After having a shit-brain week in my non-existent 'amour' department, I spent today tired and sick of being on the internet (...but here I am).
Social networking sites bring out the evils of ridiculous obsession. So, I resolved to stop sitting at the kitchen table to just twiddle my night away on the internet. Yes, I'm here, but I'm standing. At the kitchen counter. See, I needed a chocolate chip banana bourbon bread recipe and so here I am, post-putting-loaf-in-oven.
I needed to come home tonight and pour that bourbon in the batter and pour myself one at the same time. I put on Springsteen's Born to Run and did the dishes while shuffling my feet in the working class way.
(interlude - check out my friend toby's blog: www.tobymarie.com)
Baking is the ultimate 'reality check' I can give myself - what's being made will become something and I make it happen, without trying too hard. Ultimate satisfaction when I feel a bit hopeless in other areas of my life. It makes me want to refuse the refuse.
You should try it some time.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Now What You See
I'm taking the night off the radio to sit in the middle of my living room floor with two blankets beneath me and a large, wool cape keeping the rest of me warm. I've chosen music.
Earlier, I was laying with two pillows beneath my head, that kept sliding out from under me onto the empty hardwood floor. I gave up and sat, staring at a computer screen that didn't change.
I left the house around eleven this morning to get breakfast at work - only to be scolded for being grumpy the previous Sunday. I apologized, though in my head I wanted to say, Fuck You. a million times over. I ate and exited quickly, walking in the snow to buy cinnamon buns and firewood. I was home within an hour.
I'm out of the bath and a pot of water is simmering on the stove, letting off some moisture in an otherwise bone-dry household. I added some 'aromatherapy' in the hope of it actually working.
I've been feeling fairly manic lately, school is busy and I've been hired on at a new job - which is really exciting, and maybe I can leave this other one behind...but still, my brain is an odd one.
I made a note to someone the other day, saying that experiencing a different kind of loneliness than I ever have before is making me more aware of who I am.
This is getting to me (it could easily be said that just getting laid would be the answer), and I find myself seeking out attention from the guys I normally tell other girls to stay away from.
I like it... (insert a flirty wink here)
But here I am at home, with a coffee and a glass of water, alone with paper surrounding me.
I would give anything to be somewhere else.
Earlier, I was laying with two pillows beneath my head, that kept sliding out from under me onto the empty hardwood floor. I gave up and sat, staring at a computer screen that didn't change.
I left the house around eleven this morning to get breakfast at work - only to be scolded for being grumpy the previous Sunday. I apologized, though in my head I wanted to say, Fuck You. a million times over. I ate and exited quickly, walking in the snow to buy cinnamon buns and firewood. I was home within an hour.
I'm out of the bath and a pot of water is simmering on the stove, letting off some moisture in an otherwise bone-dry household. I added some 'aromatherapy' in the hope of it actually working.
I've been feeling fairly manic lately, school is busy and I've been hired on at a new job - which is really exciting, and maybe I can leave this other one behind...but still, my brain is an odd one.
I made a note to someone the other day, saying that experiencing a different kind of loneliness than I ever have before is making me more aware of who I am.
This is getting to me (it could easily be said that just getting laid would be the answer), and I find myself seeking out attention from the guys I normally tell other girls to stay away from.
I like it... (insert a flirty wink here)
But here I am at home, with a coffee and a glass of water, alone with paper surrounding me.
I would give anything to be somewhere else.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Okay okay I'm sorry
In case anyone actually reads this, I just want to apologize for my writings as of late. I am pretty much only letting off 'academic steam' as they say, and I really am not taking any interest in what I'm actually putting down, know what I'm sayin'?
So, some news:
1. My schizophrenic great uncle John passed away a couple of weeks ago, and before his blood was even cold a good bunch family members came to loot the house: his car, his tools, his lawnmower(s), his TV (that great aunt Sophia took the last time he was in the hospital, but he didn't die, so she had to bring it back)...classy. My dad says it comes from being dirt poor when they were kids, and somehow they think that if they take their dead brother's stuff their poverty memories will be washed away forever by having the wealth of a used car. I totally don't get that, and no one in my family thought any of this was a problem until my dad was like, "Hey, you guys...he JUST died. Like TWO days ago. And you don't even know if you have the latest copy of the will."
So everyone stopped looting but really, why stop now? The house is apparently pretty empty already - and on the bright side, I'm pretty sure John wasn't ever attached to his possessions. (This is a true story)
2. Pretty much every conversation I have with anyone I know about what I want to do with my life, I say "I HAVE NO IDEA!!!" And then I say something about how I'd really like to help Natasha & Aaron at the Studio Society (non-profit arts programmes for people in the DTES), because I am really excited about what they're doing and I really want to get people excited about writing.
