2011 Or Something Like It

I didn't really start blogging again, as you may have noticed. I want to though because I like writing and I want to self-identify as a good writer. But I'm not sure even good writers do that.

I feel compelled to put ths year down on paper because it only happened the once and I have a poor memory.

So this year I only attended one funeral and one wedding. The funeral was for my Great Aunt Ethel. She was 85 or something and had completed her mission here on earth. When my grandmother turned 80 two years ago Aunt Ethel wrote "the 80's are great!" which is about as positive a thing you can say about living in a slowly rotting body that defies your will. I would see Aunt Ethel from time to time at family things and every time she would relay the story of me being her first visitor at the hospital when she had surgery to remove a tumor. I was only a few days old at the time so I guess it left an impression.
My grandher (pictured in the header) lost the last of her biological siblings this year, two sisters within days. She said, " I'm ready to let them go but I'll miss them." Still  makes me teary.

The one wedding was for my sister in laws sister, which is kind of a lose connection but whatever. My friend was the photographer and I helped snap a few photos. I realized I loved it and could do it over again but also realized I hate post processing and the stress of capturing a major life event is too much for my weak constitution.

Other than that very little happened in 2011. I worked too much but I always do. I quit sugar and started again after a month. I didn't go anywhere interesting or even bother applying for a passport again. I didn't go to many movies despite intentions to do otherwise, but really, who even goes to the movies anymore?

This year I did go to a lot of concerts and it was GREAT. I plan to keep that trend going. I saw Old Man Luedecke, Arcade Fire, Gord Downie and they Country of Miracles and attended the Halifax Pop Explosion which was crazy and amazing and why didn't I kniw about it before?? Also discovered lots of new music that almost no one likes because I never have shared a musical taste with another human so why start now?

If I were to honestly look back on 2011 I would say that I'm generally pleased with the direction things are going in but I desperately need some more adventure in my life. I don't want to be boring anymore.

I had an epiphany when I visited my grandmother this Christmas. She dedcated her whole life to helping other people, raising children, feeding a husband, and at the end of it all she still spends Christmas morning alone and has dinner with people she barely knows because her family have made other plans.

Sounds horrible right? It's not, it's just how life worked out that day but the point I took away from it is basically and skeptically, we all end up alone at the end so might as well have an adventure while we can.

I don't mean that in the everyone hates everyone humans are terrible way that it sounds but I'm choosing to use the idea as an impetus to seek out new experiences this year (and every year).

We'll see what happens.

Sure, Why Not.

I think I might blog again. Seems like the thing to do.

Movies of 2010

Needless to say, it's been awhile.

As you may have noticed 2010 is almost done. It was a great year, lots of nice stuff happened. There weren't too many epic life changes, which is a nice break from 2009. My debt is a little smaller, my car rolled over it's 300 000th kilometer and I bought a couch. 2010: Good year.

I haven't, however, watched many movies. I'm pretty sure I've only been in a theatre twice this year, once for Inception and once for The Other Guys.* Am I too busy? Am I too poor? No. But I do have the attention span of a fruit fly (thanks, internet!) and two hours is a long time for a fruit fly.

Christmas/New Year's is coincidentally list making time AND the time of year when I tend to watch movies and discover new music. So, my goal is to watch all the movies from 2010 that other people think are good before the clock strikes midnight.

So far the twitter suggestions have been: (updated with thoughts)

Toy Story 3 - Loved it, of course

The Social Network - Great

The Town - Meh

I Am Love

Winter's Bone - Meh, a bit hoaky.

Never Let Me Go

Catfish - Nothing happens! 

Let Me In (which I'm not going to watch, because I really dislike vampire stuff, always have)

I've also added to the queue, based on my tireless research:

Please Give - Detest. Awful, terrible story.

Get Low

Scott Pilgrim vs. The World

Am I missing anything? Suggest away! I'll try my darndest to get through most of these before the new year, but I'm not some kind of movie watching super hero**. You understand.

*Realized after posting that I also saw Letter to Juliet because I won tickets.
**Was not successful in watching everything before a completely arbitrary deadline, so I'm still plucking away at it.

Twitter Johnston

Every town has it's ghost stories. Most start with some minute grain of truth and morph through the telling to grotesque tales of murder, mystery and metaphysical terror. Old houses made grey by the elements are the settings of disappearance and death. The stories serve as grim warnings for the curious to stay away or risk certain doom, which often succeeds in drawing in nosy, drunken trespassers.

I first heard about the "clown grave" on a bus driving us high schoolers home to Stellarton after putting on a musical at the DeCoste Centre in Pictou. The bus was dark, our faces were distorted with the remnants of theatre make-up, and the atmosphere was electric with the post-performance buzz. Some of the older kids started telling us stories about their experiences visiting this clown grave - his eyes followed them as they moved around the grave, his hand would be in a different position, they heard voices, saw lights in the distance... all very ghoulish, and nothing particularly frightening (unless you were the 8 year old girl we forgot was on the bus, she had nightmares for a week).

