a thought gone further off track...

end of the era

2006-01-02T14:02:00.000-08:00

It's a new year and, yes folks, I'm moving on.

As the vast majority of you dear readers are people I know, you likely already know about the Private Blog for goofy family pics, personal updates and Christmas letters. Maintaining multiple blogs has become a hassle, and so ends a thought gone further off track...

Since, every now and then, random people do stop by and, if for some strange reason you do want to relive the past in the archives (but mostly because I'm lazy) this site will remain up for the foreseeable future. I'm not sure that all the links will remain, but we'll see.

Thanks for those who've been reading this and happy blogging!

Jenn

a winding down?

2005-12-11T20:23:00.000-08:00

Ah, maybe it's the crunch of the season or maybe it's just fall-out from my last post regarding my likely lack of posting, but I've had thoughts of closing up shop here.

I'm spreading myself a little thin in the blogging and would probably be much better off to focus my efforts instead of splitting writings.

That's my theory for today, anyway.

No decisions to be made before the new year and, should a shut down be decided upon, a much more formal announcement will precede any demise...

epiphanies: few and far between

2005-12-06T07:23:00.000-08:00

It's December. I've simply not much time left for having deep, profound thoughts that can turn themselves into worthy rants.

My time is more consumed, recently, with timely Christmas shopping, shipping and daily schlepping around. Postings may be sparser than usual between now and the New Year, and certainly shorter. There will likely be news of import: little kids singing along to songs they don't know at Christmas concerts, gatherings of people I see only once a year, the microcosm of the Greyhound bus station and semi-postal mall Santas.

But, whether or not I will have time or inclination to digest it past the observation will remain to be seen. If I don't deal with something as, or shortly after, it happens, I'm far more likely to simply let it slide into the recesses. It might reincarnate later as part of something else, but never as the same moment.

In theory, that's why I started carting my old camera around with me in my purse; there were so many shots during my days that I wanted to take and couldn't.

Since I began carrying it, I've yet to take a single photo. Maybe, like posting, more in the New Year?

I'm dreaming of a...

2005-11-27T11:55:00.000-08:00

Hell, no I'm not!

I've lived on the wet west coast for the past 8 years and have become quite comfortable with green Christmases, thank you. We're allowed one snowfall, maybe two, in January, and that's it folks.

So, who decided that it was time to have snow in November?

Granted, it's stuck mainly to the roofs and tips of trees, but still. I mean, really. It's just too strange. There was no hint of this in the forecast. After a week of fog, we were to have a few days of rain and get back to our normal dreary selves.

I have a theory. Since the BC Lions didn't win a spot in today's Grey Cup, that meant the two competing teams are from significantly colder climes. That means their fans are travelling in, en masse, to partake in the event. That means: they brought the damn weather with them. Crazy-ass Albertans and Quebecois. By all means, come visit our lovely city, but do so without bringing the weather here with you! If I were to go visit Montreal or Edmonton, I wouldn't dare consider bringing the rain with me. It's rather rude, you know.

Now, I'm going to be all cold and cranky AND attending a football game that the local team isn't in. God help the painted, beer-soaked idiots sitting behind me in the stands today...

sugar high

2005-11-22T19:54:00.000-08:00

Oh, is it getting near Christmas??

Must be all the eggnog, gingerbread and pounds upon pounds of chocolate that are distracting me from the true spirit of consumerism. Far too easy, these days, to be lulled into a fat and sugar filled stupor early in the shopping day; one must have their whip-cream topped gingerbread latte and icing-slathered scone to start the day, after all. What then, of stores and shopping? Wandering aimlessly in such a ~~stoned~~ blissfully full and caffeinated state can truly only bring feelings of peace and ambivalence. Far too stressful, is it not, to enter an elbow-to-elbow store for a scented bar of soap? Why, one's coffee might be bumped! And, really, once that level of caffeination has been achieved, only more will do. The only (and I mean ONLY) sensible shop to visit at this point is one filled with chocolate. And doesn't everyone love chocolate for the holidays??

With apologies to the diabetics, the dieting and the allergic: no one's really thinking of you at this point. It's all rather self-serving, for it's only as the shopper arrives home, bags bulging with rich, endorphin-inducing morsels, that they realise the error of their ways.

Another trip to mall must be planned. Real, proper gifts must be purchased. No, one can't really send candy out to everyone [and yet... it still must be eaten...]. The next trip to the mall, of course, must begin early to avoid the certain rabid gathering of other shoppers. It will require foresight, courage and, above all, the energy to take on parking, sales clerks and santas.

It will require beginning the day with a large coffee and sugar-coated scone.

warning: excessive stream of consciousness b.s. below

2005-11-14T20:21:00.000-08:00

[as part of a poetry group that I attend, we get a weekly word or line to ponder. this week's line was: all acts of kindness are lights in the war for justice (j. harjo) the following rant was written earlier today to a poorly recalled version of this line. yes, it still counts.]

free write for this week: something about truth shining light on injustices.

I automatically cringe at the thought of having to write on such a grandiose topic - it could go so vague, so righteous, so cheesy, so self-important and all with so little effort.

The only out is to describe, perhaps, a personal event but, really, what injustices have I suffered? I've taken the brunt of a few minor slights but certainly nothing worthy of rehashing at the risk of whining over petty crap from years ago.

A personal event for someone else? The story of the pan-handler on the corner or the street-worker on the drive home? That greatly runs the risk of over-sentimentalizing (is that a word?) but perhaps that's the challenge.

Perhaps a ?subtler commentary - women's access to emergency contraception?

Maybe my problem with this is the inherent assumption that there is an immediately accessible right and wrong, and it seems unlikely to be able to explore any issue fully enough in a poem to justify proclaiming any conclusions of my own. And it seems rather unpoetic to regurgitate a barrage of heavy-handed info - and, even personalized, it's heavy-handed - so that the readers can form their own opinions.

So, where does that leave me? Letting this stew while I wait for the requisite epiphany. It may happen, it may not. I may just be chicken-shit.

That may be the point.

a clear day brings out all the crazies

2005-11-07T18:51:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was actually sunny. After several days of rain, it was quite bizarre to see, not only so much sun, but so many people out and about - many with no apparent purpose other than to be out and about. I wasn't one of them. I'm battling the dregs of a cold that left me with little incentive to get off the couch until I had to go out in the afternoon.

There were so many afternoon strollers on our front lane that I was beginning to get a bit paranoid. Driving down past the shops in Kitsilano in the afternoon was treacherous with all the weekend window shoppers.

A beautiful, clear winter day: hard to come by on the pacific coast, yet here it was for the past two days. It is all, of course, over tomorrow. The rain returns and threatens to stay close for the remainder of the week. But even that, we're not allowed to complain about. Rain in the city means snow in the mountains and the ski hills [when are they going to change the name to snowboard hills?] are opening in record time this year. Doesn't matter that I don't ski/snowboard. I'm not allowed to complain.

I just have to hold out for the next clear day to run out and walk around without purpose. Hopefully, I'll be over the cold by then.

whilst pondering each nuance and tone

2005-11-05T16:08:00.000-08:00

Yep, the first poetry studio convenes tomorrow afternoon.

Yay!

I've been ~~dithering~~ lazy in my editing and waiting only for those phrases that hit me in a profound epiphany, rather than taking the time to tease out succinct bits of wording.

I need a smack up side the head.

Now, to my knowledge, no one at the group tomorrow [though there are a couple of newbies] is of the ilk to literally smack me up side the head, but a little verbiage adjustment will do just as well.

Plus, I get to read other works - something I'm also lazy about on my own. I have a few publications that I check into and a few books that have been dog eared with personal faves but none of it is terribly broadening in the horizons department.

So, yes, I'm looking forward to tomorrow.

And if I'm not able to adequately edit between now and then, I can at least go now and print off a few copies for editing.

into the pit

2005-10-29T15:55:00.000-07:00

The basement is once again rearing it's ugly head... as much as a basement can do, what with being at the bottom of the house.

I've had an overdue note appearing in my email for the last month: phone the contractor. I am so procrastinating.

I'm at an impasse regarding what kind of bookshelves I want him to build. I've found a table that I like [not sure if SigOther likes it, but if he was really terribly concerned, he'd've come shopping with me] and I thought that would clear everything up with respect to the bookshelves. It hasn't.

I'm at the point now where I may just phone our guy up and get him to finish the basement without all the extra cabinetry work. I feel kind of bad about it, because the woodworking is the stuff he likes to do. There is still a little woodworking to be done in the living room and we're definitely going ahead with that, but I fear that if the basement is to ever be finished, it will have to be in stages. I know that's not ideal but my visualizing powers appear to be at an all time low and my motivation is fast racing to join in.

I've now tentatively scheduled the basement clean up for the upcoming long weekend [unbeknownst to SigOther, and in and around getting my hair done and going out to friends' for supper]. After that, we get the contractor back and try and set some dates.

I need deadlines and scheduling; that's the only way to get things done around here. Otherwise, I just simply get used the appearance of the ugly old basement. Kind of like I have for the last five years...

'tis the season

2005-10-23T17:19:00.000-07:00

Hallowe'en fast approaches, but I'm already past that and thinking of Christmas.

Yes, shoot me now.

I've not actually bought any presents yet, but have already figured out a few people's gifts and have been harassing others for ideas. I've even started drafting my annual cheesy-yet-obligatory letter. Now, I just have to buy the cards.

I send out about 50 cards a year to various friends and family (SigOther has a big family) and, for some, that's the only contact I have with them all year.

I figure that's better than a kick in the head.

I could just send out the letter and stop feeding the holiday card giant's pockets, but this year I've decided to try posting the letter online [not here - elsewhere]. I will still need some manner in which to inform the masses of the location of the letter. So, cards it is.

Locating the perfectly inoffensive card isn't easy, as it's mostly me who is easily offended by overt religious sentiments, overt cuteness or overt blandness. If it makes me roll my eyeballs, I don't buy it. I have the same issues with all cards - birthday, mother/father's day, weddings, etc - but since those are for a particular person, I can take their opinions into account and loosen up on some of my own issues. But, when presenting my annual sentiment to a large group of people, icons and phrasing become more critical.

No, it's not brain surgery. And I know that each and every card is likely discarded before the new year. However, for the brief moment that is read and/or displayed, the existence of an obnoxious glittery little cartoon bear vs. a stylized non-denominational snowflake makes a difference.

Every now and then I wonder how, in the age of computers, places like the post office and stationery stores stay in business. And then I remember.... me, at Christmas.

Lois Fish Palliative Society

2005-10-20T21:33:00.000-07:00

This society was mentioned on the news tonight and I wanted to make note of it while I remembered. I've not yet had the chance to go through the site thoroughly, but certainly intend to in the near future. What I gathered of the concept from the newscast struck me as something most worthwhile and, for me, worth the time to look at a little closer.

which way did that truck go?

2005-10-11T19:19:00.000-07:00

It's that season once again, and I've been hit.

Everything has started up - choir, poetry class, writers' workshops, board meetings and who knows what else I'm forgetting about.

I have to prepare a couple of poems for this Thursday evening and have something on the sidelines [likely the same stuff] for Sunday afternoon in case the opportunity presents itself to have work reviewed.

I've got pieces that I've been working on, but I'm not sure that I'm ready and willing to offer any of it up for critique. I'm still thinking 'what the hell was I thinking, exactly?', and I hardly need that sentiment reiterated by the masses. [okay, none of the masses that I've had the pleasure of workshopping with would actually say that ... not outloud, anyway.] I mean, it all made sense when I wrote it...

Really.

But, that's what my lunch hours are for: editing poems, listening to choir midis and reading draft documents. Now that the season's turning for the wet, dark and dreary, it's good that everything's started up again.

fall drag

2005-09-27T22:26:00.000-07:00

It is nearly the end of September and, as usual, although I am writing the dates, I am no where near aware of the concept that Thanksgiving is nearly upon me. And, really, all that Thanksgiving means is that I have to start Christmas shopping.

But before Thanksgiving, is tomorrow. September 28 is SigOther's and my anniversary [yay, us!]. It's not a big year - the first, second or any multiple of five - so any revelry has been relegated to the weekend. Yes, we're getting old and therefore cranky if we stay up too late past our bedtime on a worknight.

By the weekend, it will be October. After that, it's all turkey dinners and perma-dusk for the rest of the year. Okay, okay, I've lived in true perma-dusk and, no, we don't actually have that here but, by the time I drive to work in the pre-dawn and home in the fringes of sunset, it's not much different.

Realistically, the shorter days are about the only means of telling the seasons in the city, as snow is practically just a rumour and, while the leaves turn all sorts of gorgeous colours and drop, the temperature doesn't really drop at the same rate.

But, despite what I may think, I'm in fall. I get to see more of the moon, my dog is happier with the [slightly] cooler weather and before long, instead of wondering at the novelty of writing months that end in 'er', I'll get to realise the oddity of writing 2006.

of Tony and Larry

2005-09-22T21:06:00.000-07:00

We began last night, watching CNN. I am, at the moment, a little adverse to watching CNN but sometimes one has no choice. There is CTVNewsNet, but I honestly forget about it most of the time.

But I digress. We watched CNN, briefly, while CNN watched an airplane meander around the skies of Los Angeles for hours on end.

And that's all CNN did. They talked to various and sundry people, some of whom knew more about airplanes than others, and they filled time with pointless prattle.

But, when Larry King asked an 'airplane expert' if he thought the people on the flight would be watching CNN, I risked bursting SigOther's eardrums by shrieking 'change the channel!!!'. I mean, really. I could almost hear the sheer glee in Larry's voice as he contemplated the little circuitous logic of 'I'm on CNN talking about the airplane, and they're on the airplane, watching me talk about them, being on the airplane, while they're on the airplane and I'm talking about it...'.

So, we moved to our local news. At 6pm, exactly, Tony Parsons noted the existence of the circling aircraft and it's defunct front wheel, and promptly moved on. We were informed, by Tony, that we would return to the plane in question when it was about to attempt a landing. And then we were treated to news other than that of the chronically aloft airplane. When the plane landed, we saw it. We said 'yay!'. Then, we went back to other news.

Not to belittle the stress that the pilot, crew and passengers were going through, but watching an airplane fly lazily around for prolonged periods of time is just plain boring. And it's way worse when random news anchors are trying, desperately, to say interesting things while watching said airplane. There was absolutely NO need to stalk this airplane while it was in the air.

