23 June 2006

Sleepy Female

I don't what it is lately, but I just can't keep my eyes open. I know I lean towards being a "sleepy female", but there is no reason for me to feel this bloody tired so early in the day or in the evening. I need to get me some toothpicks and I'll just prop my eye lids up - or else, I will paint eyeballs on my eye lids so that it appears that I am awake. Whatever the case may be, I feel the effects. I can't seem to tell a good story here, within yawning or being distracted. I can't get my ideas out and create a good feel, even in a blog. I'm not proud of recent entries and pieces of writing. I just want to take a nap.

I think what my problem is, is that I do get enough sleep - technically speaking. Simply, I do not think that I am waking up properly, as suited to me. Every morning, I mentally beg to myself. Just give me one day of a proper wake-up. Let me wake up naturally, please? If it's not the white, fluffy attention whore poodle that yelps bloody murder at 8 in the morning - it's construction on the other building near us. One morning, we were awoken with workers who were screaming Quebecois songs and were belching - let alone, the regular noise construction causes. I don't know what's worse - yelping small dog or singing Frenchmen. Quite honestly, both make my ears bleed a little.

This week. Thankfully, there was no construction on the building behind us. We were looking forward to a relatively peaceful morning. Oh, that concept is silly! As if we would be granted a peaceful morning. Our lovely neighbours in the building beside us began another round of what I called "Redneck Renovations". Grampa Imbred set up scafolding and a big white tarp. Every morning at exactly 9 am, he would begin to work. Tap! Tap! Tap! to remove the bricks off the exterior. The worst thing is that he will do this, he will insist on tapping and banging away for a good five or ten minutes. You know, enough to wake us up. And just like that, he will stop for an hour or more before actually getting anything done. At least I can be grateful that their grandson no longer throws tantrums every morning. Brat.

I had the best intentions to take on the day with enthusiasm and vitality. Then, I got distracted. Distracted danced me to sleepy. I'm not complaining, I could have pissed away the day by watching television. Truth me told, I was watching old music videos which makes me sound a little lame. Alas, it was fun and made me smile and made me want to dance. It threw me back to a good time. Afterall, how many people can say the drunkenly sang karaoke to The Statler Brothers's Flowers on the Wall? Ah, good times! I watched some old Coolio videos and Snoop Dog, as they remind me of my cousin. I watched some Skee-Lo and Scatman, as they remind me of the crap music they played in bars when I first turned 18. I watched Elvira by the Oak Ridge Boys for no particular reason and I'm not afraid to admit it. I watched some Supergrass, Lightning Seeds, and Pulp in honour of my Saturday night of yesteryear. I danced in my living room today. I remain surprised at how well I remember the words to certain Coolio songs.

I ended up cutting out all that nonsense and wandered over to the used bookstore, in hopes of some amazing deals. I usually go every couple of weeks or more, but last week I came across a spectacular find. Old Aleister Crowley Thoth tarot cards for only $2! A few decks have sold on eBay for $50. It wouldn't break my heart to seperate with this deck. Besides, I have always heard that it's not wise to use a deck that you bought for yourself. Though the cards feature heavy symbolism, I don't truly adore the artwork. Today, I walked away with a few books. Another book by Richard Adams, the man who penned Watership Down. This book deals with the supernatural and eroticism. I'm curious. I came home with two older paperbacks about World War 2 and the Civil War.

I made friends with pigeons today. They're no bacon birds, but I'll take the feathery companionship regardless. I know I shouldn't encourage pigeons to live on our building's garage roof but it's nice to actually see pleasant life around our building (not rednecks doing renovations, not children throwing tantrums, not mothers who throw dirty diapers off their balconies, etc). Pigeons. Sure, they crap. Sure, they'll get used to me feeding them slices of bread and wait for more (until they evilly dart for my neck with their pigeony beaks...caw-CAW!). It's nice to take care of a creature. I think I will call them Gideon and Ophelia.

Now, if only my slices of bread would attract a Great Horned Owl. That would be a hoot. *insert foghorn sound here*

Then, I will train my Great Horned Owl to randomly attack my neighbours and/or construction workers. Or even people I temporarily dislike due to having PMS (like Ed Harris, when he plays Pollock). He will become fierce with a single toot of my magic owl-violence whistle. Hahahaha....

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21 June 2006

Gamera Vs. Gyaos (in my living room)

Earlier today, I made a list of what I am running out of. Funny, it always seems like you run out of items when you are either severely broke or shamefully unemployed. I fall under the shamefully unemployed category. I'm a catch, I know! Needless to say, this list was long and stressful to complete. Hairspray, shampoo/conditioner, Rusk Thick spray (in order to create bang perfection), lipstick, lipliner - the list goes on and on. Yeah, it's stuff I could possibly live without but I never splurge. Let me have my damned lipstick.

Instead of putting aside money to buy these listed items, I splendidly splurged on something I truly do not need.

Oh! What is that I hear!? Is it a small Japanese child in distress?!

Gamera! Gamera!


I am the humble eBay winner of two remote control models of Gamera and Gyaos! Oh yes...soon, I will have a battle on the floor of my living room. Gamera vs. Gyaos. I will build a small city and have wee army men who will be smashed by their sheer force. I'll probably be dipping into the gin that night too. Oh yes, I am looking forward to their arrival to Canada and my living room.