The stories made for an interesting bus ride, but I slept fine and there was no lasting trauma. A few months passed, maybe more, before I had the chance to visit the grave myself. And you know what? Even though we went in the daylight the thing was still enormously creepy.

I hadn't thought about the clown grave for a few years until this past weekend when I was camping in Caribou, just outside of Pictou. On Friday night we made a run for some necessities at Walmart (somebody forgot to pack underwear....) and on the way back we decided to make a little detour down to the Haliburton Cemetery. This time it was dark, so we kept the headlights on but even though we're adults, some of us parents, only two of us were brave enough to get out of the car. We didn't waste any time running over and snapping a few pictures before jumping back in the car and racing away.

The cemetery itself is obscured from sight by the tall grass and gangly trees that flank the entrance. To the left of the driveway the field is overgrown with grass as tall as the car. But someone seems to still care about the place because once you round the bend you can see the headstones emerge like beacons reflecting the headlights.

The clown grave itself is easy to spot. A granite and plexiglass case was added years ago to prevent any weather damage or ill-willed vandals and it stands out among the gray and black of the grave markers spreading over the field in rows. Getting closer, the figure of a small, sad clown emerges from behind the short pillars and its clear why it has inspired the stories I've heard:

George "Twitter" William Johnston

March 29, 1889 - April 29, 1962

See?? Isn't that creepy? Unfortunately, I have no tale of terror to add to the myth of the clown grave. Our friends beeped the horn and we ran back to the car giggling after only a few minutes. It was a cemetery at night, after all. What gets me about the grave itself is not the clown but the epitaph penned by Twitter Johnston:

"To talk beneath the moon
To sleep beneath the sun
To live in a land of going to do
And die with nothing done.”

Why was he focused on regret at the end? What was left undone? I could only find one little blurb about the man who wrote the verse, but to an onlooker it seems like he led an interesting life. He was an acrobat, a sleight of hand artist, a circus performer, a tumbler, he was a part of a vaudeville troupe and traveled fairly extensively. Sounds like someone who was following his passion - and yet at the end he's still looking over his list of things to do and lamenting that so much was left unchecked.

He maybe didn't think he got much done while he was here, but his nickname has become pretty influential in the past couple of years. We've been talking about him everyday and didn't even know it.

I'm trying to put a positive spin on his message, but it's not coming together. Maybe he was trying to leave us, like the audience at his performances, wanting more. In the end it sounds like he procrastinated on what he wanted his life to be about and was disappointed in himself. I dunno... what do you get out of it?

After reading about Twitter and listening to an interview with him from the CBC Archives, the clown grave feels less creepy. He was just a guy who made his living entertaining people during a tumultuous time in history. It's still sad, but in the end this is how he wanted to be memorialized. Weird to us now, but I guess it made sense to him.

You can read more about Twitter here* (website has since disappeared) and listen to a CBC Radio interview with him recorded three months before he died.

*You can see in one of the old photos that the umbrella there now was originally a bouquet of flowers. Wonder why they changed it?

Goodnight. Or is it?

It's ten minutes from tomorrow and I've been up since 5:14 am. I know it was 5:14 am because twitter told me there was a huge thunder clap around that time. I don't know that because I actually heard the thunder but because I awoke to frightened felines outlining their escape from the great unknown with their claws into my legs.

Why don't I let myself sleep? Two days, 5 hours sleep, and I worked for 12 hours today. It's not even that I can't sleep because I know I'll be out in seconds as soon as I hit the hay (or as soon as I turn on the latest episode of Treme, which is more likely...)

The science of sleeping interests me due to the nature of my work which requires a mix of night shifts and day shifts. I used to think having to stay up all night for work purposes was about as low as you can get. But now that I've been doing it for four years I couldn't imagine doing anything else. Me work 9-5? EVERY DAY OF THE WEEK! That's crazy. I don't know how you people do it.

So, yeah, the science of sleeping interests me. I watched a clip the other day about what causes us to lose sleep, what effects how long it takes us to go to sleep... all that good stuff. As a kid I went to bed because it was 10pm. Some days I'd fall asleep easier than others, but I still went to bed when it was 10pm.

Now, I only drag my sorry self off to my bedroom when I'm so close to sleep I can barely stand-up and as a result I think I've lost the ability to actually go to sleep. I don't lie down on my bed until I'm absolutely sure I'll pass out in seconds. I rarely go to bed before midnight. I rarely get more than 6-7 hours sleep. I can nap like a mo-fo likely due to sleep deprivation but when it comes to a situation where I don't control when I go to bed (visiting, traveling) I almost panic (I use the term panic lightly, more like, worry or even ponder).

Whatever. In the end I just have to put myself to bed and commit to better sleeping habits. Get a new mattress, buy new bedding, vacuum under the bed (upgrade from a swiffer vac), get a better white sound machine, get light canceling curtains. It's so simple!

Not So Much

Last we met I was gushing over a new found musical amour in Mumford and Sons. I've since listened to the whole album and I'm afraid I have to take it back. They're a couple-a songs wonder for me, and I'm a little sad about it. I wanted to love them, I really did.