So anyway, I'm walking down the street (in the DTES, funny?) and I get a phonecall. It's a Saturday. It's Natasha! And she offers me a job. With the Studio Society. To help facilitate workshops, do some administration and to possibly help with the publishing.
!!!!!!!!!!!
It's only a few hours a week, but I can't tell anyone how happy I am. This is keeping my blood flowing during the midterm funk (? err). And it may be very temporary, but that honestly doesn't matter. I'm sitting in my first (attendance to be overflowing!) workshop tomorrow night...again, very excited.
Now I'm off to write a midterm I didn't really study for because I was too busy text messaging about how in Quebec it's legal to marry a 12-yr-old. And whether or not it was okay for Jerry Lee Lewis to marry a 13-yr-old when he was 23. A 13-yr-old who was his cousin.
So, some news:
1. My schizophrenic great uncle John passed away a couple of weeks ago, and before his blood was even cold a good bunch family members came to loot the house: his car, his tools, his lawnmower(s), his TV (that great aunt Sophia took the last time he was in the hospital, but he didn't die, so she had to bring it back)...classy. My dad says it comes from being dirt poor when they were kids, and somehow they think that if they take their dead brother's stuff their poverty memories will be washed away forever by having the wealth of a used car. I totally don't get that, and no one in my family thought any of this was a problem until my dad was like, "Hey, you guys...he JUST died. Like TWO days ago. And you don't even know if you have the latest copy of the will."
So everyone stopped looting but really, why stop now? The house is apparently pretty empty already - and on the bright side, I'm pretty sure John wasn't ever attached to his possessions. (This is a true story)
2. Pretty much every conversation I have with anyone I know about what I want to do with my life, I say "I HAVE NO IDEA!!!" And then I say something about how I'd really like to help Natasha & Aaron at the Studio Society (non-profit arts programmes for people in the DTES), because I am really excited about what they're doing and I really want to get people excited about writing.
So anyway, I'm walking down the street (in the DTES, funny?) and I get a phonecall. It's a Saturday. It's Natasha! And she offers me a job. With the Studio Society. To help facilitate workshops, do some administration and to possibly help with the publishing.
!!!!!!!!!!!
It's only a few hours a week, but I can't tell anyone how happy I am. This is keeping my blood flowing during the midterm funk (? err). And it may be very temporary, but that honestly doesn't matter. I'm sitting in my first (attendance to be overflowing!) workshop tomorrow night...again, very excited.
Now I'm off to write a midterm I didn't really study for because I was too busy text messaging about how in Quebec it's legal to marry a 12-yr-old. And whether or not it was okay for Jerry Lee Lewis to marry a 13-yr-old when he was 23. A 13-yr-old who was his cousin.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Today
Combine last night's bottle of wine, with todays slight hangover plus getting my period, having awful cramps and back pain and not wanting to move or think anything, with a midterm and a paper due tomorrow.
NOT STOKED!
NOT STOKED!
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Friday, February 4, 2011
Elsewhere
I ate too many cheese and crackers last night before passing out on the couch and my face feels larger than normal.
This morning I am writing out pie crust recipes
and then I'm heading to the pool for a swim/sauna with Wendy.
And later this afternoon we're making pie, and hopefully Scrabble will ensue.
I just received a letter from a friend about how she's doing living somewhere else in the world, and it all makes me wonder why I'm still here.
There are days I look at the skyline and the trees lining the streets and the sprawling houses and the coziness of my living room and having a full book shelf and the faces of my friends and I love it. I feel so good about living here, mostly.
But when I tell people that there's nothing here that there is nothing keeping me here (job, significant other, project..) that's when I start wondering why. Of course, there are things that keep me here (see above: why I like Vancouver), but I should be/have been elsewhere at some point.
This morning I am writing out pie crust recipes
and then I'm heading to the pool for a swim/sauna with Wendy.
And later this afternoon we're making pie, and hopefully Scrabble will ensue.
I just received a letter from a friend about how she's doing living somewhere else in the world, and it all makes me wonder why I'm still here.
There are days I look at the skyline and the trees lining the streets and the sprawling houses and the coziness of my living room and having a full book shelf and the faces of my friends and I love it. I feel so good about living here, mostly.
But when I tell people that there's nothing here that there is nothing keeping me here (job, significant other, project..) that's when I start wondering why. Of course, there are things that keep me here (see above: why I like Vancouver), but I should be/have been elsewhere at some point.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
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