This is an illustrated example of what our living room battle will look like:

Keytar

Enough said!

19 June 2006

Fear of Being Alone

I remember a time when I felt like I dazzled. I could, however, be glorifying the past as I often do. I remember a time when I felt interesting and intriguing. I could, however, be simply complaining about the same ol' thing. Sometimes re-reading old journals can be frustrating. It's great when you recognize positive change. It makes your heart drop a little when you discover that you are bitching about the same thing, year after year.

I am becoming nervous at the thought of being left alone for three weeks come next month. Am I really this co-dependant?! I am full of support for my man and his chosen career of being a hard working musician. He deserves this three week gig, even though there is no money to be had. There is no other choice but to stand by him. Deep within me lurks a bratty little girl who just seeks attention. Maybe that is a bit harsh. Deep within me lurks a girl who is scared to be alone at night. That's better. Other than a few housesitting gigs, I have never honestly been alone at night. I had company around me, always. This ain't Kansas, either. I live in a seedier part of town and too many things unnecessarily alarm me. You know, those tiny night noises or the screaming fire truck alarms or hoods yelling in the back alley. When I have the complete night to myself, I stay up as late as I can so that I can go to sleep with the sunrise. It is only then I am at peace.

I'm a nervous rural female.

A part of being alone for three weeks, fills me with this crunchy feeling. It will be very obvious - my lack of true friends in this city. Sure, some of that is my own damned fault and I know it. The others? Many of them are moving this month and a few have dropped like flies. I may not like the loneliness, but deep down I know it's better I have friends that add beauty to my life rather than catty stress.

I have challenged myself to write a book while I am playing the roll of tour widow. It seemed like such a good idea at the time. Words to keep me company. Ah, now I dread the thought. I have a hard time believing in myself and envision myself staring blankly at the computer screen, while tumbleweeds roll on by. Perhaps, I have a fear of success. Perhaps, it's a lack of inspiration due to not having those inspiring and wacky folks around me as I did back home. I can't even get off on eavesdropping in cafes or on the street because I have no idea what people are saying. It's closed me off from people.

I fear that I am boring.

16 June 2006

Six Strange Facts

It has come to my attention that I have been requested to submit six wacky facts about yours truly. Thank you, The Know It All Astrologer! Not only do I enjoy reading your bloggery, but you're encouraging me to have a little fun here!

1) I have this habit. Sigh - it's not something to be proud of and I think I have, somewhat, conquered it. You see, I have this physical habit of walking around with my index finger pointed out. It's is kind of like I am declaring that I am number one, without raising my arm in the air - haha. I never knew I did this until an old co-worker made note of it while I was mopping the salon floor. He endlessly teased me about this by calling me a "Pointer Sister" or by saying "You're number one!". He wasn't too clever when it came to annoying people. Anyway, I still catch myself doing this at times - usually when I am walking down the street.

2) When I was a child, I had two different repetitive dreams. I would always dream about Spiderman and it would always be in black and white. He would be flying on his web, from telephone pole to telephone poll. It scared me to no end. Oddly enough, Spiderman was my hero as a child so it makes no sense that I would be afraid of such a dream. The other repetitive dream was where Frankenstein would chase me down the street. As you know, ol' Frankie wasn't the fastest of sorts so you would assume I'd outrun him. Hah! I barely would shut the door to lock it and often I would simply hide under our neighbour's deck. I would always wake up just in time. As a child and adult, I enjoyed all those old monster movies and makeup. Why was I scared of what I liked?!

3) Since moving away from home, I have developed new habits - especially when falling asleep. I have to have a freshly straightened bed to sleep in, I have to tuck the top sheet in under the mattress, I have to fall asleep in a completely different position than before, and I have to rub my feet against the sheet. All my OCD tendancies have come out!

4) I was once kissed by Steven Tyler of Aerosmith. Okay, so it was only on the cheek - but it's still a kiss and a story to tell! He came into the music store I managed and asked me if we sold any dirty movies, rather flirtatiously. I giggled. He played my my bangs and said he liked my hair. I giggled some more. He left with a kiss on my cheek. It still confuses me to know end, why the heck I giggled so much when I am not even attracted to him.

5) I have a certain spot behind my ear that if you scratch that area, I am instantly yawning and ready to take a nap. Sleepy spot, if you will!

6) At this point, I am running out of ideas. Hahaha...Okay, so here's a recent oddity. I am currently growing a maple seedling. I don't really have any need for a maple tree, considering I live in an apartment with no green space. Yep, I'm growing a maple tree. Who knows, maybe I'll turn it into a mini bonsai tree when it grows up. And boy, is it growing fast!

I have no one to tag, since I haven't developed any sort of readership on here. Ah well.

A message to my tagger - Never take Slurpees forgranted. There are no damned 7-11s in this damned province! How I miss the Slurpee!

15 June 2006

Generally Frustrated

I try my best to keep my blog entries casual, lighthearted, and far from personal. I've been through unnecessary blog drama previously, albeit mostly on networking websites such as Myspace. I want to distance myself from that. I have learned that the world wide web can be very small. The last thing I need is for people to get their panties in a knot over slightly careless and mostly tired words that flow from my lazy mouth. Oh, I remember the days of carefree blogging and spontanious confessions!