The pilot and, I'm assuming, co-pilot did a kickass job landing that plane, everyone on the ground looked incredibly organised, and I'm sure the crew were commendable for keeping it together and keeping the passengers informed. And I hope all the passengers got through it without too much wear on their tickers. But if, god forbid, I'm ever in a plane that's circling because of some stupid wheel malfunction, the airplanes and helicopters that are flying around shooting footage of me will be causing me far more stress than the messed up wheel.

And I, for one, will not be watching it unfold ever-so slowly on any in-flight/satellite feed news channels.

two thoughts

2005-09-21T17:37:00.000-07:00

1. finally got the post from last night published, after an evening of Blogger oddities.

2. having reread my responses to the meme I was tagged with, it appears as though I may make a good hermit. I'll have to add that to my list of things to do.

nice to meet you, too

2005-09-20T20:10:00.000-07:00

I've been contemplating handshakes sporadically over the last little while. Plain old, introductory handshakes.

I should probably state up front that I'm a bit of a hand snob. On the one hand [ooo, sorry. no pun intended], mine aren't always in the best state, what with having to wash them a million times a day. I also find myself quite able to ignore my cuticles for weeks on end. On the other hand, nice hands are, well, just nice. They don't have to be perfect or unscathed - that just suggests a profound lack of use - but shape, skin, movement and interest all play into my personal biases.

And my personal biases also include the grip of a handshake.

In the last little while, I've encountered several incredibly limp handshakes. I'm not sure if these people consider me excessively wimpy or icky, if they are, themselves, excessively wimpy or icky or simply don't 'do' handshakes. [it's been suggested that there may be cultural differences in acceptable handshake pressure, but that hasn't corresponded well with experience.] If one is going so far as to be part of the handshake, should it not be a committed effort? On the far opposite end of the spectrum are, of course, the death grip handshakes. Those, thankfully, seem to have eased up around here. Everyone I meet, lately, has either a firm, pleasant handshake or an obligatory half-grasp that suggests they'd really rather be somewhere else.

A person could start to take it personally.

I suppose a handshake could be considered a terribly personal interaction - far more intrusive than a smile, an inclination of the head or a brief bow. And, I suppose, it would be rather awkward to refuse a handshake [though, the last couple of less-than-firm handshakes I've been party to were initiated by the other persons]. Perhaps the expectation of a handshake-style greeting has brought people to partake in it when they are far more comfortable with a nod.

I can certainly see the merit in a namaste and find it a very respectful way to acknowledge someone.

But, it's a damn poor way to assess their hands.

tagged

2005-09-17T18:35:00.000-07:00

As requested by Joseph K, here are my responses to the following.

Ten Years Ago - Sept 1995:
Just engaged and beginning my last year of university in Edmonton while working casual hours as a phlebotomist. Living, alone, just off campus in a beetle ridden basement suite. SigOther, having secured his position with a diamond, left to work engineer-voodoo in the gold mines up north.
Listening to: U2, 54-40, Blue Rodeo, Queen, R.E.M., Alanis Morissette, mixed tapes of top 40 crap.

Five Years Ago - Sept 2000:
Just moved into recently purchased townhouse, and out of spider ridden basement suite (different basement from previously mentioned beetle ridden suite). Setting up for my fourth career move. Due to rotating work shifts, finished actively volunteering with BC Pets and Friends and Options for Sexual Health. Began choir. Celebrated fourth anniversary ... um ... probably by going out to dinner.
Listening to: U2, Chantal Kreviazuk, Barenaked Ladies, Annie Lennox, Colin James, Great Big Sea, top 40 crap.

One Year Ago - Sept 2004:
Getting used to having entire house back, after SigOther's cousin was living with us while finding jobs and an apartment. Arranging seventh career move. Began, under the direction of a physiotherapist, battling a random bout of tendonitis in both ankles. Renewed my involvement with Options for Sexual Health. Unbeknownst to me at the time, answered my last radio poll before turning 30 and thereby leaving the demographic of interest. Celebrated eighth anniversary by taking the day off and being tourists in Vancouver.
Listening to: U2, Hawksley Workman, Molly Johnson, Denzal Sinclaire, Travis, waffling between top 40, rock and best-of-the-80's-90's-and-now.

Yesterday - Sept 16, 2005:
Got up early to see my parents off as they ended their vacation with a long drive from here to there. Worked, and put in one hour overtime. Lost the battery cover for the on-call pager. Had Malaysian food for lunch, instead of opting into the available yoga class. Sat, slightly bleary-eyed, in front of the computer drafting this post.
Listening to: U2 (uh...were you expecting something else?), Dave Matthews Band, traffic and weather reports.

Five Songs I Know all the Words to: Okay.
I sing in choir. So, change the title to....
Five Songs by Canadian Artists that I Know all the Words to and Haven't Sung in Choir:
1. Surrounded (Chantal Kreviazuk) 2. Tofu & Greens (Denzal Sinclaire) 3. Smoke, Baby (Hawksley Workman) 4. The End (The Philosopher Kings) 5. Make It Go Away (Holly Cole)

Five Snacks:
1. Pringles light (mmm...chips) 2. Chocolate (preferably expensive and unadulterated) 3. Timbits (appear with disturbing frequency at work) 4. cereal ('cuz it's there....) 5. honey roasted almonds (in a bowl on my kitchen counter)

Five Things I'd do with $100million:
1. pit financial institutions against each other until someone comes up with the best investment plan so that I'll be able to easily accomplish the remaining four items for the rest of my life (sadly, this is SigOther's influence. this would not have been my answer 10 years ago)
2. travel. everywhere. in style. (not "in style" for those places where backpacking is some sort of requirement - but those would be short trips)
3. take all the artsy classes that I never ~~saw reason~~ had time to take, including, but not limited to: philosophy, music, anthropology and religious studies. And lots of languages.
4. make a series of donations to various, carefully chosen, organisations with the provision that they are not allowed to hit me up for any more money later. I will donate more later, but they can't phone me first.
5. get my dog and cat a yard (yes, fenced, of course - before anyone else says it)

Five Places I'd Run Away to:
(caveat: having never been to any of them)
1. Great Britain - somewhere moor-y preferably in Ireland or Scotland 2. Spain - somewhere coastal 3. New Zealand - middling sized town 4. Japan - country side 5. Denmark (okay, I've been there, but I'd go back) - Copenhagen

Five Things I'd Never Wear:
(god help me if anyone actually has a photo of me in any of the following and I have simply blanked it out)
1. a tiara 2. dyed-to-match shoes 3. sequins 4. yellow 5. ...
uh...I guess anything else has an outside chance.

Five Favourite (ed. current) TV Shows:
1. House 2. The Daily Show 3. What Not to Wear 4. Good Eats 5. a tie: Neat & MythBusters

Five Greatest Joys:
1. family (yes, you made me ~~say~~ type it) 2. randomly singing when no one's around 3. cat napping with my cat and/or dog 4. being in the middle of nowhere, even if it's in the middle of the city 5. noticing some new little thing, and keeping it to myself

Five Favourite Toys:
1. camera 2. Palm 3. computer 4. pencil 5. piano

Five People to Tag:
your turn to fill this out!
1. RainyPete 2. Wenda 3. MarloGirl (are you still stopping by?) 4. Bob (first task for the new blog!). 5. ....yeah. I'll fill this one in later.

That's it. All true, as I remember it and likely more that I don't/choose not to remember.

admission is the first step

2005-09-10T20:39:00.000-07:00

Our day began such that I was unable to have a cup of coffee.

I had most of a cup of my favourite tea before taking the cat the vet's for her bi-monthly nail trim, so I was (technically) competent to function until early afternoon. Prior to my tea wearing off, we were to make our way out to a corporate picnic/day at the park for SigOther's work. Last year, there was so much food and pop left that everyone felt bad and took some home. Surely, it would be the same this year. I would, most certainly, have no need to pick up a coffee on the way out.

Or not.

Having learned their lesson last year, organisers cut down on the amount of food. Apparently, having learned their lesson from not attending last year, a small army of people showed up. By the time SigOther and I arrived, fashionably late, there were a few small bags of chips and a sketchy assortment of left over pop - the kinds no one really likes to drink, or at least publicly admits to drinking.

Normally, I don't drink much pop at all. If I do, it's almost always ginger ale or root beer. And only under great strain do I ever drink the sickly syrupy concoction of Mountain Dew.

A few minutes after arriving, SigOther cautiously wandered over to me with two cans of pop and, from a distance, told me that, while there wasn't much, he had found one for me. He stuck out his arm and handed me a Mountain Dew. Ick. But, being at a corporate function, I supposed I really should try and be pleasant and congenial and if it took a ghastly beverage to do it, then I'd just have to suck it up.

After opening the can and grimacing through my first swig, I noted a small caption near the mouth. It was bright and shiny and in capitals, like the manufacturers wanted me to read it. So, I did: CAFFEINE FREE!

Being at a corporate function, and wanting to be pleasant and congenial, I smiled and showed SigOther the neat little writing on the can.

He left and went to help fill water balloons.

Fortunately, what this Mountain Dew lacked in caffeine, it made up for in sugar and that, at least, carried me through the end of the picnic, down the long winding road, through the mall parking lot and to my very late, very first cup of oh-so-delicious coffee.

Yes, I've taken the first step to admitting my need for coffee. I simply feel no need to go any further.

what with the grass being greener on the other side

2005-09-07T19:43:00.000-07:00

Another list of photographs that I didn't get to take (this time, while in Cuba):

- turkey vulture, in flight and/or on the phone posts
- the fishing villages en route from Varadero to Havana
- pelicans skimming the waves, generally in twos or threes
- a clean shot of any old cars in Havana [there was always a lamp post, another car or a person in the way]
- the dark, giant 6" across moth that was plastered to the restaurant door on our last morning [SigOther saw it too and verified that it was real - I am NOT making this up - it was that big!]
- the escape of the hot pink inner tube in the waves, while the girth-endowed owner attempted to chase it down - in, and then out, of the water [okay, so that would have made a better video than photo, but still...]

That's all I can remember not getting. I'm sure there were other images that I missed all together. I'm sure there were many quintessential Cuban things that I missed all together, but this was not a trip of doing. We went, we relaxed and if we go back sometime, we can find other places, people and photos-in-waiting then.

Reconciliation

2005-09-03T19:46:00.000-07:00

I'm now back from two weeks of holidays in Cuba. I basked on the beaches, toured the local towns and waters, swam with dolphins and ate myself farther out of a bathing suit body.

I also got to see some spectacular clouds and lightening over the ocean as the fringes of a hurricane named Katrina passed us. The beach grill was closed for 2 days and it was a little too windy to spend much time on the sand.

That is absolutely no perspective for the events that are now transpiring in the southern states. We watched CNN (a channel that now, upon watching for more than 2 minutes at a time, scares me) while we were in Cuba and saw the storm go through Florida, and, yeah, it seemed like a bad bit of weather that was moving out of our way in time to catch our flight home. I was accepting of the, at the time, little red swirl floating around the tip of Florida.

I am, however, completely incapable of fathoming the damage, the loss and, now, the living of people who were caught up in the hurricane after it's second landfall. I can't imagine fathoming it, even were I in it. I can't fathom some of the stories that have come out and statements that have been made (all re-hashed by better bloggers than I, so I won't bore you here).

So, instead, I'll go deal, as I must anyway, with laundry and work and groceries. For once, thank god/whomever, that hasn't changed.

home again, home again

2005-08-31T19:46:00.000-07:00

We decided to come home.

It was touch and go, but there were the pets to think of, despite the fact that our housesitter was more than ready to and willing to kidnap both cat and dog once we returned.

The next few days will be catching up on laundry and jetlag, but then I will fill you in on the trip, I promise.

The short version, for now: perfectly hot, humid and salt-watery.

serial absenteeism

2005-08-07T17:52:00.000-07:00

WARNING: holidays are looming and I will be internet-less and, therefore, blog-less, after this week. (unless I wish to pay for the privilege of access which, if I do, will be limited to checking for urgent emails from our house-sitter.)

So, after taking a break through the Other Freds experience, I will be taking another short break to accommodate my beach experience.

Yes, a beach experience. The SigOther wanted a beach holiday. Now, it's August, and it's been a fairly pleasant August but that, apparently, does not quell his need for a pleasant August elsewhere. So, we are off on a plane [several planes, to be exact] to do absolutely nothing for a while.

In addition to preparing myself to be internet-less [were that not enough], I had to purchase bathing suits.

Bathing suits are expensive.

The trying on was only moderately traumatic - I was pretty sure which pieces weren't going to do me any justice long before I got to the change room and, with the help of a compassionate sales ~~girl~~ associate, found a few decent tops and bottoms. But, damn, for the amount of swimming and/or sun-bathing that I ever do, it was more than a little traumatic to actually purchase the pieces.

But they are purchased. And I will get a nice tan in them [yes, covered in sunscreen the entire time. we have already purchased gallons of 50spf to soak in prior to sun even rising].

The only potential problem? If the other vacationers on the beach tend toward topless sun-bathing. When in Rome... and that's all fine. But having spent 1/2 my bathing suit money on bikini tops, I'll be rather choked if I don't get a little use out of them.

the slipping state of macho

2005-07-31T14:59:00.000-07:00

Damn. I simply could not have found a better link.

In the last few weeks of Other Freds, I was travelling on good ol' public transit to better accomodate my work schedule, my dog's schedule and my SigOther's schedule. As a result, I was reminded what a gold mine of oddness the average every-day morning commute can be.

Within the first few days back on the train, I noted a change in the male commuter. They were still all sizes and shapes. Their dress was still ranging from downtown boutique to auto-shop chic. Facial hair, piercings, tattoos and shoes were all over the map. What seemed to unite these seemingly disparate creatures was: The Purse.

Yes, the purse. Not a courier bag. Not a laptop bag. Not a fanny pack or even a "murse". These men of all ilks were unabashedly carrying what can only be described as purses. Fake logos and all. [The link above currently shows a couple's legs with a tote next to the, presumably, more masculine pair.]

Now, not that there's anything wrong with that. Far from it! I'm glad that some guys have finally realised the simple and pure ease of putting all one's stuff into a bag designed for such a purpose instead of endlessly cramming items into various and sundry pockets and causing, not only pocket repair woes but, lower back woes from sitting on their chronically lumpy asses.

