Wednesday, March 31, 2004
Is That A Girl In Your Pocket, Or Are You Trying To Shoplift A Large Inflatable Gun?
Am I still here? Damn, I thought I'd scared everyone away, or horrified Jen so much that she locked me out. Clearly I must try harder, or less hard. Which? Fortunately, I have absolutely nothing prepared, so I don't have to think about it. Instead I'll put my faith in doing the right thing instinctively, perhaps "more of your stupid shit" as one email correspondent's choice of words had it. It's a sin of omission to pull those words out of context, so let me elaborate by including the prefacing words of "I don't ever want to have to do any".Not that that email had anything to do with what I write, or at least I don't think so. It came, some three years ago, with the W32/Magistr@MM virus, which ripped random text from files found on the infected user's PC to supply the message text. For once, these were viral messages that were entertaining; not just the "OPEN THE ATTACHMENT" moronry that most of them are. In hindsight, I consider myself fortunate to have received so many of these odd little haikus from other people's hard drives. What was most intriguing about them was that I had some sort of connection with these people - I never knew who they actually were, since the email headers were spoofed - because my email address must have been in their address books.
It's probably unlikely that anyone actually received anything that they wished they hadn't (for example, information about themselves as others saw them) but I did experience a little discomfort over this unwitting exposure. A little thrill of discomfort, if I'm honest. Because, I'm not a snooper. I don't read other people's diaries, and wouldn't if I was stuck on a 12 hour flight to NoBookLand. No poking around in others Inboxes (oh, CALM DOWN, I'm not Frankie Howerd), reading mail meant for other people. I'd like to think that it's unnecessary to explain why this is the obvious stance to make, but some people are prurient. Patches, The Broken Dummy was uncommonly interested in the contents of my pockets, for example.
You get what you deserve, is the reason. If you read something that you weren't meant to read, then you deserve for it to be uncomplimentary about you, and for you to be sickened by it. Or, to quote Jeezers: "if thine eye be evil, thy whole body shall be full of darkness" although I don't think he meant it as a threat, rather more likely as a pious pontification. Just try emphasising the 'shall', though. Hey, talking of Jeezers reminds me, note to self (so don't read this, right?): invest in cats as soon as.
Ho, I have split the train of my thought all over the place... I'll deal with the pocket-pilfering of Patches, The Broken Dummy, first. Contrary to my abrasive fucking nature, I tolerate a lot. Maybe that's learned behaviour, because she took most liberties that I'm aware of; but still, none of them was really a deal-breaker for me. She never took anything from my pockets, she just looked to see if I was hiding other women or something in them. Of course, I never was, despite having a coat specially tailored for the purpose of concealing a mistress. Boy, was that a waste of money. Get a mistress first, then buy the coat, that's what I learned from that.
Anyway, I rather enjoyed knowing that she was always being disappointed by the fact that my pockets were so unincriminating. It crossed my mind to start leaving notes in there, saying things like "CAN'T THIS WEEK, I'M SURE SHE KNOWS", but I figured correctly that that would give her altogether too much satisfaction. She deserved only what she got, and no more. And so, it was enough for me that she had condemned herself to grubbing around in my privacy, because if that isn't soul-destroying, I don't know what is. Which makes me sound terribly vindictive; in which case, I suppose I was. Ain't marriage blissy?
So, I take a big dim view of That Sort Of Thing, and yet I was tickled by the virus messages. There's no real justification for that, I can't even argue that they were delivered to me, so all's fair and square, and it's all random and anonymous anyway... doesn't wash. I read them, and credit to me where I can desperately grab some, I read them post-modernly as technological oddities - at first. (And fucking hell, if that isn't the most dismal attempt at grabbing credit I've ever made - "I read them post-modernly". Is that even a word? Just underlines the fetid squalor of it all.)
But it didn't take long to appraise myself of what was going on, of the fact that I was reading pilfered snatches of other people's data. Still - ack - post-modernly, I reflected that this was someone's idea of great social engineering: of titillating the recipient with a random message, in the hope that they would open the .pif or .scr attachment, looking for more dirt. I have no idea whether or not that tack worked on anyone (with a single, notable exception), since the world is evidently full of idiots who will open any e-mail attachment without any incentive beyond "OPEN THE ATTACHMENT". But I find it hard to believe it did work - with the single notable exception excepted. The phrase I quote at the top was the most interesting - in a regular old modern way - I ever received. The rest were, well, random and meaningless.
And amused and intrigued as I was by these, I slowly began to feel guilty and ashamed. And while my computer was never infected - except, as I shall tell you in a moment, once - but I was. And then, I really did marvel at what this virus had achieved. It was an allegory, and very clever indeed. Ironic detachment being the backdoor for the real payload of guilt. Then, meh, I changed my mind about that. Sounded like a pile of wanky pish, for one thing; and for another, I feel guilty about everything - very probably, as a dear friend once suggested, because Patches, The Broken Dummy was always going through my pockets. In any case, that virus was short-lived.
But, it did have a life, and I saw it first-hand. Surely you've twigged who that "single, notable exception" I mentioned was; and also surmised how someone as savvy as me had their computer infected by a stupid W32 worm that you have to delberately open to activate...
tHeIr's sUmThIn uP wItH uR cOmPuTaR
"..."
"What the fuck have you done?"
n0tHiNg
"..."
"Hello, Adam? PB. Did you receive an email with the W32Magistr virus this morning? Thanks. No, no worries. Bye."
"You fucking clown! What the fuck are you doing opening unknown attachments in emails from people whose names you don't... recognise... in... my... Inb- oh, for fuck's sake! ARE YOU FUCKING SATISFIED NOW?"
yU0 cAnT tAlK 2 mE lIeK tHaT, aNy1 eLsE wUd hAv dUn tEh sAeM tHiNg!
"Fuck off and go and look through my jacket pockets. Look through the whole wardrobe if you want, I'll be ages cleaning this mess up."
So, what the moral of this big splurgy mess is, I don't know. Nothing to with privacy, or curiosity; I suspect, given the protagonists, I'm back to one of my Cardinal Rules For Living, either "Never Go Down Early," or "Do not marry the wrong person. You'd be surprised at how often this turns out to be a mistake."
lyric at post:
I don't like it, but I guess things happen that way.
Tuesday, March 30, 2004
Fly This Train To Cuba Or Buy My New Book, "A Life In Butter: Remembered"
Jen asked me to guest (publicly), then withdrew the offer (in my head). I’m a man, so obviously I’m incredibly insecure, and felt slighted and disempowered by this imagined rejection. So, I engineered this appearance, the better to bolster my already enormous sense of self-worth; size matters.Guesting is for - ack - chatshows, and since I have nothing to plug but my… but, I’d better not finish that sentence. She made me promise not to abuse my relative anonymity by proving the GIF theory. Well, she didn’t, but that sort of thing is implicit. Or more exactly, that sort of thing is in my head, which is pretty much the same thing as implicit, if you think about it and aren’t too picky.
Anyway, what I was going to say was that this is not a guest appearance, it’s more of a… hijack. That’s altogether more exciting, I’m sure you’ll agree. And I need all the excitement I can muster, because that last post of Jen's is a tough act to follow. I simply can’t just ignore it, and trip gaily on my usual brash and vulgar way, how gauche would that be? I intend to write with sensitivity, and respect.
I was moved, as I’m sure we all were, by the brief post Jen made on Monday evening. I’m a huge fan of her writing, and what was so moving for me, was the economy and restraint of that post. And of course the stuff about how great I am, that was moving too. Size matters, remember? I don’t know about you, but I’m used to being treated to remarkably warm and invariably witty insights into where her head’s at, so the comparative absence of this kind of writing hit home.
Porny Boy, are you saying that was a shit post?
JESUS! You fucking people! Manners, please! That is absolutely not what I was saying, and you know it. Don’t make this harder for me than it already is. It’s bad enough I have to come here, burdened with the honour of writing for someone else I admire; that I have to follow up the unwritten pathos of that last post, without you implying that I’m some sort of graceless tool.
It’s not as if I’m naturally elegant: I write about puking on people’s cocks, that's my comfort zone. But I do have a sense – a gift, you might say – of recognising what’s appropriate. And I’m sure Jen won’t mind if I share a little of what went through my mind when I read that post. I kind of feel like I have to, because I cannot stop imagining what it is that went unsaid. None of us can, right? So I’m sure I’m not the only one that’s haunted by the thought of Jen’s disbelieving stare, and her angry roar of “Why won’t you just DIE already? Yippe-ki-yay, motherfuckin' pale yellow robot demon!”
OK, maybe I am the only one imagining that; I’ve possibly watched Steel Magnolias too many times, I can quote the hell out of that movie. But can we move on past the introduction, if you’re all done being hostile to me?
No! You suck! That was really mean! We don’t want to go to stupid shithead Cuba in your lardy book!
Take it to the comments box, you whiny hostage; and it's butter, not lard. Anyway, I changed my mind about that, there were too many sums. It was a hell of an argument, demonstrating how UK banks are manipulating the consumer lending figures so as to jack up interest rates without anyone bitching about it. Alas, I can’t quite toughen up the central section where I demonstrate that banks are lending money to butter. So, not good enough for Jen’s blog.
