Mad World

In last night’s crazy ass dream I found myself at a big summer party. The kind with big canopy tents set up to shade tables covered with food and drinks. The kind with a band onstage in the centre. Perhaps a wedding, though nobody was dressed up. Nevertheless it was THAT kind of party. A sunshiny afternoon with all my family (both sides), friends and co-workers. I seemed to know everyone. Somebody tossed me a red feather boa and I was wearing it joking around about the things I could do with a boa. Somebody dared me to dance when one of my co-workers spouses arrived, which turned into a group chant until finally I agreed that I’d do it. She arrived (yes, it was a she, i think she may have been the guest of honour) and everyone was holding back giggles, smirking, the place quieted. The band stopped mid-song. And she’s looking around like what’s going on here. Almost miffed. And then the band starts the first bars of You Sexy Thing. It was hilarious. Like I was in the scene from The Full Monty when they’re all waiting in the unemployment line. I woke up laughing before I got very far into the dance of the red feather boa.

This dream was probably brought on by all the sexy panty shopping last night coupled with thoughts of today’s Mighty outing and after watching the episode of Weeds where Mary Louise does the brick dance.

Mood: pleasant
Drinking: coffee, black, seems i have gone black for good, good stuff!
Listening To: The Fray – How To Save A Life
via FoxyTunes
Hair: so frigging thick, i don’t know what’s going to become of it

We Get On

I’m having difficult sleeping. Getting to sleep. Staying asleep. Getting any rest with all the dreams swirling in my brain. Yes, there was a moon this week, not to mention a lunar eclipse, which we all know I’m highly influenced by. Still that’s not all that’s going on. I seem to be bothered.

A few years ago I looked up a woman who had made a big difference in my life when I was young. She influenced me, helped shaped me, I admired her, studied her, emulated her behaviour. I knew her during that awkward transition between teenager and adulthood. I was putty, becoming a woman, soaking up everything in the world around me and she was really the only strong woman I had in my life at that time. She taught me a lot about accepting responsibility for your own actions, about standing up for yourself and not letting people walk over you. I would be a completely different person today if I hadn’t known her. Her impact on my life was huge. She left a permanent mark.

She was quite a bit older than me, closer to my mother’s age than mine, and as I reached the age she had been when we met I felt the need as an adult woman to reach out and tell her exactly how much I appreciated all that she had done for me and to let her know she had been a major influence in my life, that she’d made a difference. She wasn’t easily found, but hey, I’ve got a journalism degree! I was taught how to find people ๐Ÿ™‚ So I found her and sent an email pouring out all my gratitude and thanks.

I don’t know what I expected. Perhaps some new sage advice to help point me in the right direction in my current life. Maybe a funny exchange of email reminiscing about those crazy times. I don’t know. But I expected something. I mean for over 15 years this woman was at the front of my mind, whispering guidance in my ear as I confronted and dealt with all kinds of unusual and mostly difficult situations. What would she do? was the constant question and I acted upon the answer. In some ways it was like our acquaintance never ended, but continued in my head all those years. So when I contacted this woman and she responded I expected something from her, something to validate all those years in my head. But what I got was nothing like expected. She barely remembered who I was. I had left very little lasting impression on her. There was no inspiring reconnection. There was no funny reminiscing. I was just a kid she worked with one time that she hadn’t thought about in years. End of story.

This shocked me at first. How can someone be so important in your life and yet you don’t even register in theirs? It was hurtful at first. I wished I hadn’t reached out that I had just let my mind continue with its fantasies, gone to my grave wondering what ever happened to . . . I felt like my experience or at least my memory of the experience was a lie somehow, like it hadn’t been what I thought it was. I felt foolish and stupid. It took a long time to get to a place where I understood where she was coming from. I mean I had been an 18 year old kid, what did I know? How could I possibly have taught her anything? And over the years how many young people have I worked closely with, perhaps impacted in some way without realizing? What would I do if one of them suddenly contacted me and I didn’t remember them or just had some vague sort of recollection? Yeah, okay, I get it. And even this was a lesson from her. The last bit of mentoring. I realized I may have modeled my behaviour on her but sometime over the years I had become my own woman. I didn’t need her whispering advice in my head anymore, because I could make my own decisions. Yes, I still think of her occasionally, but she’s no longer taking up permanent residence in my frontal lobes, she’s been relegated to the back rooms.

