Saturday, September 04, 2004
perpetual questions
You know the ones --- why am I here? - what am I supposed to be doing? - why the hell do I get pimples at thirtyfuckingfive? - those unanswerable questions that plague us all.At different times in my life I've had answers I believed to be definitive to all of them.
Only realizing somewhere along the way that part of growing up is learning that you have to leave certainty behind. Because nothing is certain. I read something once that said something like (cause of course I can't remember exactly), - trust no one that says theirs is THE way. - There is always another point of view and you may very well be the one who's narrow-minded and stagnant or who's definitions are outdated. That sometimes the best thing you can do for yourself is to carefully consider other points of view and periodically review your inner convictions.
And because I have such amazing and wise friends, I have opportunities to do so on a regular basis.
I'm going to paraphrase madly here a couple of different conversations but the meat of the discussion was built around the concept of 'knowing' in a 'relationship' and the feeling that there was always something you were missing that may just show up the next day, or month, or move.
I, personally, have always been firmly convinced that I would just know. How? Really.couldn't.say. I don't know how I would know or what it would feel like or if I should be looking for things I've felt before or something completely new.
I just would. Because attaching it to a result would naturally restrict finding something you couldn't even quantify. And why would anyone want to set the outcome before even starting the journey?
Having said that and having asked the same sort of theoretical question of the aforementioned wise ones, in part to maybe find a better definition / description than I'll just know, part of the answer I recieved in return was this:
When you wake up one day and realize that you haven't settled at all, but rather have found a place that makes you happy, and comfortable, and loved, then you do commit.
Not to the thing, but to yourself. To keep the thing.
We're all afraid there's something better around the corner. But in the end, we grow up when we realize that the things in front of us are pretty damn wonderful, too, and that chasing those things around the corner - that often end up being empty shadows - is exhausting and not always better. There comes a time when you look around you and say, yes, I always want to keep on searching, but I want to be in this moment, right here, right now, most of all.
When that happens, you know.
lyric at post:
..said, the battle's almost won
and we're only several miles from the sun..
Friday, September 03, 2004
go away before I open the door and gut you with a dull knife
I may have mentioned once or twice before that being a board member for my condo corp is a fucking nightmare. It's been a nightmare for the entire two years that I have been on the board. And has actually provoked me to in-your-face rudeness a couple of times - which is something I very rarely do to people I do not know well (or at all, for that matter).
Because I am a please and thankyou, let me get the door for you, quite right, cheerio, go home and beat the cat half to death but be polite to strangers sort of girl.
Believe it or not.
The guy that lives across the hall, nice enough fella, but for some lazy fatass whiney refusal-to-accept-the-slightest-responsibility unknown reason has decided that I am his personal board member.
The only time I see him is when he knocks on my door to complain.
Not such a big deal, right?
It wouldn't be if he weren't one of those people who ask a question and then don't listen to the answer but just continually repeat the fucking question from different angles and approaches. OR if he were someone who actually showed up at a meeting OR if he weren't someone who, thinking I am not home, comes across the hall every hour on the hour to knock, thereby preventing me from relaxing after a long week because I refuse to answer the door. Which in addition, requires me to be absolutely silent so he cannot tell I am home.
Case in point. Our last conversation, where after he had knocked on the door FIVE times and I was tired of being silent in my own home, I flung open the door and through clenched teeth, screeched... "WHAT????"
he: The cleaners haven't been here lately.
me: That is because, as you know, we've switched management companies and have had some difficulty in getting keys for the new cleaners. They will be here in the next two days.
he: Right, well, see, nothing's been cleaned.
me: I know that, but as I said, blah blah blah.....
he: But the garbages need to be emptied.
me: Someone will be here in the next two days.
he: Yeah, but you know, it really pisses me off when ....
me: What? And you don't think it pisses ME off? (I was getting a bit shrill at this point.)
he: Well, I was considering not paying my condo fees to this new company unless someone cleaned.
me: Oh, that's helpful. Threaten to not pay, which then leaves us short money in a tight budget, which may eventually lead to us not having cleaning fucking people at all.
It was longer and more annoying than that, but you get my point, right?
I am rightthisveryminute seriously considering putting a note on the door that says....