Trouble is, all the songs sound the same and the lyrics come off as thesaurus dependent. What do I know, I suppose. Maybe that's how they talk in Angleterre. To me their sound is a tad inauthentic. Same rising emotions, same harmonies, same smug folkiness.

Can't win 'em all, I suppose. I still like the Little Lion Man song, just not the whole package.

Growing up I didn't go to a lot of concerts; pretty sure I didn't go to any, actually. There wasn't a whole lot happening in Pictou County but that's no excuse. The real trouble is I was more into Antonin Dvorak than Eddie Veder and missed a lot of what the 90's had to offer. First CD I bought was the Pocahontas soundtrack, which says a lot, really.

Fortunately, things have changed in the past year or two and I've experienced more live music. First for 2010 was the Halifax for Haiti concert (completely amazing). Then a couple of months ago I won tickets to Metric and just last night I enjoyed a little Matt Mays at the Fleet Club.

The Metric show was just a few days before their big Juno wins and Matt Mays was performing before a small crowd of apparently devoted fans. I'll definitely have to see him again since the folks I went with weren't the adventurous sort and spent the night seated and sober.

Some other names on my must-see list would be Hawksley Workman, Rufus Wainwright (although this note on the tour date list is... I dunno, weird?), Deep Dark Woods, Old Man Luedecke, etc. etc. Point is, I plan to take in a lot more shows than I have traditionally so here's hoping for a very musical second half of 2010.

Not your fault, but mine.

I've discovered that I first wrote about yesterday's topic on July 6, 2009. Apparently I've thought about it before...

On another note I'm disappointed in you, internet. Why has it taken so long for you to tell me about Mumford and Sons? I love this song and as I so often do with a new song I've overplayed it today. Some day it'll be just another tune that I may or may not listen to when it pops up on the old Creative Zen. But today is not that day.

Have a listen. They say a swears so if you have little lambs around whose delicate ears have not yet been f-bombed, please take appropriate action.

There You Are

I've been awake for 24 hours and therefore delirious. I worked last night after a day I saw all of. Get it? You get it.

I haven't blogged much, but you haven't been here either so it's all good. Here's a blog post in case you come wandering by. Hi. I don't drink tea so I don't have any to offer, but if I did you'd be the first I'd present it to, in my prettiest tea cup no less. I don't have any tea cups either, so just picture one. Preferably one with yellow flowers.

I've felt off balance lately, in that I haven't spent much time doing things I actually like to do. I was stressed out the other day (the tyranny of the gas light and the distance of the pay day), and couldn't think of anything I wanted to do that would be relaxing.

So I made a decision. It's been about a year since I bid adieu to hundreds of channels and other than what I watch at work I haven't turned my TV on for non-olympic or award show programming in about that same time. That doesn't make me a media hermit though, because the amount of TV shows I watch online more than makes up for what I'm "missing".

On sidereel.com you can keep track of your shows and see a schedule of when the shows you choose to follow are on. I counted them yesterday to discover that I am currently following 36 shows that are currently on the air, so it doesn't include shows like Dexter which won't start again until the fall.

36 shows! That's whack. And the majority are hour long dramas. That's a whack of life being sucked into make believe. What's worse is a lot of these are shows that I don't particularly enjoy watching. So why, why, why do I bother?

I said back a few that I made a decision, and it is that after this season I'll be cold turkeying a lot of the shows I've been following and not picking them up again in the fall. Grey's Anatomy is on the cut list (seriously, it's terrible). 30 Rock is off the team (I know it's smart funny, but it doesn't make me giggle). Fortunately a lot of shows aren't coming back such as Lost, Heroes, 24 and Flash Forward, so the media moguls have done some of the work for me.

I like being hip to pop culture, but it's really not important enough to waste that much time and energy on. I don't have hobbies, I don't have marketable skills, I don't know how to fix stuff, I've never baked bread.

All good life things that I could do simply by turning my attention towards them. So, allons-y.

And if you'll let me go on (I am delirious, remember. I didn't say it'd be good). I was watching TV last night, which is a common night shift "activity" and the commercials were really getting to me. Of course people like fast food - literally billions of dollars have been spent making sure it appeals to the majority of people. I haven't had any since January and I know I'm not missing anything. People dedicate their lives and lotsa money to finding something that may or may not work that is appealing enough for people to buy a lot of. I don't want to be sucked in to something because it has a big marketing budget.

I want to want something because 1) I need it (like real need not false market driven need, 2) it'll add value to my life and 3) I can't make it myself. Lofty goals I suppose but why not try?

Of course people like crappy TV shows like Grey's Anatomy and Criminal Minds. Billions of dollars goes into designing these things for us. How can we resist?

I would hazard to guess that in the majority of homes where a TV exists, it is left on all day. Why are we giving them so much power over what goes into our heads? I'm really not trying to sound like a hippie, but seriously. Think about the messages going into brains when hundreds of commercials surround us all day, whether we're actively listening or not.

