Sunday, July 26, 2009
And then I woke up this morning with no recollection of how I got to bed or when my last post had been.
I undertook Blogathon as a writing challenge - pushing out that many posts was not difficult, and I am sure the final couple would have been dribble, but whatevs.
No, I shouldn't have been drinking all of those beers during the day, but it was sooo hot.
So, I put my best foot forward and didn't succeed.
I suck. I know.
I may have the greatest bed in the world. It is like a cloud, fluffy and big and just so great. It sorta sucks you in and doesn’t let go.
You never want to leave it. I never do. Sometimes I actually don’t leave it.
The first time I realized HOW much I love my bed was when I got back from NYC. After two months of sleeping on a freaking twin-sized dorm bed for two months, I dove into my bed and went to heaven. I can’t imagine how I survived without it.
Eve loves my bed. She used to sleep over in university just because of my bed.
I wish I was in my bed right now.
No seriously. I am fucking tired.
I am talking a weekend at most, but still, it is amazing.
Sitting around, being on the computer, ignoring phone calls and texts you just don't care to see ... well, I wouldn't give it up for anything.
I come off as being social, but I am definitely not.
In reality, I am a loner nerd that would rather be alone than talk to people.
After all, people are stupid. Well, the majority of them are.
Sorry, happy thoughts.
There are times when I talk to no one other than my mom and interact with no one beyond my place of work and the bus.
To sit, for a little while, with no noise, well, I think I covered that in an earlier post.
I dunno, there is something about going all .. off the grid for a weekend - even though it's not really off the grid.
There was nothing that could distract me from the task at hand - other than TV
Now, thanks to the interwebs, I have adult onset ADD. And it is kinda awesome.
I sit at a computer everyday and I get to find things, random things that have no relevance to the task at hand.
It is awesome.
I mean, I sit there, working, and wham-o, I get a thought, I Google it and my thought has turned into 20 minutes of useless information.
I can't lie, sometimes I hate it - not being able to focus. It hurts my professional life, that's for sure.
But the thing is, I know just so much random shit, it's silly.
So is this post.
Is anyone out there? I would rather be sleeping right now.
Also, I'm a wee bit tipsy.
Um, hello case in point.
In reality, I don't really care for it. I am more a savoury girl than a sweet one.
But holy fuck is Ben & Jerry's Half Baked good!
With an amazing combination of brownie and cookie dough chunks. Chocolate mixes with vanilla and everything seems right in the ice cream world.
Seriously, how could anything be better?
I highly doubt it. And I am not baked at all.
Next up, Harp and BD. VERY excited. I have already been arranging their trip. I am lame. I know.
So far, almost everyone has come out for a visit.
Smelly, the dude I thought would never show, has come a few times now. Thank goodness for OH&S conferences in Vancouver!
See, these people that visit, they can make any place home. Transform my sad little apartment into a place I want to be, rather than a place I have to be.
I get to play tourist with them and see what Vancouver has to offer - beyond the water taxi.
This is probably a bit weird, but one of the big reasons I took my apartment was because it is so close to the beach. I thought ... this would be lovely for visitors.
And it is. No doubt about it.
So, who's up next? September is looking might lonely.
Before then, I would take vacations whenever. Couple days here, couple days there. Whatevs.
But now, with a slight two weeks vacation days a year, I save and anticipate vacation days like a fat kid waits for cookies.
They are a necessary part of working - escaping and such.
I wish I had more ... hint hint ... but will survive until I get the three week bump.
fuck am I excited for that!
China opened my eyes to the excitement vacations can cause. Vegas made is very clear, that China was not the exception, but the rule. Even one day off can get a girl soooo excited.
I can't wait for my October trip. I have yet to book my flight, but already, I am eagerly anticipating two weeks away from my cube.
What month are we in?
That was until this summer.
Thanks to Josh, I made it to a Beach Club on a random Sunday and thought, "What the fuck am I doing living in Vancouver if I am not enjoying the fucking beaches!?"
So, since then, I have become a beach addict.
Almost every day after work, I am there. If it is sunny on a Saturday, I am there. I have a really great base tan now and am totally ready for what the rest of summer may bring.
