Wednesday, March 31

Day 9981 1/2: Irony


After months of avoiding eye-contact with the restauranteurs while walking by Roasty Jacks, I decided that today was the day that I would try it... for the very first time. Thoughts of freshly roasted turkey, mashed potatoes and cranberry sauce danced through my head. After all, it's not very often I get freshly roasted turkey - Christmas for sure, and if I'm super lucky, Thanksgiving. I got there, all ready to fork over fistfuls of hard earned dollars, when it hit me. I couldn't find it. In it's place, a boarded up and posterboarded partition. If memory serves me right, and it probably doesn't, it said Starbucks coming to a mall near you. There's a Starbucks a hop, skip and a jump away - literally 50 ft away... if even that. So I ended up getting Sushi-Q instead and stopped by Mrs. Fields for two dozen mini cookies to treat the girls and boys at work. It made it through reception fine, small casualty, and then total bombardment by the two kids next door. End count - boys ALL, bullpen... NONE...

They rock.

Day 9981: The secret desires of Mr. BMW...



If he could be anything in the world for one day, Mr. BMW would be.......... (hee hee... first one to guess wins a prize!!!)

Actually, today's blog topic is on guilt trips...

A long discussion the other day with one of my friends on the Asian phenomenon known as guilt tripping. It is a fantastic motivation tool. It often leads to the accomplishment of great things - a boring stable job in a good but boring stable company, a desire to work hard to support non-existent future family, overwhelming sense of responsibility, and the stiffling of all creativity... not to mention total utter depression when said guilt trippee turns middle age.

Guilt tripper motivation? Parents want what's best for their children. Or what they think is best for the child, and hence will nag and rage until what they want is attained - irregardless of whether or not that is what the child wants. Simple as that.

Guilt trippee allowing it to happen? Years and years of daily repression leading to a lack of desire to overturn the boat. Sometimes it's easier to go with the flow than to stir up the waters.

So, I have been guilted... not by the parental units... surprise, surprise, but by someone else. It lead to me committing to something that I don't really want to do, but volunteered to for the simple fact that I felt badly about something and wanted to help out my fellow mankind. So, because, apparently, my timing is inconsistent and I have commitment phobia, they don't want me. And thus, I have become a recruiter for someone to replace me in the thing that I committed to. Which is good for me, but bad for them, because I really was willing to put in a few days a week of my free time to lend a hand. Too bad, I never know which days are good and which ones are not...

End result... anyone know of a pharmacy student looking for part time work in the GTA area? Give me a buzz. Much appreciated.

Tuesday, March 30

Tech question... anyone know how I can link back to specific blogs? Like they can do with typepad? Do I have to redo my archives and archive by day? Thanks.

Day 9980: Two degrees of separation... thoughts on dating, relationships and sex



(ed. note: Dearest reader... I started off this morning writing a blog about two degrees of separation... i.e. what happens when friends are interested in being more than friends, who likes who, who thinks who likes who and whatnot. Instead, I wrote a two page word document of self discovery and realization. It is a tad long, a tad personal, but it is what I believe at the moment. Have a good one. See ya')

Arranged marriages - time honoured traditions, tested methods, more than decent success rates - in a time of unsuccessful relationships, divorce and lonely hearts, what more can a person ask for. But no - instead of going for the "sure thing", we, as citizens of the "new" world, live by the right of risk, choice and freedom in selecting our SO. And in doing so, many of us have failed miserably.

We have seen the good, and we have seen the bad. Many of us have been hurt. Some of us have hurt others. We are disillusioned. We are cynical. We are jaded. We build a wall around ourselves and loathe to let in even a single soul. Yet, despite all that, we still persist in trying to find "the ONE"…hope that eventually, we will be lucky enough to find “the ONE.” That special someone that will help us climb the rocky mountain that we call life. That someone we can trust with our lives to belay us, to support us, and to pick us up and nurture us back to health should we fall.

We try to keep things superficial. Focus on the physical rather than the emotional. But soon, cracks in the wall appear, and the protection that we built ourselves to save us from heartache and anguish falls apart, piece by crumbling piece. We start to care without realizing it. Just a little at first... wonder if that person is having a good day or a bad day. Wonder if they are thinking about you as much as you are thinking about them. Then we care a little more, and then, maybe, a little too much.

We are just friends, you say. Good friends, even. Good enough friends that we would never want to risk a friendship to explore the possibility that there might be something more. Whether for pride, for self-protection, or for the lack of wanting to mess up a good thing, things are left unsaid and neither party knows what the other is thinking, even though, if the gods are good, both feel the same way. And so, we continue searching for "the ONE," not knowing that they may have been there all along. Right in front of us.

Then, there is the other scenario. The one where one person likes the other a whole lot more. Where one person is happy and satisfied with the way things are going, and professes no interest whatsoever in taking the relationship or the friendship to another level. Where one person is left with self-imposed heartache because they have “chosen” to fall in love with someone who does not return their feelings. Crushes, they call them, but really, sometimes, it seems like more. And that is what separates people. The ones brave enough to speak their mind and make their interest known - who would risk pride and possibly friendship in the quest for something better - from those who miserably say nothing, are convinced that they made the right decision, and hope day in, day out for the feelings to go away and for someone better to come along. We’ve all been there. We’ve all been the ones to say nothing. Inevitably, eventually, someone does come along, but the bar has been raised and it is difficult to overcome the image that one has built up inside their mind. Comparisons are made, and the new found lacking, and so still, the search continues.

Experienced or unexperienced, we all have a past. Some people carry baggage from one relationship to another, searching for similar qualities of their love-lost, perhaps as a pseudo replacement, always comparing, not seeing that the person in front of them has unique qualities unto their own that should be treasured. And there are those who know they should let go, and maybe try to let go of the past, but can’t really seem to do it, and they become the wallers…

Wallers… the ones who build impenetrable walls around themselves. Who are so afraid of hurt and rejection that they would rather a lifetime of loneliness than to find someone else that they think is “the ONE” only to have that pushed back in their face. Who say they never want to make the commitment plunge, get married and have children, because they are scared of the emotional investment and scared of the risk that they will take that they will get hurt again. Who flit around from one person to another searching for what, they really have no idea. Because they think they once found it, think they’ve experienced the real thing of it, but never realize that what they did experience was merely a shadow of it. It takes two to actually find “the ONE.”

