decisions

I cried at work yesterday.

Noooo...no. Not in front of people. After things were okay, I snuck up to the office and called C to cry in his ear.

"That's the way men do it." Jennifer Marlowe to Baily Quarters WKRP 198-.

C soothed me, we discussed some options and then he let me go.

I felt like crying some more, so I called my mum. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately for her, she wasn't home so I decided to buck up and do some thinkin'. Besides, my dad was probably already asleep.

This may be the beginning of the end of my "career" in film.

Or, it may be a lull.

I can't tell yet.

What I do know is that I was not expecting the amount of work involved with my choice of schooling. Holy effing crap. There is a ton. And I am very tired.

Mostly, I know, it just feels like there is a ton as I'm only, really, 3-4 weeks into it and haven't adjusted to all the things that have been thrown at me in those weeks. I'm starting to, but haven't finished, sharpening my efficiency skills...my reading skills...my attention skills (read that last part like N. Dynamite). Not to mention all those extra things you need to do if yer gonna be part of the program. Gad.

But, after a day of struggling to understand, worrying about things like being ready for Friday's class, and oh-god-I-have-to-start-my-SSRCH-application, my mind was elsewhere when I made a small mistake that cost 2 hours of straight work and delayed the movie by nearly an hour.

(Dan: I learned that you never try to rewind without the ring in. That lesson was no fun.)

That sucked and I was never so close to quitting that job in my life. I've worked there off and on since '97 and I've never come so close to finishing a shift and never coming back.

So...decisions.

My boss, afterwards, lectured me on why we never do what I did. Partly, less than half..maybe a quarter, it was his fault. But, whatever, I let him rant on at me because I did cost him money in the long run. He wasn't abusive...I think he just needed to 'get it out'. Then I told him to start looking for another person who can run the booth. I didn't quit...but I made it clear that I can't have the theatre overshadow what I"m really trying to do. Then I made it so that I wouldn't have to work this weekend.

So...decisions.

In all my born years.

My theatre used to regularly play Hindi films. I've seen some really great dancing, heard some really great music, and watched the Indian version of Mrs. Doubtfire. But I ain't seen nuttin' like this:

I adore this man.

Holy crap!

This topic is so insane that I'm surprised that I've engaged myself in it. Now, seeing that it makes me sick to my stomach to think of this as a reality (as it has been in the past), I am not certain that this isn't just a weird joke or a simple 'musing' of sorts.

I think, though, if it's just a "musing of sorts", then you should probably make that clear before you type it out and you seem like a class one a-hole with next to no ability to see where bad decisions might lead.

RightGirl wants us to consider the systematic sterilization of those people she doesn't like. It starts with "mothers who do not take care of their children" but god knows where it ends.

Do I think that some people shouldn't have children? Of course I do! Do I wish that some people could be sterilized? Yup. I do. I read this blog [linked once I can access it again] recently and some of the parents of the children he discusses...well, I wish I could have sterilized them myself. The important question is, however, do I trust anyone -individual or agency- to make this decision correctly? No. Absolutely not. There is no omlette delicious enough to account for the degree of egg breaking that would entail. There is no quick fix here. There is no easy answer. We cannot have a government that allows forced sterilization because, as another commenter put it, it is a slippery slope.

I am so anti this idea that I am surprised that anyone even comes close to considering it.

I don't know what to say. This is why I frequent these sorts of blogs. It makes me realize that issues I thought were dead and buried are actually alive and well.

why do I keep posting this type of stuff?

Another meme (is that what they're called?) I invite you to join in.

(I always find them from random blogs I never visit and forget to reference once I copy/paste it onto my own. Sorry.)

1. Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 18, find line 4. Write down what it says:

You'll be sorry ---> "Optimality Theory (Prince and Smolensky 1993, McCarthy and Prince 1993)..."

2. Stretch your left arm out as far as you can...what do you touch first?

I'm sensing a theme here. It's an article called Some Notes on Noun Incorporation by Jerrold M. Sadock.

3. What is the last thing you watched on TV?

About 2 minutes of a home reno show just before I turned to my mother and said, 'there's an awful lot of home reno shows on TV.'