I was, in the past few weeks, simply struck by the vast array of commuter-men carrying purses, some of whom, one would think, may have appeared more frequently with a beer cooler full of Wild Cat [pbth]. I guess that just goes to show the worth of what one may think.

Well, congrats, men, for organising your stuff. I'm proud of you.

Now, a few of you just need help co-ordinating.

or not

2005-07-28T19:22:00.000-07:00

Apparently my browbeating techniques are remarkably lame or completely backfired as Ashley, for whatever bizarre freak of nature, received the least number of votes on Tuesday night.

Was I expecting her, hands-down, to win the entire Idol?? No - that'd've been way too unfair a claim to make for such an unpredictable show, and she was up against some stiff talent. Should she have gone home last night? Absolutely not. I was anticipating a top 5 or 6 level before it became a complete free-for-all.

Most disappointing, but there it is.

Hi, my name is Jenn and I watch Canadian Idol

2005-07-25T17:57:00.000-07:00

Yes, I've watched in years past and yes, I'm watching again this year.

But, this year, I have an excuse.

Through several degrees of separation, I'm aquainted with one of the contestants who is now one of the remaining top nine and has the voice et al to go on so very much further.

[warning: sales pitch and/or browbeating will now ensue]

So, if you're inclined to watch the show Tues nights (check your local listings!) and agree that Ashley Leitao indeed kicks ass [which she does, so, don't worry, you'll agree] then kindly phone in your vote for her after the show.

Really. Seriously.

Thanking all kind voters in advance,

[sales pitch and/or browbeating over]

links, they are a changin'

2005-07-24T11:51:00.000-07:00

Sidebar updates:

1. After a long, commendable run, during which I often cursed, hit things and ate tylenol like candy while baby-stepping html, freezing the computer and butchering formats, I have deleted my LabGP's Home website. I have been converted to the land of Blog and could see no reason to let my dear old site to suffer in stagnation.

2. I've added Mark Sylvester's site to the Other Pages. He was the musical director [hope that's the correct term...] for Other Freds, despite the fact that he's from DC and Other Freds was not. Regardless, he's just an incredibly cool guy who put together a kick ass score and has a truly gorgeous voice to boot. So, go visit his site.

3. In the BlogRoll, a few pages have been removed because, like LabGP's Home, they hadn't been updated in eons. So, bye to lawfulgal and Sur-Reality. I'll check in on them every now and then and, if they start posting again, I'll put them back up. On another note, Orange Quark has joined forces with a few cohorts and formed Cosmic Variance [Orange Quark's a cooler name but, despite my personal and temperamental naming biases, the stuff at Cosmic Variance thus far has made for much good reading].

I think that's it for now. I'm off to enjoy the rest of my Sunday.

happy belated!

2005-07-20T22:33:00.000-07:00

aawww...

a thought gone further off track... is now a year old!

That's actually pretty wild, when I think about it. I've had web pages for years now (and am actually contemplating bringing down my GeoCities site due to my sheer laziness - I haven't done any upkeep in a long time) but posting here for a year with even vague regularity is not too shabby.

Having said that, more regular posting should be returning this weekend. Other Freds is nearly finished its run (Saturday night is your last chance to see it!) so I'll have my evenings back. I've been accumulating blog thoughts and I'll start working my way through them shortly!

I'm off

2005-07-05T19:52:00.000-07:00

Not really. I'm just mostly incommunicato for the next three weeks. Things'll be busy with Other Freds (check out the link above), so I may not be around as much as I'd like.

Wish me warm, dry weather and I'll see you in a few weeks!

more photos that I didn't get to take

2005-07-01T20:11:00.000-07:00

or...

a cloudy cameraless Canada Day on Granville Island.

After negotiating a parking space at 1pm on a holiday Friday (that's worth a whole blog post unto itself), I sat on the boardwalk sipping my skim milk medium vanilla latte, purchased from an independent coffee shop (yes, a few of those still exist). The steps I snagged for a seat were facing False Creek and almost directly under Granville Street bridge, giving me an amazing series of views for the thirty-some-odd minutes that I awaited the arrival of my friend, her cousin and her two little dogs. It was not raining, but partly cloudy - perfectly so for non-glaring photographs. I know this because of the plethora of photographers out and about. But did I think to bring my camera? No. So, here are another list of photographs that you will not be seeing:

- the steel supports of the bridge, framing a receding row of the cranes, concrete, glass and steel that make up the Yaletown condos.

- an aged fishing boat, raised out of the water and resting between the boardwalk and the bridge support, named "Relief"

- numerous yachts, sailboats, kayaks, motorboats and canoes. And aquabuses full of tacky tourists and, often tackier, locals

- the carved columns of the Burrard Street bridge, viewed behind sail boat masts

- adorable kids aplenty, guys in business suits with Canadian flags in their breast pockets and non-Canadians wearing more maple leaf imprinted clothing and flags than, I think, any Canadian actually owns.

- innumerable seagulls, pigeons and ducks

- the jazz festival's free outdoor stages, with snazzy bands and their upright basses (the coolest instrument EVER)

- a little kid in full Darth Vader regalia (and a Canadian flag)

At this point, I probably would have run out of space on the camera and/or batteries.

Happy (end of) Canada Day!

June's almost over?

2005-06-27T20:33:00.000-07:00

Lest we sit around and wallow in various stages of sloth and idleness, the SigOther and I have gone and gotten involved with a local show that will be performed at Granville Island for two weeks in July. The play, linked above, is called Other Freds and revolves (oddly enough) around a poor fellow named Fred and a few of his counterparts in alternate universes.

While there will be three rather intense weeks (one of rehearsals and two of the show) involved on our part, and our part is a very miniscule portion, albeit at the very end, it looks to be a great deal of fuss and fun. I think we even have scheduling worked out so that the animals in our house will be contented throughout our required absences.

I'm not going to get into too much more about the piece until after it's started because, if anyone's around, they should go! That, and really, you'll know just about as much as I do by visiting the site. It turns out that we won't actually be able to see any of the play - we were hoping for maybe a little - so we'll be in the dark as to its full impact.

And that's really going to be too bad, to have to say that we never got to see Other Freds, but we will get to say that we were in it.

summer and the melanin-deprived

2005-06-21T19:55:00.000-07:00

On the first day of summer, it seems only appropriate to comment on my requisite use of sun protection. Now, it is pissing rain here, and they [yes, the ubiquitous weather-predicting "they"] are threatening thunder storms, but I'm sure that's beside the point.

It's probably a good thing that I live on the wet coast. Sun and I have a tenuous relationship. I enjoy it, in small doses of moderate warmth and vitamin D, and it does it's best to make sure that I don't enjoy it at all.

In the full force of sunlight, I get a wee bit blotchy. I may get groggy, light headed or, I'm told, temperamental. In small, repetitive doses, I get a marginal farmers' tan and a few more freckles on my arms and face. I don't think my legs have tanned since high school and I'm pretty sure my stomach could be used to send reflective signals into outer space. At worst, I'm pasty; at best, semi-transparent.

So, I spend my summers slathering on SPFs of increasing numbers. Despite all the dire warnings, it still seems, on some level, rather counter-productive to purposely go out into the sun wearing shorts and tanks, only to coat oneself in sun-deflecting lotion. I know I need to get over that, but some days....it's just not right. Maybe I need a little healthy colour or, at least, evenly distributed colour. What if my back matched the backs of my arms?

Oh, I know. Tanning is bad for you. And so, against my wild'n'crazy inner rebel, I don't.

Sitting inside in front of the computer too much is bad for you too.

But you don't get sunburned.

hand over your genes

2005-06-12T16:28:00.000-07:00

This National Geographic Genography study came across my email the other day via my SigOther as something I might be interested in doing. As I understand it, the study is attempting to track the movement of indigenous peoples based on their genetic make up. As a non-indigenous person, that doesn't make me terribly useful, but NG is offering to tell me my background, genetically, for a small fee that will help to fund the "real" project and provide them some interesting info at the same time.

My SigOther was right. I am interested in that kind of stuff and have, sporadically, thought about dabbling in the whole family tree thing. I tend to be far more stuck in the past than the future and am always interested in the what-happened-when stories. My curiosity really should have gotten the better of me on this one, and I should have already sent away my order.

As recently as 5 or 6 years ago, I would have.

Now, however, I seem to have several reasons not to participate. First, I'm pretty sure that my most of my long-long ago relatives were from Scotland, Ireland, England (and, therefore, at least partly Scandinavian), Denmark and India. Second, I'm not too sure that I want to pay for it. Third, while my sample for analysis will be discarded by the end of the study (in an estimated 5 years) and will only be used to test for the markers used in this study (unless I request otherwise), it is clear from the terms and conditions that participant information will be disclosed, when required by law. And, the way things are going, I'm not inclined to simply hand over my entire genetic code.

Now, realistically, I drop my DNA all around me every day, practically wantonly, in lost hair and skin. If anyone really desperately wanted to sequence the code in my cells, it wouldn't take them long to get a sample. In addition, I have nothing to hide and a lot that I'd like to know. What is lurking in my background? Do I have any genetic predispositions? How does that fit into the population as a whole? But, that's not really the point. All this interesting stuff can be analyzed a million different ways, not only for interest's sake, but to come back and somehow bite me in the ass. No, I'm not sure of that last bit, but the fact that such a concept is now even something I anticipate is really really scary. And sad. Even more-so, that a simple change in the letters at the end of a web address could change everything. I probably wouldn't be writing this post if it were at ".ca" or ".de" or ".co.uk". I'd be off scraping the inside of my cheek for a buccal DNA sample instead.

the remainder of the week

2005-06-05T21:18:00.000-07:00

No, the week hasn't started yet, but it's pretty much over already. Monday, I have no extra-curricular stuff (yay!) except to practice for what is to come. Tuesday, I have to watch Canadian Idol and the spouse has to go out for the evening. Wednesday, I have choir rehearsal for a performance on Thursday. Thursday, in addition to the singing, I have a reading of four poems as part of a year end wrap up for a poetry studio.

The choir and poetry studio are both run through the same arts centre, which is how I get hit up twice on the same evening. Ack. Fortunately, or not, time managed itself such that I'll be able to perform in both capacities.

In addition to that, I have to remember to phone my dentist, the local guitar shop and a few flooring places as well as get in gear to buy birthday presents for both my parents-in-law and my sister. And it seems that Father's Day is fast approaching.

Hm. I haven't fully reconciled the fact that it's already June. I actually tried to write "January" the other day instead of "June". With a schedule like this coming week, it's no wonder dates are a-flying. Perhaps by the time I get through the end of this week, it'll be August - just in time for two weeks of holidays.

the photos I didn't get to take

2005-05-30T22:21:00.000-07:00

I've been sifting, slowly, through my recent photos and am now realising that it's the pictures I didn't take are the most obvious ones.

oh, how green IS that grass over there, eh?

So, here are the photos you will never see:

1. Cathedral Grove. I was convinced, by someone who shall remain nameless, that I didn't really need to take any photos of Cathedral Grove as I'd just taken so very many at Little Qualicum Falls and, really, all trees kinda look the same in photos, right? WRONG. The 1000 year old trees with stumps you can walk through and roots the size of your torso look a wee bit different.

2. Mountain spine. My name for the evenly spaced row of scrawny jackpines that ran along the ridge of one of the mountains we drove past between Port Alberni and Tofino. At the right angle, the ridge was against the sky and the pines stood out, black, like some gigantic dorsal fin remnant. It was very cool.

3. Sun-bleached tree trunks. These were precariously perched on top of large, soilless boulders and cliffs on the shoulder of the road. The roots were there, too, bleached and attempting to cling to the bare rock. Most post-apocalyptic.

Pictures number 2 and 3 were untakable simply due to the highway. There was no where to pull over and take photograph of either of these sites, though they appeared at several points along the drive. Single lane traffic and absolutely no shoulders: just solid rocks or solid forest. The best kind of drive with the best kind of scenery and nothing but my temperamental memory to show for it.

rested and relaxed

2005-05-26T19:16:00.000-07:00

So, I made it back. I could have stayed, easily, but the whole not-working thing would have worked out against me.

We had a completely escapist weekend with what we would generally consider horrible weather, but on the west coast of Vancouver Island, it's exactly what you want in order to witness cliff-pounding waves and misty rain forests.

The weather was far more appropriate for the area on the May long weekend than it had been for those unfortunate travellers who had paid high-season rates this past February. Those guests were able to sit on the beach in shorts, but the storms that they had hoped for never materialized. We, on the other hand, saw some great epic wave action that we hadn't thought possible in May. The weather even prompted the power to go out one night: "why, this must be just like camping!" we thought, sitting in our easy chairs, in front of the fireplace and waiting for our room service (honey-mustard wild salmon and steamed clams and mussels in coconut milk and peppers) while the winds raged outside. Yeah... I'll have to be sure to look for the backpack-sized, fully staffed gourmet kitchen next time I'm at Canadian Tire.

I now have to sift through the mass of digital photographs that I took, although I didn't get any of the crazy surfers. They, I believe, were perhaps the only ones disappointed in the weather. Everyone else was out and about at all the sites we visited in Tofino, Pacific Rim National Park and Ucluelet. (A plug for the Ucluelet Aquarium, billed as the world's smallest. But, despite its size, this little shack is definitely the coolest. It's only open for a short time every year, all the plants, fish et al are local and returned to the ocean, unscathed after the summer. The water for their habitats is piped in directly from the sea to keep them extra happy.)

It was a decidedly luxurious weekend - not the kind the banks will allow me to repeat with any frequency, but one I'll have to keep in the back of my head in case of an unexpected windfall.

still slackin'

2005-05-19T20:21:00.000-07:00

The provincial election is over, the federal election has been avoided and there's a long weekend on the horizon. Things have been too crazy with work, social things and extracurricular things for a few spare moments to blog and, this weekend, I'm taking the time to head out and recover. There'll be nothing new from me until next week.

Somehow, I'm sure you'll survive. And, this way, I will too.

further further deterioration

2005-05-09T21:09:00.000-07:00

Further to my previous post on my rapidly impending dissolution, I am now fairly seized up and crippled after spending last Thursday, Friday and Saturday at a local conference.

Now, it was a great conference. There were a significant number of knowledgeable speakers and some of them had managed to wrangle out some entertaining power point presentations. However, in order to listen to them speak of their great knowledge and watch their fancy slide transitions, I had to sit, fixed for hours upon end, in the ubiquitous Conference Chair, sardined in next to my neighbours such that even the slightest movement threatened coffees, notetaking and, therefore, my career. Yes, the chairs look nice, but they are, I firmly believe, produced by chiropractors and physiotherapists in search of new clients.