I'm tired and I'm frustrated. To chalk it up in a few words, there may be an argument waiting to happen in my humble abode. I have my own set of, perhaps, strange life guidelines. I know what makes me uncomfortable. I went through too many relationships by not standing up to what makes me uncomfortable. I shouldn't have to feel uncomfortable in my own home. At times, I say things without thinking. Even when I design my sentances with fine and non-confrontational detail, I feel I am saying something insensitive and wrong. Though I am learning to stand up for myself, I seem to successfully get my point across. My words may be wrong, forgive me. My actions, however, are correct in my own mind and heart.

I am frustrated for the words that remain in my head and cannot escape past my fingertips. I have something inside my mind, waiting and waiting. Waiting to be born into something fantastic. Yet, I sit here in my frustration and tumbleweeds roll. There are no words to be expressed tonight.

I am frustrated for feeling guilty. I feel guilty for living far from home. I feel guilty leaving here, to visit home. I felt guilty talking to my sister when I mentioned I might come visit in August, instead of July. Truth be told, nothing was ever set in stone. Since hearing that my friend will be in town from Asia - I thought it would be perfect timing. Regardless of what dates I choose, someone will give me guilt. I will feel guilt for not being there in July, when my sister takes her holidays. I will feel guilt for not being there to see Kyle after three years, if I do not go in August. I will feel guilt to leave the apartment empty. I will feel guilt to leave my partner. It is as though I have been raised Catholic. The only difference is that I am completely uneducated when it comes to religion. At least I own the uniform.

I am frustrated at my failing memory. I have been re-writing my uncensored blog of yesteryear and there are moments I cannot even remember. I regret not writing them out in great detail. Who knew I was going to leave my history behind to start a new. I remember Jamie saying something to me, in a late night confession. He told me that I was his _____. His angel? His heartbeat? His inspiration? His wind beneath his wings?! Damn it all to hell! I remember the moment I heard those words. I broke down in tears as it was such a beautiful thing to hear, such a wonderous compliment. Now, I can't remember a fucking thing. Sure, I know the general feeling he gave to me. That just doesn't cut the mustard. I am sure I have written it in an old journal, which is back home.

Tonight is one of those nights were I would long to be home. Be somewhere - anywhere. As long as it wasn't here and I wasn't alone. After all, I am my own worst enemy.

14 June 2006

Lip Sync

I have some bad days, just like everyone else. You know those kind of bad days - nothing really is that bad in the grand scheme of things. You just feel a little shitty and temporarily meaningless. You sit in front of the computer and feel like a bit of a loser and that you should really be accomplishing something grand and thrilling - but you just sit there, wondering what next. And then the next thing you know, you are in a crap mood and wasted half the night. Ta-Dah!

A few months back, I had one of those nights. I browsed the internet aimlessly and came across a website that greatly amused me and convinced me that I'm okay and all will be well.

The site is called GoogleIdol (unrelated to Google, itself). They hold lip-sync competitions for regular video cameras and webcams. Anyone can vote, to choose the final heat winners. Now, you may view this site and think these folks are the real losers here. You'll laugh for a bit and think you would never dare do that yourself. That's what I did upon first sight. Who does this!?

Then I saw the fun it in. Some of these people are adults who have the balls to get together with their friends, don wigs and lip sync to hilarious songs in their parents basement. A lot of them are wacky Europeans, pretending to sing along to Aqua or the BeeGees or Abba. There are groups of young males who mock Backstreet Boys videos, while wearing flowing shirts and tinted sunglasses as they serenade each other. I have to give them credit for having fun and acting silly and childlike.

I remember in grade six, we were forced to do a lip sync contest. The group I was in voted to "perform" that song from the hit movie "Dirty Dancing" - "I Had the Time of my Life", or whatever it was called. I despised this song and hated to be a part of a forced group activity. They assigned me to be the keyboard player and I was the most unenthusiastic of the bunch. They all complained and hated me for it and to this day I have refused to see Dirty Dancing. That's how I hold grudges. I think we lost the contest, thanks to me and my lack of team spirit.

There are some people who are really serious about their videos on this website and those aren't the good ones, in my opinion. No, that's not fun. Give me some grown men with bad wigs and moustaches, singing in their basement or backyard to some cheesy song of the past. Yeah, most people may think they are losers for doing so. But you have to give them credit for doing something silly and fun and child-like while keeping a straight face.

Here's an example of one of the videos I saw during my first visit to the site, when I was having a crap day. It made me laugh and amused my mood.




C'mon...you have to admit - it looks like they are having fun.

13 June 2006

The Art of Keeping in Touch

It's funny how a simple telephone call can change your entire mood.

On Sunday, I declined an offer to go see my boyfriend's show. It's been a very long time since I saw them play outside our living room and throughout the whole day I was telling myself that I was going to go out and let loose. I deserve this. Then, I put my makeup on. Nothing went on right. My eyebrows were drawn on lopsided. My skin looked in rough shape. I had bags under my eyes. I looked at myself in the mirror and felt like crying. There are so many days where I am happy inside but I can't seem to physically match how I feel. I know it's all in my head. I'm the only one who sees these huge flaws while everyone else sees me as beautiful or fun or what have you. I, simply, pick and pick and pick at myself in an attempt to ruin my mood. All Icould think of was if I'm looking like this at nearly thirty, what the hell am I going to look like when I am pushing forty?