4. WITHOUT LOOKING, what time is it?

9:20

5. Now look at the clock, what is the actual time?

9:27...not bad. But I looked at the time when it was about 9:15 or so.

6. With the exception of the computer, what can you hear?

Cars. Bf typing. It's Monday, so no jackasses. If I would have done this earlier, I would have said some really effing loud guys redoing the floor of the restaurant below me.

7. When did you last step outside?

About 9:15 or so. I was just getting some work done in Starbucks and decided to come home to finish. So...then...I blogged. Ta da.

8. What are you wearing?

Oh...I'm used to seeing this typed out on msn. Ha! Bottom-up: converse, jeans, Eener's old shirt (the one with the 3 on it), and a grey zip-up sweater. Oh, and my headband that I love but is too loose.

9. When did you last laugh?

Just now when I heard bf yell, 'fuck yeah' which means he's probably playing WoW and he probably just did something awesome and I'm about to hear all about it.

10. Seen anything weird lately?

Uh. Hmm. Oh yeah...my 90 year old grandmother painted her fence with a bathbrush...though, you may have already heard (scroll down). At the cemetary, my mother and I saw a poor fella's grave who was obviously waiting for his wife...though she was born around 1884, so she's almost completely certainly dead by now and he's still waiting. Is it wrong to add we found that kinda funny at the time?

11. What did you dream last night?

I dreamt I had a dachshund that I was carrying around with me. Then I dreamt that some people who I think might be mad at me weren't mad at me. There was a couple of other things but I can't remember.

12. What's on the walls of the room you're in?

My Mr. Men painting that my cousin made for me when I was little, my degree from many years ago, a pic of me and Nanny on the train in Britian somewhere when I was 9, a whiteboard calendar, a cork board, and a print that bf and I call 'the beaver cleaver'...don't know if that's it's real name.

14. What do you think of this survey?

'salright...it's getting me away from what I should be doing and that was it's purpose.

15. What's the last film you saw?

Ha! A guy and his gf at the theatre last night said (to about 5 of us working in some capacity with the film fest), "you guys are so lucky. You get to see ALL the films AND get paid for it." This was met with rousing laughter as we all listed off how many films we saw...the average of which would be somewhere in the 0.25- 0.5 range. The gf, obviously thinking this was because we were ~not allowed~ to watch the films, suggested ways we could have 'snuck in'. Again with the laughter as we informed her that we were allowed to see any of the films..for free, even, if we wanted. The problem was the amount of work that was put into the film fest coupled with the amount of work having a regular life to support the film life entailed meant that, no, sneaking in wasn't the problem.

So...having said that, I did manage to catch a good portion of Dead Man on the monitor in the booth while I was waiting for the film I was building to wind. Great movie, btw.

16. If you became a multi-millionaire overnight, what would you buy first?

A house.

17. Tell me something about you that I don't know.

You don't know?? You're my blog.
That I'm starting to get antsy that this questionaire is taking too long and I should get back to my work.

18. If you could change one thing about the world, what would you change?

Wow. Tough question. I have to get back to that one.

19. Do you like to dance?

Yup. But I can't if I hate the music.

20. Imagine your first child is a girl, what do you call her?

No idea...depends on the moment and the personality of the child...what little there is when they're newly born.

21. Boy?

see above

22. Would you ever consider living abroad?

I ~am~ a broad.
Overseas? Yes. I would.

I would have the power to lift buildings...

...if I could only harness this energy.

Yesterday I intended to read read read READ. I have eight articles that have something to do with next week and so I have to read and read and READ.

I know...I know...some of you out there (who may or may not be reading this) read eight articles in the bath while you're getting ready for your day. Let us all keep in mind that I'm new to this and for me eight articles are a whole lotta reading. I mean, Sadock (1985) is 61 pages of autolexical syntax! Good gravy! And, if my last morphology class is to be any gauge, I'm actually supposed to know what these people said.