Cut your cable (save your money), find a few good shows that you find entertaining and watch them occasionally. Pare it down to one TV and put it into a low traffic room. Shut it off for more hours than it's on. Then get a hobby, figure out how to fix something you broke, change a lightbulb, vacuum your car, plant a little garden, knit a scarf, learn how to play an instrument.

Can you imagine what a different place this would be if we did things with intention? If the information we took in made us better, more talented people?

Sounds great to me. Now let's see if I actually follow through with it.

Good Food

photo credit: flickr user maistora

Months ago a friend of mine mentioned that there are organizations in Halifax that deliver organic food to your home. A blog post I read recently reminded me of this and I googled it. I gleefully discovered that it's true! You can have organic produce and a few other grocery items delivered to your home.

The company is called Home Grown Organic Foods and they operate a food delivery service as well as a store at 6188 Allan Street.

The user interface of the website isn't pretty, but it didn't take too long to figure out. I placed an order today and accidentally set delivery for Wednesday, but since I have no money, I meant to set it for Saturday. I sent off an email to the address given, so hopefully that all gets figured out.

I ordered the single size food box of fruit and veggies meant for one or two people ($30), plus a few other items like goat's milk yogurt and organic salsa. Hopefully it's not too much, though I'm going to have to significantly change my eating habits anyway if I decide to commit to a bi-monthly delivery. Which isn't a bad thing, not at all.

So we'll see what happens on Saturday morning! Or more importantly, what happens in the following days as I figure out what to do with good, healthy food.

Permanink

I have wanted a tattoo for a long time. My love of indecision and fear of commitment are what holds me back, though I like to say it's the lack of funds. You always find the cash when you really want something, amirite?

When I happened across this photo I was immediately convinced that it was what I wanted. Love at first browse, if you will.

I'm also thinking that the photo I use in my blog header of my grandmother would make a snazzy tattoo. But then I would be murdered and buried in the woods, so there's that.

There's a tattoo convention coming up in Halifax and one of the artists comes from Quebec. I completely love her work, and having only seen a bit of it, I'm sure I'd love the rest too. Her name is Veronique Imbeault and she is good. Very, very good.

Hello 2010!

photo credit: flickr user d_hawkey

2010 has finally arrived and here I am, resolving to do it differently, just like I do every year. I've been reading the resolutions and goals of others, and what puts me off of the idea is the insatiable optimism with which these posts are written. 2010 is going to be the best yet! New Year, New Me! etc. etc.

While it is weird to write a new date, shuffling the zero's around in new and unfamiliar ways and though a change of the date is an opportunity to make efforts towards real change, I'm a little leery of the whole thing. I've resolved to do things before, setting 01 as the starting gate but the reality of slogging through time rears it's ugly head and the fact that the baggage I carry doesn't miraculously disappear with a new year has stopped my best intentions at inception.

That's life though, I think. We all have baggage to deal with. And in saying all that, I'm still going to write down a few things I'd like to get done this year:

1) Improve overall health - this is purposely vague because it encompasses a lot of things, not least of which is the goal to floss every day.

2) Read more - um. This is kind of vague too. I'll have to flesh these out in the coming days. Another goal!

3) Write. Blog. This includes career related articles.

4) Publish - Or at least try.

5) Reconnect with old friends and get out of the house more to meet new ones.

6) Go on a trip - road or otherwise.

7) Attend a lot of concerts - I've been to 4 concerts in my life and this must change.

I think that's it. The first goal is quite big and involves little goals like dropping this pop addiction and eliminating fast food. As well as finding a doctor to get some things figured out and getting jaw surgery...

Anyway, when I think of living the life I want the preceding are all a part of it. Let's see where this takes us. New year, new me!

Goodbye 2009!

It's been a long time since I last saw this "new post" screen. I think about writing something every now and again, but I've been avoiding it I suppose. My plan is to just jump back in and see what happens - especially since most of my big goals for 2010 involve writing.

Anywho, back to 2009. As a co-worker so eloquently said, "a lot happened". And when you smush a whole year into one little post yeah, a lot did happen:

My mother remarried in May - I was a bridesmaid, I was a blubbering idiot.

My father remarried - I was not a blubbering idiot, it was Christmasy and easy.

My grandfather died - Having never had a close relative pass away, this was a major learning experience. It also sucked greatly.

My nephew turned 1 - He's still awesome, and at the age of 21 months he can now say my name and since adults often have trouble with it, this is quite the feat.

I got full-time - I have job security, a reliable schedule, I'll never have to go through the interview process again and I'll have medical benefits in a month. This was a game changer.

I "bought" my first car - It's a 15 year old Camry that's still running greatish. It was my mom's before it was mine and I just do little payments every month. But it's mine gosh darnit! and I have the repair bills to prove it.

I re-moved out on my own - I had been sharing an apartment with the previously mentioned mother, but that changed in April and I have a 2 bedroom in Bedford. I will not be moving again until I can afford to pay someone to do it for me. Moving is the worst.