Seriously, people who live in Vancouver - if you don't go to the beach on the regular, move to Regina!
The beach is easily the best part of this city. I don't go in the water, because that is kinda gross, but I do lay there, smoke and enjoy the heat.
Sometimes, I also drink in public.
That makes everything better.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
If you haven't get your ass down to Vancouver and I will take you.
It is easily my favorite drive ever.
The first time I was on it, P3 and I were heading to Whistler. I mentioned to him that I would have liked Vancouver a lot more the first time had he brought me down that highway.
Imagine going from mountain tops to sea level! There are mountains on one side, and then ocean on the other.
No, for reals. It is so freaking great. Easily my favorite drive of all time. Better than the one from Edmo to Calgary or the drive from anywhere to anywhere.
I say that with 100% confidence.
It's true, I am not particularly cultural. In my defense, neither are my parents. It's not like I was all ... I reject my culture, blah blah blah.
Rather, I just followed suit.
They didn't run around the house wearing saris or constantly cooking Indian food. Mom's best meals are the always the ones she asks her white friends for.
But, the one thing my mom does, soooo well, is Indian breads. Namely chapatis.
They are also called rotis for some people - I don't know why they have different names, but they do. Harp, can you explain?
They used to be regular occurences in my life. Mom would make them and I would devour them.
Now, they are few and far between.
I can make them too - they are one of the few items I can cook that actually comes out tasting the same as when she does them - but for me, they still taste better when she makes them.
Plain, with cheese, with a saucy goodness, I swear, chapatis could solve the world's problems.
Well, at least mine.
Greatest game ever.
Jarod and Steve first introduced me to it. Then I put it in front of Craig and P3.
Then the summer of 2007 was set.
I would come home from work and these two nerds would be sitting there with Catan set-up ready to go.
Talk about awesome-sauce.
I get really competitive, although some people think I am all talk and no action.
See the thing about Catan, is that my trash talk and smart mouth are actually natural by-products of the game.
What is the point of the game, you wonder? There are rules that can explain that to you, but for me, the point of the game is to stop everyone else from winning until you have a shot at winning.
The game changes with every new set-up and it is so good.
I only wish I knew anyone in Vancouver that would be happy coming over on a Friday night, spending some time withe some friends and playing Catan until the wee hours.
That would be so perfect.
And I would probably marry them.
I could drive for hours, with no real destination. There is something about it that is both calming and enjoyable.
After a break-up with a boyfriend, I drove from Edmonton to Calgary with no real point of it.
It helps me soothe my head, and helps me move past the problem I was facing to a place that I am just singing and smoking in my car.
I have always had really fuel-efficient cars, so at least I'm not driving an Escalade everywhere.
The thing about driving is that it is you against the road.
I know its fucked up, but I quite like driving in inclement weather. There is something about getting through a storm that makes you feel so ... solid as a driver.
Yes, I am a dirty polluting driving loving hick.
I get it, I live in Vancouver. I don't hate it anymore, so whatever.
But, regardless of where I live, Edmonton will always be my home.
For me, there is nothing like landing in Edmonton. I just feel like I am home.
Regardless of where I stay or who I see or if I even get to see anyone, Edmonton is and always will be, home.
The thing about this city that I love is the small town vibe of it.
Sure Edmonton has its drawbacks - the urban sprawl and reliance on cars comes to mind - but all-in-all, I think it is the best city in the freaking province.
I will never understand why Calgary gets all the love. Just because they are almost close to the mountains?
Proximity to beauty does not inherently make you beautiful - FYI.
I don't think I could explain what I love about the city, and granted, so much of it is tied to the people that are still here (see nickname post, most of those nicknames have Edmonton addresses)
One of the things is that Edmonton has the friendliest people ever. I will never understand why it is so hard for Vancouverites to smile at other human beings.
I loved Edmo even when I was in NYC. And we all know how much I loved NYC - if that couldn't get me to stop missing my Northern Alberta outpost, nothing will.
There were some skirts or capris, but they were few and far between.
But now, thanks to climbing, I am actually proud of my legs.
They aren't the best legs, but I think they are pretty fucking good. They go on for days and finally have a little definition between the calf and the knee - it's awesome!