I got stuff done yesterday and I'm happy about that, but my god. By the time I managed to sit down and start reading, it was already the afternoon and while reading, I'd find time to take 'breaks'. Lotsa breaks. Okay, I read a guy's whole blog yesterday. I mean, though, how could I not? He's a prison guard and I love the series Oz. We were a perfect blog fit yesterday. I also read most of his buddies' blogs, so I recommend them, too. Especially Bunny 'cause she's funny and even her dirty stories are pretty entertaining rather that just dirty and boring. It's interesting how she makes her ex-bf Tucker seem like an interesting, sorta decent beneath his shallow exterior kinda guy while, when it's his job to talk about himself, he just makes himself seem like a pig underneath his shallow exterior. He's kinda funny, but I'm too lazy to link him here. With my 11 per day readership I'm sure he's somehow heartbroken over that. Plus, I think my constant return to my own blog so that I can get to one of my friends' blogs is driving up my numbers.

So...today...I"m gonna try to be good. However, really, just by writing this I'm already effing my shit up.

Straw...uh...persons

In class yesterday we briefly discussed methods of argumentation. Specifically, some of the more faulty methods of argumentation. We discussed, among other things, the passion some people have for the use of a Strawman.

Strawman arguments are those where the presenter of the argument makes up a fictitious enemy. Often, that enemy is an exagerated version of those whom he/she intends to argue against. Then they go to work fighting against this fictitious enemy and when they figure they've won, they declare victory over the whole shebang. But really, they're fighting no one.

I thought back to something I saw the other day. This strawman is so huge that there's practically hippies dancing around it in the desert. My favourite part...hahaha...is the 'take that, feminists!' attitude that she and her buddies seem to take when what they're saying is an absolute crock of crap mixed with nonsense. Yes...wounded to the core are all women who gladly associate themselves with the word 'feminist'.

You want 5 things that feminism has done for me?

1- I have the right to vote and I am seen as a person in the eyes of the law.

2- I have the right to my own body. I can decide to not get pregnant, to stop a pregnancy safely, and I also have the means to fight against those who may choose to harm it. This is not a right that women around the globe have access to.

3- I have the right to pursue an education and am proud to be the student of such brilliant men and women.

4- I have the right to work without the harrassment of bosses and coworkers. I have the right to any job I am qualified for without regard to my gender (among other things).

5- I have the honour of having many male friends (and a wonderful boyfriend) who understand all these things and more besides. This, far from making them "pussies", makes them far more manly than any mullet wearing douchebag that cheats on his wife. Wait. I know plenty of douchebags that cheat on their wives that don't have mullets at all. Point being that men who accept a woman's strengths and are supporting and proud be it their daughter, sister, wife, girlfriend or friend are cool.

6- Due to my geographic location, socio-economic status, and other stuff that don't have to do with my gender anymore, I have opportunities most people in the world don't even dream of. If I work hard enough and play my cards right (and hopefully am smart enough), what I can accomplish is nearly limitless in fields my foremothers never even thought to go near. If those millions of women in a very similar situation to mine don't realize that someone before you paved that way, then they are being simply ungrateful and selfish.

...and no, with the possible exception of #5, I did not get all these things without someone fighting for them and I call the people who fought for these things feminists.

That's how Nanny rolls...

Yesterday was the 26th aniversary of my grandfather's death, so my mother and I went to pick up my grandmother and take her to the cemetery. I know this sounds like sad times but it was 26 years ago so it's less sad and more just taking my grandmother so that she could hang out at his grave and we could be there with her. She wants to go, we go...but it's not a morbid thing.

Anyway, that aside. After my class yesterday, I drove up to Mum's house and then we both went to Nanny's to pick her up. My grandmother, as many who know me already understand, is quite a woman. She just turned 90 this summer and she still lives in the same house the family lived in shortly after they moved to Canada. Incidently, my own parents moved into a house 5 blocks away just before I was born, so I attended the same school as my aunt and uncle had before they lost their Scottish accents.

No...we're not Scottish. Short answer to follow:

Nanny grew up in Poland and was moved to Germany and then moved to Scotland where she reunited with my grandfather after 8 years of war estrangement. Her first exposure to English was in Scotland...which, as you can imagine really makes for a crazy accent in Canada...and then she had a stroke 6 years ago which left her with a mild aphasia. Her words are mixed up, in a nutshell. This is my grandmother's language history and why I will be writing the way I do when I quote her. I won't do the aphasia part as you are certain to not understand me then.