Oh what else... I guess that's the major "lights" (both high and low). Overall 2009 uh, happened? I dunno. It's hard to label it as "great" or "worst" because it just is what it is. I can say that there are a lot of things I would like to change, hence and therefore my next post will be all idealistic and plan-y.

Negligence

I need some shoes. These gold flippy floppies are nice and all but 1) I'm not supposed to wear flip flops at work, and 2) it's getting cold. In times of yore I could make it well into November before switching to more substantial footwear but I must be getting old because I can't tolerate the cold as well as in my younger years. Plus my dried, cracked heels are begging for some protection.

I need a jacket. The idea of a fall coat confounds me. Something light enough and heavy enough and pretty enough. Thanks to these lumbering shoulders of mine, most coats available to me look terrible. But I want something nicer than run-o-the-mill windbreaker type thing. Does such a thing exist?

I need clothes. Man, do I ever! I've purchased maybe 3-4 shirts this year. One pair of capris. This year!!! Every time I go to a store I set out to try things on, regardless of whether I normally would wear it or not. I can't find anything! And what I do find is ridiculously overpriced. I work in a very casual environment so buying something fancy/office-y is a waste of money because I'm never going to wear it. The code is (literally, they wrote it down) nothing with holes, no rip offs, no inappropriate slogans. That's it! But can I find anything? Nope. It's annoying.

I need lots of other stuff too - new make-up, lamps, an oil change. But affording everything when you're just one little paycheque can be difficult. I know, call those Nobel people for we have a forward thinker.

Two complain-y posts in a row is about two more than anyone cares to read, but blog fodder is hard to come by at the moment. Although, since September 22 is just around the corner, and because September 22 means there are only 100 days left in 2009, I've decided to do up some goals for the end of the year. Nothing to crazy, but I'm a goal and list person and I have no goals or lists at the moment.

So there you have it.

I Wanna Be a Brace Face

The last time I went to the dentist (back in 2005...) I was referred to an orthodontist who informed me that I have a Class III Malocculsion with open bite. Basically it means I have a really hard time eating certain foods, I talk funny and it hurts. Burgers and subs are especially difficult because I can't bite all the way through since my front teeth don't touch. It's not usually a pretty site. He also told me that I'll experience degeneration of the jaw joints by the time I'm 30.

That brings us to today. I get insane-o headaches (during which my right eye gets droopy - real attractive), stiff neck muscles from the strain of things being out of whack, my jaw cracks and creaks and my lisp is worse. The past couple of weeks I've also been getting moments of pulsing pain on the right side of my jaw. I'm still a few years from 30, but things are not looking great.

And you know what really sucks? I can't afford to get it fixed. I've been looking around at some local orthodontists and they all say it'll cost between $6200 and $11000 to get fixed. I'll be at the higher end because fixing my face will involve a year of braces followed by surgery, followed by having my jaw wired shut for 6 weeks.

I don't have dental insurance yet, but even if I did it won't cover orthodontics for me since I'm over 18. So that means crossing my fingers and hoping I qualify for financing. One other possibility is the Dal Dental Clinic. It's cheaper than a regular dentist, but you're being treated by a student. I don't even know if I'll qualify because I need a little more than you're average molar. I guess it'd be worth it for the cheaper cleaning...

Why in this world of universal health care are medically necessary dental procedures not covered?? I don't need prescriptions or my gallbladder removed - I just need my face fixed!

Wanderlust

wan·der·lust (wndr-lst)

n.

A very strong or irresistible impulse to travel.

It hasn't hit me in a long time, but today the urge to "Go" is sitting sqarely on my chest. During idle hours I take a mental inventory of my apartment, selling each item and hoarding the cash to be spent on a ticket, on gas, on a pair of shoes.

I can't go. I don't have the money, or a passport or the banked vacation time. And this is what I have to repeat in my head when I pass the airport, with my hand far enough away from the turning signal at the exit that I don't tempt my self-control.

I went out to the woods last night, though dragged would be a better verb. There's this deep, dark lake the colour of cola a short walk off the main road and apparently it's a great place to cool off in the summer. But this being a cool night already, I wasn't feeling it.

We wore life jackets and Heidi chose the broken boogie board. I'm not a strong swimmer (I never made it passed Otter) and the lake is deep so making it to the other side and back requires some artificial floating.

I almost couldn't do it. I'm not an aquatically adventerous person - I have no problem getting my hair cut in a foreign country by some hairdresser who doesn't speak English and who only offers soviet fashion magazines as aides. But throw in a water trap and I freeze up.

Even on the ferry ride to PEI I get squeamish looking over the edge, fearful that I'll lose control and suddenly leap over the railing into the frothy waves. It don't make no sense.

So I stood by the side of this lake while BJ and Heidi were trying to convince me that it wasn't so bad. I just stood there staring down at where my feet would be if the lake had been clear.

"Don't worry! It's really deep!" wasn't what I wanted to hear. In my head I could picture myself just jumping in but everytime I thought I could do it, I would recoil with giddy reluctance. I was annoyed with the other two because they put me in this position and a little annoyed at myself for being such a chicken.