So, to commemorate my new found self-esteem, I am living this summer in short shorts. Sometimes, I wear them with high heels, but only if I'm feeling especially saucy.
Like in Vegas.
P3 hated his more than anything I think. He would comment on how mean I was for making up these nicknames and never consulting the person about them.
He would ask: "Did Paul ask to be called Smelly?"
No, but it stuck, so now he has to accept it. I mean, my mom even calls him Smelly.
None of the nicknames I use have a mean connotation to them - they all come from love, I promise.
Yes, even Chunk.
I don't come up with names for everyone - I mean, that would just be excessive, but if I can think of something easier to call you, I will.
I think it all boils down to laziness.
So fucking awesome.
Imagine it. I would walk to the beach, about 20 minutes from work, sitting on the beach, smoking and catching a little boat ride home.
I once saw a sea otter as I was waiting for the water taxi - how cute are those? I try to pressure people to take the water taxi, because it is just so much better than the bus or a taxi, or even a full walk.
Vancouver, that is one thing that you have that Edmonton never will. Water taxis.
Although a little water taxi ride across the North Saskatchewan would be lovely - and so much better than walking across the High Level.
I get a busy head, don't sleep for a couple of days, and its fucked up.
So, when I do get sleep, I treasure it.
I hate that I have sleep issues. I hate that I am able to function on very little sleep. I hate that people can't really tell when I am on zero sleep, other than me telling them.
I wish that 8 hours of sleep was the standard for me, but it isn't.
When I get a weekend to sleep in, nothing pisses me off more than being woken-up. NOTHING.
My mother continues to think that calls on a Saturday before 9AM are acceptable. Eve the same.
At no time, I repeat no time, are calls before 9AM on a weekend acceptable.
They are actually quite rude.
Unless I'm already awake, then I have probably already called you.
They are just so fucking cute!
Everything about them - I see JT and I get all giggly, I see George and I melt, Chuck gets me all ... hot and bothered, and no man will be as funny as Dave.
I love those boys, they give me hope that through all the losers I meet, one of them may have enough similar qualities to the boys on that list.
Talk about a lost cause.
They are all just so cute. And perfect in my head. If only these things would actually happen.
I don't think they will. sigh.
Well, maybe one day I will meet a boy with the soul of Justin, the smile of George, the humour of Dave, the swagger of Chuck and the all-American nature of Ben.
If you know anyone, you know where to find me.
I especially love live music. There are few ways to spend money better. You often get a great set, incredible energy and well, a bit of awesomeness.
Thankfully, I have found people in Vancouver that like music as much as I do. It's easy to drag them out and bop along with me.
I worry that I won't stay hip with my music, that when I am 35 I am going to still be listening to the same music I am today.
I want to grow. I don't want to be like my parents thinking, what the fuck are you listening to? I want to be in the know of great music.
Like Lis' parents. She takes her parents to Coldplay, and Beck and interesting music.
My parents on the other hand listen to talk radio and have no idea who Beck or Coldplay are.
Please let me stay cool. PLEASE
Ally's 30th birthday.
I wasn't going to write about individual friends, because, well, that would take a really long time, and these posts kinda have to be about efficiency a little.
But, I didn't get her a present, so here it is.
For my Cookie Monster.
Ally and I met when I was 13 years old. We weren't friends instantly, she was really cool and I was 13 and in grade 10 - hello nerd.
We became acquintances in grade 11. We had crushes on boys that were friends, so there was a common bond.
The second half of grade 11 was tough for both of us, for different reasons, and we became even closer.
In grade 12 we became the best of friends. Or in some ways frenemies. We loved each other dearly, but would torment each other endlessly. She is a lot smaller than I am, so I would use my intimidating (to her) stature and abuse it.
I still kinda do.
We had a bit of a break just before she went and while she was in Taiwan.
Then, while I was at work one day, I was Googling people from my past, and Googled her.
There I found a lengthy article about her jewelery designs and a recent fashion show she hosted in Taipei.
An email was sent to find out that Ally had returned. She was in Edmonton at this very moment and would love to go for drinks tonight.
I manically started calling Smelly - to act as a parachute. We all went to high school together and well, that is enough in common to keep three people form being bored.