Instead, I’m going to use this space to get shovelling, and exhume Patches, The Broken Dummy. Once upon a time, Patches, The Broken Dummy was a staple character of mine, and I’m sure Jen remembers her, before my lawyer advised me to not incriminate myself so spectacularly. I figure this can’t hurt here, it’s not like I’m saying Worst Blow Jobs Ever. But then I figured exactly that about yanking my own tooth out. In fact, I figure they’ll put He Figured Wrong on my tombstone. I always did want to tell this story, so, for old time's sake: be damned!
Not long ago, I find Patches, The Broken Dummy in gleeful mood. She is glowing with satisfaction, and what looks horribly like the damp aura of an anticipated triumph of sorts. Uh fucking oh, I think, what has she done now?
A pErS0nALiTeE tEsT, she tells me, 0nLiNe. Really? I say, resisting the urge to ask ‘were you the Jim Carrey one or the Jeff Daniels one?’ What did you discover about yourself?
I hAv 100% eMpAtHy, she crows, but I can tell she’s not done, because I still sense that forthcoming triumph. It manifests itself as a distinct wetness around the lips, and part of the chin. Gravity is a harsh mistress to the salivary fecund and slack-jawed. Ah, here it comes, she can contain herself no longer:
aNd Yu0 hAv 0% eMpAtHy.
How’s that, I ask, boggling in so many directions I think I’ve found four whole new dimensions. But I know already, how that is, because I know her: she has filled in the answers on my behalf.
And so it proves, and I am treated to various mental spasms in which she asserts, if I may summarise for your benefit, that she is the best ever and I am the rubbishest never.
“Excuse me, but can I clarify this ‘empathy’ thing? Only, what with me having zero per cent empathy, I obviously have no idea what it even is. So I’d be grateful if you could explain the concept to me.”
FUcK oV u wAnkA. UR jUtS tRiEiNg 2 tAeK tEh PiSs.
“Fair enough. I’m just wondering how accurate my score is when I didn’t fill it in myself.”
At this point, Patches, The Broken Dummy’s Triumph explodes so fiercely that I begin to wish I had some rainwear on. The point I have failed to grasp, see, is that because she is 100 per cent empath, she is able to replicate with perfect accuracy, the answers I would have put. Fiendish, isn’t it? And perfectly flawless, except…
“Hum. How can you, as someone 100 percent, totally, empathetic – which you are – actually comprehend what it’s like have absolutely no empathy? Surely, as you empathise your way completely and utterly - as someone with 100 per cent empathy would, right? – into something, you must actually become what it is that your feeling? Which is, in this instance, completely and utterly unempathetic.”
eH? w0t RU 0n aBu0t?
“Well, I’m just trying to picture what it is you empathetic people do. Did you have to concentrate, and feel your way down towards a state of zero empathy? Because, if you’re doing that, doesn’t it get progressively harder, as you effectively become less and less empathetic? Like when you’ve empathised your way down to being only 50% empathetic, then it’s twice as hard as when you started. And when you get down to being, say, 17.3% empathetic, you must have to really battle to not empathise too hard, or you’ll be all completely empathetic again. In fact, I fail to see how it’s possible.”
hA u d0nT f00L mE, i n0 wHeN uR tRiEiNg 2 bE sMaRt. I aM 100% eMpAtHiE aNd Ur 0% aDn tAhts oLL there is 2 iT.
“What is it I'm thinking now?” You are a mentalist.
uR JeLLuS, iTs rIttEn oLL oVa uR fAcE! tHiS iS s0 fUnNy
“Uncanny. So it is.”
lyric at post:
fists untied, fists untied
Monday, March 29, 2004
over and done
She fought it and broke my heart all over again. But, this is the conversation I just had on the phone....he: "I just wanted to make sure you're alright."
me: "I'm okay. Well, at least I'm not wandering around sobbing and bumping into things."
he: "That's right. Cause you're Jen and you don't do that. Or at least you don't tell us about it."
I tell the blog, instead. But really, I'm not.
I'm still gone though. Just wanted you not to worry and also to say.... there may, I say may, be a guest blogger. I've left it up to him. Be nice cause he's one of my favorite people.
Sunday, March 28, 2004
away, away
Herself has always loathed the time I spend at the computer so I am leaving it for the next couple of days and we are driving off, somewhere, to run about in the sunshine. I'll be back Wednesday or Thursday to post once I'm at sea level where I can metaphorically place my mind on low ground to encourage my stray marbles to roll back into place. In the meantime, it's all good. And I leave you with this...Likewise, each small meanness, each thoughtless expression of hatred, each envious and bitter act, regardless of how petty, can inspire others, and is therefore the seed that ultimately produces evil fruit, poisoning people whom you have never met and never will.
All human lives are so profoundly and intricately intertwined - those dead, those living, those generations yet to come - that the fate of all is the fate of each, and the hope of humanity rests in every heart and in every pair of hands. Therefore, after every failure, we are obliged to strive again for success and when faced with the end of one thing, we must build something new and better in the ashes, just as from pain and grief, we must weave hope, for each of us is a thread critical to the strength - to the very survival - of the human tapestry.
Every hour in every life contains such often-unrecognized potential to affect the world that the great days for which we, in our dissatisfaction, so often yearn are already with us; all great days and thrilling possibilities are combined always in this momentous day.
Dean Koontz
Saturday, March 27, 2004
barbers and coffees
Deciding to go for a little drive (what's a rental car for, after all) we pulled up in front of the barbershop. I was a little trepidatious about this, having cheated on Stevie and not having seen him since my sin of getting someone else to cut my hair. Lacey bounds right out and up to the door, looking quite pissed off that she had to wait for me and couldn't open it herself. Had to sit and have a beer to do a little reminiscing and let them say goodbye to each other. And let's not forget sucking up one last double bubble gum, wrapper and all that some slippy fingered child must have dropped out of the candy jar. I'm a little uncomfortable with other peoples sentiment about the dog (now isn't that some sort of oxymoron or some other such literary term) so I was still edging out the door amidst promises to call if I needed someone to talk to and admonishments to call as soon as I get home from my trip, so that we could head over to see CJ at the video store.Who promptly told me I look emaciated. Thank god for straight-talking friends, I say. Being a slightly less sentimental sort of guy he kind of waved at the dog outside in the car, muttering something about the nights we've spent in there with her smelling up the place.
Or maybe he's just not so mushy as the rest of us. His sense of humor is a little off the curve.
Now we are home with Tim Hortons coffee and a couple of free movies for the watching.
I just love big ol' tubby Jack Black. Yes I do.
adieu.
airports make me sleepy
...they do. I want to have a nap now but Shari is coming over to say goodbye to Herself and I suppose then we should not be asleep for that. It's rude.But the day is magically disappearing. On the way back from the airport I got lost. Twice. As Tony:here remarked when I was trying to explain how pissed off I was about the whole depression thing, "Your life is one long Seinfeld episode." But that's okay, cause getting lost just means that everything is right with my world, once again.
Although, getting lost in Forest Lawn is a little scary. gah. And if Tony:here hadn't paid attention to where I parked - I'd still be wandering around airport parking looking for a rental car that looks like every other car on the planet, pushing the unlock button and listening for it.
I also need to scoot by M's new house at some point to pick up my stuff. I feel a little bad that he had to pack it and move it, but ahh, oh well. Shit happens. Also somewhere in there I have to write an email back to a friend who sent an apology for crossing a jenline a couple weeks ago. And I feel a little bad that it seems to have really been upsetting him for the last while. Cause it shouldn't have. What else? I felt bad about all the cute little gophers mashed all over the highway. A menace they may be, but I wish I had a hundred living in my house with me.
And now that's all done with the bad stuff.
A smile for esch. - - :)
And a smile for Wade. Cause in that not-paying-attention way of mine, I never really realized that in February when I go to redo my mortgage, I can just get them to tack on a shitload more money. Voila! I morph into Travelling Jen. Wade even did the very first "nooooo, you can't leave us." when I told him I had no plans to come back, really. Which was funny. And even funnier because if I end up in New Zealand or Aus then he'll be the only person who ever visits. Since he's Australian and he goes back alla time.
But I still want a nap.
Friday, March 26, 2004
cause I just can't help myself
...and I can't believe, even now, right now, that in three days (like something will come from the sky to save us) I've decided to, I have to, I will...and I will....and it's the saddest, most difficult thing in my life. Bar nothing. And I feel bad sometimes that I've put all of you through this with me (I laugh here, because after Pornyboy's wonderful comment, I went back and read the SBD posts and that makes me feel good and sad all over again) but soon, it'll be done. And I won't talk about it, really, after Monday cause at this point, I've said all I have to say. I think.
So, hey, thanks for taking this journey with me.
..we are strangers here, on our way to some other place..
it was a...
...on-the-loss-of-your-pet card. I couldn't take it anymore, I had to open it. Sitting there, all white and stuff. Mocking me.And it makes me wonder.... is it a loss when you choose to do it? I have weird issues with that word. Can I pretend like she slipped the leash she's worn for at least eight years and wandered off? That I've lost her? That eventually she'll wander back again and stick her tongue up my nose when I'm least expecting it? Or that one day soon I'll wake up in excruciating pain for the 801st time cause she's standing on my breasts? Panting and smiling down at me?