In an effort to ease some comfort into the chairs, one does, of course, try to sit near an aisle, in the front row of a section or in a straight line of sight to the speaker or screen, so as not to twist one's neck any more than absolutely necessary. All of these positions within the room are conveniently located directly underneath the conference centre's formidable air conditioning systems.

So, now, not only did my muscles get to shake from being held still for so long, they also got to shake from the icy blast of air that was driving down at me for three days straight.

In response, I shut down on Sunday. I stuck to bed, bath and couch. The cleaning that I had planned, in order to discuss basement construction plans with a fellow (oh, what is he??contractor/cabinet maker/construction guy), did not happen and I'm sure that his foray into our pit-of-despair basement has left him a little shaken too.

Ah, yes. Doesn't misery just love company.

Someone is out to get me

2005-05-02T19:57:00.000-07:00

An event happened last Thursday, prior to the U2 concert. An event so traumatic that I had to forcibly wall it up in my mind to get through the rest of the day without simply collapsing into a stuttering heap on the pavement. I can barely recount it now without feeling tingles along my neck, in my hair, along the backs of my arms...

It was a beautiful day. It was such a beautiful day that I thought I'd take a walk at lunch along the treed side streets, instead of the noisy main drag, as I made my way toward a clutch of restaurants. Leaves and blossoms fluttered down around me as I wandered down the road, eyes to the sky and proverbial spring in my step.

I passed a random woman on my way and she gave me a screamingly-obvious pained look. What-freaking-ever. It was a beautiful day and I had U2 tickets.

I turned the corner and looked down - at something on the sidewalk, toward my purse or perhaps at a pigeon in the grass. I have no recollection anymore of what initially caught my eye. The only things I ended up seeing were two large yellow hairy eyeballs and a set of nasty mandibles. A large (and no doubt, hungry) tree-coloured moth was making its way up my shirt. The vile thing had tricked me earlier by looking like floating foliage.

I then did, as any sane person would, the holy-shit-get-this-thing-off-me dance, much to the consternation and amusement of every other pedestrian within a three block radius.

Too shaky to continue, I settled into the nearest restaurant and contemplated whether I'd actually rid myself of the six-legged demon or whether I'd simply knocked it into my purse (why, oh why, did I have to get the ever-so-cute snap purse without a secure, but not-so-cute, zipper??).

I spent the majority of my lunch kicking my purse on the seat across from me to see if anything launched out at me, before having to stick a tentative hand in to pay at the end of my meal. No moth. I damn near wept.

After recent events, I'm starting to think this is a conspiracy. I only just realized that Marlo Girl commented on my last moth post and that (YAY!) my mother and I have company in our "irrational" fear. Irrational. Yeah. Just think about it a little more the next time one of their viscous, flailing bodies "accidentally" slams into you.

Here's to a week of nothing with more than four legs and avoiding bright lights in the dark.

what is that ringing?

2005-04-30T11:29:00.000-07:00

or.... the obligatory post about the gods of rock.

Yes, folks, I went to U2. Thursday, April 28 at 7:30pm at General Motors Place. As previously mentioned, I had less than quality seats. I was over that. They turned out not to be that horrendous, particularly in light of a loaner set of binoculars. My ears are still ringing with guitar riffs and screaming girls. (wait. that might have been me...)

I will not spend the remainder of this post gushing effusively about how absolutely brilliant the boys of U2 are (even though they are) and how profoundly amazing the concert was (even though it was).

What was different about this concert over previous concerts was the ramped up (perceived?) level of political/religious discussion. Now, come on. This is U2. Of course it's going to be political and religious and blatant. What was I thinking?? There was, of course, the plea to phone or email our oh-so illustrious Prime Minister to berate him for not following through (yet) on his promise to allocate 0.7% of the GNP toward alleviating poverty and third world debt. There was the seamlessly incorporated reminder of the Human Rights Act that had everyone cheering themselves hoarse. In addition, the rendition of Bullet the Blue Sky was part showmanship, part tirade and, creepily, part new-at-6 reenactment. Gorgeous.

The religious overtones were strong, even outside songs such as Gloria and 40. With any other group, I would have been instantly affronted by the sheer gall and audacity of even thinking about wandering down the path to preaching, but U2 is afforded many more luxuries than the average rock band. Mostly, I think, because they are just so damned sincere and real about it. They're not actually trying to sell it, per se, they're just letting you know that (for them) this is the way it is. Not so for me, but who am I to say not for them?? In the end, it comes across as a beautiful spirituality, which is completely easy to connect with and accept - with as little or as heavy a meaning as one sees fit. (I may be a titch biased.)

Is that why these guys have been so insanely huge for so long? Because they stay in-your-face about issues without turning everyone off? It can't just be the length of a career, the song craft, or the rabid fans. What about bands like The Tragically Hip? 54-40? Blue Rodeo? Spirit of the West? These guys are all brilliant and form kick ass bands that anyone in their right mind pays big (Canadian) bucks and lines up to see. So, what gives?

Bono is a god, while Gord Downie, Neil Osborne, Jim Cuddy and John Mann remain minor (albeit, powerful) deities. What, exactly, is it about each of them that makes that so??

Having just seen Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy yesterday, this may indeed be the ultimate question. Therefore, the answer is, of course: 42.

Famous Players might as well start to garnishee my wages now

2005-04-24T19:58:00.000-07:00

It now seems that I will be spending the glorious warm days of summer trapped in a dark and windowless box with upwards of a hundred other geeks. The summer movie season is now upon us.

I was well aware that I had to begin psyching up for the next Star Wars installment (truth be told, part of me thinks "enough, already!", kind of like the never-ending Robert Jordan Wheel of Time series, but it's a part that's easily beaten down and lost in the noise of ridiculous hype).

What has snuck up on me, in my hermit-like existence of rabbit-ear television, are two other "epic" movies that I must now add to my list of summer flicks.

Within the space of about 15 minutes last night, I saw two new (to me) previews that called for immediate attention. First, was The Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy. I mean, my god, how can you not go. 'nough said. No, not quite. It has John Malkovich in it. How can you not go??

The second trailer was for Kingdom of Heaven. This stars not only Liam Neeson, but Orlando freaking Bloom. Those two alone are worth the cheesiness that will ensue. Oh, and it will ensue. Not only do we already have a religious theme that will be, undoubtedly, bludgeoned to death, but the scenes in the trailer were accompanied by some wailin' electric guitars. Oh, yeah. Perhaps I'll watch with ear plugs...

These two, and the aforementioned Star Wars, of course, are Big Screen Shows. No doubt about it. The only problem is that I hate going to theatres. They're full of obnoxious people and invariably uncomfortable; my knees ache for days afterward. But, for these, I'll sacrifice. That, and I mean, really, it's not every day that I get to eat pizza, popcorn, gummie bears and/or Skor bits in the space of 3 hours.

for the "who knew" files

2005-04-21T18:10:00.000-07:00

During my lunch time reading of the current issue of The Georgia Straight, (and under the Travel section for some reason..) I came across an article on pinhole cameras.

Within the last little while, this odd, old little form of photography has been creeping around the fringes of my day to day and this last bit of info has pushed me over the edge. So now I blog it.

As I understand it, and, seriously, I don't claim to even begin to grasp the half of it, a box (up to the size of a large shed) is constructed and a teeny tiny hole or slit is made facing the object that is to be photographed. Film (and I use that term loosely) is placed on the side opposite the slit and left there to expose for a significant length of time. And you cross your fingers. The image appears on the film as it does on the back of your eye: inverted.

It began with my random discovery of the Cariboo Thoughts and Images blog. Not all of her posts are from a pinhole camera, but many are and they are very cool. I also recently visited the Vancouver Art Gallery (something I constantly mean to do, but very rarely get around to) and saw an exhibit of Rodney Graham's work that included, of course, pinhole camera photography: giant photos of up-side-down trees that were (of course) the literal translation of the pinhole camera. Then, today, I came across the article in the Straight by Andrew Scott referencing, not only pinhole cameras, but the fact that there is an entire day dedicated to the art.

As someone from the point-and-click school of photography, the work and time that seems necessary to devote to this method is mind boggling but also makes the end result that much more intriguing - not intriguing enough to really want to try and spend much time trying it out, but to, perhaps, find more photographs/photographers.

It certainly makes my digital camera look overpriced, but I'm thinking the sheer difference in size, time and delete-capacity make it well worth the initial expense. None of my pics may land in any galleries but that's a sacrifice I'll just have to live with for the sake of my point-and-click sanity.

the short and defenseless

2005-04-18T20:01:00.000-07:00

I cut my fingernails off last night. I didn't just cut them. I cut them off. I haven't truly had short nails since high school, when I was still taking piano lessons.

Aside: okay. It's not like I had long nails - you know, not like the drag queen and/or too-much-make-up lady who gets them "done" every week. No claw-like weapons of mass destruction. They just had a little bit of length to them. Good for peeling labels, taking care of minor skin irritations and removing slivers. That kind of long. Just to clear that up.

My hands are now completely naked. The skin that used to be protected by the (small) length of nail is now like brand new skin: tender and hypersensitive to everything that it gets harshly bashed into. Like computer keys.

Opening my contact lens case this morning was an entirely different event than it had been the day before, as was removing the lid on the margarine at breakfast. Even driving was an oddity, as gripping the steering wheel placed new pressures near what's now left of my nails. Fortunately, in my distractions, traffic was light.

After a simple nail clip, my hands now look stunted, my fingertips, flattened and my knuckles, more prominent. Ick. Hardly a great way to meet and greet anyone - with a short, squat and knobby handshake.

I did have a reason for doing this. My nails were not cut off in a rage over a chip or accidentally torn contact lens. I bought (and I use the term loosely: I forced $25 on an acquaintance) a 3/4 guitar that was being given away. It had issues; that was obvious. But, for $25, it seemed worth it to see if it was worth fixing.

It wasn't.

However, for a surprisingly reasonable cost, the guitar shop - conveniently, the same one where they felt it unwise to repair the 3/4 guitar - had several small full-size guitars available. (Neil Douglas Guitar Shop in New Westminster: super nice guys (though I'm sure they had a good laugh after I left). They have a store cat. Any place that has a store cat is automatically bumped up in my ratings.)

Another aside: I took my friend's 3/4 guitar because, although we already have a full size guitar, it is incredibly painful for me to play it. No one told me, damn it, that, within the "full size" guitar world, there are actually different sizes, and that it is, indeed, possible to get a "small full-size" guitar.

So, I've now settled myself into returning this weekend to get a new, smaller guitar. And so, I cut my nails off. That way, I have to go back. I mean, I cut my nails off! That's a pretty serious commitment. It'll take a few weeks, at least, before they can fully grow back!

The problem, now, exists around this fragile fingertip skin. How long is it going to take to toughen them up?? They've been so protected and sheltered for so long... Perhaps reviewing some proper piano tunes (unlike the cop-out chordings I've been playing the last few years) will once again get them used to being used.

It's either that, or attacking my fingertips with the pot scrubber while washing dishes.

split personality

2005-04-14T19:45:00.000-07:00

Ah, what a weird week. Work's been hectic, after-work's been hectic (I'm supposed to be at a writers' workshop right now, but bailed on the excuse of a headache). I'm only surviving at work by virtue of post-it notes and an extreme version of a filing system that will never make sense to anyone else but me.

Meanwhile, at home, disarray is the ruler of all. Piles of random items have taken over my kitchen, bedroom and dining room. By necessity only, my living room and bathroom remain mostly unscathed.

Apparently, my co-workers feel that it should be a little unsettling to transfer daily from the poster desk for implied organization to the pit of let-it-lie-where-it-falls. There is a decided separation between my work and my home. That's supposed to be a good thing, right?? The fact that I live, alternately, at opposite ends of the neat and tidy spectrum really hadn't occurred to me.

But now, I may have to write a post-it to remind myself to think about it.

Shameless Plug*

2005-04-05T20:10:00.000-07:00

Yay me!!!

It's official: I received my copy in the mail today, so I now have absolute and utter confirmation. I have a poem in the Spring 2005 edition of Quills Canadian Poetry Magazine. (yes, Canadian poetry exists, and yes, there are magazines wholly devoted to it.)

So, head to the link above and find out how to gets your hands on a copy!

*this Shameless Plug interruption will affect one post only. posts will return to Venting and Bitching shortly. please stand by.

Donald, darling..

2005-04-04T20:02:00.000-07:00

Oh, I hate to do it, I really do, but I find it necessary to comment on the atrocity that is The Apprentice.

I don't get it. I've tried. Okay, I've watched a few very brief portions of a few episodes, but that's absolutely all I can handle. Who are these people? What exactly did they do before getting scooped up onto a reality tv show? How do you get a group of people with such diverse and generic backgrounds (sales: what?? cars, coffee, cruise ship photos, girl guide cookies??) all competing for the same job? And what exactly is the job that they're competing for??

So, I've obviously never actually watched the whole show. But without being provided a few specifics, I'm never going to. I'm a lab tech. I work with specifics. I need details. These people get bounced all over the board. Alright, so there's variety in the job and they're able to cope with change. Those are good things to look for in a career (yes, even as a lab tech). But the entire process seems so utterly based on whim, what side of the bed you got up on and whether or not someone pissed in your Corn Flakes.

And if you win, you get to work for Donald. The same guy who's been torturing you for the preceding months. Oh, yeah. There's an incentive.

I just don't get it. Have I said that yet?? Well, lucky for the competitors, I guess, they won't have to worry about me rushing in there to take their "job" away from them.

Stop laughing.

Guess they likely wouldn't take a Canadian on the show anyway. There's probably some network and/or free trade rules against that. And, as if they'd do a Canadian version of The Apprentice. For who?? Moses Znaimer??? heehee. We already had Made in Canada (with Moses cameos, even) and, sorry, no reality tv show is going to ever compare to that, dears.

Sorry, Donny.

Blog Hopping

2005-03-29T19:35:00.000-08:00

I've been mulling over Sur-reality's post, linked above, during my recent, random, and ever hopeful tours of the blogosphere (oh, how quickly the english language changes...) in search of anything profound. I'm not sure that I mind angst and venting. No, it's not always all that interesting - that's up to the blogger to make me want to read about why their life sucks. And I really can't see who would be interested in a blog about how much I love my job/commute/cat/dog/significant other/town/car/new jeans.