Regardless, it was a day where I felt like picking at myself and others around me. My partner and I seemed to gently pick at one antoher too. It was just one of those days. I decided, after all, to stay at home. I'll get some writing done, I convinced myself.

Around midnight, the phone rang and my entire mood lifted! No, it wasn't another telephone call from my friend with no sense of time. It was my honourary little brother Kyle...all the way from Taiwan!

He sneaks up on me when I least expect it. This time, I was re-writing four year old blog I kept once upon a time. I stopped in a middle of an entry to think about my life then. I was a saucy little minx! Also, I was surrounded by longtime friends and simple moments. I sat back and missed having that strong circle of friends and to be able to call someone "my best friend". And then he calls to tell me that he misses me - his best friend. I couldn't contain my thrill!

It's nice knowing that someone is thinking of you from a far. I'm sure it happens more than we think it does. When you are feeling a little forgotten, it's hard to understand that you are probably crossing someone's mind. Out of the blue, I get this call and it confirms my affirmation. Someone was thinking of me.

My friend in Asia is doing well, albeit busy as a bee. He teaches English and runs two different classrooms of young children. I haven't seen him since I left, about three or so years ago. It's been a while. It was hard to let go of this friend as we spent a lot of time together - laughing, sitting in silence, sharing cigarettes, and the occasional patch of annoyance for one another. Next thing you know, I'm moving across country - making it even more difficult to hook up during holidays and other such grown-up committments.

I have this marvelous way of getting secrets out of people. I may do it as though I am a pesty little sister or I may do it when you least suspect it by using innocent questions. I never use these secrets to my advantage, mind you. Simply, I like to be in the know and these morsels of information are tasty and solely for me.

He ended up telling me that he was coming back to Canada for a visit, to surprise his family, in August. I had a loose plan in my mind to come home in July, while the boys are on tour and I'm left alone. I thought it would be perfect timing so my partner and I would both be away then. Something held me back, though, when planning my summer vacation. Other than money and the lack of it on my end, I was holding back...just in case. In the back of my head, I thought that perhaps Kyle will be coming home this summer but probably not. I'm just a hopeless dreamer. Much to my chagrin, he certainly is! I'm seriously rethinking my travel plans as this is very rare that we can be in the same town at the same time. I'm very excited!

The last few times we talked, I was bummed out. It takes a lot of getting used to, to be away from home and your history and your longtime set of friends and strangers. At least, for me. He was always the encouraging type when it came to that feeling. He moved many times in his adult years - and he is only 25! He knows all about letting go and moving on and taking on new horizons. He just felt much closer to home when he lived across the country - you always knew he would come back and be reliable. Now, he is far, far away in Asia. He's changed and with all faraway friends I fear that they no longer can fit me in their busy, different lives. I'm always wrong with that fear. We chatted the other night as though we just hung out the night before; gossiping about people and talking about our sex lives (more like his, I'm nosy that way) and laughing over old times. I miss that guy and I hope it all works out - I miss home.

Other than missing home, I miss the characters in my former life. In the middle of re-writing my blog of yesteryear, I have strolled down that cliche memory lane. I miss certain people that I have lost touch with and wonder how they are. There are tiny little holes in my heart where they have vanished in my daily life. Some are tainted and the others shine bright as a night time star. Why do we always lose touch?

I miss Jamie, my Cockney penpal that I knew for a good ten years or so. Truth be told, he was a bit of a liar and kept me on a string. He would say he would send a photo but he never would (I didn't get to see his face until I was 28!). He said he would come visit me and gave me particular dates but he always stood me up. He would call and confess many secret words but he would never follow through. Always, I forgave him. We would spend hours planning and laughing and battling over who is the biggest smart ass. Sometimes I won. I could get any secret from him. He knew everything about me. We lost touch a short while before the London Subway bombing. I have called and written him since that day only to receive a return-to-sender (marked as "refused") letter and a silent telephone. When I moved here, he claimed that I had broken his heart. I don't believe those words because he had time. He could have at least returned my call to let me know he was okay after the tragic bombing.

I miss Dan. Dan was a good friend. The little brother of my older sister's friend. He had this innocence about him - you just knew he had a good heart. Often, we would raise hell together with a bottle of gin and a crowded dance floor. He would call me up but instead of saying hello, he would bark the word "jackass". Over a summer, he turned into a drug consuming raver complete with candy necklaces and large furry pants. The last thing he said to me was a verbal invitation to his going away party and how I would have to pay to see him off. I was not impressed and we lost touch. Last I heard, he was out west and gay.

There are others that I miss and wonder about. They cross my mind and I think the most pleasant of thoughts. I sincerely hope that they are somewhere out there and doing well. Now, I vow never to lose touch with my past and the people in it. Some are only fit for memory though.

10 June 2006

Thoughts Inspired By Hairspray Metal - Part Two

Recently, I watched the documentary called Metal:A Headbanger's Journey. It was a gooder. I wanted it to be a little more in depth but I believe the goal of the filmmaker was to analyze the people behind it, rather than the music itself. People; being the fans and the musicians. It made me miss all those shows of the past I could have gone to or was just too young to attend. I'll take a pass on burning churches in Norway, though.

Whenever I need a pick me up, I listen to Danny Duke's series of metal discs he gave me. This compilation makes me extremely happy and helps me forget whatever is bothering me. If I had me some balls, I would put them to the wall. However, I am very grateful that I am not able to do that. I'll accept that fact.