“The ONE.” Fact or fiction? A destination or a journey? I have questioned the existence of “the ONE” on many occasions. Cynically denied the fact that it exists and claimed that it was drivel propagated by hopeless romantics. But it exists and we do see it. We see the old couples holding hands walking in the shopping mall, leaning on each other, supporting each other, but loving each other. We see the newly weds, happy in love, faces shining with excitement and joy, and we envy them. Envy them because they were brave enough to do something that we couldn’t do ourselves… make the commitment, take the risk. But it takes effort to make it work and all too often these day, people do not put in the effort that they should and take the easy way out…divorce. Human beings really are fickle creatures. We have too much choice afforded to us, and put too much blind faith in our own abilities to control our futures.

What started off as a blog about two degrees of separation, friends dating friends and friends interested in other friends has turned into one of self-discovery and realization. I won’t even go into the discussion of who likes who and who thinks who likes who and whatnot. Because ultimately, that’s not important. It’s not important that someone is incorrectly perceiving my nice-ness to be a misdirected indication that I am interested in them - because I’m not. But I’ve digressed. What is important, is risk and reward. To put it bluntly, if you don’t put everything you have into a relationship, if you chose to hold back a part of yourself, if you should even resort to using an excuse NOT to make an emotional commitment, then you, my friend, are cheating yourself. Cheating yourself of a future with a wonderful person. Cheating yourself of true happiness. Love them and leave them, as it may be, each person/relationship will leave it’s mark, impact your future, give you something to reminisce about in the past. Something to think about when you’re 70 and alone wondering where the hell did you go wrong.

People will tell you to be careful. Tell you that they don’t want to see you hurt. Tell you that you should hold back a piece of yourself just in case it doesn’t work out. Because the two of you are not on the same wavelength. Because the two of you are not on the same page. Because there is a timing issue and you both want different things. Thank them for their concern and then tell them to push off. Yes, there will be the chance that you will get hurt. In all probability you will get hurt. But you are risking it for something better. Something that you can’t do alone. Something that takes two people, both risking and loving, and looking for “the ONE.”

Forget the past and live for the future. I am risking it all.

Monday, March 29

Day 9979: Dear Snooze...


My dearest Snooze,

It's been a while, my friend, hasn't it. I can't remember when I talked to you last. I can't even remember when I talked to you first. Actually, I don't think I've ever really, really talked to you. Never had a heart-to-heart like we're doing now. Though come to think of it, I have talked to you before. I think my first word to you was a cuss word. I'm sorry. I don't mean to take things out on you. I should appreciate you and stop taking you for granted. But what do you expect? You don't treat me nice either. You're loud and obnoxious... I can't lie about that. It's brutal, I know, but I have "issues" with dishonesty. Are you mad at me? It sure seems like it... you and your attitude.

You've been there for me whenever I needed you. You've been there for me even when I didn't need you. You've destroyed my fondest dreams, but you've also battled my nightmares. So what can I say except thank you. And that I hate you. I don't think I hate anything in the world as much as I hate you. I hate you every day. I dread seeing you every morning.

I don't ask for much. Just a little time to myself. Five more minutes. I'm not fussy. I just need some time... time without you interrupting my thoughts every few minutes. Your piercing voice echoing through the room, startling me when I don't expect to hear you. I guess really, it's my fault. I don't really know you. Don't really know what makes you tick. That's why you're upset, isn't it. You can tell me. I can handle it. You don't think I understand, do you?

You've gone places with me that I haven't taken any other. You've become a part of me... you've become special to me. You've gone through thick and thin with me. You've lived with me for how many years now??? Four?? Wow. That's a lifetime for some people.

But today, my friend, you let me down. I asked for five minutes. You gave me eight. Three minutes too many. Three minutes is a long time. Enough time to ruin my day. Enough time to possibly ruin my life. Hmmm... let's recap...

Three minutes... I was late by three minutes leaving the house. Three minutes less to settle down, catch my breathe, and regain composure. Three minutes of pure sweaty torturous hell. And the results? One botched interview, one semi-ok interview (but probably hurt the results of first said interview), coffee spilt all over interview jacket, one unreturned phone call, one bad email, one tuna pasta salad that I swear was from last week, a burnt tongue, a broken diet... I could go on and on, but it's only just lunch time. The rest of the day hasn't even happened yet and already I feel like going home to die.

It's all your fault, Snooze. I blame you, but really just because it's not fair to blame myself. It wasn't my fault. Not really. I didn't know what I was doing... I was groggy and probably still dreaming sweet, sweet dreams. I thought you liked it when I "pressed your button." You woke me up too soon, and left me disoriented. I swear I didn't know what I was doing. I only wanted five more minutes... you gave me eight.

I hate you, dear Snooze. I hate you... really... but you're all that I've got right now. But maybe I'm going to ask for a Timex for Christmas... and then, dear Snooze... I will have my revenge...


ps... Today is actually day 9979. Somewhere along the line, I miscounted. Way to go, freak. *flush*

Sunday, March 28

Day 9976: Google me this... Google me that...



