Saturday, May 22, 2004
thinking. on the couch.
I'm thinking about fate. Or, rather, Fate.It came up in conversation the other day and I began to wonder about it. I guess I believe in little bitty fates. But complete and total predestination? "Thou Cannot Stand Before The Will of Heaven"? The thought that something, once set into motion, has an inevitable and foregone conclusion that we really have no say in and nothing to do with?
If I were a believer in Fate, then right now, right this very second I think I could very well be staring at my own. Circumstances, desires, plans, and people, perfect people that have come together at the right time and the right place that you think would have no other conclusion but one. The One I Want Them to Have.
Or is that yet one more example of human arrogance? It's Fate because it worked out the way I wanted it to. But it's Bad Luck if it doesn't.
Whoa, and don't even get me started on the whole if I think I recognize it as Fate, then does that jinx it in some way, causing the universe to hiccup and stutter a little to the left just out of spite? train of thought (that was just one tiny railcar, trust me).
And what is Fate like? There are 'the Fates' of literature.
Ha. Ha.
In a way, when I think of Fate in tangible form and feature, I think of a lone woman. Not the young woman/crone/hag phase thing. But one beautiful woman. And I wonder what she'd be like if I were to wake up one morning with her looming over me. Because she'd have to be good AND evil, right? Fate is not always kind. Fate shows you what could be, then snatches it away. Fate gives you the perfect thing at the imperfect time. Fate drops an amazing bomb and changes your life, even if you don't want her to. Your destiny is here! It's wondrous! Oops, no it's not.
She'd have wings, I think. Black and sleek and shiny, covering her completely and opening at a thought to show bronze skin looking like warmth and comfort. Soft and full lips hiding a caustic kiss. Long silvery hair laying like a river across her shoulders, each strand a smooth perfection which only to the touch would reveal themselves as stinging nettles. Her graceful fingers would end in curved and polished claws so sharp that even the most gentle caress may lacerate. Even sincere and careful, the tracks of her affection would be written in her lover's blood.
Like all heavenly creatures she would be capable of love and fear as well as wrath and pride and sometimes it would pain her to be hated for what she is. She would shed her loneliness in diamond bright and deadly tears.
Fate, with a heart that beats, harboring desires, like any other heart. Loyal to those who seek intimacy with her, denying no one and loving her enemies as dearly as she loves those who search her out.
Is this the Fate that I am to meet?
Or is it just a set of happy little unexplainable coincidences that will all come to naught, in the end? Serendipity? No meaning these random flashes, although they seem so clear, interlocking so tightly into this puzzle. So effortlessly I can hear them 'click' into place and feel the weight of their presence with every breath I take. It would seem like such a waste for it not to be destiny, a waste of such painfully perfect pieces all lined up and waiting for the final act.
Which is it? What will it be? Will inevitability or coincidence be left standing when the curtain drops?
I'll have to get back to you on that one.
note to self
Must remember to take T3 there next time he's in town. Really.Now, where did I put that couch? Oh yes, there it is.
lord dying jesus
The one solid thing I can count on in this world is how much I'm going to miss the east coasters when I go.Lord, I danced. I jigged. I waltzed. I haven't had that much fun in years.
Give me some good 'ol Newfie fiddle music and a massive amount of dancing fools and I'm a happy girl.
I'm also happy that PornyBoy posted but I'm so damned exhausted that I just have to go back to bed.
Thursday, May 20, 2004
I give up
So, I call my "old" cell phone company today to verify they got that piece of shit phone back and could now cancel my account so I could pay my $200 buy out.Buddy on the phone there says, "If you can find someone to assume the contract we'll send them one of ...these... phones and for $35 - $65 they can go on a 2 year contract and then you won't have to pay the $200."
I say: "So, MY only option AFTER 8 YEARS was to pay $75 for a SHIT phone locked into a THREE AND A HALF YEAR CONTRACT but you'll give a NEW person the BEST PHONE YOU HAVE FOR $65 AND A TWO YEAR CONTRACT?"
Yes.
Hello? No seriously... HELLO?
Did I wake up in the twilight zone?
Do you and your global company not see how completely fucked up that is?
Jesus Christ.
A coworker is going to take it. I'm paying the $65 for her. It saves me $135.
But it doesn't compensate for my sanity.
lyric at post:
..And I held your hand through all of these years
But you still have all of me ..
Wednesday, May 19, 2004
It has to be said
For a city who supports their hockey team unenthusiastically at best it's completely hypocritical (and slightly pathetic) to jump on the bandwagon at this point.I know people who have never once watched a hockey game (and still haven't) who have gone out and bought flags for their cars.
And up until roughly 2 weeks ago I was a hockey fan...
..until all those normally silent and apathetic fans decided to drive up and down the streets honking their horns and screaming for hours and hours after the team they ignore most of the time finally wins. Even if it's a win in another city.
Especially since they're all on their way home to the quiet and empty suburbs to get a silent nights sleep. While I get to sit here and listen to 800 more of them drive by.
