weekend. Yes, I'm badass.

And here's another thing I dig about Lis:

Tonight, while we were prepping for a TV spot tomorrow, we spent a good chunk of the time laughing at ourselves and having fun. We get our shit done, but we get to have a gay old time while doing it - me likey.

She has been understanding of when my life is crazy and I can't concentrate on baby bump stuff, and pushes me when she knows I SHOULD be concentrating on it. We have been each other's reality checks, and a lovely support system.

After the last sale was over and we realized that we didn't bomb, we took our exhausted asses to the park by the condo and drank publicly. It was awesome.

It's kinda cool - she's a partner in crime AND in business.

Awesome right?

Picky. So what?

I have been single for a while now. And I'm totally ok with it. In fact, I think I'm better as a single - it's the only child in me. When P3 and I started dating, I said to a friend "this relationship stuff is hard, having to think of your life in relation to another human being."

It is. And to be willing to make that sacrifice, you have to really care about the other person.

Yes, sometimes I complain about being single - mainly because I miss falling asleep with someone or having standing weekend date - but it seems like every time I complain to one of my friends about my relationship status, they respond with "Well, you're too picky."

Are you ready for the rant, because here it comes.

When it comes to dating and relationships, there is no such thing as too picky.

I am picky about almost everything in my life. I am picky about what shoes I wear, my work, my friends, so why shouldn't I be picky about the men I date?

And I would understand if this pickiness problem was purely superficial. But it isn't.

In fact, while I sometimes quote a really superficial reason - zit on the back of a neck, lazy eye, bad shoes - they are not the real reason I'm not with the dude.

The real reason is that the chemistry wasn't there. They weren't funny enough, they weren't smart enough, they weren't ... something enough.

Yes, I am shallow, but I'm not that shallow - give me a little credit.

The thing that pisses me off about the 'picky' comment, is the people that are saying it to me.

They were picky. They were just lucky enough to find love early on. They didn't have to stumble through dating the way I have. They have no fucking clue how painful most of these dates actually are.

Don't I deserve to find the person that gives me butterflies, that makes me forget about their imperfections and focus how they are perfect ... for me.

And as my friend, why are you suggesting that I settle? Is it because you think there is fault in my single-state? Is it because you are hoping that if I'm dating someone, you won't get as many phone calls from me? Or is it because you just want me to shut the fuck up?

Whatever the reason, please stop. This is not a reason for me being single. If anything, it is an insult - I too deserve the sort of happiness you have found. I too deserve to find someone that makes me laugh, think and smile - the same as you.

And if you had been on some of the shitty dates I have, you would be picky too.

So, if you know a single person out there, give them a break. Picky is not a reason for their single state. The sucky state of dating probably is.

Rant o' the day

Let me preface this by saying: this has nothing to do with children. Or choosing to have children. Most of my family and friends have kids - most of which I love. In fact, I quite like kids.

This rant is for the assholes that bring their 8 month old to a packed movie theatre on a Tuesday night.

Kids are an inevitable part of life. I have to deal with them all the time, and I am able to smile and coo with the best of them. Like I mentioned, I quite like kids.

Children should not be a part of my movie-going experience. If you are bringing your children to the theatre, they should understand "SHHHH".

At the very least, they should be able to sit in a chair by themselves.

Because when they are too young, you are likely to ruin the movie for someone else.

Like me. Tonight.

First, you let your cute little girl play on the stairs.

Yes, the stairs. You were only three rows from the top and she was far enough away from you that a tumble was conceivable.

Second, while your cute little girl is playing on those stairs, please keep her away from my feet. Not only is it totally distracting, it is also a little scary - the last thing I need is a mother blaming me for their kid flying down the stairs.

Third, when your cute little girl crying, please remove her and you from my movie. There are matinees that cater to families. Please, go to those.

Thanks to this mom, and her crying baby, at a theater on a Tuesday night, I missed a seemingly important scene, was irritated and had to scold a mother - yes people, if you're child is bothering me, I will inform you.

And now, to top it all off, I am going to pay another $12 to see the movie because of this all.

Ugh.

Although, now, Tuesday movies are super cheap - $11.45 for a movie, popcorn and a drink.

What the what?!

Anyways, did I mention I actually like kids?

Niceties Ahead

This summer, The Peak (a local radio station) put on The Peak Performance Project. And while this would have probably gone unnoticed by me, Josh's band, The Painted Birds, were selected to participate in the contest. Therefore, I became very familiar with the whole thing.

The gist of it: 20 BC bands went for a week-long 'bootcamp' to sharpen their music-industry knowledge and skills. After the bootcamp, the bands perform and complete little tasks and are judged and rated. The public gets to vote for their favorite band, and the winner gets some ridiculous prize.

Tangent: Can we please stop using 'bootcamp' to describe every thing? Why is this the new buzz-word? Seriously?

Sorry.

Ok, first I want to say - I love this idea. That a radio station is interested in not only promoting, but actually cultivating locally grown talent is very cool. I don't know if this is a first, but it is the first time I have heard of something like this, and well, I think it is pretty fucking impressive.

So, where is all of this coming from?

Tonight, my friend Nikki and I went for some cheap, really cheap, Mexican and then to see The Painted Birds' perform for The Project. Bonus - it was free!

There was a difference in the band's performance. I had seen them perform last year, and they have improved. It was almost as if they were ... tighter or something. I don't know if this is because of the "bootcamp", or if they have just grown over the past year or if I was just sober this time.

I am crediting it mainly to the first, with a sprinkling of the second.

So, yay to The Peak. Yay to supporting local music. And yay to giving it to the public for free.

But boo to the word 'bootcamp'.

Folking Monsters

Tonight, I went to The Monsters of Folk.