I could never be a Hallmark writer...
"Er, sorry your dog has cancer and you've chosen to murder it. Right then, have a better day. Want to go for a beer?"
I do appreciate their gesture though, it's not that I don't. It's just.... weird. Especially when aforementioned pet is over on the couch looking at me like it's time for another treat (it is).
Oh, that just made me think of the time she got into my knapsack pocket and ate an entire roll of blackberry halls then crawled up on the bed at 3 am and woke me up cause she was so proud of herself. Panting blackberry breath in my face. And obviously feeling quite "clear".
T2 told me to go home at 2:30. So I did. I've got the laptop, they've got my cell number, I'm all good if he needs me for something while I'm away. Strangely, I love them still.
Already picked up the car so I'm off in the morning to take T and P to the airport for their flight to Me-hi-co. I'll get up early for free food. Well, and sex. But that's about it. Since I don't like mornings.
I gave in and checked the weather on the island - 80 - 100% chance of rain until next Thursday at least. Hmm, not like I didn't expect it, with it being spring and all out there but I wonder if I should be the drunk in Me-hi-co beside the pool. Maybe in a couple of months. When I'm not so likely to be the wailing sobbing drunk beside the pool trying to pet the Chihauha sized rats. "C'meerre, cuteshy lil puppiesh, wanna nu ma-meh?" *splash*
And then we'll be off to find a place or two she can run about without a leash cause this weekend is supposed to be quite balmy.
I am not a morning person
and frankly, I don't like other people in the mornings either. This morning, slouched in a seat, in jeans a couple sizes too big and Rob's really large fleece sweater, with Deep Blue Something singing Breakfast at Tiffany's in my ears, I looked around and seated across from me, some older "gentleman" is picking his nose.I'm sorry but is there anywhere in North America where this is considered sanitary / polite / anything less than completely disgusting? Do these people think that sitting in the middle of 40 people in a conveyance surrounded by very large windows means no one will see them? And what about the people in cars who do that? Gaaahhhhhhh.
I don't want to have to look at your bodily fluids / bits first thing in the morning. Or ever, for that matter. Unless it's sweat and I've caused it.
And yes, I'm fully aware that last week I was barfy and I talked about it, but I didn't make you watch, did I?
Two of the girls at work greeted me with a card that I cannot open until tomorrow afternoon. It almost made up for that ....*shudder* - I can't even think about it.
Thursday, March 25, 2004
afternoon
I am right now writing this as I sit on the balcony with a glass of wine. It's a beautiful day and T2 let me come home early as well as okaying that I screw off with the office laptop for my 'vacation'. So here I am, trying it out, while Herself pokes her face through the railings to watch rush hour go by and the guy down in the parking lot giving a sales pitch for his van to some hapless passerby.One of my coworkers had a baby last week, a preemie at 26 weeks and yesterday was a very long and sad day as his little veins were unable to handle the blood flow his heart required and he passed away. We currently have another newlywed couple who is currently *right on* 26 weeks and so we have also been keeping the news from him for now, rather than cause him any undue stress.
I guess this would fall under the category of stating the obvious at this point, but the thought of tomorrow being my last day almost brings tears of relief as I don't think I've ever been more in need of time off, the ocean, the trees and the smiling face and comfort of my best friend.
I’m beginning to feel claustrophobic. The walls of this condo and of my work aren’t exactly closing in on me, but I do feel constrained by them. By the presence of my own self and by the decisions I’ve made lately … as I look up briefly to think and I see Lacey look back over her shoulder to check on me … there is a need to be moving, not to be running really, but to just be away from here, if only for a little while. I’m in a kind of prison here where I have the key and up to now, no reason to use my freedom.
Given that the hotel has internet access I will not be needing to beg PornyBoy or any of the rest of you to guest blog (although, that may be not be a bad idea at this point) as I'll be able to write and blog whilst away next week. When ‘away’ I tend to spend more time on ‘writey bits’ than I normally do so there should be more of those and less of these.
And so, with that said, I am off to dye the blond roots, dig out the spare keys for Riz and maybe even figure out how to work the DVD player on this darn thing.
stranger in a crosswalk
After stopping off to plant a chapsticky kiss on my new boyfriends' screen I went back outside to smoke (yes, I am still/again - really, can you blame me?) and to cross back over the street to my work. Waiting at the crosswalk for the light to change the woman beside me and I watch a man push a shopping cart with at least 10 huge and hugely full black garbage bags of pop cans strapped to it across the opposite crossing. She giggles a little and I remark, "That looks like my mortgage payment he's got there."To which she replies..."I'm obviously looking for men in all the wrong places. I should be picking them up off the street. Literally."
The light changes and crossing together we enlarge upon the idea, laughing all the way.
"At least you can bet he's probably in pretty good shape."
"Yeah, not a couch potato or anything."
"Likes to go for long walks."
"Not adverse to a little digging in the garden."
"Hey, you know, I saw him first."
Sometimes, the moment that makes a day alright can only come from a complete stranger.
Wednesday, March 24, 2004
guest blogger - India
aka: Jen is tired and grumpy and having a bath. And is so not witty nor remotely interesting today.March 1 Can't hear a thing out of my left ear. Mysteriously plugged 2 weeks ago. Buy ear drops from Indian Chemist on side of road.
March 3 After faithfully using drop 4 times a day, no improvement in ear. Must get onto airplane in next 5 days, return to Chemist. Chemist thinks my ear is plugged with wax. Never had this problem before...but this is India, anything could happen. Recommends "Wax-O-Nil" (more ear drops).
March 5 Wax-O-Nil has made my ear much worse, it now feels like I've got a burning chunk of crud jammed in there. Plus, there is a strange odor coming from my ear. I read the ingrediants in Wax-O-Nil. 15% Turpentine....GRRRRREAT.... I've been putting turpentine in my ear for 3 days!! Go to Indian Emergency Room to have my ear drained. I am attended by 8 nurses and 2 doctors. They prod, yank and pry - apparently there is no wax in my ear. Doctor prescribes .... more ear drops.
March 7 No improvement in ear. Must fly to Singapore. Stressful, but make it without incurring permanent damage to ear drum.
March 8 Guess what's in Singapore?? Zara and Starbucks!! After a new halter top and a Venti Latte, my ear has miraculously made a full recovery.
March 9 Singapore Night Zoo. I'm called on stage in front of 600 people to have a 12 foot python wrapped around my head and body. I hate snakes. To deal with the stress, I internalize the thought, "This is free pyscho-therapy C, free psycho-therapy..."
March 15 Malaysian Jungle. Decide to join a Swiss on an overnight trek through the jungle where we will sleep in a treehouse - no electricity and no mattresses. Within first hour of the 26 km hike, I discover Swiss guy is an outgoing nerd (deadly combination). 8 Hours of "Did you know that seashells curl in a clockwise direction north of the equator and counter-clockwise south of the equator? This one time, at band camp....!" Argh! Shut up Swiss guy!
After a full day hike we arrive at treehouse to find 2 hot Swedish boys. Maybe this hike wasn't such a bad idea after all!! Although Swedes are covered in leeches. They're hanging from their forehead, stomach, legs...ew, must get that taken care of. Watch for "wildlife".
March 16 Swedes hiking in opposite direction, must bid my farewells :( and rejoin the annoying Swiss guy. After 5 hours into the hike, I murder the Swiss.
March 17 A's birthday! Coincidently coincides with the discovery of an All You Can Eat buffet! If I had an All You Can Eat buffet I would post a sign saying, "No backpackers allowed", because a backpacker can eat for an army, and we did.
March 20 Formula One car races in Kuala Lumpar. Cover at the bar is the same price as 2 nights in our hotel!! Justify it by drinking a $3 bottle of booze before the bar. Label on booze says, "Alcohol content unknown" and it smells like the Wax-O-Nil I put in my ear..hmmmm, does the trick though. Once at the bar we allow gross old man with wedding ring on his finger to buy us drinks, then ditch him.
March 21 My skin is green and there's a weird odor coming from my mouth, must be the Wax-O-Nil I drank last night. And what is this crap all over my feet??? So hung over....Kuala Lumpar also has a Zara and Starbucks!! After a smashing new jean miniskirt (so practical for backpacking! not!) and a Venti Latte, my hang over has miraculously vanished.
Tuesday, March 23, 2004
so busy, like a bee
I transferred a bunch of my 'watching' links to the blogroll so I can actually access them while I'm away. Cause I realized today that I have a million things to do before I go, most of which (like packing) I cannot do while the dog can see me as it upsets her. Which I try not to do as I'm very fragile....er...I mean, she's very fragile.Downloaded the last cd worth of music for burning.
Applied for a google key so I can add a search my site / search my blogroll / search the net system to this page. Since eventually, I'm going to start repeating myself. At least I figure I will. And frankly, the ATM husband, while maybe being quite good at 'watching over my shoulder', will be complete shite at telling me when I am. Repeating myself, that is.
I actually brought a three hole punch home to organize the fecking condo board stuff cause yes, once again, we meet tomorrow and there's stuff I must bring but cannot find in the MASS of paper. gahhhhhhhh.