Finally, I managed to ignore what was happening in my head and dove in. Not so much dove, as moved forward wetly but I was in and that's what counts. I made it across and back, continually smothering the irrational hesitation that had almost cemented my feet to the shore. I was done in record time.

The relief of completing the task quickly turned into frustration. I always tell myself that I'm going to do these great adventerous things - travel solo to off beat places, meet crazy people, do crazy things... but I can't even jump in a lake without flipping my wig (as the cool kids say).

Fear, hesitation and excuses - they'll gum things up every time. I'm not unhappy but I'm definitely not satisfied with how things are right now. I think this current bout of wanderlust is more than just the drive to travel somewhere, but it's a deep need to change my status quo and shake the cobwebs out of my foggy head.

There's a line of song you probably don't know, "there must be more than this", that keeps playing in my head over and over. Whatever it is, I really hope it's not on the other side of some creepy lake. But even if it is, I hope I can still get there.

I Can't Get Ova Nova Scotia

It's been a few days, but I feel like I can't move on to something else until I talk about it.

As mentioned previously, I landed some tickets to the Paul McCartney concert that happened on Saturday. I was unbelievably excited before going, and it only kept building when my brother and I arrived to find ourselves near the front of the line (people camped there?) and then within 30 feet of the stage once they finally let us in.

I was probably too optimistic at first, thinking we'd get a chance to sit down in between sets and I wasn't alone. Some had brought blankets and spread them out for the opening act (Sierra Noble, I'd never heard of her either). One group felt that their blanket was sacred space and tried to defend it until the bitter end - but a crowd of 50 000 is hard to hold back when your only defence is some fleece and a flip flop.

I'm really glad we didn't end up bringing chairs. They had a section near the back gated off for chair toters, and a lot of people just dumped them and went to the front. A chair would have been nice, since we had stood for 3 hours in line and then another 8 hours once we got to our spot.

11 hours standing? Yeah, that's painful. It was cramped up there too with only inches between me and the next fan. I actually had bruising and swelling from an old injury... but whatevs, it was totally worth it!

My two main worries were not being close enough to see Sir Paul and having to go to the bathroom at an inopportune time. I could definitely see Paul and my plan to drink only enough water to not die worked perfectly! If I had left my spot there was no way I would have gotten back to it. Did you see that crowd??

Wintersleep went on stage somewhere around 6 pm and they were great, as usual. I think maybe they were a little tired from flying in from Ottawa only hours before, but they still rocked it and seemed to enjoy themselves. Not in a million years did I think I would see some guys I went to high school with open for a Beatle. That's insane!!

Next up was Joel Plaskett and he was at the top of his game! Full of energy and obviously thrilled to be doing what he was doing. He had what seemed like a short set, but it was really, really good. I can't believe he's not more famous cuz that dude's got some mad skillz. Yo.

Then of course, the moment I didn't know I had been waiting my whole life for. If you had told me when I was 13 years old that I would be seeing Paul McCartney live, in person, in my more or less home town I would never, ever have believed you. I didn't cry or freak out like I thought I would (maybe it was the dehydration?) but I was completely mesmerized for the next 2 hours and 38 minutes. Dude played 36 songs!

It is honestly one of the major highlights of my life, and I don't care how cheesy that sounds. Someday they'll hand me my first born and unless it breaks into a raucous version of "Drive My Car", I'll be a little disappointed.

Some highlights for me? Other than being super close for the whole she-bang - Live and Let Die was amazing (I could feel the heat from the stage!). I also wanted to hear Get Back, and Helter Skelter in the encore was a nice surprise too. Then naturally comes the communal experience of everyone singing Give Peace a Chance in unison with peace signs waving in the air. I didn't realize it at the time, but this is the first time Daytripper had been played in concert by a Beatle since their last performance in 1966. And lastly, he performed Mull of Kintyre with a little help from the 78th Highlanders. It's a boring song, but who could help feeling it with the Nova Scotia tartan displayed on the screen behind him and the bag pipes sailing across the stage.

So really, all the awesome things that everyone has already mentioned were awesome things to me too. I kept telling my brother that I couldn't believe where I was and who I was seeing. Even now whenever I see the fuzzy over-exposed shot on my cell phone I giggle like a school girl. Going to that concert was one of the best things I've ever made myself do, bar none.

What's next then? I've been wracking my brain trying to think of another concert I'd be just as excited to see, or something else I could do that would bring that much joy and satisfaction. While I'm sure there is something, at least for now the glowing memories of that show are blocking my imagination.

The videos I linked to are all really terrible. C'est la vie. If you wanted a good view, you totally should have gone :)

All You Need is... Patience

Speaking of obsessions, I was completely in love with the Beatles when I was in grade 8. It wasn't cool in 1996, but the Anthologies had just been released and I was completely and hopelessly hooked. I taped them when it was on TV and proceeded to watch it over, and over. And over. And over again.

You get the idea.

