I should have been in bed about 80 minutes ago...
...but instead I am listening to a baseball game, emailing my boss and IMing a friend who's getting married in a few weeks. I'm actually feeling pretty great right now.
I have been feeling not-great for about four days so I'm having a hard time letting go of this moment where I'm calm and happy. :)
This post seems to want to have more meat in it but....
OK - one other thing. I started listening to the radio on purpose about twelve years ago and there was a time where I listened to it for many hours every day. I remember musicians doing little sound bites (bytes?) for the station and thinking that it was kinda silly. I donno who that appeals to. We're obv already listening - do you need to impress us? I guess it's for the surfers whose attention DOES need to be grabbed. Fine; fair.
I remember thinking it makes sense to ask someone to say, "You're listening to today's hit music on KISS 92 FM," while they're already in your studio for an interview. Makes sense. Why not? It's a different voice. Often I rolled my eyes because the presence of a celebrity does NOT make your good or service better. I laugh at Legolas being on a cologne commercial. I think it's Lacoste. [It's Hugo Boss. 29/05/11]It's something I've seen recently. It's weird. And then there are those magazine adverts for uber expensive watches that have just the celeb wearing the watch, smiling and a pitch black background. So elegant.
...
What's oh - Orlando Bloom. Not Legolas.
Every now and then I was moderately impressed by the celeb voice I heard on the radio because I didn't think someone so A-list would bother with a Toronto station but American artists tend not to take Canadian fans for granted so I suppose I shouldn't be too surprized.
I also looked down my snobful nose at anyone who would have been particularly moved by hearing the voice of someone they were a fan of. I'm thinking of a subdued version of screaming at a Backstreet Boys concert. Ahem. And then...and then just a few minutes ago, I became a hypocrite.
I just heard Adam Lind tell me I was listening to the Blue Jays on the FAN radio network and I honestly googled, smiled like a dope and said some gibberish words like I was a twelve-year-old who'd just been blown a kiss by Michael Bublé. If I was standing, it's possible my knees would have buckled.
Wow. I ... didn't know I was so... wow.
[ I actually have a video clip in mind that would be perfect for showing you what just happened to me but YouTube is not getting me the hook-up.] Boo. :(
Wednesday, 27 April 2011
Tuesday, 26 April 2011
I wasn't looking for this, I swear...
Yesterday I realized something really odd.
Ha..I decided that the only conceivable perk to developing a mental disease that ruined my mind as I know it (I'm thinking primarily of something like Alzheimer's disease) or to suffering a brain injury of some sort would be if I could hear the Gospel again as if it were new.
(I understand that if I lose my mind or cognitive capabilities I don't also automatically lose my salvation as well. PHEW.)
But...I was doing dishes the other day and had a light-bulb of an idea that said, "what would it be like to be told that a man died and then came back to life again and to be shocked by that?"
I mean...I can't unknow it, I can't forget about Christ so much that I'll be surprized someday by how the story ends. What would it be like to be SHOCKED that someone who was dead came back to life?
It's eerie, impossible, morbid stuff.
Ha..I decided that the only conceivable perk to developing a mental disease that ruined my mind as I know it (I'm thinking primarily of something like Alzheimer's disease) or to suffering a brain injury of some sort would be if I could hear the Gospel again as if it were new.
(I understand that if I lose my mind or cognitive capabilities I don't also automatically lose my salvation as well. PHEW.)
But...I was doing dishes the other day and had a light-bulb of an idea that said, "what would it be like to be told that a man died and then came back to life again and to be shocked by that?"
I mean...I can't unknow it, I can't forget about Christ so much that I'll be surprized someday by how the story ends. What would it be like to be SHOCKED that someone who was dead came back to life?
It's eerie, impossible, morbid stuff.
Monday, 25 April 2011
from the fam.
A few quotes collected over a few weeks.
-As I walked to the bathroom this morning, I singsonged, "goooood mornin'," as the opening line of that song from Singin' in the Rain (1952) and my grandmother singsang back,"good moooornin'," right back though I still can't tell if she flukily hit the right notes or if she knew what I was doing. Hah. It's great to be able to sing at people who don't flinch.
-I just laughed incredulously asking, "you're gonna PAWN your mother's coffin?!?" and my mother answered YES. She said she'd sell the coffin and bury her mother in a paper towel roll. She was saying this TO her mother. I don't even know.
-Last night after dinner my brother told us how he and his friends put flowers in the hand of someone sleeping on a park bench drunk and he and his friends took thumbs-up doofy grin photos with him. (I can't believe I hadn't heard this story already because it's not recent.)
My mother was asking if it was my brother and his friends who got the guy drunk in the first place (which wasn't a sincere question, it's just how she typically responds to his tales of weirdness) and he answers, "Yes. I bought him a pound of Listerine and he drank every inch of it."
-The other weekend I was visiting fam and my seven-year-old sister shared with me her very first knock-knock joke. It goes as follows:
Knock, knock!
Who's there?
Yellow.
Yellow who?
Sponge-Bob!
She ...is so funny. I can't tell if she realizes the joke makes no sense or not. She is aware, though, that when she tells the joke people laugh so..what else does she need?
She has a little-girl laugh that is so little-girl-ish I can't describe it to you. It's perfect and precious.
-On that same day she emerged from the bathroom and said proudly, "Do you know how high I counted when I was in the shower?"
"How high?" I asked.
"Infinity and ninety," she replied.
I'm actually impressed that she knows the word "infinity" and at least partially understands what it means. And a few hours later when I was retelling it to my brother, I realized that counting past infinity not technically impossible to do (which robs much of the humor out of what she said but that's OK).
∞, ∞ + 1, ∞ + 2, ..., ∞ + 89 ∞ + 90
The kid is a regular Will Hunting!
-The last quote I have here is probably not going to be funny to anyone but me...maybe one other. You know who you are.