My wonderful fabulous free email never-seen-a-bit-of-spam email service just informed me that they've been sold (greedy bastards) to some bigger company and now I have to find a new service. I despair. I've been spoiled. I have some time on that cause it doesn't shut down until the very same day tax returns are due so all those ugly things I will worry about on my return. I'm just whining.
Oh, and switching background back to London fog. Cause it's still my favorite and hey, Victoria is just that little bit of 'jolly ol' England', with afternoon tea at the Empress and all.
I'm in love with my bank machine
In the strange way of things and at the other end of the spectrum to this experience (I've been back-reading) I met the most wonderful bank machine today. Since I have 800 different bank accounts, all with slightly less than whatever the minimum amount for withdrawal is, you'd think that maybe one day, I'd actually get it together enough to amalgamate them all. Whatever, maybe when I'm not so depressed.side note here: I'm over being pissed off at being depressed and am now just going to milk it for all it's worth. Just so you know. As an added bonus, the American news last night was screaming warnings that the FDA has identified that anti-depressants (other than Prozac, which we already knew about) actually cause some people to become suicidal / homicidal who previously were only depressed. Although, I feel quite fine and have morphed from barfing to sweating - the dog and I both just lay in bed and pant, exclaiming why is it so hot in here?, I'm keeping that little informational gem in the back of the closet for my defense, in case it should be required.
Anyways, what was I saying? Oh, yeah, my new boyfriend.
Usually on payday I throw the 'walking around' money into the bank that does not charge me a body part to withdraw it. Unlike the place where my mortgage is, which doesn't actually have ATM machines. I could have sworn I still had $60 left in there, but in the shopping frenzy over the weekend I may have used some of it. I needed to buy some bus tickets and some film for my new camera today so I schlepped over to the nearest machine and quite politely told it I'd like $60.
Now, normally - me being confused about the amount of money I have and the bank machine being magically connected to the aether and the real truth would have beeped and blared some large text message along the lines of "You've only got $25 bucks you stupid tit, take the damn card back and get a real job.. Much to my delight, instead, in quite a lovely font, it inquired "You seem to only have $25 dollars. We would be quite happy to give you $60 for a temporary overdraft fee of $5. What do you think? hmmmm? Have I mentioned how lovely you look today? Is that a new hair color?"
Of course, distracted by it's politeness and dizzy from the compliments, I think, YES!!! It's like free money. Well, until I have to transfer money to pay it back. But, again, whatever, it was such a lovely gesture in a world of unlovely gestures, I just had to say yes. Just this once.
And that sort of attitude might be part of the reason I am so bad with money.
But, according to the news last week and that idjit in San Francisco going on about "allowing gay people to marry because it's LOVE will lead to people wanting to marry trees and pets" I wonder if they'll let me sneak a bank machine by a justice of the peace?
Monday, March 22, 2004
linky love
I've been bad lately with other people's blogs. Too much looking inward or down at my feet or up at my ceiling. Bad about keeping track, catching up, leaving comments. Today, everyone in the office is travelling and I got up this morning and thought I am SO staying home today. Then I checked my webmail and found that all the travellers have forwarded everyone to me. T2 broke his cell phone so I'm needing to be here to take calls. So. Here I am. Waiting for the prints from the CD to be ready so I can assess enlargement possibilities, doing the day to day stuff. And finally getting to catch up on the last few days of everyone's blogs. So following, is stuff from the last few days I liked. Because I'm tired of myself but the only other thing to do (besides work, obviously, which is out of the question) is write. But I'm tired of myself.Permalinking is not working properly for RevSpanky and although he is always enjoyable, twisted and fascinating he is also non-commentable and non-contactable. The part that struck me this morning, is below.
He looks up and across the patio at me, and I look down and across at him. Uncomfortable little kid staring at a comfortable grown kid. I used to be just like him, and maybe one day he'll be like me. Was once small and nervous and scared of everything, and perhaps he'll soon be bigger and too apathetic for fright. Could happen. We stare at each other, he's looking at me unaware that I'm watching right back, and I wish I could tell him something. Send a psychic message or stand up and scream it at him. Just get the idea across to that nervous little kid. Just transmit the message that It's Okay.
Let him know that he won't always be small and powerless. That one day he'd be big and powerless but by that point he wouldn't really care about power. By that point life and school would have beaten the desire for power out of him so that all he'll want is all that we're supposed to want: a 9 to 5 job and a little money left over and maybe a blowjob on the weekends. I'd tell the kid that it all feels so empty, but it's a fun kinda empty. The lifestyle equivalent of twinkies. I'd assure him that one day--
Then the kid looks away and the moment's gone and I'm wondering why I was staring at a little boy. My therapist (and the judge) warned me about shit like that. I scratch one head and take a drink to clear the other.
More lounging. More time thrown away like they pave the streets with the shit. Like we've got an unending supply of the stuff, so why not burn it at both ends? What else is there to do, anyways?
Marie comes back from the bathroom and says something complimentary about how I look. A smile gets forced onto my face. We kiss. Not a clue how I fooled someone into liking me. She's probably drunk, but if that's what it takes then I figure her liver's a small price to pay.
Question of the day: Makeover, cause I've asked myself the same damn thing about a million times.
A Poem: If Only I Were Wiser.
Wordplay: Compulsive.
And quite obviously, everything pretty much ever posted by Anna and PornyBoy.
you sly dog, you
One of many among the Munchkin's myriad eccentricities / quirks / exercises in smartness, cuteness or whatever other thing you want to call it, is the occassional attempt she makes to hide things from me.Pee? There's pee on the floor? Oh my god, how did that get there? Are you feeling okay? Cause I'm feeling great. And not cause I peed on the floor, or anything.
Noooo, I'm not really sure how all that toilet paper got all over the house. I was sleeping. Are you sure you didn't leave it like that this morning? I didn't see anyone else come in but, like I said, I've been asleep.
The most devious is the one she pulled this morning. She's a notoriously bad sidewalk-eater. For a while there she had to wear a muzzle (which made her into a dramatic wheezing Hannibal Lector like object of much sympathy from the general public) but my god, it was unmanageable. Frozen pizza, cigarettes, chicken bones, you name it, she would lunge and snuffle it up before I could stop her. We don't actually go for walks - we forage for snacks, cause quite obviously I'm starving her to death.
Occassionally she'll snap something up too frozen to chew and too large to swallow and in that case, will stop suddenly in the middle of the sidewalk, glance furtively over her shoulder at me (whilst holding her mouth almost-but-not-quite closed around her prize) and then walk quickly in the direction of the door into the building, keeping her face carefully turned away from me.
Considering that it's usually a fight to get her back into the building this tends to immmediately set off mommy alarm bells.
It was cold this morning though and with it being her last week on the planet, I just don't have it in me to smash her furry little illusions so I let her drag me back up to the condo.
As I pick up my backpack and leave biscuits on her pillow I hear her drop her prize in the kitchen before coming out to wave me off.
Distracting her with yet another biscuit (we have about 100 to finish this week) I sneak into the kitchen to see if it's something I need to confiscate.
It's a rock.
Quite a pretty rock. Given my tendency to collect rocks from places that I visit, it's a bit of a nice thought that she's picked one up of her own for me to keep.
But it's quite more likely that it's coated in some nasty food and she's saving it to lick later.
Saturday, March 20, 2004
completely diverted from a course of action
I woke up at 8 am thinking.....IKEA!!! So, we shopped instead. I bought a computer desk chair so I could stop using the kitchen chair, a new floor lamp to replace the one that broke a couple months ago and some more cutlery. The most amazing thing about that was... I actually managed to buy the matching stuff to what I already have. That's pretty big.Then I bought some spiffy new work heels. From some guy who told me if I were going to the mall and saw a pair I liked better - I could just bring them back. I tried to explain that I don't go to malls just to 'look' around but whatever, he was just a happy little fella.
Then we bought some baby stuff for Phil's bump. Not sure if they know what flavor it is, so I bought all yellow stuff. Can't go wrong there.
Then we went to Nose Hill Park. I always thought it was the largest urban park in North America but I guess only in Canada. It's all grassland (1127 hectares....scale? I dunno - Central Park in NY is 341 hectares) so it's not particularly pretty but Lacey and I used to live on the Northern End of it so it was one of 'her' places. I think she was pretty pooped by then though as we only went about 50 feet in and when I lied down to take pictures she just came over, jammed her butt up against my belly and laid with me for half an hour or so to sniff from a stationary position and watch the other walkers go by.
A friend of mine that I haven't talked to since I left thecompanythatshallnotbenamed lives up there so I pulled over to give her a call. She kept yelling, Holy shit, where the hell are you, where the hell have you been?" She thought I went travelling or left town or something. Anyways, she lives down south now so is coming over in the morning for coffee. She said she's been going through a pretty rough time so it will be good to sit down and relax instead of rushing over lunch during the week.
Then we came home and I cleaned the house and gave Herself yet another bath. I'm pretty sure I heard her muttering you gave me a bath last week you COW, what is WRONG with you? But, although I am quite fine with kissing her, I doubt anyone else would be. Especially after that ...thing... she rolled in at the park.
I didn't even get lost. Not once. There must be something wrong with me.