It wasn't as bad as I had expected.
Then, it was like our break had never happened and that life was as it was supposed to be. Ally and I were together.
We haven't had another break since. Thank fucking god. I couldn't deal with it now. Fuck. It would kill me.
I credit Ally (and my mom)with giving me any of the warm, mushiness I have in me.
We can do nothing and everything together and it is totally comfortable.
After knowing Ally for 15 years, she is more like my family than anything else.
I feel really bad for not getting her a gift, so she gets a post. And right now, a lengthy post is worth a lot. I don't think I have many more words in me.
Best hangover food.
Best roadtrip food.
Best, I'm feeling blue and need a quick pick-me up food.
Best late-night drunk food.
Just so good.
Josh referred to his drunk, latenight McDonald's run as 'pulling an Iris'. For a while in his relationship, Jarod blamed me for him eating McDonald's - when he was always the one who suggested it.
I don't necessarily love eating it with other people, for fear that they will judge me. But I do love eating it nonetheless.
I have been known to spend full days in my bathrobe - obviously not when I leave the house - but I have done it, many times, happily.
You see, I have a whole thing around showers. I like them hot. I like them long. I just really like them. The doors have to be closed the entire time, so that when I step out of the shower, the bathroom retains heat of my overly hot shower.
They have to be terry cloth and full-length. None of those Devon Banks-type
For me, the bathrobe is a staple - kinda like shampoo or soap. It's contagious too. Apparently Harp uses them now too.
Maybe there is a whole revolution coming because of bathrobes.
Is there a length limit for these? Because if there is, I may not make it on all the posts. FYI.
But dancing fucking rocks.
You burn off energy, you get to move your body and you get to just forget that other people are around.
There is nothing like good music and some shaking the ass. But totally not in a sexy way. I can't dance in a sexy way. I just sorta Elaine-it through the dancefloor and kick people out of my way.
But whatever - it is just so much fun.
When I get super busy at work, and I go go go for a while, my treat, always, is to get silly drunk and dance my ass off.
It's the perfect little treat.
Well, not very far, but far enough so that they are in a different area code. I would say at least 85% of my inner circle, lives away from me.
Woe is me.
When I got my long distance plan, the biggest thing was that I needed was early evenings and unlimited long distance.
Everyone told me that I didn't need the early evenings. Yeah right.
The second I am done work, I am on the phone doing something. I need early evenings.
But the unlimited long distance, well, it makes life so easy. I never have to worry about where I'm calling or how long I am chatting with the person on the other end.
Hearing that person's voice on the other end and knowing that, in reality, they aren't that far away, well, it is very comforting.
Oh, I also love love love talking on the phone while smoking. It makes smoking the way I like it - social.
I quite like alcoholic beverages.
One of my favorite things about my office is that we do Friday cocktails. We all sit around and have cocktails and it is just a lovely way to end the week.
Beer is one of my favorite things in the world. On a hot summer day, after work, in the dead of winter, it doesn't matter - beer is great.
I'm not an alcoholic, not even close. I don't really drink to get drunk that often anymore - maybe I'm growing up? - and I never really have booze in my house.
That doesn't mean that I don't enjoy it.
Favorite beers: Whistler Export Lager, Red Stripe and Czechvar
Hard Alcohol: Vodka (preferably Belvedere and Gin (preferably Bombay)
Do you think any of the above alcohol companies would be interested in sending me samples of their yummy beverages?
sigh. Booze is expensive
I actually curse like a sailor - much to my mother's dismay.
I get that it isn't ladylike or whatever, but cursing helps release a little bit of frustration.
And the thing is, these are just words people.
This may be the most ridiculous post - yet - but I really like swearing. I love that my office tolerates me swearing, that my friends swear just as much as I do, and that if you don't like the swearing, you don't have to hang out with me or hear it - and I am kinda ok with that.
I have a few things that I am very open about when I start dating a boy - swearing and smoking - because I understand how offensive both things can be to people. But swearing is one of those things I don't ever see changing about me.
It's just been too long. Swearing is a part of who I am.
If not, you come off rude. Which I often do.
I was on a date with a law student once and he said to me, 'Your sarcasm isn't very good. You can't even tell that you're being sarcastic.'