What does confuse, and yes, piss me off, are the blogs that are in code. There are entire blogs that are in teenage shorthand. I think I can make out the gist of most of them, eventually (okay, "ppl" means people, "woot woot" means "I'm happy about something" I think). But why should I have to? Why the hell would I ever want to??

I am so NOT the target audience. I get that. But when there are entire blog-hopping sessions in which all I will come across are pages of garbled love-sick and/or spiteful phonetic abbreviations, it gets a little discouraging. However, through Murphy's Law, blind luck or some twisted diety who likes to mess with me, just as I'm about to call it quits on the entire search something good comes up. I tripped over a blog the other day that was run by a (purported) 14 year old and she actually made sense. It was coherent, thoughtful and interesting.

(And did I bookmark it? Apparently not. I could have sworn that I did, but Explorer says otherwise. I'll have to sit down and have a talk with it about this later.)

It's that kind of thing that leads me to blog hop a little more every now and then. In addition to the teen-speak, I can gloss over the advertisements, the preaching and the slander for the odd little bit of interesting writing or wicked photography. I'm getting pretty good at glossing over. The second there's a cheesy GIF or a squirrelly thing following my cursor, I just move on. My index finger's getting pretty trigger happy - as long as I keep a close reign on it so that something loads before moving on. The good stuff has to turn up somewhere...

Weirdness on the Quarter Moon

2005-03-22T20:42:00.000-08:00

Coffee break this morning was not the usual mindless catch-up Q and A. It was spent over a copy of each of our city papers.

Obvious is the prolonged discussion about Terry Schiavo and the meddlesomeness of government interference in such a personal matter. We all had our own strikingly similar opinions of "what if it was us, or our spouse" (enough, already) and agreed that the majority of people would probably agree with us. But this has got to be one of those cases where a majority consensus on any statement simply doesn't mean shit. There are no acceptable blanket conclusions here. This is a terribly private matter that has been forced out into the public circus - it doesn't matter whether or not it was unintentional - to be gawked at and fought over. No one can be at peace with any outcome after this is over.

Have you heard enough about that yet? Apologies - this case is everywhere and absolutely everyone has an opinion. Which is good. People need to know where they stand. But for god's sake, write it down, get it witnessed and tell the people who are going to be making the decisions if and when you're in that state; the internet isn't going to be the one at your bedside.

Our second discussion revolved around another school shooting, - this one, just across the border. Disturbingly close, but so sensationalized that it became almost unreal. It's a little mind numbing, really. There's just not much to say. It has to be beyond horrific for the kids, the parents and anyone who was near the place and no one's ever going to really know exactly every little detail that went on before hand and every little factor that may have contributed. That makes it a little more difficult to come up with any solutions.

Lastly, there was a local incident of the wrong patient being moved for transport to the morgue - needless to say, the patient was still quite alive. Just sleeping very deeply. Yeah, breathing can be a bitch to detect.

So, that was my pretty intense coffee break this morning. As you can tell, despite the remainder of the day and a much needed relaxing chiropractic adjustment, I'm still wound up about all this. And so this is my much needed subsequent rant. I had planned to blog about something else this evening, but I guess I just had to get this out there.

Here's to a long hot shower and a good night's sleep under a waxing moon, blissfully devoid of any mind whirling dreams.

To Hell with Popeye

2005-03-20T19:29:00.000-08:00

Earlier this evening, in a very conscious effort to include a few greens in dinner, I reached for the bag o' spinach in the fridge. These things have been a god send - they're re-sealable, cut, cleaned and "ready to eat!".

This bag was now half full, having been opened earlier last week for additions to sandwiches, stir frys and anything else that seemed lacking in the veggie arena.

Two handfuls of spinach were added to the tomato sauce I was preparing. At that point, I dropped the stir spoon, flew back and began hissing and cursing as though enough sizzling air could put a Great Wall of China up between me and what I had just nonchalantly dropped into my dinner.

A moth.

An inch long, fat, hairy, grey, and thankfully very dead, moth.

Fortunately, my husband was in the room and could dispose of the vile little bastard in short order. It's still sitting in the garbage upstairs, and I am giving it a wide berth. It looked dead, but it may just be sleeping. I've already point-blank refused to have anything further to do with that garbage, and it will have to go outside TONIGHT. I still probably won't sleep well.

Moths, as some of you may not know, are vicious. They careen around wildly only to land on you, if not blatantly slam into you - certainly with the intent to do damage. I'm positive that, one day soon, some scientist will prove that moths actually have teeth - headline: The Real Vampires Turn Into Moths. And, please do not forget The Mothman Prophecy with its inhuman creepy winged beings.... Seriously, it's a thing! Somebody chose that name for a reason.

Oh, I know: I can hear a few eyeballs rolling and the hint of a chuckle or two. Mock me now, if you will. Go ahead, eat your spinach and become oh so much healthier than I. It won't do you any good when the moths come for you.

i slept, i blinked, i must've eaten...

2005-03-19T20:19:00.000-08:00

Next weekend is Easter (and that's unacceptably early this year) and we will have guests over the four days and more the following weekend. That's fine, except that I can't find my carpet for dog and cat hair and I've stopped turning the lights on to go into my bedroom for the fear that something other than my dog or cat might be living in there.

I have paperwork to do, I have paperwork to find before I can do it, I have a kitchen to clean and I have a computer room to excavate.

I'm not sure that everything that needs to happen will actually get to happen.

We've been way to busy lately with oil changes, choir performances, poetry studios, recording sessions, naturopath visits (the hubby's allergies are on the down swing), overtime at work and vet visits (Leo had his lump-ectomy stitches out and his hair is growing back while Mesquite had her follow up ultrasound that shows absolutely no change in her tumor).

Who wants to vacuum??

Fortunately, we don't entertain much. Except in the next few weeks. We'll dig ourselves out of our comfortable mess long enough for guests to navigate around our house and then we can once again relax for a while.

On the other hand, it may be instructional to just leave things the way they are. My parents just went out to their local shelter today and brought home a cat - a one year old Siamese. My mom is most worried about the influx of cat hair. Were my place to remain in its current condition while she were down for a visit, no amount of cat hair in her house could ever look as bad.

Ah, and so my messiness becomes my purpose, my gift, to those around me. How utterly, and terribly, convenient.

WIL WHEATON DOT NET

2005-03-11T23:24:00.000-08:00

WIL WHEATON DOT NET

I don't know what to think of this. I honestly don't. I just felt this overwhelming need to blog it. I found this site linked in Blogger News and needed to read. It's...wait for it... a good read. Don't laugh. I think I mean it.

Despite what could best be described as indifference toward the concept of a Wil Wheaton blog, I actually kept going through a few posts. Considering that my attention span is pathetically short when it comes to blog-hopping and I tend to make up my mind before the page even finishes loading, that's a very serious and in-depth amount of reading that I did. (It may have helped that he's listed U2 Rattle and Hum under a "Watch" heading, but I still had to scroll down to get to even that info.)

This is still so truly mind-boggling. (mind-blogging, mind-bloggering.... oh dear).

It's late. I'm tired. I'm going to have to revisit this and see just what was so damned intruiging. Because, for whatever reason, it was.

Things I Learned Today

2005-03-08T19:59:00.000-08:00

1. Do not stand directly underneath a vessel into which you are pouring water.

2. If the container out of which you are pouring the water has a spout, the water will preferentially pour out of that spout - even if it is not directly into the vessel into which you are pouring.

3. No matter how weird it may seem, it is actually a good thing to have a hair dryer at work.

I'm sure there must be profound enlightenment that can be realised from the preceding statements. Getting wet and subsequently drying my shirt did consume a disturbing portion of my morning (at least the berating myself for it did), so I'd better be able to get something good out of it.

I learned other things today, too, like:

1. When wiping down a shelf, check to make sure that it's bolted to the brackets first. That way your heart rate won't take ten years off your life when the shelf starts to slide off.

2. When working in a room that has a baby monitor for an intercom, and therefore is always on, use your inside voice.

All in all, a most instructive day. I don't think any of this quite qualifies me for the Darwin awards, but it would make for an interesting background history should I ever be so honoured.

On that note, I'm off. I've many more things to do tonight: must go dig something out of the toaster with a fork before I draw a bath while listening to the radio.

The Ants go Marching

2005-03-07T21:34:00.000-08:00

Ah, yes it's March. It's sufficiently far into March as to be disturbing.

March comes in like a lion and, to date, I have no evidence to the contrary. The lab I work in has moved buildings and we have been busy throughout. I have evening and weekend plans booked that actually make it seem like I might have a life.

March is reported to go out like a lamb but I fail to see how this can be the case. My bookings, both at work and in my off-time, extend well into April and I believe that events are still being scheduled, even at this very moment by my husband.

And so, I plod through, on a course laid out for me by others, like an ant following the trail set down by his ant buddies. That's okay. I wouldn't fall in with the flow if it weren't okay. It is certainly easier. Ants may be onto something. They get to go off on travels they may never have been on before, but it's still all planned out for them. It simply screams with potential for all the excitement and none of the stress. In theory.

So, I'll go marching through the next month and see what the trail is like. Worst case scenario, at the end of March, I will have to stop following ants and find a lamb to hang out with.

(Knowing my luck, it will be an April-fools' wolf in lamb's clothing but that'll be a whole other post...)

the art of the eyebrow - one hair at a time

2005-03-04T20:09:00.000-08:00

It's now been one week since I had more facial hair removed in one sitting that has ever been removed from me before. And this was accomplished by threading - another thing that has never happened to me before.

I appear to have survived.

I went to a new salon near my work on my coffee break with two co-workers - both of whom are no strangers to threading. I'd been telling myself I should go get threading done since I saw this place open earlier last month, but venturing into the unknown is an easy thing to turn away from. But, now my friends were going, and so I had to go too. This was a trial run, and apparently the girl was very good at systematically ripping all inappropriate hairs. Apparently, she's also a little pricey (but then there are those of us paler skinned folk who still think a pricey thread is damned cheap) but well worth it for the convenient locale.

I watched my two friends get their eyebrows shaped and then it was my turn. I had originally only asked to have my lip done. Now, I am fair. My lip is not really hairy. But, there are little blond hairs that I noticed one day. Then, I kept noticing them. Then, they started bugging me and I decided that they must be removed. However, there were more hairs to be removed than even I had realised. She was able to thread hairs across my entire upper lip - not just the ones I'd seen near the corners of my mouth. No, it seems that there are little hairs everywhere. It wasn't particularly painful, but the sound was rather disconcerting. Instead of the defined, single, band-aid-esque tear of waxing, threading sounds more like repeated velcro-ing. It actually reminded me of pulling weeds from between the stones in my front walkway. Except it hurt. A little. And, I got used to it rather quickly. My eyes didn't get used it, though, and insisted on tearing up throughout the entire process.

At the end, I sat there, naked-lipped, and the girl (oh dear, what was she: esthetician? threader? hair-removal associate?) asked when I'd last had my eyebrows done. Actually, it was a while ago, but I was kind of proud of how well I'd been keeping them up. Pff - this was an obvious money grab.

Or not.

She had a few minutes. My friends and I still had a few minutes. She threaded one brow and showed me the difference. Um. Yeah. My upkeep had been rather lacking. It's probably akin to how I'm able to ignore my roots for months on end....just something I get used to. My hair is darker near my scalp, and my eyebrows are a little mishapen. That must just be the way I am.

After it was all over, the tears were dried and the tips were left, I spent the rest of the day at work, thankfully not having to venture too far out into public. I had a uni-red-brow for a few hours and a slightly puffy-feeling lip, but I was assured that it really wasn't as noticeable as I thought.

Once my skin recovered from the assault, it did not take long to become accustomed to fewer full follicles on my face. I came through the process essentially unscathed and no hairs to show for it. Despite my nerves, it was an inoffensive event with pleasant results. I can tell that this is going to be a trend for me, for the next little while, at least. Because of the nearby location and a few friends to keep me on the straight and hairless, I may be able to maintain this state for a significant time. As long as I can get used to being to the idea of paying to be plucked like the chicken that I am.

food is good

2005-02-28T20:00:00.000-08:00

Well, we survived our move at work from the old crappy building to the fancy new one. However, in the process, I was reminded that I get low blood sugar and that entering into that state does funny things to me. After a rather hectic, and therefore breakfastless, morning, I rushed into work early to greet the impending move. All was well and the movers were organised, so my low energy levels didn't really bother anyone (I did have a coffee candy - a little condensed coffee/sugar thing from Indonesia...but that's another story). I was, perhaps, a wee bit spacy, but no more. By the time I arrived at the new building, though, events had transpired to cause my poor little under-sugared brain to twist up and start issuing rather abrupt commands. This, of course, flipped the switch from Spacy to Bitchy.

I subsequently apologised for any bitchy behaviour and blamed it squarely on my pancreatic inadequacies. I really have to teach my organs to manage better under starve mode.

Round about 11am, the opportunity for coffee break - and my first food (because you can't really count a coffee candy) finally arose. Here, those around me were able to witness the dramatic alteration in my person as Bitchy became Whiny. I gratingly wheedled that Coffee Break should indeed be rethought of as Early Lunch Break. Fortunately, everyone agreed - although likely only in an effort to shut me up. Hey, we all benefited.

Much improved after inhaling two cups of strong coffee with sugar, a chicken quesadilla and fries, I was able to resume my day and attend to the looming lengthy afternoon in front of me. We all, I believe, survived.

Tomorrow promises to be another early morning leading into a day of constant re-organisation as we unpack. The difference will be that I will start my day with tea and toast. Hardly the breakfast of champions, but at least the breakfast of the mentally stable (ish).

further deterioration

2005-02-19T22:22:00.000-08:00

I went to the dentist Thursday morning. I'm not one of those people who's terrified of the dentist; my dentists and I have, over the years, had fairly amicable relationships. I keep my teeth reasonably healthy and they don't perform any nasty, painful procedures on me. I haven't grown any wisdom teeth (that may mean something...), I haven't had any cavities and I've only ever had reluctant baby teeth pulled. We've had a good understanding.

During the past week or so, however, my first molar in the upper-right side of my mouth has been out of sorts. It's been sensitive to heat and cold, and a little discomfited with the idea of being used for chewing. I was only concerned enough to mention this, in passing, to my husband: no more. He, though, was more concerned. As a person more familiar with the full range of dental procedures, he advised me that these new sensations, however apparently minor, could indeed be symptomatic of a larger problem. I scoffed. He insisted. I made an appointment.