"Dear Person who keeps knocking on my door, I have just returned from the hospital after having major surgery and require my rest. Which you are disturbing. I will not be answering my door. If you have a concern that you would like the board to address, do what everyone else does and email or leave a letter for us. If you have a specific issue with the building, please call the management company. Oh, and also, FUCK OFF."
dresses for a girlie girl
And we're back to the shitty camera again. Boy, I missed that. Not.The white one is one that has one of those little slippys underneath and the transparent shit on top (see? I do not know proper girlie terms - I live in constant fear that the feminine fashion freaks - the FFF - will come to kidnap me and brainwash me.) Not that I don't like dressing up once in a while, mind you. It needs to be a bit shorter though so I need to take it in for alteration. HEY. I said I'm not much of a girlie girl, I didn't say I wasn't a tramp at heart. Did I?
The second one, which is soooo not that color but a dark blue and very very sparkly is high in the front but has a low back.
So, I'm prepared for colder weather and warmer weather. Although, I'd like to keep the blue one for the Christmas party.
Took me all of 15 minutes. Speed shopper, aren't I just?
hmph
I didn't say it would be a 'nice' picture. Because obviously I hate all permanent record of myself (well, there's a few I don't mind, mostly taken by people who know how to make me look better. Filters or something.) Besides, I get the feeling the hair is stepping back to March length at my haircut on Tuesday. So, go look at the dog pictures and then speak now or forever hold your peace.
second pause
I probably should mention, cause I've been not thinking about it - not on purpose I don't think - that it is that time of year again. On the visa/customs day, I will also be heading to see LFD and associated xray people with-those-cold-fucking-tables for my annual are-ya-dying, did we miss some? check.That'll be two and a half years. Which puts me halfway to kicking some big C ass. Considering the survival rates for my type are pretty high and the first five years are the deciding ones....
I guess what I'm trying to say here, cause I know you guys will worry, is that if I were concerned - it would be bugging me. And you would know it. The simple fact that I barely even give it a second thought and the periodic check with my internal self indicates smooth sailing ahead, is all I really need to know.
Doctors though, require slightly more.
Regardless, I think all mood swings for the next two weeks should be forgiven in advance and in return, you'll all be the first/second to know my results on the 20th, which will be right before I head west.
Deal?
You may now commence with the lighting of the candles, the beseeching of the fairie gods and the sacrificing of the chickens.
Thursday, September 02, 2004
pause
I came home from work with a blinding headache and slept for a couple of hours before actually accomplishing the fix to our java (email on it's way to you, mon birdgirl). Heaving a massive sigh of relief that I am sure caused a small hurricane in the Galapagos, I then took a million pictures of myself.Most of which got deleted. Because, frankly, there is no better way to make yourself feel like the hunchback of Notre Dame and the Elephant Man all rolled up into one.
Excepting I did get a few good ones to replace the hideously frightening ones that M2 currently keeps sending me. The shocks, frankly, have been debilitating and damaging to my self-esteem (SEE! See what you're doing? Nasty man.)
Although I did not bring the associated software and cable things home from work with the digital camera I borrowed, once I can find a place to safely download the slightly (and yeah, I mean slightly) risque ones, I shall post a nice purty one here so you can all see why my hair tickles my eyeballs.
It's all a ploy for sympathy, really.
Although, it has been occurring to me that I may not actually have the right facial shape for long hair. But that, I suppose, still remains to be seen as my bangs need to grow another two inches at least. So ... I'll let you know next summer.
I'm also a little pissed that I cannot find a dress to wear for the wedding in a few weeks - owning only summer long dresses, little black stretchy dresses and a very formal 'opera' dress. Considering no one was overly amused that I wore black to my high school graduation (which I attended as an audience member because I quit high school four months before - I went back, jeez, calm down will ya?) I think I should wear something slightly more errr... cheerful to show my appreciation of the wonderful couple.
And my coveted status of the last one to still be unmarried. Which is pretty cool and not likely to ever change. But not suprising, I think, to all of them.
I am, however, excited beyond all reason that the first night will be here and I am very muchly looking forward to it and that great big tub. The suite on the top floor, fresh coffee and paper at your door in the morning, as well as the choice of breakfast in the pub next door is surpassed only by the fact that it is on the water and - as a treat for the boy - is it's very own fantastic brew pub.
I will more than likely babble on about this next trip over the next few weeks - although, due to possible customs/visa issues - the week before is going to be a tiny bit tense.
And I may be spending the night alone in that non-cancellable pre-paid expensive gorgeous and romantic room telling myself how wonderful I am.
You've been warned.
Wednesday, September 01, 2004
caught
Okay, I admit it, I occasionally read The Blog of Death - if only because I do not read newspapers nor watch the news. And frankly, did anyone believe that Rick James died at 56 of natural causes? Hello?Ya just have to keep on top of these things, you know.