So, this week I can’t sleep and some of it is due to the moon but some of it is due to my being bothered because it’s happened again. I reconnected briefly with someone from the past. And everything I believed turned out to be a lie. I was forever changed, permanently scarred if you will, over something that wasn’t even true, was in fact the polar opposite of the truth. And I can’t stop thinking about it. And if that wasn’t true, what other false things do I believe? Who else lied to me?

Mood: puzzled
Drinking: java juice
Listening To: Smashing Pumpkins – 1979
via FoxyTunes
Hair: soon gonna take the scissors to it

On Any Given Day

I went shopping last nite. Word to the wise: Do not go shopping when you’re having a sweet tooth moment! All last week, every frigging day, I craved ice cream, chocolate bars, and multi-grain Tostitoes. And every day last week I refrained from going out to the Petro and indulging my craving. I exercised extreme willpower. Which all went up in smoke last night. Why is everything bad on sale? Or even worse, two for one? I won’t list everything I bought, but suffice it to say I am without groceries, totally broke, and reduced to eating peanut M&Ms for supper . . . okay, maybe it’s not quite that bad, but damn close! lol The good news is I got lots and lots of coffee! And I even got the fair trade stuff I really like but have only ever seen at Co-Op. Yay!

Despite my fall into the sugar pit, I’m feeling super fantastic! Finally, I’m able to harness some of this autumn energy in a good way generating ideas and excitement. Good stuff!

Of course, with a degraded diet and this yo-yo weather my arthritis is making itself known. But even that discomfort can’t dampen today’s high spirits. Am I on a sugar high? Hmm. Within the realm of possibility.

Exciting things afoot! Nothing I can talk about yet.

Mood: happy
Drinking: coffee, cheapo Compliments brand, regular grind, dark roast, black
Listening To: Goldfrapp – Beautiful
via FoxyTunes
Hair: looks pretty damn sweet in its new hat!

Til We’re Not Strangers Anymore

Had a good day at the Mighty office yesterday. It’s always good to connect with everyone and spend time there. One can go a little crazy when one tries to function solo for too long. The mind can wander, invent scenarios, make you paranoid ๐Ÿ™‚ Mondays are hard for me because I never sleep on Sunday night, so I always feel out of sorts, a bit dull and dim, all fogged in come Monday morning, but hauling my ass for a Mighty fix always makes me feel better even if I always feel like the dumb dork in the corner. So I need to focus on the feeling better part and not procrastinate over the dumb dork part.

Late this afternoon I’m going shopping with my sister, Mom, and kids. Mom’s doing her back to work/school clothes shopping but I just want to go to the Sobey’s in Douglastown and pick up a few things. I have refrained from buying any groceries since I got back from Barnbonia, took a week to clean up on some stuff that’s been lingering in my cupboard and fridge for a long time. I defrosted some chili. I made honey bran muffins and ate some no-name brand noodles and sauce. Yeah, that kind of cleaning up. It’s mostly stuff my mother sends when she feels I am in need of groceries. She cleans out her cupboard of things they’re not really eating and sends it to me. Lots of cans of soup. There’s still lots in my cupboard and freezer to get rid of, but I’m done for now. Time to buy something new. I am hankering for some jerk chicken nachos and a bottle of wine!