(By the way, my grandmother was taken, without choice, by the German army to Germany where she continued to live as a forced labourer for the rest of the war. She was 27 and she never went back to Poland. Anyone having problems with us seeking reparations for her during the short period they were available is invited to stick a carrot in their bottoms.)

So..where was I? Yes. So, we arrive at Nanny's house and she's insisting we go out to her backyard for reasons we weren't able to figure out but dutifully trotted out there anyway. Nanny has a pretty big yard, which she adores and she truly finds energy in tending to her garden. It is surrounded by a wooden fence, built -I believe- by one of my uncles maybe a decade ago. It's held up quite well, but probably could use a coat of paint by now. If you're my grandmother, it needed a coat of paint yesterday. So...my 90 year old grandmother decided she was going to paint the durn fence. And she did...only 5 boards, but they were well and evenly painted. With a bath brush.

Yes. She painted 5 boards of her fence using the paint she found somewhere in her little metal shed (that I used to play house in countless times) and an old bathbrush. The kind that you use in the shower for your back that have soft bristles on the one side and hard knobs on the other for massaging.

Ahem. Again, because I think it bears repeating a third time. My 90 year old grandmother painted her fence with a bathbrush yesterday.

My mother, of course, protested. "Mum," she said, "we'll get someone to do it if you want it painted." Nanny just shrugged and sort of agreed. Then, after thinking about it for another minute, my mother added, "But it's fall, Mum. There's no point in doing it now, it's going to snow fairly soon."

My grandmother looked defiant as she slowly climbed the stairs back to her back porch, "I maybe no here springtime, but I wanting dis now, so I doing. You want in spring, you doing. I here today. I want today. I do today."

Mum and I looked at each other exaspirated but proud to be of this insane genetic line.

Nanny, as much as I adore the little package of pure stubborn ability, isn't the type of elderly woman that gives inspirational speeches. Most of what she says I do not enter under my internal category of 'sage advice'. But this...this little outburst I do interpret as wisdom and gladly file under the heading of 'words to live by'.

Thanks Nanny.

I swear on a stack of myspace profiles

Short post today, and very probably not well thought out.

But, I have a confession to make. You know that little link on my sidebar? The one that tells you cheerily that you, too, can click it and 'be my friend' at myspace? I'm addicted to that little underlined linked beauty.

Know why? 'Cause *deep breath*...I stalk Calgarians. I don't get out much these days. My friends, well, although there's always ~something~ going on, it's rarely due to their own stupidity because they don't have much of that anymore. None of it is the real gritty type gossip that I miss and that I used to have regular contact with through dating complete f-ups and knowing their friends. None of it is the type of gossip you can acquire 3 pints in while people watching at a crusty (yet popular) pub. Enter myspace.

I read about myspace and the total douchebags that rule it in Vanity Fair. I was, however, amazed. Like shitting, myspace is another in that list of 'great levelers'. My profile/page is just as accessable as K-Fed's and his is as accessable as Noam Chomsky's. We all had to 'sign up', we all had to gussy it up the way we wanted, we all have the option to gussy it up more, if we choose. We all write, or dont' write. We all accept friends, or don't accept friends. We're equal in this universe the internet provides us.

Then I found the pictures. Hey! I recognise that guy! Hey! I know that girl! Hey! They write stuff about their lives and, if you read between the lines, it's pure hilarity...or it's sad. Sometimes. But so is dirty, dirty gossip...which I love!

If I ruled it, though....I'd ban the option for anyone really over 18 to set it to private. Stuck up bitches.

my hair is totally psyched, yo...

I got my hair cut a couple of weeks ago.

As always, my hairdresser/friend does a great job. I was also relieved to be rid of the shapeless mess my hair had become and turned into a style.

But here's the problem. Style and I have never been close. As much as I like style, as much as I covet style's affection, style continues to shun my advances. This, as all interactions between me and style, is what happened with the breakdown of my hair.

It just was simply ~not~ doing what it was meant to. I'm ~meant~ to have my bangs mostly sweeping off to the side while an adorable little faux-bob framed my face with a gentle curl. What happens is my bangs flop in one big lump while the longer sides frizz out and make it look like I"m a basset hound.

After a jolting workshop in scholarships and a more calming meeting with my prof, I ducked into the campus salon and waited for the girl to stop being busy. She looked up, 'hi.'