By the time I arrived at the clinic, early, with brushed and flossed teeth, and hungry (who eats before going to the dentist??), I was more than a little concerned. Even once inside, there was no comfort; everyone began preparing me for the worst. X-rays were taken and my teeth were tapped, poked and stressed to check for cracks. Hums were hawed and caveats were issued. My clean dental record was working in my favour, but there is a first time for everything.

In the end, I received a cavity-free verdict. No abscesses or stress cracks, either. I was hit with the decision that this trauma to the teeth is the result of my nighttime grinding - something I've done religiously since growing my first two teeth to grind together. This grinding has now worn down my teeth so that new, previously unaffected teeth, are feeling the pinch. This is putting stress and strain on the surrounding ligaments and can be akin to spraining an ankle or injuring the tendons.

Wait a minute - what???

I've been dealing with tendonitis in my ankles for the past six months. I'm nearly healed and hitting only a few potholes on the road to recovery. So, what - now that my ankles are getting better, my teeth ligaments find it necessary to get put out? I've become command central for the connective tissue insurrection?? Have I been such a horrible host for the past thirty years that all my body parts now wish to partake in acts of treason?

I'm really not sure what to make of this. I must be doing something wrong. Or, at least, not doing something right. I hope I have a while to figure it out. My body seems to be taking some sort of rotating strike action for the moment, but who knows how long it'll be before the situation escalates into work stoppages, blockades or an all out war. Wish me luck - and lots of time.

cat attack

2005-02-13T11:31:00.000-08:00

My cat, who can be seen by following the link above, insists on commandeering my abdomen anytime I am sleeping, trying to sleep in or nap. Not my husband's, mine. I'm not quite sure why. She rarely sits on laps and she doesn't particularily like to be picked up. However, the stomach-stealing form of human contact seems to be, not only acceptable, but desirable to the point of becoming damned annoying.

At night, she'll stay perched over my belly button for ten to fifteen minutes before going to settle in at the end of the bed. Okay, I can handle that. But often she'll come back later in the night, or in the morning as I'm trying to get up, and settle in for the long haul. I'm sure she'd stay there hours on end, if I let her. She refuses to repond to the subtleties of prodding her back, shifting the covers, tapping her head or the lure of toys and freedom can only be gained by forcibe removal. As a result, I am glared at and muttered at for a length of time (I've never stuck around long enough to hear the whole complaint).

Maybe this is a cat "thing". She is the first cat I've ever had and has surprised me with several previously unknown cat "things". Perhaps, like those, she is simply enlightening me to the ways of being owned by a cat. I could certainly see her stoically taking on this belly battle just to prove a point. If so, I suppose she is being kind - a sort martyr for cats everywhere, while breaking in one more human to create an appropriate cat companion.

She still seems to get the better deal out of it.

snow in February???

2005-02-07T19:55:00.000-08:00

Yes, it actually snowed on the Canadian west coast yesterday - six days into February. It's not like it stayed (as if!) but there was definitely snow falling. I've become a complete and total wimp since moving to Lotus Land a few years back. I used to stoically weather -40 degrees (that's in Celsius, folks) with great regularity while spending winters in northern BC, Edmonton and Yellowknife. I just dressed accordingly, warmed my truck up for at least 15 minutes before driving and survived quite well. Now, if the temperature dips toward the freezing mark, I can barely handle it. No number of sweaters suffice (I don't own that many, anymore) and I am simply chilled to the bone.

I'm sure it must be a different kind of cold. Really. It's a damp cold, not the dry cold that I'd been accustomed to. I don't know that humidity alone can account for a 40 degree difference, but let's stick to that theory. The only other theory is that a person's skin can thin out so much in so short a time, and there must be medical papers out there somewhere that dispute that.

Fortunately, winter is almost, if not entirely, over. The days are getting longer, blooms are out and the grass is turning various shades of green. I haven't seen anyone mowing lawns yet, but there have been lots of people running around in shorts. Soon, I'll be able to lament my lack of air conditioning.

upon reflection

2005-02-04T19:39:00.000-08:00

I think I have to rethink my quasi-whining of the last post. Apparently there are lots of U2 fan club members who weren't even able to get tickets during the presale (an unfortunate occurrence which is in the process of being rectified, or at least compensated, according to website and email information).

So, the fact that I got two tickets at all should seem rather gratifying. Alright then. I'm fairly over the mediocrity of the seats. I'm still going to check in tomorrow morning at Ticketmaster anyway... I'll be over it more once I am unable to get my hands on anything better.

the day Bono is scheduled to come to town (and Larry and Adam and the Edge)

2005-02-01T20:05:00.000-08:00

Well, I bought my U2 tickets today - it was the fan club presale, so I thought I'd be getting in early on a piece of the action. I guess I did.

I didn't want floor seats (and I use the term loosely - it's all general admission/no chairs) as I'm just getting too old for that. I'm also unable to line up all day to make sure that I get a good spot. So, why bother? I was more than willing to shell out the bucks for (good) side seats.

I got side seats. They're, really, not bad. I have had worse. I have happily had worse. They're just not as good as I'd thought they'd be. I now have to wait for the tickets to go on sale to the general public and see what kind of availability there is. Perhaps the pre-sale tickets really sold out that fast. Or, the pre-sale tickets were limited to some so-so tickets (two of which I got). It may be impossible for me to get anything better and, if that's the case, I'll pay my visa bill and be very happy. However, if I am able to locate better seats on Saturday morning, I will then have a dilemma: spend another whack-load of cash on better seats and try and offer my mediocre (yet just as pricey) pre-sale seats to friends, or let it lie and go buy a pair of binoculars.

It's just going to be unsettled for the next couple of days. I have tickets. I will still get to see Bono in Vancouver on their only Canadian date scheduled so far. I will still probably buy a t-shirt or, at least, another key chain. I will still relentlessly listen to How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb and, closer to the date, all previous U2 albums to the point of driving my husband insane and questioning his will to attend the concert with me.

But I probably won't renew my subscription for the next great pre-sale offer.

cranial mapping

2005-01-30T16:44:00.000-08:00

I officially have a weird head.

In the not so terribly distant past, when taking note of the various bumps, indentations and measurements of a person's skull were in vogue, it appears that I would have been diagnosed with innumberable conditions and ailments.

I'm sure that, to some of you who may know me, this is nothing new. It is, however, a bit of a revelation to me. I went and had my new glasses fitted today and it took for-bloody-ever. There was so much adjusting going on, that the staffer (I have no idea what to call her - sales clerk? eyeglass associate? frames specialist?) ended up switching out my lenses into a duplicate pair of frames: the original set got scratched. Yikes. The arms, nose pads and bridge were all subject to their share of pinching, twisting and splaying. And, yes, these frames are the correct size for me. Seriously.

I'll give her full kudos for working on my frames for so long. I was faint with hunger and decidedly under-caffeinated, while my husband had long since resorted to playing solitaire on my Palm Pilot. That, and there were potential paying customers in the store that all had to be waited on by the lone other staffer. Well, at least she seriously upped her odds of me now becoming a repeat customer.

Good thing these frames are completely awesome. They're Gucci, tortoise-shell, plastic and very square. They even have nose pads - normally I can't wear plastic frames because I have to shove them too close too my eyes, right up on the bridge of my nose and I look like a complete idiot. This way, not so much!

I've already worn them to work and, although they're narrow (top to bottom) and will take a little getting used to, I didn't have nearly the headache I'd expected and virtually no eye strain or discomfort. Considering I've been sticking solely to contacts for the last few years, that's pretty impressive. Stairs, typing and quick movements are still tasks that I have to do a little more cautiously, but I'll hopefully get accustomed to them shortly.

Now I just have to get used to feeling air on my eyeballs....and go check my skull for any more oddities.

full moon

2005-01-25T21:52:00.000-08:00

No, nothing crude - it's actually a full moon out tonight. I thought it kind of looked full last night, but it's definitely full tonight.

And that explains a lot.

I've dropped my keys at least a half dozen times today. Not a big deal, except for the $100 gadget that lets me lock and unlock my car. I locked myself out of my locker at work and had to page the maintenance guy to come over with a pair of bolt cutters. I got lost in the drug store (hey, it's a new one, give me a break) while looking for a new lock. And, yes, I bought a combination lock this time instead of a lock with a key. Now, I just get to forget the combo instead of lock the keys inside.

It's nice to have a full moon to blame this on. Really, how else would my day sound? I would just look like an aimless, forgetfull ditz. Yeah, good to have that moon.

I'm voting that things can only get better tomorrow. They have to - my scapegoat will have waned.

because I don't get paid to edit

2005-01-17T21:54:00.000-08:00

The name of the book linked above is Eats Shoots and Leaves and it's simply a punctuation guide. It's a way better read than it sounds - swear to god (or whomever). I've been reading it now, on and off, for a while (see my previous post). I probably make all of the punctuation errors mentioned in this book on a regular basis, yet I have now begun to detect them in the newspapers, journal articles and online documents that I read.

It's getting annoying.

While scanning a scientific piece earlier today, purely for the work-related bits, I was insanely distracted by a missing comma. The sentence was structured such that it looked like 1,997 tests were performed recently. However, I believe the intention of the sentence was: as recently as the year 1997... Yeesh. Of all the important and relevant information in that article, that missing comma is what will now stick with me the longest.

The sad thing is that I am an offender just as much as the next guy. I can't legitimately point out these errors, omissions and abuses. Such behaviour is likely to turn around and bite me in the ass. I'll simply have to flux between having a giggle and grinding my teeth until I am comfortable and/or confident enough in my own punctuation skills (or in the lack of those I'm accusing) to flaunt others' faults.

To any readers of this blog, it is not necessary to take it upon yourselves to go through and point out any and all punctuation errors that may be present is this or any preceding post. I haven't finished the book yet and am still in the learning curve. Your patience is greatly appreciated.

and so goes 2005

2005-01-10T21:33:00.000-08:00

jesus murphy...it's already January 10!! By the end of this week, the first half of the first month of 2005 will be over.

At least I'm sticking to a few things so far this year. I've started up a new book and I'm actually reading it. I've got several books on the go. Okay, not on the go. I've started several books and stopped reading them part way through. That's no way to get through any, and I've decided to actually complete a book before starting the next one. Maybe I'll even go back and finish some of the ones I've started.

My web pages are slacking - more time spent reading means less time spent updating. My writing is happening sporadically, but I'm spending more time editing. Editing is good. There's not much point in being excessively verbose if it's all crap.

I've been emailing. I'm a notoriously bad emailer. It's not difficult and should be an easy way to keep in touch. I've decided that's a theory worth testing.

Perhaps I'll promote the blog as more of a "keep updated on Jenn" thing instead of a "rant and vent" thing and see how that works. Maybe. Ah...maybe not.

Enough mindless drivel for one night...

the end of paper??

2005-01-03T21:12:00.000-08:00

So, here's my dilemma. I can now purchase eBooks (I guess I always could...) and download them onto my lovely new PDA to read wherever I go. There's lots of books that this will be great for - especially poetry, short stories and non fiction. Things that I can read in short spurts that will not make me upset when my coffee break is over and I have to put the text away.

But, can or will I bring myself to pixelate my favourite fiction? I kind of like books. I like writing in journals and notebooks and I like reading a physical book. I get to turn pages that have texture and I get to take care not to ruin the cover or the spine. I get to feel the weight of the tome (my fiction choices are often tomes) and admire or scoff the cover art.

I think I may still purchase a few classics in electronic format, just to see how it goes. They're not expensive and, being the literary slacker that I am, I haven't actually read most of them. It'll be a good test.

If I enjoy them, maybe I'll get a paper copy.

my new baby

2004-12-28T20:42:00.000-08:00

With apologies to my dog and cat, I have a new baby - my husband got me a PDA for Christmas! It's a Palm Tungsten T5 and I think it's going to take me for-absolute-ever to figure out even half of what it can do. Fortunately, I'll be so content with what little I do discover that it won't really matter.

It's truly gorgeous. Aesthetics really is important, no matter how much I cave to functionality on a regular basis. This is the model I coveted but never, in a million years, would have bought for myself. I am constantly torn between adoring and mocking the prettiness and excessiveness of things. I'm probably going to be able to convince myself that what makes this PDA pleasing to look at is, in part, what makes it user friendly and therefore more effective. Yeah, really.

I've already altered my preferences, favourites and backgrounds several times over and downloaded some applications, calendar, contacts and files. Now, I just have to get my music and photos sorted out and then I'll be set. And then I get to rearrange it all again to be even prettier.

New Year, New Me...again

2004-12-22T16:29:00.000-08:00

I'm sensing a trend. I have no idea how long it's been going on nor how delayed this epiphany is, but I seem to need to overhaul things in conjunction with changing calendars.

September is supposed to be a classical season of change, renewal and makeovers - presumably a learned behaviour from our many years of starting new school years. Spring, of course, is also an obvious time to clean, cleanse and redecorate. I, however, find it necessary to rework my websites - in small aesthetic tweaks to extreme revamps - over the Christmas season.

I don't know why. I don't have a particularly vast readership who will 'ooh' and 'ahh' over my improvements. Okay, I don't have a readership, per se, at all. I have people who stumble across my sites from time to time. My sites are all, really, rather selfish endeavours, yet I indulge in them none-the-less. So, what do I get out of it? It's certainly cheaper than making myself over with a new wardrobe, hair and spa trip. In many ways, it's less stressful too. I'm sure my husband is happy that I'm not trying to make him over and making over the house tends to get on everyone's nerves (although I could redirect my energies into vacuuming more often....I'm sure that's beside the point).

But, now I have taken the first step. I have acknowledged the situation and can now monitor events to see if I really have a problem here, or if this is simply a quirk that can be chalked up to me being me. Either way, check back for updates and new looks (shameless plug: see side bar for some of my pages!).

New Skin!

2004-12-19T17:42:00.000-08:00

Woohoo! An updated look!

Well, it's hardly a life changing event, but it is a very quick little pick me up for my blog. Not only is this a new look, but I managed to paste and edit the template with remarkably little stress. How very techno-geek of me.

Gotta go run and make supper now. My excitement seems to be over for the evening...