I have to say, it was pretty freaking awesome.

I had listened to them before, but I was not expecting that show. They were a surprise like Wolf Parade and The Constantines were.

First - it was almost three hours of music. THREE HOURS OF MUSIC! No opening band, just these actual, monsters of folk making music.

If you don't know, Monsters of Folk is considered a 'super group' - if there wasn't a lamer term for it. The band consists of Jim James of My Morning Jacket, Conor Oberst and Mike Mogis of Bright Eyes and M. Ward.

All of the musicians in the group are great artists in their own right, and you can see it. The thing I loved though is that when they got on stage, there was little pretense, only music.

And really good music at that.

The tickets were a little more expensive than I am used to - but I still bought a concert tee, which shows you how good they really were.

And here is why I will never work for Rolling Stone: I loved the show, but I can't remember why. All I remember is having a smile on my face for most of it, and what can more can you ask for?

I do remember the song Dear God. The transition from Jim James to M. Ward was ... well, it was impressive.

And hello M. Ward. I wasn't sure who he really was when I went, but he blew me away. His voice, well, his voice is impressive - to say the least. In fact, in general, he was quite impressive.

As for Conor Oberst, well, there are few words. Bright Eyes is the creator of one of my favorite songs - First Day of My Life. I had hoped, after hearing the show was three hours, that Conor would make me pee my pants and perform the song. While he didn't, he did show me why my co-worker is taken with him.

So there you have it.

If you are lucky enough to have them show up in your city, do yourself a favour and pay the money to see them.

I promise, you won't be disappointed.

I and Love and You

Normally, I would find this pretentious or something ... a mission statement for an album. But not this time.

From The Avett Brothers album I and Love and You, as written by Seth Avett:


"The words 'I' and 'Love' and 'You' are the watermark of humanity. Strung together, they convey our deepest sense of humility, of power, of truth. It is our most common sentiment, even as the feeling of it is so infinitely uncommon: each to proclaim these three words with his or her own heart and mindset of reason (or lack thereof); a proclamation completely and perfectly new each time it is offered. Uttered daily and nightly by millions, the words are said in an unending array of circumstances: whispered to the newborn in a new mother's arms; shared between best friends on the playground; in the form of symptathy - said by a girl to a boy as the respect continues but the relationship does not. It is said too loudly by parents to embarrassed children in the company of their friends, and by grown children - to their fading parents in hospital beds. The words are thought in the company of the photograph and said in the company of the gravestone. It is how we end our phone calls and letters ... the words at the bottom of the page that trump all those above it, a way to gracefully finish a message, however important or trivial, with the most meaningful gift of all: the communication of love. And yet the words themselves have been the victims of triviality, a ready replacement for lesser salutations among near strangers, burst forth casually as 'love ya'. Truly? To what degree? Why, how much and for how long? These are questions befitting the stature of love, though not the everyday banter of vague acquaintance. The words have also been twisted by the dark nature of deceit; to 'I love you' with a dramatic measure of sythetic emotion; a snare set by those who prey upon fellow humanity, driven to whatever selfish end, to gain access to another's body, or their money, or their opportunity. In this realm, the proclamation is disgraced by one seeking to gain rather than give. In any case, and by whatever inspiration, these words are woven deeply into the fibers of our existence. Our longing to hear them from the right place is maddeningly and simultaneously our finest strength and our most gentle weakness. ...

We are powerful, yet weak, capable yet temporary. Inevitably, an attempt to place honesty within an artistic avenue will follow suit. This is a piece which shows us as we are: products of love surrounded by struggle. ...

Perhaps the inabilty to say these heaviest of words is as much a part of life as the lighthearted candor of those who say them without any difficulty at all. And so it ends with the phrase whispered to and by those of us most defeated and most elated ... I and love and you ..."

PS - the cd is pretty freaking good.

Wanderlust

The problem with vacations, even short ones, is that they get me all ... distracted.

I come home and well, it is the last place I want to be. I would rather be on the beach somewhere, or exploring some fantastic city, with some fantastic person.

But instead, I am here, typing away, wishing I was anywhere but here.

ANYWHERE.

This week, when I returned to work, for the first time in a while, I wished I was retired.

Tangent - why is retirement wasted on the old? I mean, I would have WAY more fun retired right now than any old person. Give me my CPP now, and I will start working again at 35 and slave away for the rest of my days. I don't care.

So, where am I wanderlusting to?

Paris.

There's a side-story you need for some context.

When I was 14, my dad took me to the UK with his family. His family and I have had, let's say a rocky relationship.

While we were there, we took the Chunnel to Calais, France. As he was in the cafe buying lunch, he realized that Paris was only a 45-minute train ride.

He came out of the cafe excited - and he never gets excited.

"Iris! Paris is only 45-minutes away. Let's go. You and me and Paris!"

I had never been more excited for anything - PARIS?! For reals?

Well, this idea was quickly shot down by his sister. Apparently this was a family trip, and a visit to Paris with just he and I did not qualify as a family trip.

Fuck that.

Paris was so close ... like Westlock close, and I didn't get to go.

*sob*

Recently, after many glasses of wine, my dad confessed one of his biggest regrets to me - not saying screw you to his family and taking me to Paris anyways.

This made me want the city even more. This city that was so close ... in my grasp almost, but so far away.

I haven't been back to Europe since and when I go again, it will be very different.

That is why I am thinking about skipping a family Christmas, because, well, they never go well, and heading to Europe.

What could be more lovely than spending a week in gay Paris in solitude? The city, me and who knows what.

sigh.

I think it might just be a pipe-dream though. My mother would kick my ass if I missed a holiday with her.

Although she did just have heart surgery - that might have slowed her down a little. I'm sure she doesn't pack the same punch she used to.