Last night after work me and Stace went to the Bistro for drumstick squares! Yummy! But my piece was too big, it was too much, too sweet, I was a little dizzy and sickened by the end. I know, I know, why not just leave some on the plate and spare myself the agony? What can I say? When it comes to drumstick squares I have no self-control. At the same time that my body was saying one spoonful too many I was longing to pull a blame Renee’s and lick the plate clean. They’re just soooo good! I love them. And they are definitely different than the one’s mom makes. I think there’s peanut butter in the base on the bottom or something. There’s something different about it, it’s not just straight graham wafer crumbs. Anyway, got my fix for a bit at least. Now, I want to try and get one of the infamous homemade drumsticks they do at Park’s Dairy Bar before they close for the season. I’ve heard that’s something to experience. Must have one!

Been plagued by vivid dreams all week leading into tonight’s full moon. It’s exhausting. And it’s hard to wake up when the dreams are so real and interesting and fun. No nightmares, thank God. I don’t seem to have nightmares as much anymore. There was a time when everything I dreamed turned into a nightmare. Three and four bad dreams every night. Is it any wonder I was prone to insomnia? Life must be good. My dreams are creative now, still lucid, I’m still off to the side observing, but it’s like I’m writing, I’m making movies in my head. Fun stuff!

Mood: chipper
Drinking: coffee, black
Listening To: Bon Jovi – (You Want To) Make A Memory
via FoxyTunes
Hair: stringy

Something Else

Last night I dreamed I was back in high school, but not as a kid, I was all grown up. It was like my high school class were visiting the school or there for a presentation or something. But all the students were there too, class was in session. Anyhow we ended up staying late, almost like we got detention or something, so we had to go home on the late bus. There was supposed to be a special late bus going directly to Barnettville, but somehow me and another girl ended up on the regular late bus, the one that goes back through Lockstead, down through Pineville and Renous and then on to Barnettville. We realized our mistake too late. She was wining about back pain, how she had three vertebrae fused together and needed constant chiropractic care. The bumps on the road were not helping. I told her about my own back pain, how I ended up flat on my back for weeks one time. She asked how many vertebrae I had fused together. I shrugged and said I didn’t know, I’d never gone to the doctor about it, just rested until it got better. She was shocked. How do you know it was your back? she asked. Maybe you had a stroke. Don’t strokes run in your family? I shrugged again. Do strokes run in families? She smiled knowingly. The bus stopped at an old Irving and all the kids piled off to go inside and buy candy. She went too. It was like Clayton Tucker’s old garage only it was back Lockstead and there was a huge candy counter that I could see through the grimy windows. The bus driver got up to get off last and it was Archie Beaton. He looked back and noticed I was the only one left on the bus. Aren’t you coming? he asked. I looked in at the kids buying pixie sticks and lick em fun dips, then looked back at him and shrugged. No, I said, I just want to go home.

Mood: starting to get hungry
Drinking: water
Listening To: Matt Mays and El Torpedo – Move Your Mind
via FoxyTunes
Hair: pony-tailed for better comfort

Moving Day

Over the past week I’ve been moving things around in the front rooms. Changing the lay-out, decluttering my money corner (and you thought i wasn’t paying attention i bet!) and just trying to generally get all my furniture into more functional positions. I’ve missed the futon! I’m not kidding. I really haven’t been using it much because the tv is in the bedroom and the futon just seemed to be in the middle of the other room all alone, only used for the occasional nap. So I moved my table and chairs into the living room in front of the big picture window. What a view! Moved the futon into the dining room where the table and chairs used to be. That was more functional and I immediately started using the futon, using the table and chairs, spending less time at the desk doing stuff like watching tv and eating, spending more time at the desk doing what I’m supposed to be doing like work and blogging and banking etc. But then there was the problem of the big empty living room versus the somewhat cramped and cluttered no longer dining room just strictly office. So today I moved the desk out of the money corner right by the window and into the opposite corner, so now I sit with my back to the window (which is less distracting, when I need to focus . . . hopefully) I took my white shelves into the living room and then I actually put up things on my wall! I hung pictures! And I’m liking the end result. Tons of floor space still, functional, even homey by times, F-U-N!! Come visit and see for yourself! I’ll make jerk chicken nachos and open a bottle of wine!