Oldest brother checks his ringing phone and says, "Who's this? Mike Pe--" and stops because the name doesn't quite look like it's pronounced and my brother is a bit lazy when it comes to reading.
Youngest brother jumps in VERY quickly, "I know Mike Brick. He's a brick named Mike."
-As I walked to the bathroom this morning, I singsonged, "goooood mornin'," as the opening line of that song from Singin' in the Rain (1952) and my grandmother singsang back,"good moooornin'," right back though I still can't tell if she flukily hit the right notes or if she knew what I was doing. Hah. It's great to be able to sing at people who don't flinch.
-I just laughed incredulously asking, "you're gonna PAWN your mother's coffin?!?" and my mother answered YES. She said she'd sell the coffin and bury her mother in a paper towel roll. She was saying this TO her mother. I don't even know.
-Last night after dinner my brother told us how he and his friends put flowers in the hand of someone sleeping on a park bench drunk and he and his friends took thumbs-up doofy grin photos with him. (I can't believe I hadn't heard this story already because it's not recent.)
My mother was asking if it was my brother and his friends who got the guy drunk in the first place (which wasn't a sincere question, it's just how she typically responds to his tales of weirdness) and he answers, "Yes. I bought him a pound of Listerine and he drank every inch of it."
-The other weekend I was visiting fam and my seven-year-old sister shared with me her very first knock-knock joke. It goes as follows:
Knock, knock!
Who's there?
Yellow.
Yellow who?
Sponge-Bob!
She ...is so funny. I can't tell if she realizes the joke makes no sense or not. She is aware, though, that when she tells the joke people laugh so..what else does she need?
She has a little-girl laugh that is so little-girl-ish I can't describe it to you. It's perfect and precious.
-On that same day she emerged from the bathroom and said proudly, "Do you know how high I counted when I was in the shower?"
"How high?" I asked.
"Infinity and ninety," she replied.
I'm actually impressed that she knows the word "infinity" and at least partially understands what it means. And a few hours later when I was retelling it to my brother, I realized that counting past infinity not technically impossible to do (which robs much of the humor out of what she said but that's OK).
∞, ∞ + 1, ∞ + 2, ..., ∞ + 89 ∞ + 90
The kid is a regular Will Hunting!
-The last quote I have here is probably not going to be funny to anyone but me...maybe one other. You know who you are.
Oldest brother checks his ringing phone and says, "Who's this? Mike Pe--" and stops because the name doesn't quite look like it's pronounced and my brother is a bit lazy when it comes to reading.
Youngest brother jumps in VERY quickly, "I know Mike Brick. He's a brick named Mike."
Sunday, 24 April 2011
newspapers, sluts and 48 car washes (part 2 of 2)
-I came up with this title as a snappy way to combine a few things I had been wanting to write about. I figured if I combined them, I would say about a third as much as I would if they got their own post. Let's see how it goes.
For the first couple months at my new job, each time I sold someone a copy of the Globe and Mail, it triggered fond memories of following the Blue Jays in the Sports section and of the Red Brick Cafe where I most often accessed that paper. Every now and then I'll buy my own copy but only if I'm REALLY in the mood for a newspaper and know I will finish enough of it. I like the way the paper's done. I used to like the Toronto Star but I imagine that's mostly because I grew up with it in my household. I like that at some point I branched from just the Sports section to other interesting & important things. My attention span with reading newspapers is repulsive but my desperation to not see the hardcopy newspaper become extinct usually overrides and I'm able to get something done.
So... most days, it takes about three Globes for me to decide I'll spend some time at the Red Brick Cafe on my way home. I don't always go but the draw is significant. It's a nice kind of yearning, I think. I don't mind yearning for reading and quietness. I would mind if I stomped and screamed until I got it anytime I wanted it or thought I wanted it.
---
Couple weeks ago a police officer came in with a loyalty points card that undoubtedly is shared by more than a few officers in the city/area/precinct/what? and was able to redeem points for FORTY-EIGHT car washes. Yes. Yes, he did. My employer stood and pressed the four buttons needed, swiped the card and collected the signature for FORTY-EIGHT car washes. Amazing. The cop asked for as many as he could get on the points and said she could take as long as she wanted; he'd wait. (Fun assignment, eh?? haha)
Hmm. They'd have needed at least 28 752 points and, when you earn one point for every dollar you spend....well, you've bought a buttload of fuel to get such a haul. Wow. Wow. It was really fun to watch and I liked jumping in here and there to help organize the streams of paper and couple of piles. Heh.
---
About one out of three times that a customer walks away from me saying, "thanks a lot," I hear, "thanks, slut." I started hearing this after the incident in my last post and it makes me cringe each and every time. Sigh. I am hoping these two posts will achieve some catharsis and help me to buck up. (Obviously, I need to pray as well.) I hear it, virtually everyday, me being called a slut. It's like being backhanded and receiving a solid pronouncement that I am worthless in one routine split-second of my day. I don't need that.
[Surely, I have created fertile ground for the hurt through my own warped perception. Surely. Let me not exculpate myself here.]
I re-write what the customer has said in my head. I repeat, "thanks / a / lot," as three words that couldn't be more distinct but the initial damage is always done. On the wrong day, with the perfect slurring it is crushing and you'll see my face fall.
Ha. Complex, much?
Complex but not insurmountable. Perhaps there will be a triumphant part three to this set of posts some day. I live in hope. :)
For the first couple months at my new job, each time I sold someone a copy of the Globe and Mail, it triggered fond memories of following the Blue Jays in the Sports section and of the Red Brick Cafe where I most often accessed that paper. Every now and then I'll buy my own copy but only if I'm REALLY in the mood for a newspaper and know I will finish enough of it. I like the way the paper's done. I used to like the Toronto Star but I imagine that's mostly because I grew up with it in my household. I like that at some point I branched from just the Sports section to other interesting & important things. My attention span with reading newspapers is repulsive but my desperation to not see the hardcopy newspaper become extinct usually overrides and I'm able to get something done.