We shall go to Drumheller next weekend.
Happy First Day of Spring!
Friday, March 19, 2004
much accomplished
I'd forgotten how different the world looks from the inside of a car. There's a story there somewhere but ... not today. I even managed *not* to get lost! Go, me.More Lacey drugs, groceries, YJ home safely, CD of last weekend's pictures clutched in my paw. That car, though, in it's 'family-ness' makes me drive like an old woman. On the occasion or two I did happen to glance at the speedometer I was waay below the speed limit. Just...tooling...along. Gah, will have to do something about that on the highway tomorrow.
So, still much that needs to be done tomorrow before we can hit the road but, after a good little visit with CJ, I have a movie, also, to watch tonight.
Wow, YJ, I just put the pictures on slideshow. They are truly wonderful. Thank you again - I have big squinty eyed smiley face. One below. Or maybe two.
well, that solves that, then
I suppose I don't really need to worry about the large amounts of food I normally eat, as well.... I am not hungry. I am, to boot, afraid to eat. As I woke up this morning and barfed. A nauseated insomniac. Who's depressed. Where is that sign-up list for terrible side effects? I must get my name down for the shakes, sweating and motor impairment, before it's too late.Of course, if I were thinking, I wouldn't have taken that pill last night and waited until the work day was over today, before doing so. Cause, you know, after a couple of days, the side effects wear off.
Supposedly.
I did walk to work which was nice, if a bit chilly and upon arrival found extremely large amounts of new paycheck and back pay in my account. Which makes me quite 'appy.
This email exchange, while amusing, also frightened me a little.
he: so is taking the pill like changing channels?
me: dunno, 99 channels and nuthin' on. It's supposed to make me 'even'. Side effects? Puking and insomnia. Sweating. Shaking. So, I'll be 'even' but I'll be a twitchy barfy even.
But, hey, here's a weird thought. I've been depressed since you met me. Maybe you don't know the real jen at all.
Muah ha ha ha.
he: "Hi." *twitch* "I'm Jen." *barf* heh.
Depressed since I met you, huh? A few weeks from now..."Waitaminnit. You used to be moody and depressed. Now you're wearing gingham sundresses and carrying posies. WHAT THE HELL'S WRONG WITH YOU?! WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH JEN?!!"
me: I'm not really the gingham type, thank god. I'm pretty sure I'll always be moody, don't you worry. It's a girl thing.
he: damn straight it's a girl thing. good god. oh. sorry. not editorializing.
hey, you never know about the gingham. maybe you're about to discover A Whole New You.
But man, is it fun to say I'm barfy. Everyone else likes it too. T1 just asked what I was doing for lunch and T2 (quite gleefully) shouted down the hall, "Jen's not eating. She's BARFY."
Thursday, March 18, 2004
stubborn patients & sarcastic GP's
Just sitting down to post and a knock on the door revealed one of our 'local celebrities', a news reporter from the local A Channel. Nothing as exciting as it sounds (although a puff piece on the dog would not be something I'd say no to - she needs a bath is all I really would want to say) - she lives in the building and we were on the board together last year. She too, has babysat the dog. For about a year, she thought the dog's name was Macey. I just thought it was some nickname she came up with....not so.I'm sure Lacey will start to wonder why she's become so popular.
Or maybe not. It's quite obviously her due, or so I'm sure she must think.
My doctor makes me laugh. He says....
"Remember last year at your physical when we tested everything and you were perfectly healthy? I seem to recall you were quite pissed off with me."
me: "Well, I felt like crap. I still feel like crap. I wanted you to find something wrong so we could fix it."
he: "I know, you just didn't want to hear what I thought was wrong. Although, I do appreciate how much it took for you to come back and tell me I may have been right a year later."
Total smartass. But a nice and funny one, for all that, my doctor.
Apparantly, insomnia, weight loss, lethargy, social withdrawal, an inability to concentrate and a hair-trigger temper are all classic symptoms of depression, especially when they have continued for 10 years or so. Which (hit that button...) pisses me off a little. I'm not classic *anything* pal.
Which may have been why I've been thinking I'll just get up one day and feel like running a marathon or something equally athletic and chirpy. When it's been steadily worse for at least year and a half. After battling cancer, whilst in the middle of having people die and sicken around me, buying a condo six months before I quit an amazingly well paying job and then starting all over again at half the salary and struggling my ass off, and that's just the big stuff. That's just silly, isn't it? Who makes these rules? My feeling has been when it's over, it's over. Screw the chemicals in your brain... just...get...over..it. Not the most scientific reasoning I know, but what can I say? I've been wrong before.
God forbid I should actually have something so..... reasonable and logical .... wrong with me.
I take comfort in the fact that at least I'm not the classically depressed person. I'm still fairly happy and even, dare I say, interesting and mostly, fun to be around. I don't lie in bed all day entertaining thoughts of offing myself or applying for a gun licence so I can off those smelly people on the bus.
Hmm, that's actually not a bad idea, that.
just kidding
So, he says he thinks Prozac will be good cause it'll make me happy.
erm, buddy, I am happy. Are you looking at my smily face and the laugh lines around my eyes which are just getting deeper? Besides, they gave me that once when I was 20 or so and it first came out and *whoa* there's 10% of the population that it causes to be homicidal or something. Guess which percentage I'm in? Not such a good couple of months 15 years ago. Although, I'm sure after all this time, the families of the slain would be over it by now.
We settled on something to address the snappiness and get me back on a regular sleep schedule. And, hopefully make me a little more ..a little more..erm..what was I saying? Oh yeah, able to concentrate. He obviously knows me fairly well cause the first thing he said when handing it to me was...."This came from Europe. It's only been available here for about three years."
Cause my immediate knee jerk response (and I apologize for this) is that I don't want anything the Americans invented. Which made *him* laugh.
So, although you guys don't see me get all pissed off ten times a day or so, then gee, soon you still won't see it. Must be comforting, hey?
Although, the danger is there that I'll become an automaton with absolutely nothing interesting to say, no feelings about anything whatsoever and no emotional reaction even to someone running me over in the crosswalk.
I have mentioned before that I hate pills, right? Especially synthetic stuff. I'm all good with vitamins and minerals and well.... mushrooms ... cause they're all natural.
I forgot to ask him if this rocking metabolism where I can eat anything I want and still lose weight will be affected, but I guess it's logical that I shouldn't be eating a pound of veggies, a cup of rice and a steak the size of my HEAD for dinner every night.
My funny little doctor then offered to write me a scrip for sleeping pills (may as well throw addiction potential in there too) and I guess the look on my face was enough as he made me promise to drink warm milk before I go to bed.
Which made both of us laugh.
is it only Thursday?
Today was an "I don't live in your world day". I stayed in bed until 11 before coming here and being touched and amazed at you, me, all of us, all over again, and emailing my portion of the proposal in to work before retiring back to the couch for a lie down with little Miss MutterMumbleTwitch. It's 2:15 and I just now managed to clean the carpets and put in a load of laundrey as Lacey readjusts her snoring self into my vacated spot and continues to drool happily on her pillows.
I sent out an email to the people around here who've known Herself to give them the option of coming by to see her if they'd wish and I received a few very nice emails back. Which of course, prompted the carpet cleaning, as people are actually coming by.
Most strangely, (or not, I can't quite decide) is Nate. YJ knows the story of Nate but I don't feel like telling it so the rest of you will be in the dark on this one. I haven't seen him for a while - I think the last time was at our pub crawl last July so there is a picture of him over in the first gallery. He too has lived here with Herself when I've gone away and god knows what they got up to while I was gone. For all that he's this HUGE and vaguely forbidding looking human being he is one of the gentlest and sweetest people I know. Which constantly amazes me. Although, his tendency when 'dropping by' is to show up at 3 or 4 am, crawl into bed with me and fall fast asleep, whereupon my sleep is shot for the rest of the night as he's one of those people who bicycle all night in their sleep. Can't remember what it's called although annoying comes to mind, as well as a few other not so nice words. It is only our history and continuing friendship that has saved his life. Trust me.
I also decided that on Saturday we would go east. My first instinct is always to go west but that I have done a million times and will be doing yet again on the 30th. North, well, north around here just ...sucks. South is not so bad but I did that last August on the road trip to Seattle with Billy. So, East to Drumheller and the dinosaurs it is. Which means I should find a map cause it's not on the ol' TransCanada highway but rather one eerily named #9. (I don't know why that's eerie, it just is). That site I just found has some really great photos of the Calgary skyline too.
Lo, the bus awaits and I must be off.
Wednesday, March 17, 2004
little bitty pieces of a day
Or alternatively: I just can't shut up today, can I?I would like to go on official record as someone who wore green today. I would normally not feel the need to indicate this but due to the overwhelming amount of grade-school pinching (or shenanigans, if you wish) that I was subjected to today - being dressed all in black, but, I was wearing green. Deliberately. I woke up this morning, got out of the shower and chose to wear a pair of green contacts. (mostly cause my clear ones have been hurting lately - may be time to change those puppies - but whatever, I just didn't want to put them in). So, yes, I put something on (in) that was green. So, stop pinching me already.