"Do you see what my hair is trying to do?", I pulled and fluffed my hair to show it's intention.

"uh huh"

"What do I need to make it do that?"

She asked a busy hairstylist who looked at me and said, "this stuff". Bed Head. Okay. Apply it at the end when my hair is dry. Alright, I'm game.

I bought it and did the rest of the stuff in my day.

It's morning now and I'm getting ready for my class. Showered, put in a little bit of stuff to give my hair some body and then waited for my hair to dry for the finishing touch.

I wrenched open the little blue sphere that contained this elixir of hair control (but not too much control) and what greeted me was a little message on the plastic throw-away cap.

"It's off the hook!"

Really? Wow. That makes me feel so much better. Because I was just standing here in my bathrobe with this strange new container in my hands nervous that what I actually was holding was a symbol of the corporate fuddy-duddies that don't speak to ~me~ as a hip, young(ish) person. I was nervous I was going to end up with my mother's hair...or worse, my grandmother's! I was nervous that you didn't ~get~ me and that this misunderstanding between us would make a mockery of me for the rest of the day. But, then, I saw your little message to me and the use of my slang told me that, you know, we're friends. In a different situation, me and this little plastic sphere would be going out, drinking, having fun. Shopping, maybe. Sure...it understands what would look good on me. Whew. I'm glad we cleared that up.

Hair stuff works fine, by the way...but I threw the note in the trash.

it's late...

...and I just marked 2/3rds of 64 assignments carefully printed out by the cute little hands of 64 baby linguists. Awww.

I was thinking today. Two events have passed by. Two events that I would have thought I'd have some sort of opinion or comment. But nothing. I don't want to comment on them. I think, however, I do want to comment on why I don't want to comment.

Pope Benedict. Funny. I know what he said. I know where it was said and why it was said and why ~he~ said it was said. I haven't delved that deeply...it was easy to find out all those things with minimal effort. What do I think? Meh. What is there to think?

Now...I realize that violence broke out and my 'meh' is not in any way meant to down grade or trivialize the impact made my his comments. But it's hard for me to make a comment about something that was so obviously going to happen. Pope Bulldog's job is to say that there are none better than Catholics. I know that's not what he said, but he was thinkin' it. What is not Pope Bulldog's job is finding a way into the hearts and souls of Muslims everywhere and be beloved by those who worship differently. So, do I think his words were very enlightened? No...not particularly. Do I ever really find papal words to be that inspirational or 'on-the-money'? Nope. Did I see this coming? Well, probably I would have had I thought about it...but no. I didn't. But it didn't surprise me.

Now, I've not kept up since the 'apology'...but I have heard that he's mentioned that this ancient text he quoted are not his thoughts but simply his recitition of what another man said about Mohammed, lo so many years ago. As a cardinal, Papa Ratzinger was a professor...not sure of what, but I'm guessing theology. He was one of the top advisors to JPII and, let's face it, you don't just 'get' to be pope. It's like any other top position...strategy, kiddo. Strategy. My point: he's not dumb. So, I'm having a difficult time figuring why he would quote this ancient text without thinking that it would be at least ~taken~ to be his own beliefs. Not sure...would need to do a bit more research on that.

Anyway...it causes violence. He probably should have thought to phrase things differently...those who are rioting should probably stop to think exactly what they are doing and I think we saw the whole mess before when it was drawn in 12 panels of cartoon hilarity (for 'hilarity' read 'lame-ity').

Now...on to Kimveer Gill.

Sad. Sad sad sad sad. Tragic. Awful. I felt a knot in my stomach when I heard.

He's dead. Shot himself, it turns out. So....there's nothing we can do about him. Let him pass because there are far more important people to focus your energy on. The victims and the families of the victims...and, let's give a thought to the Gill family themselves as, as far as we know, they were devastated by the horror their son caused.

These things are terrifying, but we can't let the insane acts of the occassional individual stop us from living our lives and taking the paths we have chosen.

Well..I was going to continue on, but I'm very tired now and bed is looking very inviting. Talk to you kids later.

gettin' the ol' creative juices flowin'

I know I sound like a big ol' whiney baby, but really my "new" life has hit me like a ton of bricks stuffed in a really big sock and swung by a very attractive giant. Things are starting to find their own groove now, but until then, I'm pretty much void of blog topics. Well, I"m not, but I don't know what to say about the stuff I'm thinking.

