We Got It Going On

Did you know that Hedley will be opening for Bon Jovi when they do their Canada tour starting next month? Yeah. I knew. Can’t go. Well . . . could go, but it would be highly irresponsible of me, lol. I haven’t been doing hardly any travelling this year. Really. I mean I may have been to Fredericton once or twice, the same with Moncton. This could have drastic repercussions on the old income tax thing ๐Ÿ˜ฆ No business trips. No workshops. Well, very few workshops. I might be going to Fredericton next month for a trade show. Details are sketchy on that one. I’m not sure it’s a BnM thing.

More strange dreams last night. Arguing with Stace about work stuff. I can’t remember the details. But it was like we were in this big long disagreement as we were walking to a meeting or something. We were in a big building, walking through empty halls, passing many glassed in rooms. I had my notebook with me, so it felt like we were going to an interview. All I remember about the discussion itself was her saying, “Are you sure you want to do that?” It was about work stuff but when we got to where we were going it wasn’t a work related thing. Her hubby was there and another guy and it was like a set-up blind date thingy. Except the guy and I knew one another. It was her sisters’ boyfriend . . . and she was all like, “Oh, just give him a chance, hang out, see if you like him.” So we hung out. And had a laugh. And it was actually kinda fun. And then it dawned on me, “Ummm, how’s Janice feel about all this?” I asked Stacy and she just shrugged and said, “Oh a change would be good for her, don’t you think? I’ve got someone in mind for her too.” And then I looked through the window into the adjoining room and there was Janice . . . with my brother-in-law! LMAO Crazy dreams. Comic relief, that one.

Mood: chipper
Drinking: coffee, black
Listening To: two guys (for every girl), peaches featuring beth ditto
Hair: limp

Sluggish

Really tired today. Sluggish. Wiped out from last night’s dreams. Arthritis weighing in too, damn weather. Kinda achy.

I dreamed I went to TO. I went to find my ex, it was like his sister had called me because she was worried about him. So I went. He wasn’t living in the same place. He was up north, on a farm, like a compound. People everywhere strung out on drugs. Young girls travelling around mostly naked right out of it. Lots of armed men. Like a gang or something. I don’t know how I even got into the house. I found him upstairs in a king-sized bed. There were a half dozen other people in the bed. Everyone stoned.

When he saw me he came to life, smiled, got up and came to me, gave me a hug. He smelled like a dirty ashtray. He seemed so helpless. Like a little boy. I took him into the bathroom and put him into a bath. All he could do was look at me and smile sadly. Touch my face like he thought I might disappear. Like I was a vision or a dream. I got him cleaned up and dressed in his cleanest dirty clothes. Then I took his hand and led him downstairs and outside.

We sat on the step in the autumn chill, the grass was dead, the trees bare, it was like late November when the world goes dull grey, before the snow sticks. We just sat there, holding hands, not saying anything. Then I asked him if he would come back to the city with me. When he turned to look at me his eyes were glossed with tears. His voice was hoarse when he spoke, like someone who hadn’t spoke for a long time. He told me that even if he wanted to leave he’d taken the vow and he would be killed if he tried to leave. We sat there again for a long while and he squeezed my hand rhythmically, like a pulse.

You could see our breath in the air as the afternoon turned into evening. I didn’t want to leave him there. He seemed so lost and alone. A convoy of 4×4 trucks spun into the drive and a bunch of young guys in mirrored sunglasses, ripped jeans, black t-shirts, leather vests, and scuffed boots leaped to the ground holding long guns. In seconds I had a bunch of rifles trained on me. Who is this? they demanded. He grinned and stood, introduced me as an old friend he had invited to visit. Apologized if he’d broken the rules. Swore to the men that I would be no trouble. To my surprise they believed him, lowered their guns and we all went inside.

That night we slept on the floor huddled together for warmth in an old sleeping bag. There were people sleeping all around us. Surrounded by snoring. In the dark he whispered that he would come with me. That we’d leave. It would be okay. Anyone who came to this place was not allowed to leave, and that included me. If I had tried to walk out of there on my own without him, I would be shot. He’d been instructed to drug me, to keep me drugged, until I no longer wanted to leave.