SHUT...UP...
Idiots.
Where Do You Want To Go Today?
Jen,also the answer is ... Yeah.Not good enough, really though, is it?
Okay. The idea was always to go at least to New Zealand once the Munchkin was gone. Then it got bigger and sucked up Australia, just because I started to know people there and then that got even bigger once Wade said he'd introduce me to everyone. With the British passport I can go to a whole schwack of other places too. I've always wanted to go to Ireland. I've been in England a few times so I don't really have any great desire to go back but as a citizen it would be a nice jumping off ground. I've still got an Aunt/Uncle and cousins in Cleethorpes and Grimsby. Here's a map. MaJen was born in Grimsby. I was there when they were putting the final touches on the Humber Bridge in 1981. hrm, now I do want to visit. :)
(sorry, little trip down memory lane for me).
I can go to Oz on a long-stay visa (12 months) and I'm exempt for 6 months in NZ (or 9-12 with a visa). I can use the British passport to work in the UK or wherever. My step-mother's sister (who's the only one I like anyways), lives in Amsterdam.
One of our group started running when he was 35 (he started with the Great Wall of China in 1994) and ran from Brisbane to Perth in 1999 then went back in 2001 and drove the same route (it's an amazing story, the website is here). Long story short - the car is in storage so I've even got a car out in Oz waiting for me, if I want it.
There truly isn't any compelling reason for me to stay here and all those reasons above for me to leave.
So, the idea would be.... rent the condo out so if I did come back then I've still got my home and if I didn't then I could sell it. After two years I've already got 20K in equity so it's well worth hanging on to until I know for sure. I've already proven I can pay the bills on a shit-money job so there's no financial reason not to leave my (much as I love it) current shit-money job.
The plan was to go and if I didn't want to come back well, then I didn't have any obligation to.
I made an offhand comment to T2 last week about flying off to live on sheep farm and I'm not sure if he thought I was serious or not but he called me the next day from Houston and the first thing he said was... "You know, I don't think sheep farming is as glamorous as it sounds." *guffaw*
And even if I don't take advantage of the work exchange program, my company has offices in Sydney, London, (Stockholm, Thailand, Saudi, Jordan, Kuwait, Chile and pretty much any other place you can name, although I'll not be learning any other languages, thanks).
Yes, of course you can come! But for which bit?
Tuesday, May 18, 2004
unsustainable
hee hee but I'm still all 'cited. Mom's stuff will be here by Friday and then I'll get all 'cited again. Then it'll wear off, cause it's just not possible to keep that up for you know... months.I did uh... happen to notice that as a British citizen I won't require a visa for New Zealand so I only will need one for Oz. That's cool (less visas = less money).
Tony:there is all happy about the trip to California. His sister lives in Fulsom so not only are we going to Alcatraz but her husband works at the prison, so we'll be touring ol' Fulsom prison too.
Last roadtrip to the US West - dead guys tour (Jimi Hendrix, Bruce Lee & Kurt Cobain) / this trip - prison tour. Men are weird.
Although, THIS driver has a few places of her own we'll be stopping at. Like the sea lion caves my father drove right on by *every single* family vacation we went on.
I'll be driving out on a Saturday, then he's nicely giving me a day of rest before we head to the US on Monday. Very early in the am. See, rest is required because after 12 hours out to the coast - I'll be doing all the driving. Because he's a truck driver and wants to just navigate (personally, I think the Americans scare him as he said - but you've driven there before. Err, on this particular route, only as far as Olympia. Which is 60 miles after we get off the ferry.)
Isn't there some man gene that makes this a lie? A man sitting in the passenger seat for 10 days and not wanting to drive? hmmph. We'll see.
Then 12 hours home. At least I'll get 24 hours of my own music. Cause Tony:there is all about the rock bands of the early 90's. And Johnny Cash. gahh.
And value witch would appreciate this - last time I was in the US I got a QFC Advantage card (a grocery/everything chain that doesn't exist in Canada) because you get a discount on gas. And I kept it. I'm so proud of myself.
So, I'm just trying to work up more excitement for THAT then I am for something I'm not doing for 19 more months.
procrastination - it's not always a bad thing
Cause since the last time I started the rigamorale for getting my dual citizenship, they've amended the rules. Go Britain!The people here at the Consulate are not very user friendly though. In fact, I called the High Commission and after pushing 10 keys and hearing "all the information you need is on our website at b.r.i.t.i.a.n.i.n.c.a.n.a.." 15 times by then they'd closed for the day. Only open from 10 to 3pm don't cha know. And no 800 number. Daytime long distance charges all the way.
But whatever, if they're making me a citizen, I should shut up. Right... shutting it.
So, once I receive MaJen's birth cert and old UK passport and I'm home from the US then I'm shipping all my stuff out to apply for registration as a British citizen.
Then, er, swear allegience to the Queen in some secret ceremony. Then apply for passport.