Until then...another one of these lame 'found it on another blog' things:

YOUR ROCK STAR NAME: ( pet and current street name): Phoenix Fourth
YOUR MOVIE STAR NAME: (grandfather/grandmother on your moms side, your favorite candy): Zosia Truffle
YOUR "FLY Guy/Girl" NAME: (first initial of last name, first three letters of your middle name): A. Lou
YOUR DETECTIVE NAME: (favorite color, favorite animal): [my favourite things never stick, unless they're food...so I'm going to pick the name of my fave yarn colour for the day and an animal I really like] Lettuce Monkey
YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name, city where you were born): Louise Calgary <--- lame
YOUR STAR WARS NAME: (the first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 letters of your first name, first 2 letters of mom's maiden name and first 3 letters of the town you grew up in.): Arcstpiacal <--- that defies so many phonological rules of English, I just don't know
SUPERHERO NAME: ("The", your favorite color, favorite drink): The Green Water
NASCAR NAME: (the first name of both your grandfathers): This is not going to sound Nascar ---> Ludwick Harold
FUTURISTIC NAME: ( the name of your favorite perfume/cologne and the name of your favorite shoes): [currently my fave scent is a mixture of cedar, basil, and lavendar oils and my fave shoes have been worn so much that the brandname is unreadable...so...] Cedar Basil Lavendar Winners -or- CBL Winners
WITNESS PROTECTION NAME: (mother/father's middle name ) Antonina Roy


Well..that was fun. Back to reading.

Academic Girls don't notice when you get your hair cut.

Actually, that's not true. Academic girls in my field don't notice when you get your hair cut. My MGIS academic girl did...but she's finished, so maybe that's why she's able to see trivial stuff again. ha.

I did it. One week of my MA and I finally feel like I'm okay. No more panic attacks, just a little, 'oh my god, can I do this?' but right now, I'm either delusional, or I'm feeling pretty good. Of course, there's not much homework this weekend, so we can take that into account.

All the people I am sharing this grad school experience are great, it seems. I am also lucky enough to have one PhD that I've completely clicked with and hung out with all summer...she is lovely. Another PhD student is a girl I did my undergrad with; it's nice to talk about the olden days with her because I remained in contact with none of the BA people. The new PhD is also very sweet. As for the MAs, I know one from last year and quite like her and the other two are very cool people. Yes...if you've been doing the math, the linguistics grad students total to 7. Small, but adventageous for us. I won't be freaked out talking in class or presenting my papers with only 4 or 5 people in the room.

I've spent much of last week and part of this week feeling as though I was submerged and the top of the water was about 5 inches over my head. In my first class, my prof was going to as all four of us where our intrests lie so he could tailor the course to meet our needs. Suddenly, I was gripped in panic. What was I interested in? How could I answer that question? What if I say something stupid? I don't know what I"m interested.....wait...uh...yes I do. I know exactly what I'm interested in. Wait! I can answer this question intelligently!! Hurrah! I AM GRAD STUDENT!

Then I stood up on the table and thumped my chest. For good measure.

Okay, I didn't, but it almost made me giggle out loud when I felt the panic rising and subsiding so quickly.

I'm just chillin'...like Bob Dylan

I know these things are a lame excuse for a post, but I've had a hard couple of days and feel like it:

(I'm sorry...I don't remember where I got this)


My Autobiography (meme)
Fill this out in your own words and repost as, "My autobiography."

1.Where did you take or get your profile picture?
On a site for Chinese propagand art. I just love that stuff...especially the space babies. Like these.

2.What exactly are you wearing right now?
*looking down*...working from the bottom up: slippers, an old cotton light blue plaid skirt, a light blue long sleeve tee, and this stupid head band I knitted that I love, but is -frankly- ugly.

3.What is your current problem?
YOU!

naw...but, you know, if I start tellin', I might not stop. I've had a rouuugh day.

4.What makes you most happy?
good things. Especially if I do 'em.