I am being googled. Kind of ironic, really, seeing as how I've spent years trying to avoid a net presence. But it's funny, the things that they search for... multi-facetted nail polish, splits both ways, jamsy... weirdness... ;)

PS... Sista's moving to San Diego next week... yay... really close to happy place #2!!! May 2-4 weekend, I'm totally there, babe. :)

Saturday, March 27

Day 9975 1/2: Little Pleasures

~ dancing barefoot in the grass after it rains
~ splashing in puddles wearing your “Sunday best”
~ a good laugh
~ sweet sugary breakfast cereal for dinner
~ hanging out with good friends
~ a drive in the country on a gorgeous summer day
~ fantasizing about the woodie you want in your room
~ picking up pebbles at the beach
~ waves washing over your feet, sand suckling at your toes
~ a campfire that lasts through the night
~ the quiet of freshly fallen snow
~ eating triscuits
~ running your tongue over your teeth just after you brush them
~ absently playing with someone’s hair
~ someone absently playing with your hair
~ a hot shower after a cold dragonboat practice
~ ice cold beer on a hot summer day
~ Popsicles in the middle of winter
~ random acts of kindness
~ a gentle caress down your back
~ dark red nail polish
~ a good deal on something you really want
~ reading a book under a tree in the summertime
~ summer afternoon naps
~ winter morning sleep-ins
~ driving fast with the windows open
~ the smell of freshly cut grass
~ the scent of thunderstorms
~ twirling
~ an unexpected tax refund
~ a good stretch
~ phone calls that last late into the night
~ opening a new tube of toothpaste
~ walking around the house in nothing but your underwear
~ good morning kisses from a cute and cuddly
~ coming home to clean house
~ postcards from the other side of the world…or the other side of town
~ catching up with old friends
~ the excitement of a new job
~ leaving for a trip
~ coming home after a vacation
~ a new haircut
~ an even tan
~ shaking sand out of your blankets and clothing
~ the salty smell of the ocean
~ the harsh cry of seagulls
~ unexpected text messages
~ giving presents that you know the person will love
~ the smell of a hardware store
~ classic movies on a cold winter day huddled under layers of blankets
~ finishing a project knowing that you’ve done well
~ soft baby skin
~ the lingering smell of baby powder
~ a sunny blue-sky-no-clouds-in-sight winter day
~ a freshly washed car
~ buying lunch for a homeless person
~ puppy breath
~ cute little hiccups
~ drinking wine on a patio in the summertime listening to the sax down the street
~ blowing bubbles on the big rock in Yorkville
~ maple syrup on a stick
~ a good total body massage
~ playing hooky
~ end of summer bonfires
~ the feeling that something good is about to happen

Friday, March 26

Day 9974: What to do at an interview

1. show up late... wouldn't want them to think you're too eager. 7:59am for an 8am interview, however, is borderline acceptable - you're on time, but you're not eager-beaver-desperate-for-the-job type. Plus, it's an ungodly hour, so they'll never really think twice about it. Anyway if you do get the job, you wouldn't want them to think you're in the habit of getting in "super early."

2. flash the interviewer... make sure your "more-than-adequate" cleavage is prominently displayed to the point where you have nightmares about it afterwards (think Janet Jackson/Erin Brokovich). You never know, it might get you the job... even if your interviewers were all women... you never really know. (Note to self... next time, make sure your second opinion/clothes checker-outter is not the boy who happens to like your "more-than-adequate" cleavage.)

3. blather along endlessly about the gorgeous view... that's right, BE original. It's not like they haven't heard it from EVERY SINGLE FREAKING CANDIDATE. Yup, it's gorgeous, and that's why they shell out the big rent bucks for it and why they really can afford the freakishly high salary you're fantasizing about negotiating.

4. pick one item on your resume and focus entirely on that... after all, the rest of it was "made up" anyway...wasn't it? You really are one-dimensional. Work is just work. Day in day out. I'm sure they don't want to know about the time you spend goofing off at the office to blog...

5. ask about downtime... and then keep emphasizing that you hate it even AFTER they've told you that they REALLY like it WHEN they have it... yeah, wellll...ummm... eager-beaver atttitude is good, isn't it? But don't forget to them that you don't want to work 9 - 3am... even when they tell you that they're extremely busy sometimes and stay really late at night.

6. take the water, already!!! It's not in front of you because they're torturing you... One and a half hours of pure talking, and you WILL get thirsty. They'll keep asking until you DO take it... cuz otherwise they'll feel guilty about drinking their Starbucks lattes in front of you. But our little secret - Red Bulls go through the system FAST. Just take the glass, PRETEND to sip at it, cross your legs and clench those inside muscles as hard as you can.

7. only listen to half the question... they really only want to hear half your answer. It's not like their attention span lasts longer than thirty seconds either. They just want to know that you can start a thought... not that you can finish a thought...and if you should lose your train of thought... huh? where was I going with that?

8. when they ask what your friends think of you, and you respond "work friends?" or "play friends?" They say both, and you tell them a whole list of things, and THEN they ask what about your other friends... ummmmm... didn't I just tell you all that? Just tell them that you're super nice AND that EVERYONE thinks that you're a pushover. Yeah, that's a great answer. Non-committal idiot who can be swayed completely from one side to the other side. Afterall, isn't that why I agreed to the interview in the first place... because I AM a pushover?

9. GUSH... I love your outfit. I love your glasses... where did you cut your hair? Your shoes are to die for... Just don't stare at the cheap suit, and don't focus on the weird little dangly thing hanging from her glasses... it's really distracting.

10. send thank you emails... take the time to personalize each one for each person that you've met. If you don't know the email address just guess. Oh, and don't forget to misspell names and mix up the mails. Send Tracy's to Grace and Grace's to Alex... oooohhhh... that just makes everything more fun...

11. skip the purse... less is more. Stuff all cell phones, credit cards, business cards, car keys, daytimers, resume copies, job description copies, pens and stacks of papers and bill receipts into your portfolio. No, the zipper will never fail you, and things WON'T go all over the floor when it bursts open. Yup... less is more...

Happy Hunting, folks! :)

Wednesday, March 24

Day 9972: AHEM...

I like attention. That is the short sweet simple truth. I actually really like attention. Not sure why, because once I have it, I don't know what to do with it and usually start feeling squirmy and just a tad uncomfortable. Odd, isn't it.

But, still, I want it, crave it... demand it...

It starts with a little tester... a poke here, a touch there, maybe an email out of the blue for an obviously-trumped-up reason...

"Hey, I don't understand the Microsoft antitrust ruling... can you explain it to me sometime..."
No response...
"Helllloooo???? Anybody there???? I feel like ribs and beer tonight... you interested??? Lemme know... :)"
*click, click* Mail Delivery Complete... Mail Delivery Complete...
No response... still...
*furious typing and loud pounding on the keyboard*
"YO!!!! WHAT THE HECK? Why are you ignoring me?!!!! Well FINE then. I don't care about you either... EAT SHIT AND DIE!!!"