My brother and sister hated it, but I couldn't stop myself. I used to run home after school to listen to one of the songs just so I'd have it in my head for soccer practice (it was Strawberry Fields, not exactly a complicated melody, but whatever). That year for Christmas I had been begging my parents to get me a Beatles book, but they told me it was sold out. When I opened my gift on Christmas morning and found the book I completely freaked out, crying and giggling so hard I could hardly speak.

It took me six months to save up for the Anthology on CD so imagine my disappointment when I went to Blockbuster and they had raised the price by a dollar. Mom wouldn't lend it to me either, so I had to scrounge up some more dimes before I could get it.

The first Beatles music I ever owned was a CD that started with, "Love Me Do". I still get goosebumps when I hear it, though the mad fixation has long paseed.

Today on the drive home it started to sink in that I'm actually going to see Paul McCartney live in concert this weekend. I'm not ashamed to admit that there are moments when I'm completely overwhelmed and have to catch my breath. I can't remember being this excited for something in a long freaking time!

What it comes down to now is worrying (me? a worrier?) about the details of the day - when should we get there? Early or just when the shuttle starts? What are the "bathroom" lines going to be like? How do I get as close as I can to the front? Do I bring a chair? Can I sneak food in? Or can I fake diabetes so they let me? Are my tickets real? What if they don't let me? I need to be close enough to at least see the guy...

I'm trying to forget about it and just enjoy myself whatever happens, because there's really no point in worrying about it. I'm bringing my camera to document the event that I'll be attending with my brother (he's recovered from the abuse I put him through).

Gah!!! I can't wait!!!

Conundrum

Everything I do, I tend to do in fits and starts. I can be really passionate, or "obsessed" as some might say, about something but it's usually only for a brief spurt. Days, weeks, never years. Although sometimes the memory of how I felt about something in the past will be enough for me to become re-obsessed about it... if that makes any sense.

It's why I can't do knitting. That shiz takes patience! I've done a scarf or two, but having the focus and dedication to make something more significant than that is beyond me. My level of obsession depends also on the success I have in whatever particular area. I.e. papier mache was fun, but when my milk carton birdhouse went moldy in the closet, I quickly lost the urge

to boil newspaper and ruin pots.

One thing I'm interested in, but have had little capacity to persue (re: money) is interior design. I feel pretentious just uttering the words. And that's part of the conundrum. For awhile I'll idle away my time cruising through design blogs, determining my style (most decidedly mid-century modern), and looking at pretty prints on Etsy that tickle my fancy.

During these spurts of inspiration, without fail, the thought that this "interior design" business is such a uniquely western occupation. I think of people who's obsession is finding food, or scraps of metal to sell... Why spend money on "Keep Calm and Carry On" (don't by the way, that thing is sooo early 2008) when people are literally dying to live. How do we reconcile these unnecessary purchases? Why do we buy bottled water when our free tap water is perfectly potable and other people can't find a sip without their bodies being invaded by parasites that escape through their feet?

I'm very fortunate that I can spend time searching for a Dutch Teak Credenza from 1974 that will be so over priced because this is stupid Nova Scotia where everyone thinks their junk is worth something when it so just isn't. Seriously! They want $100 for a couch and chair set that everyone in this province has been related to at some point or knows where to find one in the basement of some aunt, cousin or hunting camp.

Back to the point... the conclusion I've come to is that yes, I am very fortunate to be living in a place where I can expend the brain energy on what style couch I like best or what curtains to hang. There are people out there who would love to do that but are too busy fighting for their right to vote or eat or raise children. That will always be true. My job is to live the life I've been given in a responsible way, informing myself of what's happening in the world and participating when I can (and we all can). But also taking the time to do things I enjoy and that make me happy, for however short a time that may be.

Photos above are some that I've collected of rooms that I love over time but failed to note where I got them...

Television, the drug of the nation

At my old apartment I was in TV addict heaven. I had all the theme packs I wanted, I had a perfectly programmed DVR, I had a TV in my room where it lulled me to sleep at night and greeted me in the morning. DVR's are amazing, seriously. I never watched "real" TV, but did suffer from TiVO guilt - which is why I watched more Fringe and 90210 episodes than I really needed to.

When I moved, I decided to give up the expense of the set-up I had and go back to ghetto-vision (the trifecta of Canadian stations, plus a fuzzy french). I gave it all up, the DVR, the control, the guilt - cold turkey. And while I missed it at first, before the internet was connected, I don't find myself missing it at all. I don't even watch the channels I do have, mostly because I can't stand the lack of choice and the commercials. I do watch it at work, but that hardly counts.

This doesn't mean I've found more valuable ways to spend my time, of course. I've been watching a few series online, and I spend excessive hours on the interwebs doing nothing in particular. But I think this trend is starting to wane, hopefully I'll catch up on my reading and maybe even do something productive... a girl can dream!

I'm currently working my way through Weeds and Six Feet Under, and I recently finished Dexter. Turns out I have a bit of a thing for Showtime and HBO.

A wise professor once advised me to watch very little TV and read often. It's a simple equation that makes a lot of sense, and I've wanted to adopt it for years. It'll happen sooner or later, but in the meanwhile, I have some facebook creepin' to do.