Today is another rainy and gloomy day. I should be doing something more productive such as the intimidating sink that is full of dishes. Ah, but that's no fun! Instead, I have been scribbling away at writing that probably amounts to nothing. The way I see it, as long as I am doing something - it counts, whether it be "good" or something else.

Before I left my manager position at the music shop, I met Steven Tyler. No, he didn't tell me to walk this way but the dude kinda looked like a lady. Actually, I felt a little more manly built than him. I swear, his thighs are the size of my wrists. That didn't mean I didn't giggle at his rockstar flirtations. There was a rumour that the band was in our small and empty mall and because there was nothing else to do in the store, I took a peek. Low and behold, there he was - lips and all! I stood there and he approached me. I felt like a gigantic Amazon women standing next to him. He touched my bangs and said he liked them, in a smooth voice only a famous and slightly sleazy person could have. He asked if I sold dirty movies and I giggled! I giggled! I could only think in my head, what the hell am I doing?! I almost disgusted myself with my ultra girly reply - "Heehee, unfortunately we don't!". What the fack?! Where did this come from?! He came into the store to browse with his bandmates and before long, the store was crowded with mall employees and shoppers. He ended up buying an Evil Dead special edition DVD and his bandmate seemed irked that we didn't take American Express gold cards. My boss happened to stop by that afternoon and the look on her face was priceless. At first, it was of disbelief at the store being so busy on a non-holiday and then she saw Steven Tyler. Her jaw dropped. We took a photo of the three of us and Steven left by giving us both a kiss on the cheek. By the way, his mouth looks a lot smaller in real life. Generally speaking, overall he looks rather botoxerific.

With a rebel yell, I wanted more - more - more celebrities coming into my store. It's interesting having relatively famous people shop in your store even though you kind of feel like a loser with a minimum wage job serving a celebrity. I can't brag about any other moments other than selling lipliner to Bif Naked and being barked at by Burton Cummings over bubble bath. And meeting Billy Talent and being flirted on by their bassist doesn't really count. By the end of the day, it's just smoke on the water. Heh. Insert song reference here.


One of the best musicians spoken with in that documentary was Ronnie James Dio. Though he looks like he should be cast in Lord of the Rings and should actually live in some sort of gothic toadstool, he was witty and personable. Holy diver! Ride that tiger! Oh man, I just feel like getting our my dark sword, cape, and tights. Not like I own any. *eyes get shifty* How many bands these days can actually get away with singing "Ride that tiger"?

In other news, Axl Rose and Tommy Hilfiger got into a bit of brawl recently. Sounds like some sort of Saturday Night Live sketch of years ago, but it's true. Apparently, Axl moved Tommy's girlfriend's drink in order not to spill it. Tommy kept slapping Axl on the arm. Later in the night, Axl sang "You're Crazy" and dedicated it to his good friend Tommy. Looks like Axl dinking Tommy's brother's ex wife so it's personal. This behaviour seems a little odd for men in their mid 40's and 50's. If I was dating either of them, I wouldn't be impressed although I would bet on Axl to kick his ass all the way to Paradise City.

Another thing I love about old metal songs is that a simple set of lyrics can be made into this operatic mission of message. All it takes is a powerful and/or high voice, a little tight pants running around on stage, and a few snappy guitar solos. When I hear Run to the Hills, I really want to run for my life. For all the right reasons. And generally speaking, there were a lot of really positive lyrics. You may just see all the leather and skin tight pants and poufy hair, but you got another thing coming - there are some go-for-the-goal lyrics to be had. According to Judas Priest, in this world we are living in - we have our share of sorrow. The answer now is to not give in and aim for that new tomorrow! Of course, saying that, there are a lot of dark lyrics too. Perhaps Metallica should rethink their attitude about yesterday being as though it never existed (James was probably too drunk to remember, anyhow) and aim for that new tomorrow. I wonder if their personal band therapist suggested that? How about a little anger release by barking at the moon?

Sometimes I miss Poison. Yes, I admit that.

It's not like they were my favourite band and I haven't even seen them in concert. It's just fun music. How can you not smile when you hear Talk Dirty To Me? I don't think there will be another time in music where you will have a surge of bubblegum metal bands who are popular. I'm sure they are still out there...but it's not the same. Sigh. It simply brings me back to a time when I was all pure and innocent and was extremely excited about seeing a big concert. Back then, all I wanted was a banger boyfriend with long hair and tight pants - haha - who would talk dirty to me (thinking back, I'm sure it would have scared me a bit...being fourteen and all). I guess I did have a headbanger boyfriend when I was fifteen. His name was Rob and my parents banned me from seeing him. He had tons of bikini-ed chick posters in his room like wallpaper and one Glenn Danzig poster(I'm sure Glenn could fill a bikini top better than I can, with his pectoral muscles). Rob also wore neon pink shorts. That's the part of my metal youth I don't miss. He was kind of inconsiderate, thinking back on it now, to me but in the end I broke up with him. He cried. As Ratt wisely said, what goes around comes around.