(ed. note: "some" artistic liberty taken by overworked, underpaid, underappreciated, attention-starved "author")

I just want to make plans for the night... if you don't answer me, I'm going to have to go find someone else who will... Just send me back a little happy face and a yes or no and I'll happily slink back to my little hole of an office and sit contently for a few hours until it's time to go do whatever it was that we talked about. Obviously, I'm not good with suspense... when I want attention, I want it NOW!!! Not a patient person... not, not, not, not, not!! If I don't hear back from you within, say... 45 minutes, time enough to get out of any meeting or send a quick sms. 45 whole minutes... wow...

I like attention... I need it, I crave it... I can taste it... but obviously some people aren't getting the hint...

J1: "Ken says I need a lot of attention."
J2: "I don't think so"
J1: "Chris says that I like to be center of everything..."
J2: "I don't see it."
J1: "Hmmm... I think so. I need lots of attention."
J2: "No, not really"
J1: "Well... I like it"
J2: "Mmmmmmm... everyone likes attention... zzzzzzZZZZZ..."

:(

Saturday, March 20

Day 9968: Who the hell cares anymore

Everyday you learn something new. It may be something about someone, or it may be something about yourself.

I learned something about myself yesterday that I would never have thought possible - I can end a long-term friendship, and though I may not be able to do it easily, it can be done. I learned that sometimes people are not worth the effort that you put into maintaining a friendship and that it is better, for both parties involved, if you each go your separate ways. It is not worth the emotional rollercoaster. It definitely is not worth the time that you spend agonizing or questioning the reasoning behind the other person’s thoughts and actions. And that it is sometimes easier to say “to hell with you” and cut them off altogether, especially if the effort that one puts into the relationship is taken for granted or not reciprocated.

In each group, everyone has a self-defined role. Perhaps it wasn’t a conscious action, but essentially everyone has done or said something that has ultimately caused someone to classify that person as the “brain,” or the “clown,” or the “ditz-flake-we-never-knew-was-capable-of-logical-intelligent-thought.” Or it may have been the instantaneous perception we get when meeting someone new – that dreaded first impression. That “ditz” impression that is reinforced by each “ditz” thing we do regardless of how intellectual we really are and how many other non-“ditz” things we do.

And when a person steps out of that role, it surprises everyone. Of course, to be perfectly fair, there may be occasions where we have “dumbed-it-down.” The reasons why, I have no idea, save that perhaps we’ve become comfortable existing as the fallibly preconceived persona and hesitate to stir things up. But the fact that it surprises people is surprising in itself. Do people not realize that everyone is multi-facetted and multi-dimensional? Or have people become so self-absorbed that they fail to observe the changes in relationship as people mature and grow, and though I do hate to say this, move on.

Change is inevitable. It happens every day. People change the way they speak, the way they act, and even the way they think. We are no longer exposed to the same day-in-day-out. Our thoughts and our actions are no longer dictated by the same professors and the same friends. We are busy people each living our own lives and trying to do what is best for ourselves and our futures. We’ve all branched out, experienced life, been influenced by different interests, and, hopefully, have grown and matured into decent people. But fact remains, we are different people, and the bonds that perhaps once held us close have loosened, and the common interests that were once shared may no longer be enough to hold the friendship together.

There are different levels of friendship. There is the level of friendship where you’ve known the person for less than a year, but it feels like you’ve known them forever. There are the friends you would do anything for, and that you would practically die for. There is the friend that you still care about because of old times and memories, but you very rarely see, but you’ll be sure to invite her to your wedding because she’s always been there for you when you need her – the one that you love deeply but because you’re both so busy it’s really hard to get together, and when you do see each other, it feels like the last time you saw each other was just yesterday. And THEN there are the superficial people -the ones that you see once a blue moon, that really don’t give a rat’s ass about you, just try to take what they can from you, and piss you off with every comment that they make…the ones you really shouldn’t even call friends…

Personally, I have changed, and hopefully for the better. I’m a little more extroverted, a little more adventurous. My outlook on life is different - a little more positive, a little more negative...depending on the day. I am no longer as na├»ve as I used to be. Definitely not as gullible as I used to be. Perhaps I am becoming wiser in my old age. But, for sure, I am becoming a little more selective about who I choose to spend my time with. Agree or disagree, all I know is that I’m done with the superficial and the moochers. I’m tired of being pigeon-holed as the “funky ditz” with everything I say and my every point of view immediately disregarded. I’m tired of being taken advantage of and of being the one to put in all the effort, and quite frankly, I’m tired of being the nice person all the time. There are friends and there are acquaintances. People I chose to share my life with and people that I’ll forget about the moment they pass from view. This may sound harsh, but such is life. Such is reality. Deal with it.

Friday, March 19

Day 9967: Thinking outside of the box

There are 127 players in a tennis tournament. 126 of them are paired up in the first round to play 63 matches with one player as a bye. In the next round there are 64 players with 32 matches and so on. How many matches will it take to determine the winner of the tournament?

I like brain teasers. I don't claim to be very good at them, but I like them. There's something about the way they force you to think outside of the norm and help stretch your imagination and logical thinking abilities. And then on the other hand, there's something about the way you kick yourself when you don't see the obvious answer and mutter profanities at the person who told you the teaser.

A mute goes into a pharmacy and wants to buy a toothbrush. He goes to the pharmacist and makes the motion of brushing his teeth. Voila, he gets his toothbrush. A blind man goes into the same pharmacy and wants a pair of sunglasses. What does he do?

Life is a brain teaser. There is extraneous information thrown at you from all directions. There are the obvious answers to the obvious questions, and there are the not so obvious answers to the not so obvious questions. You have to filter the information, squeeze out the facts and come up with a viable solution. May not be the best solution, may not be the only solution, but eventually you come up with a solution.