So... most days, it takes about three Globes for me to decide I'll spend some time at the Red Brick Cafe on my way home. I don't always go but the draw is significant. It's a nice kind of yearning, I think. I don't mind yearning for reading and quietness. I would mind if I stomped and screamed until I got it anytime I wanted it or thought I wanted it.
---
Couple weeks ago a police officer came in with a loyalty points card that undoubtedly is shared by more than a few officers in the city/area/precinct/what? and was able to redeem points for FORTY-EIGHT car washes. Yes. Yes, he did. My employer stood and pressed the four buttons needed, swiped the card and collected the signature for FORTY-EIGHT car washes. Amazing. The cop asked for as many as he could get on the points and said she could take as long as she wanted; he'd wait. (Fun assignment, eh?? haha)
Hmm. They'd have needed at least 28 752 points and, when you earn one point for every dollar you spend....well, you've bought a buttload of fuel to get such a haul. Wow. Wow. It was really fun to watch and I liked jumping in here and there to help organize the streams of paper and couple of piles. Heh.
---
About one out of three times that a customer walks away from me saying, "thanks a lot," I hear, "thanks, slut." I started hearing this after the incident in my last post and it makes me cringe each and every time. Sigh. I am hoping these two posts will achieve some catharsis and help me to buck up. (Obviously, I need to pray as well.) I hear it, virtually everyday, me being called a slut. It's like being backhanded and receiving a solid pronouncement that I am worthless in one routine split-second of my day. I don't need that.
[Surely, I have created fertile ground for the hurt through my own warped perception. Surely. Let me not exculpate myself here.]
I re-write what the customer has said in my head. I repeat, "thanks / a / lot," as three words that couldn't be more distinct but the initial damage is always done. On the wrong day, with the perfect slurring it is crushing and you'll see my face fall.
Ha. Complex, much?
Complex but not insurmountable. Perhaps there will be a triumphant part three to this set of posts some day. I live in hope. :)
newspapers, sluts and 48 car washes (part 1 of 2)
alternate title: I'll have to think about that.
-I've been waiting to write this post for a few weeks and I'm glad that two-thirds of it are still ripe in my mind and experience.
-The alternate title is something I was meant to follow up on, mentioned in this post.
-I'm combining the two because I can. Accept it.
The I'll have to think about that was what I said after I realized that the s-word found in the proper title of this post is more insulting/hurtful/has a greater impact for women than many other words that may denote the exact same thing. I actually forget the word used at the time but it must have been something like "easy" though I'm sure it was something harsher. Anyways, I told the person I was talking to (whose comment involving an s-word synonym I laughed at and then caught myself) that I'd have to think about why one word stings so much more.
Off the top of my head, my answer was and is that the sound of the actual word is harsher, that biting, final T just like the one found at the end of a four letter c-word that I can't stand. Or the K at the end of the f-bomb. Harsh sounds in English.
The second part of my answer must be about the way we use it in this culture and the truth is that it has this derisive, cutting-down, condescending air to it that doesn't surround the word "promiscuous". I remember when the s-word started floating around my high school... I remember when people talked about the double-standard, how women could be sluts but men were players; how one was shunned and the other congratulated.
I hear the word and the action of putting down always accompanies it. Often I see a person being shoved down or a person being hit with the back of another's hand so that they tumble down. It's a harsh word and we use it to hurt. We've tried to reclaim it in some circles but I don't buy it. (I actually don't think it's worth reclaiming.)
There is a permanent inferiority associated with the s-word for me; it seems to be the kind of label that can't ever be removed once applied, either because of actions or perception (i.e. if you were able to call someone that, there is a particular view of them cemented in your mind).
Sigh. A few weeks ago I applied the word to myself to quickly (read: in laziness) produce a snapshot of my former self. For actions and intentions, the word fit. I regretted its use immediately after it was out of my mouth but much more so when the word was applied back to me a few days later by the person I'd first used it with.
My hands were tied by the crappy, crappy hypocrisy.
that word hurts.
I'm a bit fascinted.
The next level down has to be the root of a woman's sensitivity about sexuality or percieved sexuality. I don't know quite where to go with this but it is the level I want to explore. I think many of us understand how much and how often we are valued or evaluated based on sexuality or our relationship to sex or how much of a sex object we are and we probably always want positive feedback or a positive response in this. Add in the basic insecurity and desire to be desired that we all have (plus the general corruptness of mankind) and presto! you've got a complex.
Somehow all of that stuff in the last paragraph looks like a taut thread in my mind and the s-word just snaps it. It's like a tightrope with much balancing on it that snaps and leaves NOTHING. Weird. I don't think I can explain it further.
To be continued...
-I've been waiting to write this post for a few weeks and I'm glad that two-thirds of it are still ripe in my mind and experience.
-The alternate title is something I was meant to follow up on, mentioned in this post.
-I'm combining the two because I can. Accept it.
The I'll have to think about that was what I said after I realized that the s-word found in the proper title of this post is more insulting/hurtful/has a greater impact for women than many other words that may denote the exact same thing. I actually forget the word used at the time but it must have been something like "easy" though I'm sure it was something harsher. Anyways, I told the person I was talking to (whose comment involving an s-word synonym I laughed at and then caught myself) that I'd have to think about why one word stings so much more.
Off the top of my head, my answer was and is that the sound of the actual word is harsher, that biting, final T just like the one found at the end of a four letter c-word that I can't stand. Or the K at the end of the f-bomb. Harsh sounds in English.
The second part of my answer must be about the way we use it in this culture and the truth is that it has this derisive, cutting-down, condescending air to it that doesn't surround the word "promiscuous". I remember when the s-word started floating around my high school... I remember when people talked about the double-standard, how women could be sluts but men were players; how one was shunned and the other congratulated.