ANYWAYS, I just have to say, I'm sad - I checked in and suddenly - Laura Branigan was toast - c'mon, singalong now..
I think they got the alias (Gloria) that you've been living under (Gloria)
But you really don't remember, was it something that they said?
all the voices in your head calling, Gloria?
PeiPei, the oldest panda bear raised in captivity, and
Elisabeth Kubler-Ross, who posited the five stages of grief and wrote more than 20 books on death and dying. And although I think she was a great and smart woman that the world needs to read more of and having seen people (and myself) experience all that she spoke about - I'd like to ask her if all those words and all that belief gave her any comfort or any insight at the end. Wouldn't you?
And the saddest of all, the death of Marcel Caux, who, among other things, was one of the remaining five Australian WWI veterans.
This makes me saddest of all because until this year, I've never actually met an Australian I've even remotely liked but in learning about the history of the continent over the last 8 months, I have been alternately ashamed and angered at 'our' treatment of the Australians. As well as a lesson the rest of the world should have learned (but probably won't), we have all lost a piece of our history, and one less person to teach the upcoming generation what it means to go to war.
And, that should make all of us a little heartbroken.
Let's Play a Game
This afternoon, on a mostly empty and quiet floor there is one emanating a higher level of sound. I've been busy all day. Too busy. And I wander in to see what's going on.There are four people playing the "Thesaurus Game". This is explained to me as: one person turns to a page, picks a word and then the others give what they think is an equivalent.
Since they started with "menstruation", let's just use that as our example, shall we? Are you thinking of a word? Okay. Say it was "period". That particular one is tenth on the list. Say it was "the curse". Well, that one is fifth, so you'd win. See how that works?
Mr. Thesaurus Game Champ 2002 challenged me to a game. Now, he's a pretty quick witted guy but he doesn't really deal in words, like we all do, on a daily basis.
I won the first round.
He won the second.
The third word is 'enterprise'. I think..... damn, either 'business' or 'undertaking'. I go with the dark horse - undertaking. And because it was the first word on the list. . . I won.
Take that.
But thanks for being such a good sport, Mr. I wouldn't even shake your hand since I lost after I boasted I could kick your ass.
About 10 to five I looked outside to discover that it was pretty damn near dark out and since I hadn't been for a tan in a while, I figured I may as well bail on the labels I was going to stay at work to do for Lesley's wedding and stop in on the way home. Tanning is relaxing and warm and soothing. I could do with a little of all three after the last few days.
Good thing I did as the shop is halfway home and since it was raining by the time I actually got outside, Calgary had it's very own one-woman white wet t-shirt walking down the rush hour side of the road contest. (I won, of course, being the only entrant).
Entering the tanning place, I see that it is customer appreciation day. I had no idea they had these. Or that it was today. The cheerful tanning ladies seemed bored and therefore, quite happy to see me - chattering and fussing. They entered me in a draw. I got my 20 minutes for free. They gave me a little tub of free lotion, enough to cover my whole body. And when I was done, a glass of white wine, cheese and crackers and some heavenly sort of salmon cream cheese spread. Finished off with, what else? chocolate. By this point, it had also stopped raining.
Stepping back outside, smelling like a fruity drink with a paper parasol, I decided that I would take tonight for myself. No work. No labels. No attempt at working out the java kinks (sorry am), no meeting with the board members. Just me, with the sadly neglected cat on my lap, the silence, a book and a glass of wine.
Because sometimes, reminders come in unexpected places just when you need them the most.
Thanks, ladies. I appreciate you, too.
Tuesday, August 31, 2004
Oh, I just can't decide.....poor me
PL dropped by last night with my case o' wine. I usually grab a Chilean merlot or cabernet sauvingnon, but my oh my, I now have 800 different kinds.Okay, a case only has twelve, but you get my point.
PL's quite proud of his wines as he uses no chemicals and all those lovely bottles have been aging for at least a year.
I have barbera, cabernet sauvingnon, two merlots, a bordeaux, two pinot noirs, an alicante, two montepulcianos, bourgeron and even one white.
Fortunately, I managed to curb the urge (due largely in part to more computer frustration) to lock the doors, turn off the phones and open all 12 bottles.
The best part is he only wanted to charge me what it cost him - 4 dollars a bottle. WELL, I say, that's not fair, you should make a profit!
We settled on five bucks per.
Love that man.
I'll have to spend some time on the weekend figuring out the characteristics of most of them.
Cheers!
And also for some strange reason I was going through my draft posts today and found a couple that I have no idea why I removed them. So I put them back. Must have been a 'moment'.