She will run out of antibiotics and anti-inflammatory/painkillers both on Friday and I wasn't quite sure if we needed to continue the antibiotics for the last two weeks but her doctor is quite certain things would deteriorate quite quickly without them. And that is just...well...ick. He asked if I were giving her lots of treats and I had to admit that we're aiming for at least an extra four pounds before the big day. Dr. Evans (for that is his name) wanted to know when I was bringing her in and I felt a need to apologize as, although he has been her vet for only just over a month in lieu of her seeing her regular vet, I have opted to have her regular vet put her down. Who has so kindly agreed to come in on a day off to do so.
We had a little bit of a.... discussion as my indication that she was doing quite well was met with ..."Well, of course, you can always postpone it." and I find it extremely difficult to explain that what I feel right with is having her leave on a high note. That to put it off and then put myself through this all over again while she deteriorates (and goes through it too) is just something I, honestly, don't feel up to facing. I think it's best that once your mind is made up - to stick with it.
There are three things that make me positive about this. 1. It's a fairly well-documented fact that pets (and humans) rally before they finally go down and I firmly believe she knows, somewhere inside, what's going on 2. She's drugged. Of course she's damn happy. Wouldn't you be? and 3. I have become quite attached to the idea of sending her to be with Tanys. Not that there's a time frame on that, but.....
Oh, which makes me think of this, included below, (sorry, man) because I like the way that YJ sees things. (OJ, btw, is me. It means Obi-Jen, cause at one time I suppose I was somewhat, briefly, wise)
it was kind of a strange experience, i have to say. the reason being is that her dog has cancer, and oj made the difficult decision to have her put down. her dog's been her companion for umpteen years, and despite a couple of obvious tumors, Herself looks and acts fine. so she asked me to take some pics and document the two of them doing what they do.
so we went to a park that was relatively nearby (after i demonstrated that my navigation skills in this city, after four years of being confined to transit routes, is really the shits), and shot just over 80 frames. got a few really good shots. some of them were a little blurry, though, because the camera gets slow when it gets cold. it was supposed to be a nice day, but it clouded over, and a ridiculously cold wind decided to make an overly long appearance.
after driving her and her puppy back home, it struck me that this was not only the first time i'd met her dog, but it would be the last time i'd ever see her dog. i guess that vibe had kind of clung to me all day, which made me feel a bit awkward, but just then, as Herself snuffled and wandered around the parking lot, it just kind of hit me. she'd been doing her thing all day, you'd never know that she was so sick. anyway, it struck me as very sad. i can't imagine what it took for oj to make peace with the idea, and still function every day. (i know it's not that simple, or easy, but still.)
But, you and YJ know exactly how I came to make peace with the idea, because you've been along on that particular funhouse ride, haven't you?
Of course, after the conversation with the vet, I had to sit and beat down all those little phantoms that appeared to whisper are you *sure* you're doing the right thing? what ifffff?.... is this what you really want?
Of course not. Assholes.
The funny thing is...I always thought I'd outlive her. Tony:there and I have had the conversation about acting like the Egyptians and having her killed and buried with me. We have. No shit.
When I bought them, they fit perfectly. But I crouched down for some reason or another, and when I stood up, the pants, mostly, did not come with me.
So, I too, am off to the doctor tomorrow. So he can poke my skinny little thighs and my fat little belly and exclaim that I look vaguely like an Ethiopian. Except that the fat belly is from the large amounts of food I'm constantly jamming in all day long, to no avail. It worries me that my friends are worried I'm sick again because I am thinner every time I see them, so I dunno, we'll see what he says. Cause I'm not. Sick again, I mean. But I have been steadily losing weight for the last year and I think I am at ...just...almost... that point where it starts to become a larger issue.
Phil babysat once for me while I was away for a few days and the three of us took a road trip together in 2002 so it was wonderful today to hear her launch into an "fatass - tiny head" story when I told her what was going on. Right before she immediately set a time and day to come by. I don't see her enough and unfortunately, the truth is, won't see her any more often after the baby is born. But I cherish her greatly.
"Whatever, buddy, I'm just a peon. It's not MY name going on that thing. I'll be right there."
lyric at post:
..I am an ordinary guy, burning down the house..
why don't you just get lost?
Spending my years from 13 (when I managed to convince my mother that I *needed* to be able to drive cause we lived on a farm and what if something happened to her? - man, she was easy) until I moved to Alberta at 26 - I was never without some sort of vehicle. I think I truly did believe that I would be unable to survive if I couldn't drive.In moving here, arriving as I did jobless, unemployment insurance-less and in the middle of my very first real winter - I honestly didn't leave Rob's house at all for the first two months - I never have gotten around to getting a car and so my entire world revolves around the twenty or so square blocks that encompass the things I need to live a fairly contented life - that I can walk to. For me, those things are grocery store, liquor store, the downtown mall, at least two used bookstores, a place to get my hair cut and a water source (ie: the river). For six years I've lived within this current radius, which I only leave if someone forcibly removes me (erm... picks me up and drives me.)
My friends are used to hearing: "Yeah, love to come meet you but it's outside my twenty blocks." Let's face it, any farther than that and I'm trapped by having to pay for a cab, waiting for someone with a car to want to leave or a myriad of other annoying things. All of a sudden I have to depend on someone's good graces and frankly, after being that person most of my life pre 'foot locomotion phase', I KNOW how annoying it is to have someone hovering in the background giving you meaningful glances when you're having the time of your life. People with cars can 'pop' home after work to let out the dog and then be back in 20 minutes, anything like that is a large and unwieldy undertaking for the automotively challenged.
But I digress. What I'm meaning to explain here is that possessing a touchy sense of direction that only has only worsened over the years results in some strange multiplication of said faulty compass when my ass hits the seat of a car. I routinely rent cars but only for long drives, meaning I almost immediately hit the highway and don't spend any time dicking around by cruising the city streets. It's a bit hard to get lost on a highway that goes right across the country you live in (and is called the #1 from coast to coast). Although, in the past I have managed it a time or two when I've had to take an exit for some reason or another.
I have some running around that must be done this weekend and in checking out the weather forecast (which is bad), factoring in my inherent weekend laziness (which is great) and the desire to spend as much time in close proximity to the dog as possible (which is imperative) - I booked a car for 24 hours.
After the errands are run, Herself (who adores car rides and whom I adore to car ride with for many reasons, one being - loud music does not a stone deaf dog annoy) and I will be endeavoring to joyfully get completely fecking lost.
I would classify it as a day trip but due to the weather forecast there's no point in getting out of the car and so there will be no clear destination. We will just pick a direction and see where it takes us because half the fun of life is finding things you didn't even know you were looking for.
Besides, getting lost gracefully is a skill and a talent we all need a refresher course in, every once in a while, even those of us who are considered 'expert' class.
lyric at post:
..don't get your back up over this, if I'm so wrong and you're so right..
flailing
We're driving along after the funeral, me in the passenger seat, hands flapping as I try to explain the theory of the day to Tony:here. In an ambigious way it's about someone I think may be either stupid or a liar. Although not wanting to think either of those things about this particular person, I'm torn because I have no other options available to me at this point.Tony:here launches into a Jen as lawyer closing argument, which sadly, I cannot remember but was funny as hell, before turning to me and saying, "You have this amazing ability to see both sides of the story and then sit firmly in the middle. My legs would always be asleep if I were such a good fence sitter."
(I just have to say here - I'm not a fence sitter. I just believe that in any given situation, there are things I *don't* know that could change everything and so I try to keep an open mind and see the other side. Just for the record.)
I got the feeling he just wasn't getting my point. Or maybe he was.
It was a nice and very personal funeral with an amazing turnout - I think about 300 people.
My father is antagonistic....no wait, agnostic? Oh, ATHEIST. Doesn't believe in god. My mother would be whatever the majority is in the UK...Roman Catholic? I guess. Anyways, I obviously was never taught any sort of religious belief. Nor have I been baptised or been in a church with any member of my family. My sister was married by a justice of the peace and my brother had a ceremony but it was outside in his back yard and was whatever his wife's religion was. We've had two deaths in the family, both with no services.
I remember when I was six or so I asked my parents if I could go to Sunday school with my best friend, Wayne, who lived next door. I was curious. I wanted to know what it was all about. It was decided that I would attend with him after our family vacation to Seattle.
I clearly remember being in the hotel room in Seattle and hearing my mother say, "John, we have to remember to get a bible for Jennifer to take to Sunday school."
My father, a man of very few words, reached over into the dresser beside the bed and handed me the big green Gideon bible.
Upon returning home, I attended Sunday School with this *stolen bible*. I went exactly five times - long enough to get my own legitimate red bible. And long enough to find out that they didn't have answers to my 'impertinent' questions.
I've never been able to throw that Gideon one away. A few years ago we had a guy working with us who was travelling about from New Zealand and in talking about this sort of stuff, he told me his father was a Gideon. I related the story before asking him if I could give it to him - return it to the Gideons - so to speak. And Tony (yet another one) said, "Jen, it's okay, I think that's the whole reason they leave them."
And 28 years of guilt just ... evaporated. I'm not even sure where the darn thing is now.