I hear the word and the action of putting down always accompanies it. Often I see a person being shoved down or a person being hit with the back of another's hand so that they tumble down. It's a harsh word and we use it to hurt. We've tried to reclaim it in some circles but I don't buy it. (I actually don't think it's worth reclaiming.)
There is a permanent inferiority associated with the s-word for me; it seems to be the kind of label that can't ever be removed once applied, either because of actions or perception (i.e. if you were able to call someone that, there is a particular view of them cemented in your mind).
Sigh. A few weeks ago I applied the word to myself to quickly (read: in laziness) produce a snapshot of my former self. For actions and intentions, the word fit. I regretted its use immediately after it was out of my mouth but much more so when the word was applied back to me a few days later by the person I'd first used it with.
My hands were tied by the crappy, crappy hypocrisy.
that word hurts.
I'm a bit fascinted.
The next level down has to be the root of a woman's sensitivity about sexuality or percieved sexuality. I don't know quite where to go with this but it is the level I want to explore. I think many of us understand how much and how often we are valued or evaluated based on sexuality or our relationship to sex or how much of a sex object we are and we probably always want positive feedback or a positive response in this. Add in the basic insecurity and desire to be desired that we all have (plus the general corruptness of mankind) and presto! you've got a complex.
Somehow all of that stuff in the last paragraph looks like a taut thread in my mind and the s-word just snaps it. It's like a tightrope with much balancing on it that snaps and leaves NOTHING. Weird. I don't think I can explain it further.
To be continued...
Thursday, 21 April 2011
and today...
...I crossed a line.
it's not a thick line...not a BIG, big deal but, those are famous last words, "it wasn't THAT BAD."
one of the guys I joke with at work inadvertently said something with a crudely sexual double-entendre. he didn't know; I pointed it out (for whatever corrupt reason you want to insert here). he flushed (he never flushes - it's always me) and smiled, and then tried to move forward with a, "you know what I meant," and a rephrasing.
Hmm. Even now I kinda half-smirked replaying it in my mind. I've gone too far and I need to wake up to the sordid condition of my TRASHY, trashy heart.
Sigh, sigh, sigh.
I want some good middle ground. I want to be friendly & easy-going but I don't want to permit things that corrode; that's really all (while still abstaining from legalism). Sigh, indeed.
I'm supposed to follow up on my half-comments about GQ from a few weeks ago..... I donno what exactly I wanted to say.
I guess I can say, yet again, that it's interesting to read something geared toward men, just to see how things are presented and worded to pique and hold their interest. I like that I get to read about many different things and things I probably never would have asked about, come across or sought information about. But because it's in the mag and one article isn't that daunting, I read. I learned a bit, retained a bit and mostly enjoyed connecting slightly with my culture.
I did tear out the adverts, as I said I would. I'm glad I did, though I wish it didn't have to be so LOUD. I had less to flip through to get to the substance of the magazine and I had less to look at in terms of mostly-naked men.
I enjoy the definite lack of fluff.
That's all.
it's not a thick line...not a BIG, big deal but, those are famous last words, "it wasn't THAT BAD."
one of the guys I joke with at work inadvertently said something with a crudely sexual double-entendre. he didn't know; I pointed it out (for whatever corrupt reason you want to insert here). he flushed (he never flushes - it's always me) and smiled, and then tried to move forward with a, "you know what I meant," and a rephrasing.
Hmm. Even now I kinda half-smirked replaying it in my mind. I've gone too far and I need to wake up to the sordid condition of my TRASHY, trashy heart.
Sigh, sigh, sigh.
I want some good middle ground. I want to be friendly & easy-going but I don't want to permit things that corrode; that's really all (while still abstaining from legalism). Sigh, indeed.
I'm supposed to follow up on my half-comments about GQ from a few weeks ago..... I donno what exactly I wanted to say.
I guess I can say, yet again, that it's interesting to read something geared toward men, just to see how things are presented and worded to pique and hold their interest. I like that I get to read about many different things and things I probably never would have asked about, come across or sought information about. But because it's in the mag and one article isn't that daunting, I read. I learned a bit, retained a bit and mostly enjoyed connecting slightly with my culture.
I did tear out the adverts, as I said I would. I'm glad I did, though I wish it didn't have to be so LOUD. I had less to flip through to get to the substance of the magazine and I had less to look at in terms of mostly-naked men.
I enjoy the definite lack of fluff.
That's all.
(astounding)
It astounds me that I am not falling apart. It astounds me how much I have seen people's characters flushed out in painfully plain view.
I am astounded by God.
I have no idea what He's doing...but I am so full of hope it's RIDICULOUS. Like, I should be crying and complaining over all of what's happening in my work places, my church, my life, my relationships but it is necessary turmoil and GOOD THINGS WILL COME. It's amazing. I cling.
James 1:2-3 won't leave me alone.
"Consider it pure joy, my brothers, when you face trials of many kinds because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance."
Consider it pure joy - and I do. I do. I am joyful today and last night because I know God and I know He works good through all things. I read a silly email last night that at first was incredibly discouraging but as I thought about it (and caught up on a slew of more emails) I realized that it was good to see things come out in the wash. I also realized I have nothing to fear and I am happy that I can think of no better time to say, "Enough is enough."
I wish I could write more explicitly about what I'm referring to but right now I can't.
People are silly. I am not innocent.
Some very thick lines were drawn in the sand today. More will be drawn yet and I have some to etch myself. I am OK with this. I am encouraged and I hope to encourage (one in particular).
I am going to sleep so well tonight (in about 180 seconds) it's not even funny.
:)
I am astounded by God.
I have no idea what He's doing...but I am so full of hope it's RIDICULOUS. Like, I should be crying and complaining over all of what's happening in my work places, my church, my life, my relationships but it is necessary turmoil and GOOD THINGS WILL COME. It's amazing. I cling.