The next day after most of the men with guns had left for the day to carry out their business, we left and ran through a field next to the house. We came out on a shore where there was an old rowboat. We got into the water and tried to paddle but with the waves and the tide and our complete lack of sense of direction we ended up just a few feet away from where we had launched. We went again on foot, running into some trees, running through a dark forest until we broke at the edge of another field. There was an old red Ford half-ton parked in the lane. We sneaked over to it, slipped inside and he tried to get it going. There were people around, working the farm, sometimes passing the vehicle as they went from barn to house doing chores. Other vehicles pulled in beside us. But nobody saw us crouched on the floor and lying across the seat. Nobody looked inside. Nobody opened the door.

It was getting late. Soon the men would be back and realize we’d left. They’d go looking for us, and we’d only just gotten to the farm next door. Finally, when it got dark and all the people were inside having dinner, we got the truck started and sputtered out the lane and onto a dark highway. We headed south toward the city. The gas tank was nearly empty. I told him to stop at the nearest station. He was afraid. His group were powerful around here. We couldn’t count on anyone helping us. I opened my purse to see how much money I had for gas. They’d taken my wallet while I slept. They had all my ID. They knew who I was and where I lived. I couldn’t go home. He couldn’t go home. As this dawned on me, I looked at him. He grinned. It’s just me and you from now on, he said. All we’ve got is each other. We need to get as far away as we can.

I woke up and it was 4:45. I felt like I’d been through the wars. Exhausted. I rolled over and went back to sleep. In a few minutes I was back in the truck with him, on the dark highway, looking for a vehicle to cipher some gas from. We had to steal, couldn’t take a chance on anyone seeing us. Hours and hours of us on the road, driving. Talking. Every now and then having a close call with the bad guys. The same dream until I finally rolled over at 9:30 this morning and said, “Screw this!” And got up to face the day. It’s after lunch and I still feel like if I were to close my eyes I’d be right back there in the dream. My eyelids are droopy. I’m stifling yawns. There’s a buzzing in my brain. I feel like I haven’t slept at all.

God, I hate nights like that!

Mood: fuzzy, foggy, feeble
Drinking: coffee, black
Listening To: long walk home, bruce springsteen
Hair: curiously strong

Porchlight

I’m running late this morning. Only have a few minutes to blog before I gotta boot, scoot ‘n boogie. It is Mighty Monday after all! Yesterday was a good day. I had a good time. Coffee stretched into a walk, ice cream, another walk, magic tricks, hours of conversation and more. A four or five hour relaxing comfortable time, rather than a half hour of trying to fill agonizingly uncomfortable silences. This is good. Wants to see me again. And likewise ๐Ÿ™‚ Nothing like anybody else, which is promising I guess. Need to be careful not to repeat past patterns and errors in judgment.

Another crazy week on the rise. Have to get many more interviews done this week. Should be in full writing mode next week, no interviews left. This taking the weekend off for a personal life stuff is throwing me off my game a bit. I’m used to having 7 work days per week, not five. Well, four, Mighty Monday never seems to bring about much productivity.

Okay. Scooting!

Mood: absent minded
Drinking: coffee, black, cheapo compliments
Listening To: blank page, smashing pumpkins
Hair: ponied up for the day

Radio Nowhere

Yeah, I thought the time changed last night. I had it marked on my calendar even. I didn’t change the clock though, it usually takes me a few days to get around to doing that, but I woke this morning at 7:30 thinking smugly to myself, “Hey it’s really only 6:30! Aren’t I swift this morning?” And I rolled over and laid there planning breakfast, my day, etc. thinking I had time to kill before Corrie came on. Nevertheless I flicked on the tv about 15 minutes later only to find to my surprise Corrie was already in progress! WTF?! Did CBC not turn their clocks back? So I watched Corrie and had breakfast and stumbled around in a stupor unsure what time it was exactly until after 10 when I turned on the computer and asked Google. It’s still Daylight Savings Time until next weekend apparently. Okay. So now I feel kinda rushed like I lost another hour ๐Ÿ˜ฆ It’s okay. I guess I’ll get it back next Sunday.

Today, I have a date. Yes, a real date. The mysterious love life comes to the surface. On the one hand, I’m semi-nervous in that first date kinda way. On the other hand, I’m thinking it’s really no big deal. I’m just going for coffee with a nice intelligent man who just happens to think I’m beautiful. No big deal.