Slacker

2004-12-12T22:20:00.000-08:00

Well, it's been a little while again since my last post and I'll blame it squarely on the Christmas season. I've been doing the whole concert circuit and the fitting in the occasional family gathering while I'm at it. While I've made significant gains in the card and present endeavours, it has left me with little time or inclination to spend on less immediate, though arguably more noble, goals.

I'd rather not be slave to the annual festivities and commercialism. This year, in particular, has been less than Christmas-y for a variety of reasons yet has still managed to involve a lot of work.

I do have a few days scheduled off with the intent of using them to work on all the things that I let slip in order to meet mailing deadlines. Genealogy info, poetry editing and meeting notes are stacked and waiting for my attention.

Organising 101 is about to commence. Man, I love post-it notes.

the weather outside is not frightful

2004-11-15T22:16:00.000-08:00

I received my first Christmas letter today. Granted, it's from my husband's aunt and uncle who sent it early so that everyone would know their new address. That way we can appropriately address our Christmas letter to them. It was very nice of them.

It's still disturbing. Despite the fact that they had a valid reason for being a little early, truth is that it's not all that early at all. Christmas is coming. I haven't started shopping yet and my sister is almost done. I've barely started my Christmas letter and, while I've bought cards, I haven't even updated the address book on the new computer with all the addresses from the old system yet. And, no, my paper address book is not up to date and cannot be used as backup.

Decorations have been up for weeks, literally, and I am simply not in the mood this year. I know I have to get out and get organised, but I just really don't feel like it. There's always a little panic every year, but this holiday season seems a little more chore-like than previous years.

Perhaps once I get started, it'll all settle into place. I've tentatively scheduled a few days off in early December for just that kind of holiday blitz. It's borderline late for that sort of shopping spree - most of my presents have to be shipped elsewhere - but a time crunch will add to the necessity of complete and thorough purchasing. Visa will be so happy.

falalalalalala

Paper Carrot, People Carrot

2004-11-04T19:51:00.000-08:00

After nearly a month of cancelled engagements and rearranged plans, and this nearly six months after the original invitation, I will be going to see friends this weekend. They live around the corner from us - in the same complex, even - yet finding the time for a coffee together has been a battle of calendars. My husband's football games, her husband's work shedule and my out of town guests all factored into the fragile negotiations of simply sitting down.

It really should not be all that difficult, yet determining a mutually agreeable date and time between friends has taken up more hours than we will likely get to spend together on Saturday itself. And these friends live disgustingly close - I practically never see the ones that have the gall to live in neigbouring suburbs. Once you factor in drive time, it becomes nearly impossible to meet with anyone who doesn't live around the corner.

Email and cell phones should be keeping me in touch, but even they seem to only barely bolster my attempts at communication. A few messages that don't really say anything go back and forth and so there seems no need to keep up the virtual discussion until something of note occurs. The problem is that something of note is usually worthy of a bulk email - photo updates, engagement or birth announcements - and leaves no real chance for any personal contact. It's still good to get the bulk email. At least I know that I exist in their address book and that's about all anyone can ask for these days.

Bulk email makes me feel better about sending out my annual Christmas letter (the one I've got to start drafting soon). I really see it as no different, except that I have to spend 49c on postage and force my husband to co-sign each card. Everyone who gets a card gets to know that they're still in my paper address book and maybe, one day, we'll talk.

So, if for some reason, our date gets cancelled yet again this weekend, I can just shove an early Christmas card in their door. After that, we'll have a whole year to try catch up again in 2005.

oh, will weirdness never cease

2004-10-29T19:58:00.000-07:00

Once again, it's been a strange week. It's gone by as though it never happened - kind of like I blinked and missed it entirely. At the same time, Wednesday, though only two days ago, seems an absolute eternity in the past. Fortunately, it doesn't seem to be just me. Everyone at work has commented on it, as has my sister of one of my husband's sisters.

There was the aforementioned blue moon that must have had some certain impact on events, and just this week was the lunar eclipse. The day after, co-workers and family alike were behaving oddly (myself included) and we were all glad to simply crawl home. I had the feeling - no, forget that - I know people kept looking at me all day. Strangers at lunch, vague acquaintances in the hall (the kind of people you recognize, but couldn't remember their name if you had to introduce them to someone else) other evening dog-walkers all kept looking at me. My skin's not overly misbehaving. I'm fairly sure that I didn't have anything weird stuck to my person. It was all just odd.

I may have to revise my theory that time is individual and dependent simply on how one chooses to spend it. I now have to look for that Star Trek-esque hole in the space time continuum. I'm starting to think that it may be out there. It's either that, or our orbit around the sun is deteriorating while the speed of earth's rotation has increased: shorter years and quicker days. Yeah, that's it.

Alright, this rant has deteriorated rapidly. As usual, I have a tonne of real things to accomplish tonight like cleaning, carving pumpkins, laundry and emails. No wonder I always think I run out of time! The five minute blog simply sucks more minutes than I should be wasting. Perhaps that's it....the internet has turned into a black hole of time and it sucks the days out of unsuspecting surfers - you know, complete with a swirly pattern like in Austin Powers.

oh, man. On that note, I think I'll go have a glass of port, sit in front of the tv and fold socks. That may be all tonight is good for.

Behind the Times

2004-10-19T21:13:00.000-07:00

Here I am now blogging when I have a million other things that I should be doing, not the least of which is sleep. I need to edit some photos for distribution, I need to write and edit some works in progress and I need to organise my workspace so that simply existing in the same square footage as my papers isn't so stressfull.

But, no, instead I blog.

It's good to blog. It gets the writing juices going and gets the stream of conscious puking on paper verbiage out of the way so that the well-planned words can emerge intact and making sense. That's the theory anyway.

Some of the photos requiring editing have just arrived courtesy of the significant other. I think that's a sign.

Verbosity is expunged. PhotoShop, here I come.

When the past goes out for dinner

2004-10-05T20:36:00.000-07:00

I had dinner last night with previous co-workers of mine, some of whom still work together. It sounded like a good idea - getting the gang all together for a mini reunion and a chance to reconnect with everyone.

It was wierd.

Don't get me wrong, I was excited to see all these friends again and I'm very glad I went and had the chance to keep in touch with everyone. However, I'd just spent the weekend schmoozing and had very little small talk left in me. I was nearly fresh out of fresh quips and my attempts to keep the conversations bouyant were rather weak. I left slightly smaller at the end of the evening.

But, after a night of sleep and, apparently, my poor company notwithstanding, I now recall that we lingered over the colourful assortments of raw fish a lot longer than I thought possible and left far before the silences of staled story-telling began. There were no strangled pauses, no hiccups over a spouse's name nor any random speculations about the local sports teams. We all asked, answered and interjected our fair share of verbiage and took turns guessing whether it was salmon or tuna hiding under the hot sauce on the spicy roll platter. The six of us managed to spend the better part of an evening catching up and getting on as though we had never stopped seeing each other five days a week. We learned all about everyones' summer vacations (some better than others) and were regaled with stories of the various children/grandchildren/neices and nephews interspersed with brief commisserations about careers past and present. I guess that's why we all bothered to get together in the first place: even though it had been over a year since some of us had seen each other, we still simply know each other and are confident in that comfort.

It was good.

Passivity Rocks ...and Bites

2004-09-18T20:44:00.000-07:00

For once, my procrastination techniques should have been paying off.

I have been going to see a physiotherapist for my aberrant ankles for nearly three weeks and she has only now seen fit to provide me with a few piddling stretches in order to aid in my recovery. Tendonitis, she explained, is about resting. I thought I could handle that.

Instead, it's been stressing me out. I'd been under the impression that physiotherapists make a person work. If I go to my chiropractor or massage therapist with a new ailment, I invariably leave with a new exercise or two. That's just the way it's supposed to happen. However, this course of physiotherapy has been anything but what I expected. I simply lay there while she applies pressure points and laser light to specific targets and then lay there some more while hooked up to electrodes. Sometimes the electric current pulses, sometimes it doesn't. Truly, it's not as involved as I'd anticipated. My lack of contributions to my well being is terribly disconcerting. I suppose my lack if active involvement is my contribution and that is what is helping me get better but my laziness just seems so ... lacking.

Fortunately, those days of enforced passivity are over. Now that I have stretches to do, it's up to me to avoid doing them as religiously as I should. I can actively procrastinate and it feels far more productive than sitting around justifiably doing nothing. I'm back on track to being my old self - ankles and psyche.

Ongoing Identity Crisis

2004-09-12T19:49:00.000-07:00

In keeping with my whole life improvement, follow your heart and expand your horizons BS, I had the sense to attend a workshop that was put on by Simon Fraser University regarding career options in creative writing and editing. Apparently, there are careers out there. Sort of.

There were three presenters, all of whom were well spoken, built on the realistic expectations that a would-be writer should have and repeatedly expressed the notion that many of the "job titles" can and do overlap.

However, from the first speaker came a solid set of statements to ponder, including a nagging little question that haunted me throughout the remainder of the seminar and does still.

Who am I?

What a silly question. I am me.

Unfortunately, that denotes nothing other than the possibility that I am terribly shallow person who gives remarkably little thought to my own existence. To expand then:

I am a medical laboratory technologist who has written operating procedures and summary reports.
I am a wife who writes the Christmas letter every year.
I am a poet (published in one upstart online e-zine, to boot!) of fluctuating skill.
I am pretty damned good at producing a successful cover letter and resume.
I am a blogger.
I am finding it difficult to condense all of this into a one or two word descriptor fit for a business card job title.

I could simply call myself a Writer but that seems vague and undefined, if not down right lazy. Until I sort through this a little more, though, it will be remarkably difficult to describe this part of me as anything else.

It will be remarkably difficult to describe myself even as a Writer. To date, I generally comment that "I write" or "I write crappy poems every now and then" or "I blog". This does not come across as a notably confident, serious take on what can be the truly meaningful part of my day and can not be helpful in finding out who I supposedly am as a Writer. I can not spend my time describing myself as all things to all people, yet need to cover my (growing) breadth where applicable.

A little trial and error, a little exploration and a few title changes will, in the end, lead me to who I am in a world where Writer may yet be the best description.

well, duh

2004-08-28T17:07:00.000-07:00

About bloody time, really (oops - swear to god, no pun intended there). There is now, finally, an approved oral contraceptive to be used for periods (oh, damn. I didn't mean that one either) of longer than 21 days!!

Well, approved in the US. Note that this doesn't do me a damn bit of good, but it provides the possibility that one day a comparable prescription drug will be available north of the american border.

Having a birth control pill that can be safely, effectively and officially taken for 3 months straight just seems to make too much sense. It just begs the question - why hasn't anyone done the necesary studies, testing and submissions earlier? Okay, some"feminine hygeine" products might suffer a few losses in the marketplace. But, this is kind of question about pill use that's been around forever - well, at least since at least a monophasic birth control pill was made available (the kind where all pills contain the same levels of hormones). What would happen if you just didn't stop taking it? Apparently, nothing. Duh. Some comany just had to invest the initial outlay of capital on a series of double-blind, controlled studies over a significant length of time in order to market their pill this way and to justify putting safety and efficacy claims on their packaging.

The odd thing is, from the quick glance I took around the webstie, this particular company doesn't seem to manufacture other brands of oral contraceptives. I would have thought that one of the big companies already in the field would have been one of the first ones to come up with a contraceptive to be taken over a longer stretch of time.

What are the drawbacks? There would have been the initial investment, but I would have thought that would have payed off. Perhaps there's a worry that the general pill consuming public will not be overly appreciative of this new option. (why on earth not is beyond me but then, that is only my opinion) Perhaps the cost of marketing, wooing doctors and jumping through hoops made of red tape simply wasn't a priority for companies already in the market.

Whatever the reasons, this pill is here now and the marketing game is in full swing. I hope this new pill does well. I hope it gets approved in Canada. I hope I'll still have a use for it by the time it does.

Pass the Ben Gay

2004-08-23T21:59:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since my last post and it's not for a lack of wanting. We've been inundated with guests (and that's fine) but I'm not surviving as well as I used to. I need my sleep these days. And it's not even beauty sleep. It's sleep purely for the purpose of being able to function. I'm getting old.

I got my mid-life crisis over with last year for my 29th birthday with the acquisition of my (first) tattoo. (There have been no subsequent ones, but I'm not about to rule out another one or two.) This year, as my 30th birthday approaches, I seem to be simply accepting the fact that I will now start to fall apart.

If the guy who changed the oil alters the driver's seat, my shoulder gets sore. If I have a nap on the couch, I'm risking an achy neck. And now, for no apparent reason, my right ankle is boycotting normalcy. Even this one has my chiropractor stumped - I haven't bought new shoes, or even worn any heels lately. I've never been athletic enough to have traumatized it in some previous sports career. I don't remember twisting it recently ... mind you I never remember where any of my bruises came from, so anything's possible. I'm not the best at recounting recent history - another sign of deterioration, I'm sure.

At least my usual ailments have reasons for being and have known methods of recovery. This, however, seems to be purely a failure on the part of my aging joints. There doesn't seem to be any inherent message to slow down, or to stop, or to adjust...something. Instead, it's more like a whiny "I just don't wanna do it".

Well, too bad for you, ankle. I need to walk, drive and hit the sustain pedal on the piano. I'm not asking anything of you that is particularly taxing. Think of all the poor athletic ankles over in Athens right now.

Oh dear. I may have to get used to talking to various body parts over the coming years. First, an ankle, next perhaps a wrist. My eyes are already slacking off; maybe I'd better get on their case sooner rather than later. This is going to be a lot of work.

I've less than two months left of my second decade. I'd better enjoy it while my body lets me.

A solid shade of grey

2004-08-12T22:31:00.000-07:00

There are a few things in my life right now that have the slight potential to be magically fixed with a good solid dose of self-esteem. Now I'm not knocking good old-fashioned hard work, because that would certainly have to be involved too. But, in order to put myself out there for the critcism required to improve, a little confidence in my ability to acheive a level of competency would be an asset.

My overly cautious wall-flower behaviour applies, in this case, to any of my more "artsy" endeavours: writing (here or poetry) and music (playing and singing). Not every artistic thing I attempt is crap. Some of it most definitely is crap but some of it has potential. However, the trick is deciding how to best extract that potential and present it in a refreshing, enlightening and entertaining way. Oh and, by the way, the entire process is subjective.

There are some things that will just never have mass appeal in sound or print. Neither a complete lack of timing nor a complete disregard for spelling will ever get anyone very far. Beyond that, though, everyone has a different personal appreciation of music and literature.