James 1:2-3 won't leave me alone.
"Consider it pure joy, my brothers, when you face trials of many kinds because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance."
Consider it pure joy - and I do. I do. I am joyful today and last night because I know God and I know He works good through all things. I read a silly email last night that at first was incredibly discouraging but as I thought about it (and caught up on a slew of more emails) I realized that it was good to see things come out in the wash. I also realized I have nothing to fear and I am happy that I can think of no better time to say, "Enough is enough."
I wish I could write more explicitly about what I'm referring to but right now I can't.
People are silly. I am not innocent.
Some very thick lines were drawn in the sand today. More will be drawn yet and I have some to etch myself. I am OK with this. I am encouraged and I hope to encourage (one in particular).
I am going to sleep so well tonight (in about 180 seconds) it's not even funny.
:)
triet XXX
-the look on my friend's face after I said, "Salt and mustard?" as my guess at what the S and M stand for in Rihanna's song
(priceless)
"It's about hot dogs and French fries," I explained after she rolled her eyes at me.
-the deeply personal information my coworker shared with me tonight under absolutely no provocation or prompting
(surprizing & making me want even more to invest in the relationship)
-the amount of intense, problematic, confrontational things that have happened in the past twenty-four hours in my life
(astounding)
(priceless)
"It's about hot dogs and French fries," I explained after she rolled her eyes at me.
-the deeply personal information my coworker shared with me tonight under absolutely no provocation or prompting
(surprizing & making me want even more to invest in the relationship)
-the amount of intense, problematic, confrontational things that have happened in the past twenty-four hours in my life
(astounding)
Tuesday, 19 April 2011
triet XXIX (subtitle: I'm frustrated.)
What just made me smile:
Getting my very first email from my grandmother. Hah. There are no punctuation marks, capital letters or carriage returns. Heh. I'm surprized because I know she's used a typewriter before but that might have been a while ago. It's swell.
What has brought me much relief:
The new keyboard I bought for my laptop. As I explained it to a friend tonight, "I write a lot and...enough is enough." Actually I also said that I decided to get something that I wanted because, "I'm a princess." There it is. I have considered this purchase for a while and concluded that it would be a worthwhile expense because of how much I type, for work, for friendships, for leisure, for worship -- I can't mess around with a keyboard that holds me back. I'm done with it! This is great. :)
What has surprized me with its childish tunnel vision:
An email I just received. I don't know what to do with it but I now understand why I wasn't able to access my email for a few hours this evening. Ha. God knew it would nag me too much and at this point I'm really willing to put it away and deal with it in the morning.
this blog post wants to be longer...but it probably won't be.
Getting my very first email from my grandmother. Hah. There are no punctuation marks, capital letters or carriage returns. Heh. I'm surprized because I know she's used a typewriter before but that might have been a while ago. It's swell.
What has brought me much relief:
The new keyboard I bought for my laptop. As I explained it to a friend tonight, "I write a lot and...enough is enough." Actually I also said that I decided to get something that I wanted because, "I'm a princess." There it is. I have considered this purchase for a while and concluded that it would be a worthwhile expense because of how much I type, for work, for friendships, for leisure, for worship -- I can't mess around with a keyboard that holds me back. I'm done with it! This is great. :)
What has surprized me with its childish tunnel vision:
An email I just received. I don't know what to do with it but I now understand why I wasn't able to access my email for a few hours this evening. Ha. God knew it would nag me too much and at this point I'm really willing to put it away and deal with it in the morning.
this blog post wants to be longer...but it probably won't be.
Sunday, 17 April 2011
Tuesday, 12 April 2011
merp
My refrigerator and pantry look so different today. There's something I want at the beginning of May so I have been trying to figure out how to do April with a tighter belt. (What I actually mean is that I don't want to give up much while I'm saving. hah. It doesn't work that way. I know that.) I know myself well enough by now to say that when it comes to money, I need to be placated or sweetly finessed into doing the right thing (MOSTLY).
I hammered out some numbers and decided that one way I could be sure to have the essentials taken care of and then KNOW how much was left over, would be to plan out and execute a massive grocery shopping that would take me to next pay day. I hate planning meals... I don't even want to explain it.
But..I did it and hated it less than I thought I would. Now my fridge and pantry are full of good foods and I know exactly what else I need to spend to get to next Thursday. It's doable. It's...wonderful. It's something different.
To make room in the fridge I had to remove 68 000kg of expired food and then clean out the containers and wipe down the shelf. Sigh. I don't love doing stuff like that but I did it and...also didn't hate it. I mean I just slipped into it-needs-to-be-done mode and it was good. Sigh. Thank you, Food Basics; I like your prices. :)
I hammered out some numbers and decided that one way I could be sure to have the essentials taken care of and then KNOW how much was left over, would be to plan out and execute a massive grocery shopping that would take me to next pay day. I hate planning meals... I don't even want to explain it.
But..I did it and hated it less than I thought I would. Now my fridge and pantry are full of good foods and I know exactly what else I need to spend to get to next Thursday. It's doable. It's...wonderful. It's something different.
To make room in the fridge I had to remove 68 000kg of expired food and then clean out the containers and wipe down the shelf. Sigh. I don't love doing stuff like that but I did it and...also didn't hate it. I mean I just slipped into it-needs-to-be-done mode and it was good. Sigh. Thank you, Food Basics; I like your prices. :)
Saturday, 9 April 2011
triet XXVIII
today was the first time I
-heard that Derek Jeter's first name was "Derek". I played it over and over in my head and it kept shocking me. His name is actually Derek!
-found a spider in the microwave
-was told, "see you in the murder!" with the same honest cheeriness you'd expect to have attached to "see you in the morning!"
-heard that Derek Jeter's first name was "Derek". I played it over and over in my head and it kept shocking me. His name is actually Derek!