I wish I could get truly excited about seeing a band again, like I did when I was a teenager. I want to rock, ROCK! There was a certain thrill about seeing a show at the old arena and to do that walk-around during intermission at a rock show. To this day, the smell of newly printed band shirts make me feel like I am fourteen again. Years ago, LA Guns put on a show at the Zoo and I had that amazing inner enthusiasm to let loose and rock out. Sadly, at that concert I discovered that Phil Lewis was no longer singing with them that tour. They had some ultra buff, pierced up dude singing with them and it wasn't the same. I went away disappointed. I want to go to a show that makes me feel like a kid again. Oddly enough, seeing Tom Jones made me feel like that. It wasn't so much the music but the vibe around me (perhaps because I was one of the youngest people there too, haha). I have never been to a show where so many people smiled and laughed. The entire room radiated positivity. It was certainly a nice atmosphere. No sighting of Tom Jones that day at the music store - le sigh - but the merch-men chatted me up.

No worries, one day I'll be excited to see a band again. Sometimes you gotta roll with the punches to get to what's real. And sometimes, you might as well jump.

07 June 2006

Mail, UglyDogs, and Porn - Oh My!

There's nothing I like better than coming home to find that there is mail waiting for me to rip open. When I called home in the afternoon, my partner told me that a friend from back home sent me something in a large envelope! Yippee! Mail! And a surprise, at that!

I was so excited because that is how much I love receiving mail. Inside the large envelope was a short but sweet note along with a lovely baby blue cardigan. Apparently, it's from the 50's and made in Britain! It's very simple and casual - but has a sense of class. It's no baby blue velour tracksuit but it's just as wonderful. I keep complaining to myself that I haven't bought myself anything new to wear in ages - and I come home to find something new to wear. As well, my friend sent me an "Ugly Doll".

This is an Ugly Doll. To be exact, it's UglyDog. I loooove my UglyDog! I came across the Ugly Doll website about a year ago and thought they were absolutely adorable. There are several different Ugly Dolls - including Ice Bat, Jeero, Wedgehead, and Wage. Today, I have a new companion from back home!

I'm a little tired from work. I don't know how I pulled off managing a music store, waking up early all the time and making decisions and stuff. It's my third day in a row of waking up at 6:45 a.m. which probably doesn't sound that early to most people who hold regular jobs. I'm such a night owl. I can't seem to fall asleep until well past midnight. And when I say well past midnight, it's quite late. I like to stay up to watch the night sky turn light. My mind seems to work overdrive late at night. I may appear sleepy but don't let that fool you.

Work went well though. I am only assuming that tomorrow will be the last day. It was honestly quite dull but not because of the work itself. There simply wasn't enough of it. I took a two hour lunch (paid for an hour and a half!) and appeared to "look busy" when I was far from it.

On my break, I finally got my earlobe re-stretched to fit my flesh tunnel back in. The piercer was very nice and welcoming. He seemed to immediately know I was not from here. We had a short talk about piercing and the Fringe Festival.

You know what makes me uncomfortable? Whenever I'm at a salon (When was that? I can't even remember what it's like to be at a salon!) or a place that has a lot of mirrors, it makes me very uneasy to talk at someone through a mirror. I understand that a hair stylist or a piercer is technically working on you and can't really sit for a face to face chat. I have a very hard time making eye contact with people who are talking to me but not actually looking at me. It's almost as if I am looking into eyes of someone without a soul, when making eye contact through a mirror. Does that make sense or am I just a weirdo? Anyway, this piercer did that and I had felt a little odd. He kept talking at me while looking at the mirror and I kept turning my head to actually face him. Meanwhile, I can see myself sitting there out of the corner of my eye. Pay no attention, this is babble from the tired. *yawn*

I had a dream the night before last. If only Freud was around to analyze some of it, haha. So I was at my parents place with my partner. I couldn't find him so I assumed that he was looking at porn behind my back. I freaked out. I kept running around the house looking for the porn. It wasn't a magazine or a video. The only porn to be found in my house was on a Etch-A-Sketch (yellow, not red framed). This Etch-A-Sketch handheld porno screen just so happened to be my father's. I searched through all his bedroom drawers to find it but it wasn't there. I ran downstairs to my sister's old room. Zak was in it with the Etch-A-Sketch! I stormed in, quite angry that he was doing that in my sister's room! It didn't sit well with me, being my parents house and all. He denied it, even though he was only wearing a robe and looked all shifty. I think I was yelling at him about it. Anyway, I think my mom ended up cheerfully calling for me to look at something (oh!). I went upstairs to greet my parents. My mom held a birdcage and she proudly stated that we got ourselves a new bird. All my anger left, I was quite happy. The birdcage had a light blanket on it and it was singing. I kept thinking of what I should call it but my dad said that he gets to pick a name.

"I'll name him Lionelton," he said.

My curiosity got the best of me. I removed the blanket only to see a bright green plastic bird body with a HUGE plastic Spiderman bobblehead. Needless to say, I was disappointed. My mom ended up taking the Spidey head off of it, only to reveal it was just another plastic parrot. Boo!

Anyway, not much else is happening. I'm trying not to worry about money and all that other fun life stuff.

Read a good quote tonight:
We can never leave a situation that cause us discomfort until we learn to love it or at least see love at work in it.


05 June 2006

Monday, Monday

In the middle of a reasonably amazing blog, the damned power went off. Isn't that always the case? I cannot re-create my lost words, I'm afraid. Ah well, sometimes you have a lose pieces of writing here and there. I try not to be irked but look at the positive side - perhaps out of my loss, a good idea will come along when I least expect it.