A friend of mine is featured in the National Post. We met at Rye High in the days of journalism, when my head was filled with silly dreams of being a foreign correspondent. His stuff is amazing, really cool! It still freaks me out that he does this. Who knew?! I got to get me one of those clocks!

Mood: joyful
Drinking: coffee
Listening To: mr. brightside, the killers
Hair: long and loose, slightly damp from recent laundering

One Time . . .

In the early 90s when I lived in Toronto I was desperate to find work. There didn’t seem to be many jobs at that time, seems like the economy was in a recession or something, but maybe not. And maybe I wasn’t out of work all that long, maybe it just seemed really long in that early 20’s everything takes so long kinda way. My lack of employment was causing a strain in my relationship though, so it was a big fat hairy deal. My hon couldn’t take care of himself, let alone me, and though I didn’t realize it at the time he counted on me to take care of him. God help him! Anyway, finding a job became my full-time job. I applied for everything I was remotely qualified. I registered and tested with every temp agency. I trekked all over the damn place for interviews from Markham to Scarborough out to Oakville and Burlington. If I could get there, no matter how long it took, I went. I was interviewing at three and four places a day, blindly groping around for anything. I suppose it only lasted a couple of months at the most before I got something good, because I remember I had EI from my job at the radio station in NB and by the time I got that all transferred and straightened out so I might actually receive a cheque I was employed full-time, so the good ole Ontario government didn’t have to give me any money, which I’m sure pleased them immensely because they weren’t too keen on people coming from the East Coast to collect UI.

Anyway, I remember this one interview I went to was way the hell north in . . . I wanna say Newmarket, but surely to God I did not take public transportation all the way to Newmarket! That’s crazy. Must’ve been Markham. It took 3 buses and the subway to get as close as I could and then I had to walk for about 20 minutes from the bus stop way the hell into an industrial park type area to get to their building. It was probably a 2 and a half hour journey one way, which I would have had to do everyday twice if I’d got the job. But really there wasn’t much chance of that.

This was an actual editorial position for some non-profit Jewish organization doing their newsletter and other publications. All the jobs I was interviewing for were administrative so I was pretty excited to get into a door in my field. I was ready to convert if they’d have me! I think they were willing to hire a lapsed protestant, but only if she had a general understanding of all things Jewish, which I didn’t. And there went my one and only chance of meeting a nice Jewish boy and settling down for good ๐Ÿ˜ฆ

So the interview was going really well and I was loving the people I’d be working with, the job I’d be doing. It was one of those rare times when I felt completely at ease immediately. The woman was upfront with me that I’d be a hard sell to her board because I didn’t know the first thing about being Jewish, but she seemed like she really liked me and might go to bat for me if nobody better showed up. The interview ended I stood up, shook her hand, smiled and said good bye. Turned to leave and promptly fell in a heap on the floor. Damn weak ankles! She shrieked and came running from around her desk. I was so embarrassed, sitting there on the floor, putting on a brave smile and assuring her I was ok, just went over on my ankle, happens all the time (and it did then, sprained my ankle once a year it seemed). It was a really bad sprain that day. One of the worst I’d had in years. It instantly started to swell and turn purple as I made a hasty retreat from the nice lady’s office, assuring her I would be okay, and yes I’d see a doctor.

Then I had to walk 20 minutes to the bus stop, in two and a half inched pumps, with a sprained ankle. And it was rush hour, so there were no seats on the bus. I had to stand most of the way home. For two and a half hours, in two and a half inched pumps, with a sprained ankle.

I’ve been on dozens and dozens of job interviews, but whenever I’m reminded of them, this is the one that always springs to mind. Seriously, how friggin Bridget Jones am I?

Mood: up in the air
Drinking: coffee
Listening To: just me, typing
Hair: uncertain of itself