I will not be wearing my latest hat to this venture. Maybe if it clouds over . . . but never in bright sunshine again, lol, because I think the silver threads catch the sunlight and turn ole Kellie into quite the spectacle. On Friday I went to the rink to interview the coach of the junior hockey team. I walked. In the sunshine. Wearing my hat. Oh boy! Who knew the hat was such a force to be reckoned with?! Nearly everyday I walk and nobody notices me in my ponytail as I zip up the highway and through downtown. Occasionally, an elderly couple will smile and say hello as I pass them, but other than that, I might as well not exist. But I put on the hat and suddenly every passing truck honks, cars slow and the men behind the wheels give me broad grins and big waves, did I even see a wink at the lights?! Every guy I meet on the street smiles and says, “Great day!” Was that whistle for me? I’ve got men rushing up the steps to beat me to the door so they can hold it open for me. I walked into the Farmer’s Market and all the guys sitting having their coffee nudged one another and pointed. I made my rounds and as I passed the tables on my way out I heard them buzzing, “There she goes again, boys! Who’s that girl? Who is that?” My God! It’s a hat people! Get a grip!

So yeah, a little attention is not a bad thing. But that was too much. Like WAY too much. The hat is a menace to society. Who knew? I think I’ll have to retire it, tuck it away, a secret weapon to seal the deal. Had I known of its super power though, I might have worn it to the college on Thursday evening . . .

Mood: a little nervous
Drinking: coffee
Listening To: queen of apology, the sounds
Hair: up and back in black

Rock ‘n Roll

The Internet is slow this morning. But I am not! I slept well last night. Might have been exhaustion, perhaps all the wine, but I was out and down for the count. I had my alarm set for 7 this morning, but I woke up at 5 feeling refreshed (if thirsty) so I watched the first half hour of a repeat of last night’s The Hour with my boyfriend and then I got up, got dressed in my sweats, the Fundy green warm and fuzzy coat, a ball cap, pedometer, and mp3 player plugged into my head and then I hit the street for a walk. In particular I wanted to know how long the loop up the highway to the lights, down the hill by the dry cleaners, around the corner past the motel, up the hill by the legion and back down the highway to home too. It’s about 20 minutes. Not bad. I could probably stretch it out to 30 if I did the side street crisscross.

I was going to make ham and eggs for breakfast but once I got back and got coffee into me really all I wanted was some rice cakes with peanut butter. So, that’s what I’m doing. Maybe later I’ll have a bigger more protein filled second breakfast. I’m going out around 9:30 to do an interview. I might wander into the Farmer’s market. I have Sears parcels to exchange at some point but I’ll have to make an extra trip for that. Tonight there’s a book launch downtown. I might go. But that would be four walks in one day! Hold on! Is it possible I’m becoming an active person? ๐Ÿ™‚

Mood: thinking about showering
Drinking: coffee and water
Listening To: two guys for every girl, peaches
Hair: ponied up

Have I Been Sleeping For All These Years?

Maybe I’m not drinking enough water. Or maybe I’ve got some sinus/allergy thing going on. I have this nagging hint of a headache that I can’t seem to shake. I slept WAY too late today. Can’t seem to catch up. I was supposed to go to the movies tonight, but I’m not now, so maybe if I use my evening time wisely I can get on top of things. Tomorrow is going to be a purely insane day. I need to figure out logistics, costume changes, cash needed on hand for such a big run-around day. Friday is only slightly less hectic, but at least it all happens on my side of the river so there’ll be no crossing the bridge multiple times via taxi. It’s $12.50 to cross the bridge. Maybe $15 to go one place I need to be. That’s like pocket change in comparison to my past life. I used to spend $50 a day in taxi fares when I lived in TO. I’m talking 5 or 6 days a week. Honestly! Can you imagine?! $200-$300 in taxis every week! And that was a long time ago, lord knows what it’d cost today. The times they be a changing. When I think back on my lifestyle then, it’s no wonder everything fell apart, I cracked and dropped out. Drinks every night after work. Sleeping 2-3 hours only per night. All meals eaten out. 100 hours on the job per week. I mean $250 on average just for frigging taxis. I was a crazy person. Facing a day like tomorrow takes me back there and makes me cringe a little, but then I remember it’s only one day and no matter what it’s still the Maritime version of hectic, which is never as fast paced as the Toronto version. Never. No need to ever move that fast again. Whew! What a relief?

In other news . . . people are pulling over to give me a boost. And when my gut clenches and I turn to flee, jump back in, roll up the windows and lock the doors, I’m making myself stand strong and face those booster cables head on. One coffee Sunday coming up!

Mood: well
Drinking: coffee, water
Listening To: 1979, smashing pumpkins
Hair: ponied