-found a spider in the microwave
-was told, "see you in the murder!" with the same honest cheeriness you'd expect to have attached to "see you in the morning!"
Friday, 8 April 2011
follow-up: "...and my friend slayed dragons."
On the day I was writing about (in this post), I was observing battles and quests in the MMORPG World of Warcraft.
To say the LEAST, I find this game fascinating. The design, the popularity, the social aspect - it all blows me away. My brain doesn't work in the way it would need to in order to be successful at that game and that's really OK with me. This makes it more fun and more engaging to observe. If I could, I'd still be watching my brothers play Zelda.
Since this was the third time I've observed (and the second and third time I asked almost every question in my mind ...which were many) I thought I would be able to make some comment on the subculture in this here blog post but I'm really still fully unequipped. That's OK.
I've said it before and I'll say it again: it's a cool & unique experience to observe something you have almost no point of reference for. (I feel similarly in art galleries. They drive me crazy with their mysteriousness or inaccessibility but I can't get enough.)
Here are the quotes I wanted post from other players who could be heard through the speakers talking amongst themselves or to my friend.
(1) A retort:
"Well, at least my helmet's enchanted."
(laughing) "Touché."
[To the best of my understanding, this may have been a legitimate brag. Even if not.]
(2) A demonstration of wit:
"Hey, Baffler: [beat, insuring attention is caught] If you liked taking moderate risks but still cared about important causes, would you call yourself Raffler?"
[Both of us had a few waves of delayed laughter at this - mine loud and my friend's with disbelieving head shaking - replaying and piecing together the whole statement.]
(3) A smackdown:
Puzzles (matter-of-factly, on hearing someone use the word "undergarments"): "I think you are the first human being in the last sixty years to use that word."
Raffler: "You don't call them 'small clothes'??"
Puzzles: "They prefer to be called 'little clothes'."
[This one has made me laugh out loud TWICE just now. At the time it was almost too much to wrap my mind around. These guys constantly come out of nowhere and pile on the quips like pros. It is some quality cheap entertainment.]
To say the LEAST, I find this game fascinating. The design, the popularity, the social aspect - it all blows me away. My brain doesn't work in the way it would need to in order to be successful at that game and that's really OK with me. This makes it more fun and more engaging to observe. If I could, I'd still be watching my brothers play Zelda.
Since this was the third time I've observed (and the second and third time I asked almost every question in my mind ...which were many) I thought I would be able to make some comment on the subculture in this here blog post but I'm really still fully unequipped. That's OK.
I've said it before and I'll say it again: it's a cool & unique experience to observe something you have almost no point of reference for. (I feel similarly in art galleries. They drive me crazy with their mysteriousness or inaccessibility but I can't get enough.)
Here are the quotes I wanted post from other players who could be heard through the speakers talking amongst themselves or to my friend.
(1) A retort:
"Well, at least my helmet's enchanted."
(laughing) "Touché."
[To the best of my understanding, this may have been a legitimate brag. Even if not.]
(2) A demonstration of wit:
"Hey, Baffler: [beat, insuring attention is caught] If you liked taking moderate risks but still cared about important causes, would you call yourself Raffler?"
[Both of us had a few waves of delayed laughter at this - mine loud and my friend's with disbelieving head shaking - replaying and piecing together the whole statement.]
(3) A smackdown:
Puzzles (matter-of-factly, on hearing someone use the word "undergarments"): "I think you are the first human being in the last sixty years to use that word."
Raffler: "You don't call them 'small clothes'??"
Puzzles: "They prefer to be called 'little clothes'."
[This one has made me laugh out loud TWICE just now. At the time it was almost too much to wrap my mind around. These guys constantly come out of nowhere and pile on the quips like pros. It is some quality cheap entertainment.]
Tuesday, 5 April 2011
Installment Six of Action Flick Fixes
[Ooh, that title just came to me. I like it and I shall call it a tongue twister.]
The Dirty Dozen (1967). I chose it because it's in the film canon and I wanted to see something I've never seen before (I'll admit it was hard not to rent Die Hard [1988]).
I just turned it on and the first scene has totally sucked me in. So, I figured I should blog now before I'm unable to hit the pause button.
--start of new post
Hmm. Another well-rounded Tuesday.
I spent money in only two places today and the greater amount ($18) was spent on groceries. I like having days like that. (I also like having days where I don't spend a red cent and not because I'm unable to.)
Yunel Escobar's tenth inning two-run homer gave the Jays a walk-off win over the Oakland As. That was pretty cool. I was mostly half-listening to the game tonight (even turned it off for a few innings to watch an episode of a show I follow) but when I heard the homer with one on, my arms and legs instinctively pumped in the air and I exclaimed something celebratory (but I don't remember what it was). If you're wondering how it's possible to pump all four limbs I'll tell you I was lying down at the time ...it's still weird, though, I admit.
Today was chill but I also got a fair bit of work done.
I believe I experienced today for the first time the infamous "food coma". I'm still not sure so I'm going to ask people who love Thanksgiving to describe it to me but um...It's mostly not fun. It feels very strange and almost intoxicatious and there is really nothing you can do but wait. Maybe you could vom but..that doesn't sound like fun.
It's funny nearing the "end" of this day I'm calling it good and feeling good about it when in the middle of it there was a definite time of bummed-out-ness as well as fighting to choose to ignore lies. Oh, dayslikethis. Days. Dirty Dozen.
The Dirty Dozen (1967). I chose it because it's in the film canon and I wanted to see something I've never seen before (I'll admit it was hard not to rent Die Hard [1988]).
I just turned it on and the first scene has totally sucked me in. So, I figured I should blog now before I'm unable to hit the pause button.
--start of new post
Hmm. Another well-rounded Tuesday.
I spent money in only two places today and the greater amount ($18) was spent on groceries. I like having days like that. (I also like having days where I don't spend a red cent and not because I'm unable to.)