M2 had a good idea last night that I should track humidity levels for when my knees hurt. T2 and I were talking about it and wondering what the data would provide (not a solution, although as M2 said - a threshold - although I'm not sure what good that would do me either, "Quick everyone, humidity levels are rising, pack your shit, we've gotta get out of town!") . . . T2 is convinced that M2's point was that I could prove it really did have something to do with the weather and that it wasn't all in my head. But is too much of a gentleman to put it that way.
Nice. Both of you.
lyric at post:
..I'll hold you in the desert
And on a lonely beach
I'll hold you in these places
Where no one else can reach you..
Monday, August 30, 2004
All's Well That Ends With Crying With Relief and Joy
But just so you know - I loathe, no I hate javascript and it's picky snitty attitude.It needs an adjustment.
My attitude however, is marginally up the scale towards sweetness and light once again.
And even though most of you have no idea what I am talking about, just rest assured that I (we) have conquered one demon (my inability to see what's in front of my face) and that I shall not be frustrated in the slightest until at least 9 am tomorrow.
Cause there's still ten other things to deal with.
Candy fuelled
I am settling in at work for an exhausted haul to the end of one nightmare task so that I can get on with another one tomorrow.And then I'm going home to bed. Straight to bed.
After a sugar run, I realize how sad that is as I sit here, staring at a candy love heart that says... Hold Me.
Gahhh.
However, that is balanced slightly by the fact that the next one says Web Site.
Now, wouldn't that be the perfect next-generation step for the internet? A website that holds you.
lyric at post:
..you're the angel that keeps me in line..
Can Someone Take the Sign Off My Back Please
That meeting on the 15th? That one we haven't invited anyone to yet? The hotel cancelled the room this afternoon. Imagine that.Christ.
However, sometime this week PL is coming over with a case of wine I just bought really cheap from him. Anyone wanna come over for a wee bevvy?
Sunday, August 29, 2004
A Night For The Poets to Speak
I was reading Allen Ginsberg just now in the mind of finding a quick quote. But then, drawn in - I'd forgotten what a fascinating mess he was. I'll be the first to admit that today was a discouraging day for me (for many reasons) and I'm having a little trouble relating to someone who did a little too much ether and wrote things like this:What can be possible
in a minor universe
in which you can see
God by sniffing the
gas in a cotton?
The answer to be taken in
reverse & Doubled Math
ematically both ways.
excerpt from Aether, Allen Ginsberg, 'Reality Sandwiches'
There was a little dance with Dylan Thomas - who was great for many reasons but will more than likely only be remembered by most for:
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
"The zipless fuck was more than a fuck. It was a platonic ideal. Zipless because when you came together zippers fell away like rose petals, underwear blew off in one breath like dandelion fluff. Tongues intertwined and turned liquid. Your whole soul flowed out through your tongue and into the mouth of your lover."
Love that. Anyways, she's managed to come up with something that describes the reading of wonderful, insane poets late at night after a long, difficult day, rather than the melancholy poignancy I was actually looking for. And that is the mark of a good woman.
Again & again
I have read your books
without ever wishing to know you.
I suck the alphabet of blood.
I chew the iron filings of your words.
I kiss your images like moist mouths
while the black seeds of your syllables
fly, fly, fly
into my lungs.
Untranslated, untranslatable,
you are rooted inside me -
not you - but the you
of your poems.
excerpt from To Pablo Neruda, Erica Jong, 'Loveroot'.
I think I might just take her to bed with me.
note to self #6
Worrying about what you are thinking really means I am not even thinking about you. I am thinking only of myself.I know it is pointless for me to think I am wrong for feeling insecure or frustrated or overwhelmed.
It's like hating the internet because I can't understand how to make it do what I want it to do, right now. I'm allowed to be frustrated. Whether I am responsible for these feelings or not I am responsible for what I do with them.
I want to listen to you, not to myself. I don't want to listen to just the things you are saying but I want to feel what you mean by them.
Just because I can't be far enough back to see it, that doesn't mean it isn't there. I want to learn to listen for what I don't hear, instead of listening to myself.
Everything *I* have to say, I've already heard and I don't need to hear myself again because when I'm listening to myself I am hearing things from yesterday, or last year or a lifetime ago. I can choose to be ruled only by what is happening right now.
Update on the Blood Red Carpet
Once it dried, it was orange.I'm not here today. I am working on employment worky things and learning something new and shaking in my little slippers in case I send the whole interwebnet crashing to the earth in a shattering (but strangely beautiful) display of color.
Erm. Sorry. In advance.