There are the questions that some people are good at and there are the questions that they're totally horrible at. Some can't do the math problems. I can't seem to figure out most problems. Yet still I try.

How many times a day do a clock's hands overlap?

These questions teach you to ignore the obvious and go for the hidden depths. To explore deeper and go beyond the surface. Nothing is ever as obvious as it seems and it is foolish for us to think so. My life, my teaser... my problems. They will never be solved even when I die. There will always be that one person who questions "why did she do that? what did she mean by that". And that riddle will never be solved.

What is our purpose? What is life? What is your teaser? There are things I aspire to do and there are things that I am interested in doing. Not necessarily related, but how to link from one area of your life to another area. What is important to you? What drives you to do what you do? I only wish I knew. I only wish I understood my life... my teaser.

Thursday, March 18

Day 9966: Leafs vs. Sens... aka what the heck is up with our political system?

Some politician in Ottawa is trying to ban Leafs jerseys at the next Leafs-Senators game. Anyone "caught" wearing Leafs colours, jerseys, or carrying Leafs paraphernalia will be "fined" a donation to an Ottawa food bank. Total utter craziness. Who the hell comes up with this kind of crap? Talk about misappropriation of taxpayer money.

Since when does a "friendly" rivalry between sports teams enter into politics? Sure, there are friendly bets between cities where the losing mayor will have to eat Buffalo Wings or something else equally as silly, but to pass legislation that "prohibits" fans from rooting for their team... well, that's RIDICULOUS. What's next - are they going to pass legislation on the clothes that I want to wear or prohibit my right to free speech? If I go to the Sens game and yell "Go LEAFS GO!!!" are they going to club me with a blow-up hockey stick and a red foam finger and drag me kicking and screaming from the Corel Centre? I should hope not.

All's fair in love and war, they say. Canadians love their hockey, I'll give you that. But IT'S JUST A GAME!!! Am I a die-hard Leafs fan? I'm a fan, but probably not a die-hard fan. I like the Leafs more than any other team and I hope they win the Stanley Cup this year (I bet $10 on it in Vegas), but if the Sens win, well good for them. It's a game where whoever wants it more, and whoever has the healthy players will have a better chance in winning. Simple as that. And 1 + 1 does indeed make 2. Politicians will never make it equal to 3, no matter how many bills they pass and how hard they try.

If this so-called politician does intend to drag this out into the Canadian government system, he should be drawn and quartered. There are so many things more worthy of his time and his position than what people wear or carry to a hockey game. A waste of my hard earned tax money... he should be fired... or in the least, be forced to wear a Leafs' jersey and be paraded through downtown Ottawa.

In the meantime. I hope all Leafs fans in Ottawa take this to heart, buy tickets to the Leafs-Sens game on April 3 and flood the arena in a sea of blue and white. And if they do play each other in the play-offs, you better believe that I will be trying to do everything humanly possible to get tickets and I WILL wear my blue and white jersey and I WILL wear it PROUDLY. It was all about the game... but now, now it's personal...

*throat clearing* Hey, I’m not a guy or even a real hockey player. I don’t eat nachos, or hot dogs or drink domestic beer (unless it's green). And I don’t know Mats, Tie or Eddy (although I’m certain they’re really, really, REALLY, REALLY nice). I have all my own teeth not a set of dentures. I speak English and very rarely say "eh" and beer is "beer", not "bieres." I can proudly attach my flag to my car and not have it stolen. I believe in winning, not whining, promoting, not restricting, and that the Maple Leaf is a truly proud Canadian symbol. A helmet is not an option, a face guard is NOT a contentious issue and it is pronounced “HOCKEY’’ not “HOKEY” – “HOCKEY.” Toronto is the first nation of hockey, the ONLY city to be a fan of, and the BEST part of Canada. My name is J and I am a TORONTO MAPLE LEAFS fan!

GO LEAFS GO!!!!!

Thank you.

Americans Say the Darndest Things...

(actual excerpts of Sista's conversations...)

4) "So don't Canadians just think of themselves as an extension of Americans?"

3) "Hm, I guess Americans haven't really been fair in not including Canadians in "Americans", cause really, aren't we all "North Americans"?"

2) "Yeah, isn't Canada just the toupee of the United States?"

1) "So do y'all like hold buckets under maple trees and just watch the maple syrup pour out? That must be pretty cool, huh?"

...yup... watching maple syrup pour out of the tree is just facinating... it's even better when you skip the bucket altogether and just hold your pancakes and waffles under...

Wednesday, March 17

Day 9965 1/2: the girlie-girl side of me...

I had lunch with my mom today. She asked me what was new in my life and I told her about onsighting the 5.10a. Which, as you can probably guess, launched her into the climbing-is-a-man-sport-and-you're-so-unladylike speech. And of course, being who I am and still insecure about the "new" me, I've spent the afternoon agonizing over my supposed unfeminine side and trying to figure out if I was really as unladylike as she says I am... hence endless streams of email to Triscuit and Lawrence, and this...

Things I do that are so girlie-girl that I *blush* whenever I admit to doing them:

1. I drink tea and coffee with my pinkie sticking out except when the mug is too heavy, then I have to use both hands
2. I love to cook, and I do it quite well
3. I actually love the colour pink and when I see roses in the perfect shade, I can't resist buying myself 2 dozen of them
4. I can eat curry crab daintily with only my thumbs and the first two fingers on each hand and NEVER make a mess
5. I love pedicures... my toenails are always painted. Just the other day, I turned the house upside down because I couldn't find the perfect shade of red and had to settle for silver. (Note to self... must go to MAC and buy new bottle of red...)
6. I used to love manicures and had perfect long nails... until I started dragonboating and climbing and figured out that it wasn't worth it
7. I shave my legs every day. I tweeze and/or pluck at least every other day
8. I would be an interior decorator if I had the patience, time and money to finish all the courses and start a new career...
9. When I used to spend all my money at Chapters, it was on books with covers that you had to hide from your "boy" roommates...except from ICBBQ who refuses to admit to borrowing them, but we all know he did... and ewww... get you mind out of the gutter... only clean, wholesome Harlequins... no smut... it's all about the stories, folks...
10. I actually love going to the ballet. My all-time favourite is Giselle
11. I only just learned the basic rules of football this year
12. I only just learned the basic rules of hockey two years ago
13. I like wearing my "sexy" underwear even though I know no one's gonna see it
14. I still expect a guy to hold a door open for me, but I love it whenever he opens and closes the car door for me.
15. I still scream whenever I have to kill a spider... at least I don't cry anymore
16. I still cry whenever I have to kill an earwig *shudder*
17. I'll never be able to kill a cockroach... thank goodness I've never seen one in real life running around
18. All sorrows and sadness are cured by a litre of Hagen Daaz... the chocolatier, the fattier, the better...
19. I can never finish a small burrito even though I swear I try really hard every time. I only finished a quarter of one on Monday and the guy felt so bad that he refused to charge me for it :(
20. I sleep with a pink teddy bear
21. I *blush* and giggle whenever someone gives me a compliment about how I look
22. I've lusted after a pair of sandals before and went back to the store every week to look at them until they went on sale...and then I bought them
23. It took me three months and 4 mis-purchases to find the absolutely perfect shade of pink nail polish... I think I called my sister from the store to tell her
24. I cry at the movies... I cry during commercials... I cry at weddings
25. I like attention... lots of it :)
Day 9965: UT vs. the admittedly better H2Oloo...

Top 'o the morning to ya... Happy St. Paddy's Day. Anyone want to go for green beer today?

Yoink. I admit it. I have never been to a Waterloo football game. I have never professed undying loyalty or love for my alma mater. I have never even made a voluntary donation since they tried to imposed the involuntary donation of $75 that I kept "forgetting" to recover. Yet, for some strange reason, I feel compelled to defend My school against the dastardly beings of UT who insist their's is the better school. Yeah, right. As if... Waterloo vs. Scarborough campus? There is no comparison. Waterloo all the way baby.

I mean who wouldn't love H20loo. The green, green fields (of duck crap), the fresh, fresh farm country air (that smells like pig poops), the funky a$$ retro buildings that one could get lost in and not find a way out until well after graduation... Ahhhh... that was the life. And I miss it. I miss the peaceful idealic lifestyle, and I miss hanging out on the lawn with my friends, taking off to go to the occassional class and then coming back to take my place on the grass while someone else goes to class...

...and to think. I almost went to McMaster...

Tuesday, March 16

Day 9964: It doesn't take much...

...to make me happy... :)

...pink roses...
...strawberry cheesecake...
...blue microfibre shorts...
...onsighting a 5.10a...
...almost cleaning a 5.10b...
...sleeping in and being late for work...
...grape bubblegum...
...funny voicemails telling me to breathe in, breathe out and that life does get better eventually...
...new biner...
...a favourite song on the radio...
...lots and lots and lots of coffee...
...lying in bed with a cute and cuddly...
...pb&j's on stale rye bread...

...it's all good... I feel better today. :)

Monday, March 15

Spoon vs. Fork

Vote time... Which do you think will inflict more pain on a power-hungry-know-nothing-glorified-bookkeeper???

I say SPOON!
SING WITH ME!!!! (to the tune of Camptown Races)

anal accountants piss me off...
doo-dah... doo-dah...
anal accountants piss me off...
doo-dah, doo-dah, day...

all of the #$@#% day...
all of the #$@#% day...
anal accountants piss me off...
one day I'm gonna make them pay.

Muuwwaaaaahahahahahahahahaha....... *grimace*

Day 9963: Distance 20166

I've never really liked anything about Chinese people that was specifically designed for a non-asian audience. I once slammed a short story in an OAC English Writing class because it talked about a "jook-sing's" experience in HK that I thought was unrealistic and whiny. Not that it was badly written, but because the subject matter was overdone... by me. Movies, books, stories or whatnot, the subject has never appealed to me. Perhaps because I've "worked" so long and hard to avoid most things asian (except food), that whenever it creeps into the mainstream, it just bugs the hell out of me and makes me realize that I've lost touch with my heritage. Not that I've ever really been in touch with my heritage anyway, since apart from the occasional dinner, it was never really emphasized in my immediate family. The cousins... welll... that's another story altogether.

This weekend, a few of us went to the Tarragon Theatre to see China Doll by Marjorie Chan. Very brief synopsis, it deals with a Chinese girl's struggle with old traditions and new ideas (i.e. Ibsen's A Doll's House) and ultimately ends with her leaving all responsibilities behind in search of a better life. Don't worry if you haven't seen it, I haven't really spoiled the ending... the run ended yesterday, anyway. Was it a good play, you ask? Nothing like Criminals in Love, but it was decent. The first act was interesting and actually fairly good, the second act was disturbing and disjointed. The acting was so-so, but that's never really made a helluva lot of difference to me anyway. It's all about the story, baby.

The tradition of feet binding was central to the play, as was the character of the over-bearing-yet-well-meaning grandmother who strives to give her granddaughter a better life even though it means almost selling her to the highest bidder. I've never had a problem with feet binding before. I accept it as a tradition. Since it was only just outlawed in the early 20th century, it probably means that it's still actively practiced in rural parts of China. No big deal so long as I don't have to do it. Actually, I've read articles about non-asian women who are practicing it because of it's sexual connotations. Icky... but to each their own.

What I don't like, no matter how realistic it may be, was the scene where the girl's baby toe falls off, and she's either so delirious with her situation-imposed confinement or high, that she giggles like a school girl and starts talking about how she used to believe that people grew from seeds out of their baby toes... yucky, yucky, yucky... I don't want to hear about body parts falling off. That just offends my tender sensibilities - as does the scene where the shopkeeper has an orgasm because the girl's tiny lotus feet are soooo beautiful. Icky, icky, icky. Gross, gross, gross.