Yunel Escobar's tenth inning two-run homer gave the Jays a walk-off win over the Oakland As. That was pretty cool. I was mostly half-listening to the game tonight (even turned it off for a few innings to watch an episode of a show I follow) but when I heard the homer with one on, my arms and legs instinctively pumped in the air and I exclaimed something celebratory (but I don't remember what it was). If you're wondering how it's possible to pump all four limbs I'll tell you I was lying down at the time ...it's still weird, though, I admit.
Today was chill but I also got a fair bit of work done.
I believe I experienced today for the first time the infamous "food coma". I'm still not sure so I'm going to ask people who love Thanksgiving to describe it to me but um...It's mostly not fun. It feels very strange and almost intoxicatious and there is really nothing you can do but wait. Maybe you could vom but..that doesn't sound like fun.
It's funny nearing the "end" of this day I'm calling it good and feeling good about it when in the middle of it there was a definite time of bummed-out-ness as well as fighting to choose to ignore lies. Oh, dayslikethis. Days. Dirty Dozen.
Saturday, 2 April 2011
kickin' in the front seat
It's 2am and I'm kinda awake. It's weird. Doesn't matter. I don't particularly want to stay up nor do I have much to stay up for.
I think after I've finished this I will watch an episode of Spongebob and then call it quits.
Before I decided to visit blogger.com just a few minutes ago, I was trying to think of what I was going to do with my few moments of wakefulness here in the wee hours when I thought I'd be dead. As I ran through some ideas I discovered I was actually tired of thinking. That doesn't happen. It's all good, though. It's all good. I'm glad I've had the presence of mind since 4 in the afternoon to delay this kind of thing as much as I reasonably can - to delay thinking about bigger things because I don't want to do or say anything I'll regret tomorrow. Also? haha I don't want to think anything I'll regret tomorrow.
Something I learned from attending the Jays season opener tonight:
I don't like season opener games because there are so few people in attendance who are interested in watching the game. In other cases this doesn't bother me (on other busy Saturdays or Sundays) but with openers and closers, I've discovered I can't ignore the people around me enough! Can't zone in on the game because I'm annoyed by unnecessary yelling and boorishness. I DON'T GET why people pay money to sit in the Sky Dome and drink. Just financially I don't get it. I guess what I'm missing is that people like to be around people. I guess when you know the place will be packed you're more likely to go...I don't understand.
It frustrates me that people attending a baseball game are not interested in baseball. I mean.....really if that's true and they're NOT loud and throwing things then that's cool. I'm not here to police people's inner thoughts & preferences. Seriously. Enjoy what you enjoy and spend your money how you choose. Just please don't make it so difficult for me to watch!
...says the princess who shouldn't complain about being able to attend in the first place.
Sigh.
People sang the Canadian national anthem like they meant it which surprized me. (We're not an overly patriotic nation.) I think what we liked was being able to join in something collective and peeps were also revving their engines waiting for the first pitch so they'd have sung Mary Had a Little Lamb just as boisterously, I'll bet.
Took a bit of work to get used to following a baseball game again.. Took less work to get used to the new team. I like Lind at first base. I like the confidence the whole team seems to have.
It's such a one-off game, I don't even know what to say. It's not even real. Haha this is the part where I go to sleep.
...after I say that I was happy to pay out $217 to Al for a win on ProLine. He was tickled about it and explained how the timing was wonderful what with it being his girlfriend's birthday this weekend so it was "free" for him. Hah. It is interesting to me how the clerk becomes so strongly associated with the pleasantness of the moment of a big win that a blackjack dealer can be handsomely tipped or a cashier can be bought an XL peppermint tea from Tim Hortons. Yes, he bought me a tea. Hah. He's been in a few times before and he's a fun/funny guy. He LOOKS like an Al. First time he came in he advised me to tell people I'd done something (I really wish I remember what it was), "because Al said so." I laughed because...well that's magical, and I explained to him that it sounded so authoritative. He seemed to understand but was also actually serious that I should use that phrase. There was something about it that had this "chin up" fatherly-ish quality to it.
Other thing is, he's just sensible and intelligent in a way that makes it eeeeasy easy easy to get on with him. It's wonderful.
So, I paid him $217. After he brought my tea he cashed in a second ticket for $65.10. Craziness. Later that day I paid someone $100 for a win on a three-dollar Crossword scratch ticket. (I didn't know Crossword paid out like that.)
It's funny to me how customers are so pleased when I remember what cigarettes they smoke. Heh. I try. I try to remember for the regulars and so far I've got nineteen memorized and maybe two or three that are halfway there.
Often when I do it the first time (present the smokes before they ask for them) they'll say something about how terrible it is that I know that...how they should quit, etc. Generally people seem relieved that they no longer need to ask. I think people like being remembered. I don't quite get why they're impressed though because repetition really is the mother of learning and I might be concerned if I DIDN'T remember after hearing the same thing a dozen or two dozen times (I have no idea how many times it takes).
Forgot to add: week before last I sold a woman a two-dollar poker lotto ticket that came up with one ace and four fours. When I saw it print my eyes bugged cos I've never seen that hand in all the tickets I've sold. I said something like a stunned, "wow," which unfortunately made her excited though I couldn't tell her what she'd won. She asked me if it was good, how good it was, what she won (some of those questions twice) as she was signing her winner and waiting for the results to be produced. I scan the ticket, the machines says, "wiener," it reprints the original ticket (to be used with the flop that's dealt later at night) and then prints out a customer receipt and a retailer receipt stating that she's won $175.