Um, isn't that the point?!
I knew then that I thought this guy was an idiot.
How can sarcasm not make you happy? It has that je ne sais quoi that is difficult to put into words. Obviously.
I once read this lame joke t-shirt that said "I'm not mean, you're just stupid."
I feel like in a lot of ways that sums up my being.
Holy, this one was a little ... scattered.
This shit is hard. 48 posts. What am I on and already I am rambling?
Fuck. This is going to be a long day.
No seriously, ask anyone who knows me, they'll tell you.
There are few things I like more than quiet. Turning off my phone and sitting alone and not talking for a day or two.
This often leads to me being a big loner for a while. Which I am ok with.
I feel like I don't get quiet often enough - not even just verbal quiet but quieting my thoughts and the busy-head that I suffer from.
And I mean suffer.
I have gone days without talking to anyone - except my mom, because she doesn't really count. She would freak out if I didn't talk to her for a couple of days. I know she would.
The days I go without talking to people are just lovely. I feel rejuvenated and relaxed, ready to face my world again.
My desire for quiet is also one of the reasons I doubt I will ever find a mate - when I want quiet, I seriously just want no-one around me.
You see, these quiet moments have become a requirement for my mental health. They force me to slow down a little and chill the-fuck-out.
I feel like I could use a little quiet time right now, but that isn't going to happen for a while.
But I shall persevere. Don't worry about me!
Because I do.
Everything about that time of my life made me happy. And the memories still do.
But I am a little ... scared of NYC now.
Not, like scared but, something.
You see, I worry that if I ever visit NYC again, I will never leave. The energy would be too much and I will succumb.
I just know it.
I would end up quitting my job, moving there on a whim and becoming a life-long waitress. (not that there's anything wrong with that, it's just I'm a little too ... obsessive to be a waitress. I also really hate people)
But still, NYC makes me soo fucking happy. Even just knowing it is there, should I ever wish to visit or anything, comforts me.
Like a toxic ex-boyfriend though, I know, it would not be a good thing for me to visit him right now. Or for a little while.
I have things I need to finish before I can trade my life in for my fantasy life.
Sure there are days I want to kill myself because of my job, but day in and day out, I am happy to go to work.
There are certain ... things about my job that make me love it so. Here is a list and brief description of them (could that sound any more formal!?). These are in no particular order:
• Because we are a small office, I get the chance to work on things someone at my level wouldn't touch at a big agency. I would be relegated to media lists and event grunt work. But at my job, I get to help write strategies, and give my input and have them actually be incorporated in things. It's pretty fucking cool.
• I have been really fortunate to be able to carve out my own little niche for myself. During my review I told my boss I had an interest in social media and bam! I get to do social media. I have been able to push myself - sometimes further than I thought I could handle - and see what I am made of.
• It is a sink or swim environment. If you're dumb, you won't make it. As much as I love my bosses, they are intolerant of stupidity and inefficiency. But so am I, so whatevs.
• Sooo flexible. When my mom went in for her surgery, I was able to take some time off and then work from home for the rest of the week, and home being Edmonton. So many other companies would give you the minimum and tell you to suck it up.
• My coworkers fucking rock. And for the most part, they always have. There have been some rough patches, one instance comes to mind, but she didn't last with us for very long. But all-in-all, my coworkers have been amazing.
Ok, so I'll shut up now. I am not trying to be a kiss ass or anything, but my job actually does make me really happy and well, I get how annoying that is for people.
I love walking - it gives you a wee bit of exercise, but also gives you some quiet time to collect your thoughts and move through them efficiently.
Walking became a part of my routine in Edmonton. I would enjoy a little time with some friends, and walk walk walk.
When I was in NYC, walking, well, it was an adventure. Something new every day - a new building, a new park, a new pizza place, a new everything. I really think - the best way to see a city is to walk it. You'll get a whole new perspective.
Tangent: Which is one of the reasons I couldn't do LA. So not a walking city. Ew.
I returned from NYC without a car and was forced to walk - I love Edmonton, but Edmonton transit leaves a lot to be desired. So long as it was -5 or warmer, a walkin' I would go.