Mom Got Hitched

May 30, 2009

Due to frivolously changing the colour in the photo the navy blue dresses kind of look black... But regardless, we shined up pretty nice to see mom and Blair exchange vows and party with Elvis.

I wasn't joking. And here's one more, just because we look pretty:

Sheamus Turned One!

My brother created a human and get him alive for a whole year! Well, 15 months at this point, but who's counting!

His first brithday was March 13, and I was a negligent auntie for not mentionning it sooner. But here he is on the day of days:

Oh. It's You.

Don't you hate it when some blogger you've been following for twenty years suddenly decides they're too "good" for their blog and they have to look elsewhere for meaning in their lives?

Or when a blogger posts intermittent pleas for you the lowly reader to hang-on, I'll be back again someday?

Or when they just post pictures of they're completely scrumptious nephew in hopes that it will fill the light-less hole that is your life until regular blogging resumes again?

Then again, it is rather presumptuous to think that anyone cares at all. Not care, I guess, but notice. Is this thing on?

I like the writing thing, and for one reason or another I've been avoiding it like people who avoid things. Fear of success! You haz it!

Regardless, I think the time has come on this terrestial globe where we no longer need to talk about the how's and the what's and the motivations. Blogging, twittering, facebooking, exist and the story isn't, "Wow! They twittered a revolution!", but that the revolution happened in the first place.

Holy disjointed post batman!

Whatevs. The point is, I am hitherto and therefore expressing my intentions of returning to a more regular state of blog. To add a little blogamucil, if you will (and you shouldn't) to my daily routine.

But before we really get going here, I need to get some "this is my life" posts out of the way to document the major things that have happened in the past months. Don't worry, it's not much.

Now that you have the syllabi, I hope you have a marvelous day and thank-you for stopping by.

Letting my sister live in my apartment was a terrible idea. I am going to lose my fraking mind.

On the plus side... I finally have the internet again.

Moving on ... somewhere?

Have I mentionned I'm moving? Well I am, and tomorrow is the "big day". 

The way things have worked out, I am unable to help in moving the stuff because I'm working. I haven't worked a weekend in months and it's a little weird, but at least I get out of moving? 

I'm very fortunate however, that my family is able to help out and get me moved over to the new humble abode in Bedford. I've done Dartmouth, Halifax, and now B-town. I suppose next it'll be Sackville but we're not going to worry about that for awhile!

After much rigamarole I picked up the keys today and checked the place out. If you overlook the construction dust all over the floor, the crappy paint job, the "eyehole" in the master bedroom door, the missing closet door, the blue fixtures in the the bathroom, the stinking fridge, the noisy neighbours, the beige cabinets, the broken window latches, the lack of window screens, and the crazies, it'll be perfect!

And to top it all off, a kid I used to work with is doing the renos in another apartment and I keep running in to him. I think today is the first day he recognized me, but I'm obligated not to "make first contact", so we'll just have to wait and see what happens!

I think I'm a little anxious about this whole move because I'm leaving a cheaper place with more luxuries (i.e. washer/dryer in the unit, dishwasher, practically soundproof) for a more expensive place with none of those...

But that's ok right? I'm young enough to still live in sketchy places? At least the neighbourhood seems great - quiet with lots of single family homes. I just happen to share a building with a bunch of gangsta's and the women who love them. 

Ah well, I'm sure it'll lead to some excellent blog material! 

Yarg

I'm not sure how many blog posts I've titled "yarg", but sometimes that's the only word I can think of. 

I'm feeling a little stressed at the moment, and what better release than to blarg to the internet about it! When I feel complainy, or when others are being complainy I think to myself, "It's hard being white, isn't it?" This isn't a racial thing, as it may at first appear but it reminds me that I'm getting into poor me mode, and whatever I'm dealing with isn't really that bad. My life is not that hard.

On that note, I'm a little itsy bit stressed. I'm moving at the end of the month, and I don't know how it's going to happen. My brother has already said he's not going to help, and that annoys me. He can't anyway, because it's a weekday, but he said he wouldn't help before he knew that. So there goes one person with a truck. I'm also trying to buy a couch, but I need to pick it up and I don't know how that's going to happen... 

I'll probably just hire somebody. I can move most of it just in my car, but I have 4-5 big things that are too heavy to move myself and too big for my car. 

Then there's my tax situation. Let's just say there's been a bit of a gap since the last time I filed. I don't think I'll owe them anything (they usually chase you if you owe) but you never know so I just need to get it over with, and I plan to do that this week. 

And lastly, I'm probably a little worried about moving into my new schedule this week. I have 5 day shifts this time, instead of the 1 I had in the old schedule. I stay up late and sleep in, so I have to change into a move normal schedule. This starts on Wednesday, so I have one night to do it. 

And I need to get a cell phone, but I'm worried my credit might stymie that.

Ok, you're right. I don't have much to worry about. I also can't take care of any of it today, because it's a holiday (I've already tried, with no success). So I'm just going to make my list, watch a bad movie, and do my laundry. That, I can handle!