Let me correct that: everyone should have their own appreciation of music and literature. God help those whose work instantly appeals to the masses. It's only likely to disappear just as quickly.

So, to recap:

Fame is not success.
A success is not likely to appeal to everyone and so criticism will follow.
Criticism is required to improve beyond an initial success.
Everybody's got an opinion and they're all going to be different.

This whole adventure seems to be a matter of striving toward an undefined goal of good or best, with nothing but scads of varying input from (cross your fingers) worthy inspirations.

So, to hell with black and white. Almost everything has potential for something and meaning to someone, damnit, including my half-rhymes and squeaky high E. Nothing I do will ever be solidly right or wrong, but some combination in between grey - all that counts is that I'm sure about it.

My application for the Darwin awards

2004-08-08T20:14:00.000-07:00

I've been antsy. I've been sleeping poorly. Everything, both at work and at home, seems to have been happening ... oddly. Nothing horrendous, just odd.

There was just a blue moon.

This coming Friday is the 13th.

I've been eating a lot of spicy food.

While any one of these things could account for this weirdness, the only one over which I have any control is my diet. And yet I continue to indulge in peppers, onions, salt and garlic when there is a 33.3% chance that these items are adversely affecting my life.

This "coincidence" occurs to me after receiving a warning email from my husband. He wrote to inform me that a piece of blackberry pie has just made it's way into his stomach - a pie whose crust is known to contain dairy. He's intolerant to even the most insignificant quantity of lactose and allergic to blackberries (these ones, hopefully, have been cooked thoroughly and are, therefore, benign).

How stupid are we??

I know which foods keep me from sleeping and which wines give me headaches as well as I know not to run out into traffic or to handle a downed power line. My husband is very well aware of what contains dairy, nuts, fruits and soy and even refuses to use a knife with which I may have sliced my cheese sandwich. Yet we both, fully informed and presumably competent, are purposely and happily ingesting those foodstuffs that harm us.

There's no clinic for this. No patch or group therapy. I have yet to read an article showing almonds, butter or green onion to be stupefyingly addictive.

We have will power, honestly. I can avoid the 3pm chocolate bar and stop after one cup of coffee. My husband can by-pass the brie. But some deep seeded need to be humbled, reminded of our weaknesses or display our imperfections seems to prevail when it comes to our dietary senses. We know we'll survive - there's no extreme puffer fish cuisine here. We'll just be uncomfortable for a while (sometimes more so than others, and sometimes more so for the person who didn't have the lapse in judgment). But I fail to see how, while not life threatening, this willful intestinal abuse can be healthy. How much sleep deprivation, dehydration and itchiness can a body be expected to take?

My sister-in-law's into cleanses and I have to admit that I'm intrigued by them. I'm also intrigued by vegetarianism, the avoidance of refined flour, sugars and prepackaged foods. However, no passing curiosity has yet to make me a granola-loving, wild rice-steaming vegan. I eat my share of tofu. I just mix it with ground turkey and cook it really well so my husband doesn't have to take any more anti-histamines. I then throw in a few hot peppers for extra kick. I'll wake up around 2:30am because of it, but that'll give me a chance to plan tomorrow's menu.

a rambling on the maleability of time

2004-08-02T21:04:00.000-07:00

If you don't do odd, skip this one right now.

It's been a holiday Monday, and I am now totally and completely messed up. Tomorrow, although Tuesday, will feel like a Monday and the rest of the week will continue to be one day off. However, knowing that this is a short work week will, in fact, make the week seem longer.

Never mind that it's already August 2004. We're well past half the year already and it barely feels out of Christmas. (I'm ignoring the fact that I believed it was 2005 one night last week - I was blog-hopping and thought how awful it was that someone hadn't updated their blog since July 2004.) Summer's almost over, it'll be Christmas again soon, and I won't have made it out of 2003.

This weekend has been unseemingly long. But that's good. I think it's because I actually got out and accomplished a few things. I am of the belief that the standard issue Monday to Friday 9-5 job shortens lives, in perception if not in reality. It's the days that I actively partake in several different activities that I remember more vividly, with more impact and that provide me with a greater sense of being.

It's true. Years seem to have flown by this last little while and, since I have no proof of any Star Trek-esque anomolies in the space-time continuum, I stand by my current theory.

Think about it. When you were in elementary school, September through December was an awfully long time and an entire school year seemed like an eternity. Summer break was the best, most wonderful length of holidays and even Christmas and Easter break were deliciously indulgent. Here's the punch: at any of those times, you were doing at least 12 different things each day. If it wasn't several completely different classes, including gym, music, math and science, it was going swimming, biking to the store, searching for treasure in the backyard, reading and then walking the dog. Even dinner was an event unto itself. A child's single afternoon schedule could be a challenge for the most accomodating Palm Pilot.

Now, however, I compartmentalize my life by days and sometimes by whole weeks. Work accounts for almost half of my waking day on 5/7 days per week. Everything else that happens is simply tacked on around that - not as an event, but more like an addendum. After work, I have a doctor's appointment. I have to phone the bank before work. I will get groceries on my lunch break.

I suppose this gets back to my reference in "sweaty eyelids" to all the things I haven't found the time to do. It's going to take more that a swift kick in the ass to get me going. I need a re-alignment. My brain's gone out of phase with the rest of the world - into a parallel universe, perhaps. I've got no hope of James T. Kirk or Jean Luc coming in with a last minute "beam me up" to reset my perspective, so I think that leaves only me to issue the order: Make It So.

I blog, therefore I am

2004-07-28T19:31:00.000-07:00

Blogging and business moving mainstream

While it's interesting that MicroSoft and IBM are pondering the ways to utilize and/or cash in on the blogging concept, the tiny little piece of this article that lead me to blog this was the phrase "Thousands of blogs, characterized by some as the height of self-importance, are posted daily."

Height of self-importance???!!!

Okay, sort of. Who am I to think that I deserve to take up web space, server time and the all-important web-surfer's time with what could arguably be described as meaningless drivel? Am I actually under the delusion that even an insignificant number of people will stumble across
a thought gone further off track..., read it and, more tellingly, get something out of it? Does anyone really like strings of rhetorical questions?

In that light, I suppose I may be considered an ego-maniac. I have not only started this blog, I already have one fully functional website and a second one in it's infancy. Neither one of them have the potential to contain profound life-changing knowledge. It's bits about my dog, my cat, my poetry, my photos, my genealogy and other sites that I like to visit.

So, what's feeding my drive to maintain my sites and post my verbal diarrhea online? Truth is, every now and then, I get an unsolicited hit from a complete stranger. It's true! It's very wierd, but true. I have proof in my guestbooks and in my website statistics. On the rare occassion, someone other than a friend or family member actually stumbles across my web pages and (gasp!) finds something helpful, useful or enjoyable about them.

That hasn't happened here yet.

I've absolutely no proof that anyone (other than my husband, who I believe only reads this to take a sanity pulse) has read these entries. And so what? As with my website - it's out there. Someone is willing to give me this space and I'm damned well going to take advantage of it. Yes, I am adding to the vast amounts of unintelligible verbosity that currently exists online. So be it.

But I get the last laugh.

Some day, someone will take the time to read it.

sweaty eyelids

2004-07-23T22:37:00.000-07:00

It's a freakin sweatbox around here. The last two days (since we returned from Alaska) have been absolutely eyelash-melting, tooth sweating, god-forbid-you-wear-anything hot. According to the weather website, it's currently 23 Celsius out, but feels like 29. No kidding. My thermometer actually says 29. And that's now in the evening when it's supposedly cooler. As if.

No, I don't have air conditioning. Every year we threaten to go out and get a little unit just for the bedroom but piss around about it until it's no longer that excruciatingly hot out. After that, why bother? It'll be another 50 weeks before we have to deal with temperatures like that again, so we can just wait until next year, right?

This is the same skill set with which we have successfully put off finishing the basement, painting our hallways and seeing the sites that our own city has to offer. This kind of procrastination takes practice and dedication. Not everyone has the fortitude to continually ignore dingy hallways, gorgeous local scenery and sticky kitchen chairs.

While tolerating the sticky kitchen chairs, though, I am left too drained to do anything but contemplate all the unfinished and undone things around me. (never mind the laundry - it's definitely too hot to do laundry) It's kind of sad, really, since I know the time is there for me to accomplish these things, but I just don't get around to it. Apparently I have time to think about it; I know exactly what I want done in the basement and what colour I need to paint the walls and what local sites I want to see.

I'll have to look into doing something about that next weekend.

where am I again??

2004-07-21T20:18:00.000-07:00

I returned today from a trip to the USA - five nights in Anchorage for the aforementioned wedding and one night in Seattle as part of the return trip. Despite living so close to the border, I rarely get into the states as I really have no need to. I just don't have enough reason to justify digging out my passport and sitting in a line up at the border to fight it out over parking spots at warehouse sized outlet stores.

This trip brought to light something that I keep forgetting: the US is a different country. I watch American television shows, I see a bit of American news and I guess I kind of figured we're all the same after a while. Of course there are the significant differences in government structure, demographics, geography and all the obvious stereotypical traits touted by the media and anyone who's proud to be either a Canadian or American citizen. blah blah blah

But the little differences took a while to sink in. The cities seemed more sprawling. I kept trying to pay people with one dollar bills, since they're the same colour as Canadian twenties and I kept looking for two dollar coins in my change. News broadcasts and newspapers were more intense. I didn't recognize many of the songs on the radio - I knew a fair few, but it was disconcerting how many I'd never heard before. A lot of my food was heavily battered and, while I'm good with most Asian, Indian and European accents, the southern drawls kept tripping me up. And, yes, there were a surprising number of southern drawls in Alaska and not just on the tourists from the cruise boats.

Now, I'd been in San Francisco last spring and noticed some of the same things, but thought it was a result of being further removed from home. Now, however, I was seeing it in two states that both border on Canada!

This was a bit of a relevation for me - I hadn't truly appreciated before this how different the Canadian and American cultures can be. Perhaps I hadn't truly appreciated, despite hearing it so often, that there are distinct Canadian and American cultures. My friends in the states (alright, they're ex-pats - but I've met their fully American friends too!) never expounded on these little differences.

At the most basic level, I've always had the belief that everyone, no matter where they're living, needs the same Big Things: to love, eat, sleep and pee. But, at the moment, I'm left to wonder how many of the other Little Things does it take to add up to a Difference?

The Difference tomorrow? I'll be going to the bank to re-convert my American money back into a more substantial amount of cold hard Canadian cash.

yay!

my cat's tummy is bare

2004-07-14T10:50:00.000-07:00

Mesquite had her stomach shaved on Monday. On purpose.

She was bereft of her fur for an ultrasound after "something" could sort of be seen on an x-ray. The preliminary conclusions of the ultrasound don't sound very good: soft tissue sarcoma. The prognosis doesn't sound very good either. Surgery is an option but this mass is close to her spine (presumably the source of the pain that led her to wake us up early July 1) and that makes it harder to ensure the entire tumor can be removed. Add to this the facts that she is around 14 or 15 years old, overweight and has had problems under anaesthetic in the recent past, and she is a very poor candidate indeed.

So, I now sit and wait for a phone call from our vet. She will have read the full report from the radiologist and have her own ideas about what could and should happen next. Meanwhile I'm left with the internet as a source of too much information and a tonne of hypothetical and often redundant questions regarding causes and treatment options.

Cats, it seems, are not particularly good at voicing their discomfort in it's early stages. Nor has this one been clear about what exactly was bothering her when it did become apparent. It is apparent, however, that she is uncomfortable with nudity.

I will worry about her tumor, her elevated liver enzymes and what will come over the next while. She's distraught enough over the possibility of someone catching sight of her pink tummy.

Wedding Plans

2004-07-11T19:30:00.000-07:00

Okay, it's not my wedding. One of my friends from high school is getting married next weekend (not really, she's already married, but this is the public ceremony). I just spent a significant portion of today purchasing not only a wedding present, but outfits for the multiple events, a new purse to go with said outfits and new shoes for my husband.

I hate shopping and my husband flat out loathes it. This is an awful lot of production for a wedding and I'm only a guest. I don't even want to know what she and the wedding party are going through.

Yes, I mentioned my own husband earlier. How can I not know what she's going through? I am married and will have been for 8 years this fall. I am only now glad that I got married when I was way too young and naive to know that I was doing everything wrong. I didn't arrange to have all the parties and gatherings that I should have. I had only my maid of honor and I didn't ask anything of her other than to show up. We had the same deal with the best man. There were no planned speeches and no time or space designated for dancing or photos. We blissfully took advantage of every offer of familial help extended to us - from crashing at relatives, to the DJ, to the decorating, to the photographer, to the catering, to the petsitting while we were on our honeymoon.

Were I to have been more in the norm and waited to marry until my later 20's or early 30's, planning such an event would now involve a significantly greater amount of stress, less reliance on the kindness of friends and family that always carries that hint of obligation and more reliance on the guarantee of paid help. I've since been to others' weddings. The night is planned from start to finish and practically everyone gets up and says something; whether it's just a speech or a toast or a roast, they are scheduled and timed between specific songs on a carefully thought out playlist. Dinner is choreographed and dances are served up to pre-arranged partners. It's the kind of night that only happens with the will of a true martyr or the clout of a deep pocket book. I don't know very many martyrs.

It's truly amazing that everyone just doesn't elope.

I anticipate that this will be a gorgeous wedding. I don't know if her event is an occassion worthy of a plea for sainthood or a roll of the dice. However planned or free the day is though, knowing my friend, it will be nothing short of a fine affair. I plan to enjoy their day with them and offer my obligation and guilt free assistance should she need it.

I must now go co-ordinate my jewellery with my new dresses...
j

First Post

2004-07-10T22:30:00.000-07:00

Okay. So, this is a blog. I just signed up for this for the heck of it to see how this whole thing worked and what it looked like. I'm thinking it'll take a while for the potential to sink in. Do I want to go in for the group blog and make it a communication tool - an alternative to the cc'd emails from distant family? I suppose I could leave it as a personal rant venue...somewhere to vent and practice articulating. That seems a little less, I dunno, productive. Attempts at personal growth in a public venue (never mind how few people will actually ever see this) seems rather masochistic, no?

Ah, dear. I think I'll leave off before this gets too wacky, and go adjust all my settings and profile stuff.

more hopefully soon
j