Anyways, the reason I was thinking about this is because I've been to funerals of people who, like me, had no history with any sort of religion nor any strong religious beliefs - yet the funerals themselves were ALL about the hymms, the prayer, the priest. And that makes me wonder about the reasoning. Is it meant to comfort the surviving members of the family? What if they weren't religious either? Is it one of those 'just in case' scenarios? You know - I never believed, really, but what if I was *wrong?* Is it done because that's what's expected?
Tony:here thought that it provides comfort in a traditional way to the people who are left behind. In Tanys' case most of the people she left behind are from my generation. Nontraditional, nonreligious. I found much more comfort in the poem that Dave wrote, the personal eulogy given by her best friend and the slide show they had of Tanys than I got from the prayers and the hymms from a priest who probably didn't know her very well.
There was one quote that summed her up pretty well for me, who is more of a friend of Dave and had not spent a lot of time with her- "Come ON, let's go." Let's go have fun. Let's go live. Let's just go.
I'm not saying that I in any way think other people shouldn't be part of an organized religion. I have my own little strong belief system I've cobbled together over the years - it's just not an organized religion, per se, and frankly, will never make me a visionary nor a prophet. I haven't put any thought into my own funeral but considering that almost no one I know actually considers themselves religious, would those things comfort them and really, in the end, shouldn't the funeral be about what I believed? Or at least about the things I think would provide comfort? Or is that just selfish?
I find it a little sad, somehow, that these decisions are mostly left to the people you've left behind. I do have one friend who already has her funeral all planned, every detail, just because she wants it done the way she wants it done. Does one make one's final decision in this life to appease tradition or is that just mostly how it ends up?
I would like to leave a happy and lasting impression as my final contribution. I sort of like the idea of a great big party, in a cosy old pub, with lots of scotch and tequila and a couple of faeries flitting about. Maybe a little covert snogging going on in the darker doorways. Considering one religious person I know who, when they found out I'd never been baptised, declared that no matter what I did with the rest of my life I'd most assuredly go to hell - would it really matter?
Am I sitting on the fence?
So many questions. And not an answer in sight. Although I guess in regards to questions like these, the only truth is the one in your heart.
I woke up yesterday morning and my first thought was, "I'm going to Tanys' funeral today."
My second thought was, "She loved animals and in 13 more days I can send Lacey to take care of her so that neither of them will have to be alone."
And it was *that* thought that was true in my heart.
Monday, March 15, 2004
observance
In thinking about this today, in addition to being there tomorrow to support Dave in any way I can, there are a few ways I can honor Tanys' memory. None of which I really feel like sharing with anyone as the things I loved about her and the things she has left with me are just a bit too personal and complex to adequately explain.Since silence is not an option in real life, I'll be observing blog silence tomorrow.
It seems a bit silly, I guess, but it's all I can think to do.
I do have a request though: take a minute to think about someone you care for and how they have touched your life. Someone you don't see every day, or even every month, someone who may not even realize that they've given you something you cherish - for this is a sudden and awful reminder that, unexpectedly and for no preventable reason, they may not be here tomorrow.
I'll see you Wednesday or so.
Tanys
...thinking about how short our lives truly are. We should all be so lucky to know someone like Tanys, a absolute sweetheart who lived a life full of her own joy which she unconditionally shared with us.ANDERSON _ Tanys Marie 1971 - 2004
Tanys Marie Anderson of Calgary passed away suddenly but peacefully at the Foothills Medical Centre on Thursday, March 11, 2004, with many family members and friends at her side, five days after celebrating her 33rd birthday.
Tanys enjoyed softball, skiing and spending time with family, friends and her two cats. Her bright blue eyes, infectious smile and warm personality will be missed by all. Tanys is survived by very special friend and soul mate, David Genoway; her mother Sandy Anderson; sister and brother-in-law, Heather and Kevin Slusarenko; and her father and stepmother, Gary and Norma Anderson. Sharing their grief are Lola and Erhart Nagel, Grandma Anderson, Eve Nielson, Kara and Dwayne Fenton, Leslie and Robert Enz, Bernie and Gladys Evans, Janice and Brian Mokray, Sharon and Darrel Metz, Jim and Annette Waletsky, Penny Colvin and Mike Eisner, Jen and Kathy, Auntie Linda, and extended families and many friends past and present. Tanys was predeceased by Grandpa Anderson and Grandpa Waletsky, Bobbi-lee and Gregory Anderson, and by Donna Summers.
- Iyanla Vanzant
Sunday, March 14, 2004
home again
We are pooped. The collective 'we'. The munchkin was such a good little subject although the weather did not cooperate. The sun came out, the sun went in. YJ took about 60 pictures - I don't think one was in sunshine. But, no matter, they looked great on that little screen on the camera. I even managed to not hate how I look. A job well done. And Lacey got her first tire swing ride and a turn down the slide.I feel a bit bad that Herself and I don't go to parks more often as she obviously enjoyed it, but I always think they are all too far away for her to walk to. Even on the way back to the car today she was dragging me around. Too much worry on my part I guess.
In case anyone has been thinking that I live with this poor invalid sick dog that desperately needs to be put out of it's misery, YJ can attest that the horrifying posts are based mostly upon my fear and my memories of her more active days and that the only animal cruelty and torture has been all done to and by the two legged one in the house.
The other dream I had was that Lacey and I were walking down some city street and were accosted by the 'doggie makeover police' who did her all up in dress pants, a belt that made her look like she had a waist, a great big pink floppy hat with flowers and a tie under the chin (which I remember her trying to rub off on a building) and the cutest little pink ballerina heeled slippers. She was quite a hit at the party we went to after.
Weird.
And, now, we rest.
On a jet plane
Sometimes I forget that people come by here that I don't know, that this is a public place - not the little (mostly) sunny breakfast nook in my head, but that Starbucks down on the corner. And then I get a really nice email from a total stranger and I remember. Thank you, it's a wonderful thing to wake up to on a Sunday morning.I dreamt that I was going to the UK - I got to the airport check in and my passport was issued in 1984 - which puts it long past it's 'good by' date - but they only asked to see my drivers licence. I figured that on the way back to Canada, they wouldn't deny me entrance if they did ask for my passport so I just went ahead and got on the plane.
Despite the daily changing and conflicting weather reports this past week it is a gorgeous day outside, which makes mine and YJ's job quite a bit nicer. I'm off to brush and fluff her highness and then do something with myself. This is an important exercise today - it's our last picture day - and so I'm all undecided. She's completely black, so do I wear white (for the contrast) although I'll be black too by the end of it, do I wear black even though that'll just make us blended in together or do I wear gray and hope that's a nice middle ground? And what about a jacket? sheesh. Maybe I'll just ask the master photographer, let him figure it out.
lyric at post:
..july thunder, something's undercover
something's lost, something ain't right..
Saturday, March 13, 2004
too many things...
on my plate today still but to take a sec for a breather and slap up one of YJ's pics for the new background. I think it's the Eaton Centre, but whadda I know? I just know I like it. Thanks YJ, looking forward to tomorrow and catching up.I just looked down at my lap and it has this written all over it: "soaking wet and pissed off dog" so I must go fulfill it's destiny until there is dryness and happiness.
UPDATE: who knew that expensive dog shampoo actually did so much? She's softer then ever and smells wonderful. She's like a little piece of Heaven. If Heaven were mad at me, that is.
lyric at post:
..I could say day, and you'd say night, tell me it's black when I know that it's white..
I win!
Embarassing as it is to admit, I just sat for 15 minutes, refreshing 'my ebay' every minute or so to make sure the bastards didn't outbid me on this one. I don't think the sniper thing is fair play. Silly me. But at least the living room is well dusted so I feel I've quite accomplished something.Friday, March 12, 2004
good friends
This will be a long one. Just so you know.I know where it starts and tonight was only a continuation but I have no idea where it'll ever end and sometimes, from a 'take a step back' context, that frightens me.
First, I should mention the very first thing I got in shit for tonight, in showing up to meet the boys.
People email me and say - "did you really say that to Jen?" and then I go look at the blog and think, "I didn't fucking say *that*"
So, that would be Tony:here. There's Tony:here who's one of my closest friends. Then, there's Tony:there. My ex, my best friend, my beneficiary - who lives in Victoria. So from now on, there just must be Tony:here and Tony:there. I apologize for any confusion.
Tony:here says
I have the perfect email I've been meaning to send you. It's about people you meet and relationships that you have."
me: "You mean - a reason, a season, a lifetime?"
Tony, here: "Yeah, you know it?"
me: (without even thinking) "Don't bother sending it. It's pants, honey. I don't believe anymore."
Tony:here: "I was so excited. You burst my bubble. *pop* like that. I thought it was so perfect for you. Fuck, for all I know, you *wrote* it."
So, that said, on to the story I want to tell.
When I first started working for the companythatshallnotbenamed back in 1999 I was a wide-eyed tech who learned by the seat of my pants. There was, of course, a guru. The guy who knew it all, that be-all and end-all guy. His name was Peter. And he reminded me of my brother-in-law, whom I love like you wouldn't believe, and so (in the way of these things) I immediately liked Peter. But, as I was to find out, the reverse was not true.
The core group drank together every night. And one night, after I'd been there about a month, I went down to join them. I spoke to Peter about having cleared with my boss to spend some time every day with him, if he was okay with it, so I could learn from him, knowing only that there was so much I had to learn.