My eyes are heavy tonight. I managed to find myself a little side project - in other words, a few days of work. Calling it a "side project" makes me feel important, heh. I woke up bright and early to start and all I can say is - I am not used to getting up bright and early. However, it was rather peaceful this morning. It was a slow and sunny day, perfect to absorb the sights around me. Ah, the trees are leafy and green, flowers are a'blooming. It was a really lovely day, that reminded me of being back home. A lazy walk to work, passing by the morning coffee shops - if only I had some of the regular back home folks to stop to chat with! I used to have a string of close strangers I would talk to - the hair salon guy, Noel the crazy adventurer who gave me one of the best pieces of travel/life advice, the crew from Thunder Bay, Joshua who loved Jesus, so on and so forth.

I successfully avoided a packed subway, which always makes my day. It was perfect timing. There were no stuffy business people on their way to the office, armed with crisp shirts and briefcases. There were no irritating high school kids either. Thank goodness. Needless to say, I avoided being laughed at in public as these kids seem to love to laugh at me. I don't know why. There are tons of fashion disasters in this city. Funny - a girl who wears leg warmers, plastic dangly neon coloured 80's earrings, and pointy elf shoes can escape being ridiculed but rather is adored for her avantgarde fashion concept. Yet, I go out looking relatively normal and I'm the one getting laughed at by saggy assed hiphoppers.

My side project went well. It was an easy and stressfree day. A very quiet day that was close to perfect. Perfect in the sense that I was left alone to do my thing. No one was near me. I had space and air to breathe. I was in silence and I loved it. In the end, I received praise and compliments galore which felt great. If only praise and compliments could pay my rent! Ah well, at least it is a little cash to line my pocket with and it felt good to be lost in my own little (measly paid) world for a while.

Coming home, the subway was sweaty and packed. At some point on my journey home, I politely offered my seat to an older lady who politely smiled and declined. A stop later, she went to sit at the next available seat. I guess she got a little tangled up in her own purse strap (I've been there before!) and by the time she inched towards her seat (which was very obvious), this perfectly capable-of-standing woman pushed her and another woman out of the way. Man, that irks me. I know it's dog eat dog in the subway sometimes, but really - let an older person sit. She's probably working past retirement age like we all will someday and deserves to rest her dogs. She doesn't deserve to be vigorously pushed out of the way. I've seen this kind of woman before and it's shameful. Once I saw this woman push a little old lady out of the way to get a seat (she took both seats, by the way) - only so she could frantically scratch her lottery tickets. It made me kind of sick to witness that.

Speaking of dogs, summer is here and I am discovering that I still loathe the sandal. Honestly, I hate sandals and I hate seeing the feet and toes of strangers. Unless you are a friend or a stranger who takes strict care of her feet with pedicures and fresh polish - I don't want to see your feet in sandals. Hell, I don't even want to see my own feet in sandals. And don't get me started on men who wear sandals. Mandals, if you will.

Last night, I had a wonky dream. This dream was born of three things:
1) My paranoia about the terrorism threat and tomorrow's date being 6-6-06
2) Recent viewing of Dead Like Me
3) Recent viewing of Son of Godzilla

In my dream, I was being held hostage by these two guys. These guys were real chumps, didn't know what they were doing. They had blow dried 80's hair, aviator sunglasses, and blazers. They had no leadership skills, whatsoever. They just kept walking around this house with their machine guns, wearing a look of irritation on their baby faces. A bunch of us were in this random house in the suburbs. It was an inconvenience to us all, actually. No one felt threatened - just irked that these guys ruined our plans. I'm there, with only five cigarettes. I'm bored, so I smoked them all. My old friend Pam was there, smoking at the table. Miles was there. I was really disappointed in him because he didn't pay any attention to me - he only gave me a smile and a nod. Why didn't he call me, I thought. He was with these two velour tracksuit wearing Italians and he worked for them. Miles worked for the Mafia! Being held hostage was so boring that I took a shower and spent the rest of my dream catwalking around in a towel. I headed towards the bathroom. All of a sudden, this bright green frog and his tadpole son began to follow me. It was a race to the bathroom and they beat me! So here I was, in a small bathroom and chased by a frog and his tadpole son. When I looked around me, there were wee white tadpole carcasses all around me - on the toilet seat rim, in the bathroom, on the floor. Oddly enough, it didn't gross me out. I was just feeling crunchy at the inconvenience of not only being held hostage by complete morons but having to deal with a dirty bathroom full of white tadpole carcasses.

I lead a colourful and adventurous life in my dreams! If only I could be chased my a friendly wedge of cheese that simply wants to be hugged. The two of us could go skipping into the sunset, hand in hand, off to our house made of bacon - sigh!

To end my evening, a hot cup of coffee (which I will come to curse when I am falling asleep) and brief company of the boys. They are playing a little gig tonight and I wish I could go. They will be doing a twangy cover of Dean Martin's "Memories are Made of These" which will no doubt sound fantastic. Ah, more side projectery tomorrow morning though.

Yep, today was a good day.

04 June 2006

22 Questions for 10 Years Ago

Ten years ago, it was 1996.