Then, I couldn't really walk anymore. It was difficult and embarrassing and I didn't want to leave my house. Sia dragged me out and walking was back.
I now appreciate walking so much more though.
And now my walks include a little beach time, a water taxi ride and still, some friends.
I had no idea I liked writing. I remember applying for the PR program at MacEwan and wondering - why do I have to be a good writer?
I get now, why I had to be. All I do most of the time is write - press releases, strats, media plans, yada yada yada.
But that isn't the reason I love writing. I love writing here and for my personal benefit. Sitting down, at a computer and putting your thoughts down is cathartic and so much cheaper than therapy!
I don't think I am the best writer in the world, and I kinda don't care. I just really like writing.
And I am so thankful for it. My memory isn't the best, so writing has provided me with vivid recollections of things I would normally forget. It has helped me express thoughts that I cannot do verbally.
Yes, I am emotionally fucked up. Shut it.
I grew up not really understanding that there was this kind of outlet, but here it is. Thank goodness. My friends would get really annoyed with me otherwise.
But I’m not.
So I am forced to deal with the drama that boys cause.
But they are so cute!
I don’t date a lot, which is depressing at times, but a god-sent at others. These boys, they take up a lot of energy.
Is he going to call? Did he get that joke at dinner? Why didn’t he try to kiss me? Is he going to hate the fact that I smoke? What if I really like this guy?
But those butterflies you get when you see them or talk to them or touch them. Those butterflies make everything worth it.
All of the fucking drama and obsessing and wanting to become a lesbian is all made worthwhile when a boy you like, likes you too.
Sofa king awesome.
But I sure do now.
I freaking love the internet. I wonder all the time, what did we do before it. Everything else would be so inefficient. Anything you want to know, at the tip of your fingers, instantaneously. Like magic.
You meet someone, you Google them and you can find out so much about them. It makes pseudo-stalking so freaking easy it hurts – and don’t get me started on Facebook.
I remember being on the internet one night when I was 17 and my connection was obviously dial-up and a boy rang me. He left me a message and then stopped by to drop off something. When get got to my house he asked me – your phone was busy, don’t you have call-waiting? I told him that I was on the internet and he asked, “what’s the internet?”
Can you imagine a time when someone didn't know what the internet was?!
The internet has kept me close to people I would be lost without. It has given me an outlet for my insanity. It has kept me entertained and informed.
I do, however, blame the internet for my adult-onset ADD.
I’m amazed it has kept my attention this long.
Anytime I have had a bad day, or am feeling sick, Swiss Chalet makes it all better.
I don’t try anything other than the basics – chicken and ribs. I don’t care about anything else. I will always get fries with that, and extra Chalet sauce (the nectar of the gods btw).
A boy and I were going on a date once and he was taking me to the cheesiest resto ever and as I was complaining to my friend about it, she said “You are in no position to judge, you love Swiss Chalet”
Apparently, Swiss Chalet is a little trashy or something.
What is that about? How can something that good, be anything but awesome? I don’t understand.
Boys, if you are out there, you want to get in my pants? Take me to Swiss Chalet – I’ll totally put out then.
Ok, well really, that depends on where we are in the relationship, but still. It would win them a lot of brownie points.
I was incredibly nervous the first time I met Sia. P3 had talked about her and I knew how much he loved her and well, I was aware that if she didn’t like me, he wouldn’t like me for much longer.
The first time I met her, she barked a couple of times and warmed up to me almost right away – and I know now that rarely happens.
She is a little damaged, but so amazing. She is this brown colour that is so rich and warm. She has the best smell in the world and the softest fur. When you sleep with her she lets you cuddle her and sometimes, if it is not too hot, she’ll let you fully spoon her. She never eats off your plate, although she will go in for a sniff. She doesn’t bark or cry to go outside, but will wake you up gently if needed. She’s a drippy puppy and can’t keep the water in her bowl. And she hides under the bed when you aren’t there.
I used to sing to her when we went for our walks. People who had the unfortunate experience of hearing thought I was fucking crazy, but whatever. She would be a naughty puppy when I would walk her and be on the phone. She doesn’t like leashes, but doesn’t really need one. I would get comments all the time about what a well-behaved dog I had.