And then the shit hit the fan.
He snapped. This man hated me. He hated that some little bitch (I was the only woman) came along who *thought* she was just as good as everyone else. Who was taking jobs away from people who actually went to school. And on. And on. And on.
Needless to say, by the end of this, I was in tears. And, apart from the simple fact that I've been a bit weepy about the dog, back then I wasn't, so it's not so easy to make this little bitch cry.
My boss, knowing in the way of tight-knit work communities, that this had happened, made the two of us work together. Which was horrible. But, in time, Peter came to understand that I actually could do the work. And that I could do it better, faster and more accurately than the men could.
That he could yell at me and I would go away and he would show up a half an hour later to stand behind me, unbenownst to me with my headphones on and music cranked, to see that I could take away what he said, understand it and apply it within a short time frame.
He has since indicated to me at different times that if there were anyone he would apprentice, it would be me. He told me tonight that he's still trying to convince them to allow me to apprentice to him (I left in August of 2002) and I agreed that if he can swing it I would come back for a year. But, whatever, that's another maybeinthefuture story.
To get back to it, we became a tight knit group. We worked our asses off during the day and hit the bar at the end of the day. Every night. The people in that core group were; Peter, Darren, Bill, Dave, Tony:here, Janey, Dirk, Dan and Joel.
Darren is an astrophysicist (sp?) and admittedly, weird at the best of freaking times. Janey, Dirk and Dan are/were too young and blessed to have anything mar their perfect lives (and I don't mean that in the bad way it sounds - it's just the truth). Joel, is Joel, and I've written about him before, but he, too, seems to live a charmed life.
As for the rest of us....
Peter's wife had been sick with cancer for the longest time. Then I found out I had lung cancer. These people were the only people I told between that May that I found out and July and that wasn't until after the surgery. So, for time frames sake, this was May of 2002. In January of 2003, Bill found out that he had something wrong with his heart and he had three months to live. There was one surgeon, in the US, who could do the surgery he needed but this surgeon had a two year waiting list. I remember the night they got us together to tell us. I've never seen grown men so heartbroken. It was a terrible night. Everyone cried - which suprised me as I'd never seen these men cry before, they were the strong ones, the unemotional ones, the stoic ones.
Tony:here told me later that they did the same thing for me one night when I wasn't around and that came damn near close to breaking my heart.
Then, in July 2003, after the long seesaw of getting better and getting worse, Peter's wife died. I was devastated. I couldn't go to the service. I tried, but through everything I had been strong and this just...broke me. I think Peter understood. I don't know, we've never talked about it. The first time I've seen him since then was tonight. I've sent emails, I've left messages, I've sent my love with everyone everytime I've spoken to them...but I just haven't been able to handle all the pain that we've all been through.
They found someone to operate on Bill later last year and so far, he's doing okay. But, although I've spoken to him, I have not seen him.
Tonight, one of the first things Darren said to me was, "You should call Dave. His girlfriend died this week. Brain aneurysm, no warning. He's not doing so well."
They've been together for three years.
She was 33.
And I can't but help think / hope that we're a statistical anomaly. It would be so sad if our little group were the norm. And in a way, it's not so sad because these people were my rock for so long. They didn't treat me differently, they dealt with it and got on with it. And I love them all the more for that. But I love whosoever is orchestrating all this all the less for putting, me aside, some of the best people I've ever known in my life through such pain in such a short amount of time.
It was good to be together with them again. To fight about Golden Tee golf, to kick each other's asses at pool, to hear Peter say that he's gotten all my emails and each one makes him smile for days and days, to hear Tony tell me that I sound, finally, better. That he'd missed the funny and happy Jen and that it does his heart good to see her again, because he's missed her so much.
It's been hard for me to go see them again, it seems like we've been friends forever, it seems like forever since I've seen them altogether. But, walking in there tonight, there's no guilt about not seeing each other for so long, there's nothing in that room but happiness, and love beyond words and support beyond imagining.
And, that, is partly what a reason, a season, a lifetime is all about, at least to me. Think carefully, before you speak.
I do.
strangely unexcited...
...by the confirmation of my 15% promotion slash raise. Maybe it's been the absolute torturous and unnecessary six week lead up that's killed the denouement.Or maybe I just don't give a shit. Maybe they've destroyed my fragile and precious spirit rather than given it the care and nurturing that it requires to withstand the harsh and unfriendly world we live in .
Okay, that last part made me laugh, now everyone's looking at me.
No less than four people have asked me today if I really did win on scratch and wins.
And Tony refuses to take no for an answer about meeting them tonight and has insisted that he'll be at the house to pick me up, after giving me enough time to take care of the dog after work.
And a little extra time to cover up MY PIMPLE. You know, the one I haven't had for four years. The one that decides to show up two days before picture day?
What, am I sixteen again? sheesh.
lyric at post:
..I could change my life to better suit your mood, cause you're so smooth..
The Friday Five
Over here.1. What was the last song you heard?
Tool - Opiate
2. What were the last two movies you saw?
Once Upon a Time in Mexico. Secondhand Lions.
3. What were the last three things you purchased?
a case of beer for the office, a pork chop for dinner, a coffee.
4. What four things do you need to do this weekend? Houseclean, make the dog all pretty, (for) her picture taking with YJ, getting thyself to a damn bookstore.
5. Who are the last five people you talked to? (making this on the personal phone, otherwise it'd be work people, which is boring....)
in reverse order - YJ, Heather, my big brother, maJen, Tony.
The song I'm listening to right now is this hip-hoppy get up and dance mix but man, the vampirey words are a bit erm.... woe is me. It's a little incongruous.
lyric at post:
..I fed you once from my soul, now I'm forever slave to your needs,
I'm weighed down in sin, no freedom within, I don't live like an ordinary girl,
Cause that's my life you're throwing down the back of your throat..
witty, so witty
I 'borrowed' CF's office yesterday for the network connection. And no, I don't know why I didn't just use mine but..whatever. As I'm on the phone trying to connect with the IT fella, CF wanders over to my unprotected computer and sends the following email to the entire office from my account...Hey! I just won $100 on scratch and win. Beers on me after work.
Yours
Jen
I responded, not before the phone rang four times...
This is what happens when you piss off CF. He's a vindictive little bugger, ain't he?
He responds with this...
Hold on a second. Why do I become the fall guy? You won money. You thought you'd be generous. Then you changed your mind. And now you blame me? Shame.
Then MS has to get in on it.
Would you two please stop? First I hear we're getting free beer and I get excited. Then, I hear we aren't getting free beer and I become disappointed. Finally, I have my nose rubbed in it that we're not getting free beer - now I'm feeling frustrated because all I can think about is free beer that I'm not getting.
CF: MS, there is some free beer just outside of PL's office - compliments of T1.
(T1 had dropped a case and broken a whole bunch about 20 minutes previous to this.)
ME: And *that* really would be rubbing your face in it.
MS: You should know that it was my beer he decided to water the carpet with.
It had been rough day with the clients. What can I say?
lyric at post:
..never settle for less than the sky,
and if you walk out, don't ever let them see you cry..
Thursday, March 11, 2004
distraction
Cause I'm peeved about something else too, but I'm not going to tell the blog what it is.Stolen from Jen,also's .... 100 Best Novels. One the 'board' side, I've read four, three of which we had to in high school. And I further own two I haven't even contemplated reading in the 10 years or so they've been kicking around. On the 'reader' side - 20. And one I own but haven't (again) read. It is extremely gratifying to see Charles deLint on there as he is the most magical fella. Canadian, resides in Ottawa. Wrote a book called 'Jack the Giant Killer' - a retelling of the fairy tale, which pretty much tells the story of the faerie my mother told me I was. (some backstory in the bio - I just haven't gotten around to telling the whole story yet and frankly, may never).
And yeah, that's all I got.
amusing, myself
Yet another board meeting with our 'manager' (and I use that term loosely) who's been told we're not renewing our contract. Who's become quite snotty. I made a couple of comments, which although completely valid, were met by said stunned cowlike (with apologies to lulabelle and beatrice) human being, in not a nice nor polite fashion at all.I finally just gave up and amused myself by typing the minutes into the laptop the way I wanted to...
The Romulan just denied any knowledge of the large amounts of money we're pissing away as she 'doesn't handle the financials.'
The large hipped women sitting across from me growing ever more large, just tried to tell the 'new' board that she recommended to the 'old' board that we switch elevator maintenance companies, all the while obviously forgetting I was ON the old board. While denying any knowledge of the addendum to the original contract signed by the developers that says (quoting from memory here) "your elevators are shite and we'll maintain them at the current levels but we are SO not responsible for the MAJOR safety issues that already exist."
and it is now 7:55 and Jen couldn'tpossiblycareless Secretary is about to pack up said laptop as she is bidding on something on ebay which ends in 10 minutes.
I quite enjoyed all that. I guess I'll actually have to do the work tomorrow to tickety-boo it up.
Except I missed the end of the auction and some *bastard* outbid me in the final five minutes.
Which does not amuse me.
lyric at post:
..I remember feeling low I remember losing hope
And I remember all the feelings and the day they stopped
We are, we are all innocent..