5.What's the name of the song that you're listening to?
The theme music to the Alliance capitol of Stormwind. Okay, not right now I'm not, but that's the last song I listened to. Except perhaps the faint music coming up from the restaurant below, but I have no idea what song that is.

6.Has anyone you've been really close with passed away?
No...*knocking wood*. That shit gives me cold sweats.

7.Do you ever watch MTV?
No TV takes care of that question.

8.What's something that really annoys you?
When I can't do what I want (if I think it's reasonable).

Chapter 1:All About You

1.Middle name:
Louise

2.Nickname(s):
Lot's of 'em. Bf (and some of his friends) call me Kitten. Father calls me PooHead.

3.Current location:
Mayhem

4.Eye color:
White, blue, black

Chapter 2:Family

1.Do you live with your parents:
I wish. Well, no I don't, but it would be easier.

2.Do you get along with your parent(s):
Yup, both of 'em. I probably call both of them more often than I do any of my friends. Wow, that sounds lame when you type it out.

3.Are your parents married/separated/divorced:
Divorced. And how!

4.Do you have any Siblings?:
Does imaginary count? My mum wants to adopt this kid in Peru...

Chapter 3: favorite...

1. Ice Cream:
For C's b-day, we went to My Favourite Ice Cream Shop and had sundaes. I got chocolate and vanilla ice cream with all the toppin's and I've not been able to stop thinking about it since.

2.Season:
Summer and Fall

3.Shampoo/conditioner:
Aveda....very recently made the switch. I don't know if I can go back to the cheap Mane & Tail crap.

Chapter 4: Do You..

1.Dance in the shower:
Yes. Oh, I thought you said pee. Dance, no. What? With these two left feet? I'd be calling an ambulance!

2.Write on your hand:
Boy howdy! Do I? Black Mana calls my hand my 'dayplanner'. If it's something I have to remember in a few days, I write it in indelible ink!

3.Call people back:
I want to discuss this for a sec. I swear I have phone anxiety and it is so difficult for me sometimes to call people back. I really really try...but I'm SO bad at it. I am, however, an email queen.

4.Believe in love:
Yeah...duh. But it comes in many forms.

5.Sleep on a certain side of the bed
Not really. Whichever side is up for grabs. C needs to sleep on a certain side of the bed!

6. Any bad habits:
Really...we don't have all day to list my bad and disgusting habits.

7. Any mental health issues?
You tell me.

Chapter 5: Have You...

1.Broken a bone:
Fractured, yes. Broken, no.

2.Sprained stuff:
Not seriously. Like, I've never gone to a dr for it.

3.Had physical therapy?:
Nah.

4.Gotten stitches:
No. I'm starting to think I was raised in a padded cell. Oh..wait...do after surgery stitches count?

5.Taken Pain killers?
Recreationally? Or for real?

6.Gone SCUBA diving or snorkeling:
Ha...funny story. But no.

7.Been stung by a bee:
Yeah...once when I was a kid, we had a bees nest in the wall of our house and bees were getting into our basement, so I took it upon myself to remove them because I was a total insect loving kid (meaning, loving to dismember them in the name of science) so every day for a few weeks I would catch the bees and let them outside (I think I was too scared to get close enough to kill them). Anyway...one day I forgot they could sting and grabbed one with my fingers. Pride before the fall. The End.

8.Thrown up at the dentist:
No. Thrown stuff at a dentist.....no, that neither.

9.Sworn in front of your parents:
I'm counting the really bad words as swearing. Probably I've slipped up in front of my mother, but I really really try not to. My dad, I can swear but I can only say the f-word and related items when I'm quoting someone or I'm really really upset.

10.Had detention:
I think only once...but not after school detention. We used to have a friday afternoon movie thing at our school. You couldn't go if your name was put into, what they called, 'the black book' that week. I only got my name in the black book once in all of elementary and that wasn't my fault. Mrs. Pelzner (sp?) was a mean bitch.

I did, however, get myself banned from the home ec. room in grade 9. There is something ironic there that I'm not able to tease out yet.

11.Been sent to the principal's office:
Nah. I was really good. Oh wait...in high school, I think I got sent to the VP office.

12.Been called a ho?
Umm...I don't know people who use the word 'ho' that regularly. Maybe I have. I'm sure I've been called a lot of things.