We got married once. P3 got so irritated, but I asked her for her paw, she gave it to me and we were married.
I miss her everyday.
I have mentioned how she is the one that got me out and walking when I didn’t think I could. When P3 and I broke up, she would sit with me while I cried. Her head rubs could melt even the coldest of hearts (and kinda did with me).
Rest assured, I know how fucked up it is that I am still in love with my ex’s dog, but I really am.
I just can’t help but miss her. And our walks. And everything.
Stupid men. Ruining a perfectly good marriage.
But I wasn’t.
I was a decent swimmer. I was really good at the breaststroke (insert obvious joke here).
But I remember the first time P3 took me climbing, I was totally amazed by it.
I wasn’t super good at it, but that sense of accomplishment when I finished my first route, well that kind of exhilaration was awesome.
So I went a few more times, I bought some gear and I thought, I could totally do this a few times a month.
I had no idea it would become a multiple-times-a-week things.
I haven’t been that committed to anything before.
You see, the thing about it is, I have a really busy head. I find it hard to just stop. Stop my mind from running and turn everything off. But when I’m climbing, well, it’s the only time in my day that my mind is fully focused on the task in front of me.
My adult-onset ADD doesn’t take over and everything thing in me is focused. And if it isn’t, well, I fall. And that sucks.
I have been climbing outside, but I kinda only trusted P3 enough to climb outdoors with. I mean, I am putting my life in someone else’s hands, I have to trust them 100% right? I did love it though.
And it gave me an excuse to get to Squamish, which is always nice.
They are great, I love them, blah blah blah.
But here’s the thing – the people I surround myself with don’t feel like just my friends. These people have become my family.
Sure some of them are third cousins, once removed, that I only talk to once and a while, but they are still people that I can share anything with (well, almost) and they don’t judge me.
I am very particular about most things in my life (except the boys I date) and my friends are no exception. I refuse to like people too quickly – I have been burned by that before – but I am willing to dislike people really quickly.
But seriously, I have had a really great core group of people in my life for a very long time, and it feels like with every year, that group expands. Just when I thought I was done making friends, I went and made some more.
It’s like magic.
Well, actually, it’s a lot of work. There is a lot of time spent on the phone or texting or emailing or whatever.
But in the end, I guess it’s actually worth it.
I had refused to get a cell phone for many years. Up until New York, I was cell phone free and happily so.
I came back to Edmonton and I returned to my cell phone-free state. And happily so.
Then Vancouver happened. That’s when I needed a cell phone.
I loved it, walking, talking, yada yada yada. But I didn’t want a Blackberry.
I knew what would happen if I got one. I would never put it down. Why would you? Email, phone, internet, all in one place.
And it did. It happened. Just like I thought it would. I got one and now, it has become my right hand. I take it everywhere. I wake up next to it. It’s the first thing I check in the morning.
And the messenger feature – HELLO! How fucking awesome is that? Uber-Twitter rocks my world (thanks Josh).
He’s beautiful, my Blackberry and I love him.
That was over a year ago.
There are many more now.
I don’t know what it is exactly, but shoes, to me, are an addiction. I know many women who feel this way, but holy shit am I out of control.
I have expensive shoes – one pair of Manolos, one pair of Choos. I have inexpensive shoes – Payless is an incredible source for affordable, but cute shoes. I have shoes by designers I have never heard of before. But all of my shoes, I feel, have been a steal of a deal.
Oh, you want proof now?
Manolos and Choos were each under $125, thanks to an online consignment store. I once bought a pair of lime green Prada wedge sandals for $25 at DSW. Century 21 gave me great deals on two pairs of Dolce & Gabbanas and a pair of Cynthia Rowley. I also have many (so many) Payless, street market and other discount shoe types in my closet. (I just don’t love them as much)
I couldn’t imagine trying to pick a favorite – they are like my children.
My dad was disgusted when I put up a shoe museum in my living room. A bookshelf full of shoes – the perfect display for my little pieces of art.
Now, I want to go shopping.
What can I say about my mom – she is pretty fucking awesome.
I have said this before, but she is my best friend, biggest fan and most fervent champion. Anytime I need anything – hell, even want anything – she is there.
And I know how co-dependent I am on her. There are certain undeniable truths in the world, and that is one of them.