I couldn't believe it. The lady spends two dollars and wins 175. This was her first time playing the poker lotto (what a great way to get hooked!). She is very happy; verbally and visibly. She, somewhere between me handing her different slips of paper and her cash winnings, says, "Oh my gosh - I think I love you!" It is hilarious. She's so happy that's she's won she is pouring out the affection to me, a stranger. (We like to celebrate with others, don't we?) I said to her something about how I don't have control over it (which is my reasoning brain saying, "it's impossible and illogical that you love me") and she acknowledges this but still leaves me a fiver telling me to buy myself lunch. Hah. ha! :)
She buys a ticket for her husband that wins $20 which also makes her happy and she can't wait to tell him how it went. (Strangely, I actually met her husband yesterday... he said he thought I was the one who sold his wife the winning ticket. I asked, "The four fours?" and he confirmed. Hah. Life.)
life!
I can't get Glen the ostrich out of my head. Hah... I don't mind at all.
I think after I've finished this I will watch an episode of Spongebob and then call it quits.
Before I decided to visit blogger.com just a few minutes ago, I was trying to think of what I was going to do with my few moments of wakefulness here in the wee hours when I thought I'd be dead. As I ran through some ideas I discovered I was actually tired of thinking. That doesn't happen. It's all good, though. It's all good. I'm glad I've had the presence of mind since 4 in the afternoon to delay this kind of thing as much as I reasonably can - to delay thinking about bigger things because I don't want to do or say anything I'll regret tomorrow. Also? haha I don't want to think anything I'll regret tomorrow.
Something I learned from attending the Jays season opener tonight:
I don't like season opener games because there are so few people in attendance who are interested in watching the game. In other cases this doesn't bother me (on other busy Saturdays or Sundays) but with openers and closers, I've discovered I can't ignore the people around me enough! Can't zone in on the game because I'm annoyed by unnecessary yelling and boorishness. I DON'T GET why people pay money to sit in the Sky Dome and drink. Just financially I don't get it. I guess what I'm missing is that people like to be around people. I guess when you know the place will be packed you're more likely to go...I don't understand.
It frustrates me that people attending a baseball game are not interested in baseball. I mean.....really if that's true and they're NOT loud and throwing things then that's cool. I'm not here to police people's inner thoughts & preferences. Seriously. Enjoy what you enjoy and spend your money how you choose. Just please don't make it so difficult for me to watch!
...says the princess who shouldn't complain about being able to attend in the first place.
Sigh.
People sang the Canadian national anthem like they meant it which surprized me. (We're not an overly patriotic nation.) I think what we liked was being able to join in something collective and peeps were also revving their engines waiting for the first pitch so they'd have sung Mary Had a Little Lamb just as boisterously, I'll bet.
Took a bit of work to get used to following a baseball game again.. Took less work to get used to the new team. I like Lind at first base. I like the confidence the whole team seems to have.
It's such a one-off game, I don't even know what to say. It's not even real. Haha this is the part where I go to sleep.
...after I say that I was happy to pay out $217 to Al for a win on ProLine. He was tickled about it and explained how the timing was wonderful what with it being his girlfriend's birthday this weekend so it was "free" for him. Hah. It is interesting to me how the clerk becomes so strongly associated with the pleasantness of the moment of a big win that a blackjack dealer can be handsomely tipped or a cashier can be bought an XL peppermint tea from Tim Hortons. Yes, he bought me a tea. Hah. He's been in a few times before and he's a fun/funny guy. He LOOKS like an Al. First time he came in he advised me to tell people I'd done something (I really wish I remember what it was), "because Al said so." I laughed because...well that's magical, and I explained to him that it sounded so authoritative. He seemed to understand but was also actually serious that I should use that phrase. There was something about it that had this "chin up" fatherly-ish quality to it.
Other thing is, he's just sensible and intelligent in a way that makes it eeeeasy easy easy to get on with him. It's wonderful.
So, I paid him $217. After he brought my tea he cashed in a second ticket for $65.10. Craziness. Later that day I paid someone $100 for a win on a three-dollar Crossword scratch ticket. (I didn't know Crossword paid out like that.)
It's funny to me how customers are so pleased when I remember what cigarettes they smoke. Heh. I try. I try to remember for the regulars and so far I've got nineteen memorized and maybe two or three that are halfway there.
Often when I do it the first time (present the smokes before they ask for them) they'll say something about how terrible it is that I know that...how they should quit, etc. Generally people seem relieved that they no longer need to ask. I think people like being remembered. I don't quite get why they're impressed though because repetition really is the mother of learning and I might be concerned if I DIDN'T remember after hearing the same thing a dozen or two dozen times (I have no idea how many times it takes).
Forgot to add: week before last I sold a woman a two-dollar poker lotto ticket that came up with one ace and four fours. When I saw it print my eyes bugged cos I've never seen that hand in all the tickets I've sold. I said something like a stunned, "wow," which unfortunately made her excited though I couldn't tell her what she'd won. She asked me if it was good, how good it was, what she won (some of those questions twice) as she was signing her winner and waiting for the results to be produced. I scan the ticket, the machines says, "wiener," it reprints the original ticket (to be used with the flop that's dealt later at night) and then prints out a customer receipt and a retailer receipt stating that she's won $175.
I couldn't believe it. The lady spends two dollars and wins 175. This was her first time playing the poker lotto (what a great way to get hooked!). She is very happy; verbally and visibly. She, somewhere between me handing her different slips of paper and her cash winnings, says, "Oh my gosh - I think I love you!" It is hilarious. She's so happy that's she's won she is pouring out the affection to me, a stranger. (We like to celebrate with others, don't we?) I said to her something about how I don't have control over it (which is my reasoning brain saying, "it's impossible and illogical that you love me") and she acknowledges this but still leaves me a fiver telling me to buy myself lunch. Hah. ha! :)
She buys a ticket for her husband that wins $20 which also makes her happy and she can't wait to tell him how it went. (Strangely, I actually met her husband yesterday... he said he thought I was the one who sold his wife the winning ticket. I asked, "The four fours?" and he confirmed. Hah. Life.)
life!
I can't get Glen the ostrich out of my head. Hah... I don't mind at all.
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