But what the play did make me think about was tradition and responsibility, and how that hasn't changed no matter what century it is. We are all still bound by old traditions, and our upbringing has given us a sense of responsibility that can occasionally be described as "burdening." It matters not that we're not in a village in China and we have to become the second-wife of the second-son so that grandmother is taken care off. Rather, we're in a big city in Canada, and we have to prostrate ourselves before the career gods so that eventually, when the time comes, the parents and the grandparents will be taken care of. And in the case of the play, the girl's marriagability was determined by her ability to sew the perfect lotus shoes, our hire-ability is determined by our ability to prove ourselves to the highest bidder. It's all the same. No matter the century, there is still only limited amounts of free-choice.

This time of year, patience wears thin and tempers flare. I find myself wanting more and more to neglect responsiblity, to say "to hell with it all" and go off on a jaunt around the world on borrowed time and borrowed money. But I can't, because I have obligations. Obligations to family, obligations to friends, obligations to myself. And because I have these obligations, my patience wears thin and my temper flares... as I get delirious because of my situation-imposed confinement. A month ago, two weeks ago even, I would have said that I would do anything for a friend (depending on who, and depending on what). Now, I'm not so sure. There are some people that I would go to hell and back for. And some people who are just not worth it. Perhaps distance is a good thing. See y'all after busy season.

Saturday, March 13

Day 9961: Little office politics

Can't avoid it. Office politics exists. Such is fact. You either deal with it or you move on. No amount of phone throwing or white board breaking is going to make the irritation disappear. No matter how many phones you break or how hard you hit a wall, it just doesn't happen.

Sometimes it's the big things. Change in office policy, for example, which makes the past year's work obsolete and requires months of re-programming. Or something even harsher like the CEO who doesn't watch your back and throws you to the wolves to save his own ass. And sometimes it's the little things...like ordering lunch.

Big contentious issue during busy season at is the daily ordering of dinners and the Saturday lunches. It's not a hard process. Could be, but shouldn't be. Simple, really - just post a piece of paper on the wall indicating today's delivery person of choice and 3 menu options and have people check off what they want to eat. No check, no eat. Simple. Easy. Or so you'd think.

Instead, it turned into an all out war last year between the support staff and a couple of the bp staff. Every night someone would come around asking if you wanted to order dinner. Every night, inevitably, someone would ask what was for dinner. Only natural seeing as how if you don't feel like eating what they're ordering, you shouldn't have to commit. And the order-taker would have a fit over being asked 20 times what's for dinner. Silly.

So it's turned into a dictatorship. Today's lunch was Memories of Japan terayaki chicken. No choices, no options, nothing save eat or starve. My choice - I was starving, so I chose to eat.

Thursday, March 11

Day 9959: "23" forever

As promised, today's blog topic was chosen by clicker # 500... ICBBQ... who requested a blog on getting old and relationships. Hopefully, I will be able to do this justice... ahem... since I don't have much experience with either one of those topics... ahem... *nudge, nudge, wink, wink*

I've actually been thinking about the age factor since Tuesday. Tuesday was dear Bo's "23rd" birthday... "23rd" for the "4th" time. No big revelations, dear, we all know how old you really are, seeing as how most of us are around the same age, if not slightly older.

I very rarely think about age. It's one of those things that just happen to a person whether or not they want it to. One day we were 10, thinking that we'd never grow up. Next thing we know, we're officially "teenagers." In a blink of an eye we became "legal" and then it tailspins when we hit thirty. Or so they say. But do the numbers really matter? I did not have a big epiphany the day I turned 21. Nothing happened when I turned 25, 26, or 27. Come to think of it, I don't even feel 27. I don't feel 25. I have no idea whatsoever what age I feel at the moment. All I know is that I'm happy and enjoying life regardless of how old I am.

Birthdays have always been somewhat anti-climaxic for me. The attention and the presents are great - who wouldn't love it?! But the day itself... nothing special - life goes on. I don't see it as getting another year older. I see it more as another day older. All semantics - there really is no difference. Day in, day out, it really is mostly the same.

That said, on Tuesday, I had a mini-crisis. An alarm on my biological clock that I forgot to hit snooze on. OMG, I'm turning 28 this year... that means that I'll be 30 in a mere short two years... which means a third of my life is over (assuming that I live to 90, even though I really don't want to)...which means... omg, omg, omg... *breathe, breathe, breathe*... I NEED TO GET MARRIED AND HAVE KIDS BEFORE I'M TOO OLLLLLLLLLLDDDDDDDDDD TO HAVE SEX!!!!!!!!!!!! lol. Talk about unreasonable fears. First of all, you can never be too old to have sex, and second, I'm not even sure that I want to have children. A dog is hard enough to take care of. Children must be a gazillion times worse.

But that brings us to today's lesson, boys and girls. On the runway to the big 3-0 myself, I find myself getting to know more and more people who have jumped the hump, passed the barrier so to speak. I have seen people agonize over their life choices and life decisions as if that one day in their lives marks some kind of milestone and that everything they had ever wanted to achieve in their lives must be aligned and ready to go. And more often then not, they are still lost like the rest of us who haven't reached that pinnacle age. Hitting 30 just makes them think that they are running out of time, and that some self-imposed deadline has yet to be met. And so they stress.

I think we all compare ourselves to our parents. It's only logical seeing as how they play a large part in our lives and once formed the basis for all our thoughts and beliefs (until we grew old enough to have our own opinions). In our parents' generations, kids were popped out before the 30's, little tiny houses were bought and traded up when they got too small... everything was perfect and idealistic. You worked your 9 - 5, came home, took care of the kids, and made merry when they went to bed...if you even had the energy left to make merry at all. That was life.

But today, it's different. Everyone has a need to be self-sufficient. Women want careers because they don't want to rely on the wishy-washiness of men. And in doing so, things get pushed to the side. Relationships, marriage, children... there's time for that later, we tell ourselves... until we hit 30, and think, where the hell did the time go? Then we stress. Stress that we aren't in the idealistic long-term relationship where we have to date the boy for 3 years, married for 2 years, then try to have kids. Stress that the person we are currently seeing may not be the "one". That he leaves the toilet seat up, so that when you're trying to be considerate by NOT turning on the lights when you stumble to the bathroom for your middle-of-the-night-pee you fall butt first into the toilet...and if you're super lucky, he remembered to flush...(that... my friends, is NOT a fun experience). And for some, it worries us that we have yet to even find the boy to leave the silly toilet seat up.