She is even accepting of my friend’s idiosyncrasies – from waking up at 5am on New Years and helping make pancakes, to keeping Eve company when I was working, and accepting Jarod stealing our duvet – she just giggles a little and shrugs it off.
The last one is a true story – he stole it, wrapped it up and lugged it around NYC on New Years Eve. heh.
We have very little in common, other than shopping. She doesn’t get sarcasm, and therefore, doesn’t always get how funny I am. Oh the weird looks I have gotten over the years.
But still, she is the best mom anyone could ask for.
I tease her endlessly – from her faux accent to her pigment – and I think she loves every second of it.
I had never been freaked out like I was when she had her bypass surgery – the thought of this world, my world, without her, well it left me almost paralysed with fear.
Thankfully she is fine, but fuck was that nerve wracking.
She doesn’t drink or smoke, I got those bad habits from dad, but she is always willing to buy a bottle of wine to keep me sedated – ciggies, not so much, but maybe eventually.
Ok, I doubt that, but whatever, I get it.
Anyways, there you have it, my mom.
In a very short little post, because she is a short little lady.
Please let this serve as a warning. I make no claims that this blog will create any kind of social change. Really, it is a narcissistic outlet for my thoughts, and a pseudo-diary for interesting moments in my life.
But, I have this habit of signing up for random things and just have to run with it.
So, run I shall.
I have heard comments recently about how I sound angry when reading my posts. How my expressions are a tad bitter.
Well, I am not really an angry bitter person. I laugh too much to be that.
Yes, I am jaded. There is no denying that.
To counter these criticisms - hopefully forever - Blogathon 2009 will be 47 posts on what makes me happy. Things, people, feelings of why I like my life and what makes me happy.
This was just a warm up - I have to let the coffee kick in a bit first.
Please note: to ensure there are no repeats, and to make my writing a bit easier at the ridiculous hours, I have pre-planned my list.
I am not winging this. That would be
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
I have learned to deal with it, my family has learned to deal with it, and well, you kinda have to too.
So, this year, I am putting my geekiness to the test - Blogathon 2009
WTF you may be asking. Well, if you were too lazy to click on the link, Blogathon is a 24-hour blogging - athon. For a 24-hour period, I have committed to writing one post per half an hour.
Yes, you read that right, there will be 48 blog posts up on this here blog in a short 24 hours.
I am doing this in support of the MS Society of Canada. Should you feel so inclined, you can sponsor me here.
You'll have to sign-up for an account and then decide if you want to pledge per hour or just a lump some.
So, there you have it. Give your money to a good cause.
Oh, FYI, the first couple of posts may be incoherent. I am in Edmo this weekend for Cookie Monster's 30th birthday!
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
But, the cool thing is, I haven't been writing, not because I haven't had anything to write about, but because there has been so much going on, I haven't had time to write!
The biggest of these was baby bump.
So, I hate event planning. The details details details, all for a few magical hours? Where the fuck is your return.
Anyways, thank god for Lis, because, well, this wouldn't have gone off as well as it did without her. I think she is a little magical and that's ok.
All-in-all the thing was a success. We had over 200 people through the doors and everyone, from the vendors to the customers seemed really happy with the whole thing. So that's cool.
Lis and I both made it out unscathed. Stressful, yes, but to see something that we thought of, and executed come together. Well, that was fucking cool.
Was it perfect? No. But it exceeded our expectations, and that's all it needed to do.
Plus, dad thought we did well, so I'm ok with it.
Also, it proved what an amazing support system we have. To have that big of a volunteer pool was pretty awesome. I can't imagine how we got so lucky, but here we are. Fucking lucky.
And I think I may have the best mom in the whole world. Just FYI.
Sunday, July 05, 2009
One of my dearest and bestest friends, Eve, came to Vancouver for a little viz.
I'll go into the visit later - we had a blast, as per usual.
At one point, Eve said, "Do you remember your sixth grade birthday party ..."
Eve and I, NYC 2007
I paused to appreciate the fact that I still have someone in my life (who isn't related to me) that can say that.
Afterwards, we called my mom and told her our confessions of 12 year old rebellion.
We're both grounded.