Chapter 6: Who/What was the last

1.Movie(s):
Rocky Horror Picture Show...see previous posts for that little disaster story.

2.Person to text you:
Black Mana. His last text ended with the words, "...I fill the room with laughter and crap." hehehehe...that still breaks me up.

3.Person you called:
My father.

4.Person you hugged:
C...then I tried to give him a wedgie.

5.Person you tackled?
Tickled or tackled? My grandmother...both things.

6.Thing you touched:
keyboard. Before that, mouse. Before that, my face.

7.Thing you ate:
A comfort salad. However, I was so stressed when I ate it that I felt sick afterwards.

8.Thing you drank:
water. I'm thirsty now.

9.Thing you said:
*coming back from kitchen*..."Aaaahhhhhh"

10.Friend you miss the most that has moved:
Oh man...really, it's a toss up between Ivana, Black Mana, and Anita. But I miss all my friends that have moved.

misc.

So.

Here I am. It's 10:03 on a 'work day' and I'm not at work. Though I am not 'unemployed' in the complete sense, I am 'unemployed' in the more than partial sense of the word. Friday was the last day of receiving those types of cheques where you can throw a little into savings, throw a little at some debt, pay bills, buy those things that are essential and then use the rest for buying those things that are not essential.

what have I done?

Actually, even though I kept waking up this morning and thinking to myself, 'do I get up? no, I have nowhere to go. But I should still get up. But I don't have to....' and on and on until I finally did get up and was dressed before C had left for work, I'm not really that freaked out. I guess planning this since 2004 kinda takes the edge off.

It's still weird, though.

If you read my comments in the last post, you pretty much by now know why Sunday night was a freakout. All things worked out at the end, but I armed myself with a full watergun when people left the theatre lest someone mention the shitty projection that night. It sat in my lap in full view of everyone who passed on their way out. A defiant look sat on my face.

no it didn't. The look, that is. I was smiling. But the water pistol indeed was there and I was ready to use it.

It occurs to me now how surreal it must've looked to have my collegue Phil and I hastily dismantling our trusty FP30 projector bathed in sweat from the heat and panic with me in jeans and a t-shirt and Phil in fishnets and a corset. I adore absurdity and I'm gloriously happy that absurdity seems to like me just fine. It at least likes to spend time with me occasionally.

Anyway...what now? I've taken a 2 1/2 week break from reading and now I've got to get back on it. School starts on Monday and all things are cool. I think I was successful in getting those ducks in rows and training them to guard the shit in piles.

Shout out to the main man Dan who managed to get himself out of this fair city and a good few kilometers into his new adventure! Happy trails, my friend. Good thing you were gone 'cause it could have been you that was on the receiving end of a panicked phonecall at 12:30 am!

"You only just press a button, really...how hard can it be?"

After a night like tonight...


.
.
.


in fact, a summer like this summer

.
.
.


....anyone who says the above quote -or a moderation thereof- to any projectionist (and I've heard a few myself)...I hearby tell you to go soak your head and suck a dozen eggs.

A Bit of Fry & Laurie on language

Goodnight Moon...

Today I got my nightguard. This little baby and me are gonna see if we can't stop me grinding my teeth so durn much.

I was all excited 'cause I won't be grinding my teeth so durn much (as mentioned above)...so my headaches might go away...and my teeth won't be so sensitive...and my jaw joints will stop deteriorating...so I'll be happier...

and I thought that I would look like my friends who have these sorts of things. They pop them in and they look cute as little buttons. Their mouths protrude just enough so you can tell it's not usual for them, and they have these little lisps and you just want to pinch their cheeks and kiss their foreheads.

How disapointing...

I just look like a dork.

Get out! The calls are coming from inside the house!!

The masking tape splicer I talked about not so long ago?

yeah...I know who it is.






I'm devastated.

merkley???

Merkley??? is funny.

Merkley??? is hella stylish.

Merkley??? is a fantastic photographer.

and Merkley???, like me, hates to get punched in the arm pretty hard by people who he doesn't recognize.

Merkley??? is a complete stranger, by the way, but he's allowed me to link his lovely post.

Merkley??? made me feel better about all the people I a/ forget I know and b/ don't bother to get to know.