This past weekend, many an hour on the marathon drive to VT was spent debating the merits of speed dating and internet dating. Would you, could you, should you??? I wouldn't, I couldn't, but I probably should. Questions abound, it still resulted in personal preference. To me, meeting someone with the expectation of potential soulmate-dom is wrong. First impressions are usually visual, hence if someone I just met were to come up to me and profess undying love, I'd hesitate more than a moment before I'd even say that I would think about it. I'd like to know that I appeal to someone more than just sexually, and that I click on some kind of an intellectual or friendship level before we start dating. Hence, I prefer to be friends with the person first. However, on the flip side, friendship first poses a whole set of new expectations and another set of dilemmas... could you, should you? Risky, you say... you don't want to lose a friendship, so probably not and hope the feelings go away. But maybe some risks are worth it and even if it doesn't work out, you'll be better friends because of it.

We're all getting older, each one of us, every day. Do the numbers really count? Nope. Does it matter that whatever relationship we're currently in doesn't last forever? Nope. Life has no guarantees. Defining a relationship as "committed" does not prevent one party from cheating on the other, if that is what he/she so desires. No relationship, even marriage is guaranteed to last forever. What matters most is that you go to bed each night thinking... did I have fun today... and if you did, then it was a good day.

Yesterday was a good day. :)

Wednesday, March 10

Day 9958: that blessed, blessed, blessed cup of joe

I've discovered that when I am in a super bitchy mood, I can be super bitchy. Not on purpose, of course. No one is ever bitchy on purpose. Wait, I take that back... I have known some people to be bitchy on purpose, but never you mind them - they don't matter. They're just scums of the earth... no joke.

There was no rhyme or reason behind yesterday's bitchiness. It was more like an I'm-exhausted-beyond-belief-and-stressed-out-over-anal-retentive-accountants-among-other-things kind of day - work hazard, I guess, since I'm surrounded by accountants day after day. Days like yesterday should be avoided by all. People should go out of their way to hide from me. I definitely go out of my way to not see people. It was a flushing kind of day*... or in some people's case, a cell phone-throwing kind of day. I scared my junior. I snapped at my manager, and I told someone to get the hell out of my office and never come back.

It was a day of impotent rage and frustration. Not with other people, but with myself. Myself for allowing certain situations to happen and not being able to control the results. Myself for forgetting first and foremost the effort and work I had put into getting where I was, and then trying to ride the momentum instead of putting more effort into getting to a place where I should be. Myself for allowing the limitations that my body sets upon me to get to me - my mind wants to do something, but my body won't allow me to do it... which basically means that my body can do it, my mind just hasn't figured out how.

All attempts at assisted suicide where emphatically denied. Lawrence wouldn't shoot me, Ken wouldn't run over me with a truck, and Heidi-Ho wouldn't throw me out the window or stab me with a letter opener. What kind of friends are those??? (...lol... I love them really... they all listened to me bitch and complain throughout the entire day...thanks guys)

And so I tried to deal with it. Really, what I wanted to do was storm out of the office and regather myself in a land far, far away, but seeing as how I work for a 9-5:30 with no real hope of flex time, I did the only other thing I could do... I ate. And ate. And ate. A package of Kraft Easy Mac, followed by a bag of Dorritos, a bag of Ms. Vicky's Sea-Salt-and-Vinegar, a spicy pepperette, and a Ricky-D's Maple Walnut ice-cream bar...and then salmon sushi. Did it work, you ask??? Hell no. But I got a stomach ache and that made my bitchiness even worse. At the end of the day, bitchiness won out, and I lost. It was a good thing I was home by myself last night... no telling what could have happened or who would have been murdered... lol... Good thing, too, that all phone conversations lasted below 20 seconds. Wouldn't have wanted to say anything that I'd regret later.

Today, I woke up in a mood not unlike yesterday's. I had an early morning meeting, snapped at everyone under the sun, and gave everyone the evil eye. But then I had a cuppa java... the blessed blessed cup of joe... which brought everything into perspective and made everything feel better. Come to think about it, I didn't have my daily cup of coffee yesterday. Hmmmmm... how strange... maybe that's the real cure for bitchiness...

*a flushing kind of day - termed in 2000 on a day much like yesterday where it was believed that the only feasible method of escape was to flush one's self down the toilet head first

PS... my 500th hit (kinda pathetic, I know, but hey, who's counting?!?) is coming up real soon... last I checked, it was at 493... if you're my 500th hit, you get the pick my blog topic for tomorrow (I'm borrowing this idea from Smitten's site). I promise to be brutally honest (within some personal boundaries)... and ICBBQ... refreshing constantly doesn't work. :o)

Tuesday, March 9

Day 9957: Ticking time-bomb

For the moment, I've run out of things to blog about. Rather, my brain refuses to work. Check back in a couple of days. Maybe I'll have thought of something to say by then.

Monday, March 8

Day 9956: All or nothing

Eleven hours on the road Friday night. Pouring rain Saturday morning. Brown dirt spots carved out of the snow by the slope groomers that look like long strips of poop all over the hill. Ice patches as big as tractor trailers. Idiot beginner snowboarders running people over… all in all… it was a good weekend. I have the bruises to prove it.

T’was a great weekend that I had, and hopefully that everyone else had. Sunday made up for all the crap and hell that went on Friday and Saturday. It was T-shirt warm. The sun was shining. There was freshly fallen snow, and the jumps were grand with perfect soft landings. Great jump pictures – some worthy of Transworld magazine (yes, I am patting myself on the back… as the photographer, and not the jumper). Definitely well worth the trouble of organizing the trip.

That said, I will never organize another trip again. All or nothing… that’s the way it goes, baby.

Wednesday, March 3

Day 9951: The sound of silence

So, I've been stuck for the past three days in a dingy, dusty warehouse with no real company other than my own. No phones, no email... nothing except me talking to me... I think I'm tired of hearing the sound of my own voice.