Doesn't that rock? Doesn't it sound weird? Have I just scared the shit out of all you British readers?
"I am a British citizen."
It makes me feel like I'm being born as someone else. Let's hope the BritishJen is a little less accident prone and a lot richer. At least now the rosy cheeks and perpetual paleness will make a little more sense.
Monday, May 17, 2004
trip planning and history lessons
It occurred to me this evening that I should actually take the forms in to get my passport. Except I filled them out and got pictures taken in Sept of 2002. Oops. Too late. Now I have to start over again.Along with finding all my research for the appeal to the British High Commission for my dual citizenship. See, Mom = landed immigrant. Dad = first generation Canadian. Mom, apparantly had to register us babies with the High Commission before we turned 18. It didn't occur to her. So, even though she's a LI and Britain is matriarchal, I now have to appeal using my grandfather. Who died 63 years ago.
So, can someone just scoot over there to York and find the church that burned down with all his records for me? Thanks, that'd make my job a little easier.
Then a phone call from Wade. We've never actually said specifically that I would go with him to Australia so I took this opportunity to well, check on that....
"So, I'm thinking, big fella - are you all good with me coming with you in 2006?"
"Wellll, I guess so" he says. And then laughs in that Wadey sort of way.
He really does have a million cousins. All on the east coast. But this trip he'll go for a month and I'll tag along until he comes back to Canada, then he can introduce me to at least a thousand of his family and I won't be all alone when he leaves. So far, two things on the agenda. Rottsnest Island, west of Perth. No private vehicles so he wants to do a bunch of hiking and biking around. Then a week at his uncle's cabin at Broomshead. At which I will lay semi-conscious on the beach as much as possible to recover from all that *shiver* exercise. But it's a little place and I can't find any good links - in the Byron Bay area about 520 km north of Sydney. I'd like to go to Kangaroo Island but I think we'll fly from one coast to the other.
So, a month in Oz and then over to New Zealand to stay with the family and tour about. Who are actually here in two weeks. Which is cool cause I've only seen my Aunt Teddie once since I was 15 and I went to Disneyland with her. Also Uncle Patrick once since I was five and they got married in our house. It's strange to think they've been there for 30 years and no one in our family has ever been to visit. I'll be the first. And most likely the only.
I was always told that Uncle Patrick was some sort of weird scientist guy who worked at some research station in Wellington before they moved to Nelson so I did a quick internet search and there he was. He met Teddie at Queen's and took her home with him. Weird. Cause I swear that's exactly what he looked like last time I saw him. I guess it's only been 10 years but it seems so long ago.
The trip to California will be the last one I take (unless there's a wedding I can't get out of) until I leave for the other side of the world so I decided that rather then fly out to pick up Tony:there, I'm going to take the 10 hour drive to Vancouver and back one (final) time.
Then, back to finish out the summer before getting a second job and saving my ass off for 16 months.
Gee, doesn't that sound like fun?
Sunday, May 16, 2004
the best things I've read this week
From this lovely place.
Although, considering my horoscope correctly pointed out:
Chances are I'll be skidding sideways in the shower and knocking myself out, with no one finding me until the Cabotcat has eaten at least one leg.
I've been wandering about in different types of dictionaries lately (lovely lovely words) and so am inflicting a few of my favorites upon you. I'll type rather than link though, to save your poor little fingees, don't you love me?)
jactitate - to toss and turn or to toss back and forth
krnch - n. the crunching sound of a head-on crash.
rrrrrrrmmmmg - n. the sound of a hangover, as in Diary by Karawynn Long.
Jury - Twelve men chosen to decide who has the better lawyer.
m.m.f.d. - an abbreviation of miles and miles of f**king desert. Thought to originate from WWII.
t.d. factor - touch = die factor. An extremely precise measuring system for rating the leftovers in your fridge. Choose a number from 1-11 to indicate exactly how dangerous it would be for a person to eat your leftovers. The T.D. factor is particularly useful for shared households, where different value systems about food hygiene or sharing may clash.
b'gurk! - Australian. Used when a person accidently utters a loud stupid sound when frightened or nervous, or in general when a person stupidly fumbles something. A play on the sound a chicken makes when you frighten or grab it.
agnosia - Neuro term. 1. The inability to recognize a coin, key, or other object merely by its feel, e.g., when held in the hand. 2. The inability to recognize a door, e.g., by the sound of its slamming or from its photograph alone. 3. In agnosia, while perception itself (i.e., feeling a coin's shape or hearing a door slam) is normal, recognition of objects is not.
There is a wonderful 'many languages' swear site but it now contains a 'install this now' popup that just keeps coming back. And I'd email them and tell them they're assholes but it's just too damn difficult. So, instead, a lovely book entitled English as a Second F*cking Language : How to Swear Effectively, Explained in Detail with Numerous Examples Taken From Everyday Life.
And now, I'm going to throw more things out.
lyric at post:
..two feet below the surface I can still make out your wavy face..