1) How old were you?
THEN: 19
NOW: 29

2) Where did you go to school?
THEN: Fresh out of high school and doing sweet FA!
NOW: School of Hard Knocks (AKA paying off student loans).

3) Where did you work?
THEN: I wasn't working, but I was volunteering my time at an arts centre.
NOW: Heh, I ain't working now either. Unless voracious reader of books count.

4) Where did you live?
THEN: The Prairies
NOW: Frenchtown

5) How was your hairstyle?
THEN: Half the year it was long and mousy brown and then I chopped it, to shoulder length and dark brown
NOW: Long and black, with blunt "Bettie" bangs.

6) Did you wear braces?
THEN: Nope.
NOW: And nope. I might need a sleep guard for my teeth grinding issue. How hot is that?

7) Did you wear contacts?
THEN: No need for 'em.
NOW: Would like them now, only for going out with fantastic eye makeup.

8) Did you wear glasses?
THEN: I lived in a world of blindness back then.
NOW: Hallelujah! I can see the light! Sight is good when you have to avoid ex-boyfriends and old classmates in public, as well.

9) Who was your best friend?
THEN: My beautiful penpal in Texas.
NOW: My partner, but the penpal still hears all my dirty lil secrets.

10) Which of your pets were still alive?
THEN: Whiskers, my dirty lil girl. I think I had my fish Bonaparte as well.
NOW: My clumsy kitty who wears a fur tuxedo.

11) Who was your boyfriend/girlfriend?
THEN: I was a loner/virgin then - and there was nothing wrong with that!
NOW: He plays a mean guitar.

12) Who was your celebrity crush?
THEN: Vince Vaughn and Billy Zane
NOW: Leonard Cohen - I have matured, ha.

13) Who was your regular-person crush?
THEN: J
NOW: Oddly enough, I have no crushes. Does cheese and sleep count? 'Cause I really like cheese and sleeping.

14) How many piercings did you have?
THEN: Too lazy to remember.
NOW: Too lazy to count.

15) How many tattoos did you have?
THEN: Zero
NOW: Three

16) What was your favorite band/singer?
THEN: You know what's sad? I can't even remember. Maybe...hmmm...Leonard Cohen and Hayden?
NOW: Leonard Cohen, Jeff Buckley, Hayden, Dexter Romweber, The Dead Milkmen, Wayne Hancock, Son House, etc etc.

17) Had you smoked a cigarette?
THEN: Socially.
NOW: Sadly, way too often.

18) Had you gotten drunk?
THEN: Yes, but not frequently.
NOW: I can no longer handle my booze and I suspect I am allergic or intolerant of alcohol. I always tend to feel like blacking out due to wonky blood sugar in my system when I drink a few bevvies. Fun times for me when I go out to bar nowadays. Heck, at least I save money.

19) Had you DRIVEN YET?
THEN: Nope, too afraid to commit to that.
NOW: See above.

20) If so which car?
THEN: My feets.
NOW: My feets and the subway, only if I have to.

21) Looking back, are you what you thought you would/could be in 2006?
I did NOT think I would be living in this city - I thought I would actually be out west. I thought I would be out west and doing cosmetic artistry as a living or else writing something fabulous. Leading a fantastic life full of wealth and fortune (not really). Okay, well...I thought it would just be easier - that's all. Growing up and moving on is tough shit.

22) Where will you be 10 years from now?
Honestly? Either happier here or living amongst the English again. Hopefully married. Hopefully happy. Hopefully, with a hairless cat and an expresso machine. I don't ask for much. Oh, and debt-free. Heh.

03 June 2006

Moody Lil' Saturday Night

I'm feeling a little moody tonight. I'm chalking it up to having a little too much coffee in my system though. I have no real reason to feel moody when I think about it. My belly is full of food, we had great company today, and I have many things to be grateful for. I should not feel moody.

But I am.

A friend told me today that she had a dream that a girl she knows was attempting to flirt with my partner while he was on tour there. Yeah, it kinda irked me. It's a dream, not even my own. I shouldn't be irked at that. He's a good man and I know I am loved. I guess I'm just paranoid. It seems like every television or film focuses on temptations of the flesh. I trust my partner - I just can't seem to trust the intentions of others. You always here such band bullshit like "what happens on the road, stays on the road" - that kind of thing. I'm too fragile, perhaps. I guess I won't be there to see what happens and who flirts with him - and it drives me nuts. I hate to be so insecure for no good reason.

Today, I found a few write-ups online saying that his band are "cocky" and what have you. For some reason, I took personally and I'm not even in the band! Obviously, I know them beyond the stage persona and I know they are all great guys who are far from cocky. Everyone else in the audience who don't know them personally can think otherwise. I have to remember that. I guess I just want everyone else to see them as amazing and I know we all can't share the same opinions.

We were invited to go to a bon voyage cocktail party tonight. As you can see, I did not attend. We are really not the party types. When I was in high school and shortly after, I tried to be a party person but it never worked. I always wanted to remain in the shadows or hide out where I was least likely to be approached. I work better in small crowds and so does my partner. That wasn't the real reason why we didn't attend however. There is another couple attending who will be there for certain and there has been a little tension lately. Clearly, my partner did not wish to attend for that reason and me - well, I just loathe confrontation, haha. I think it's better off that we don't go. Not for our own comfort but for the sake of the hosts. I'm sure they would absolutely love to spend their party swimming in tension. I'm doing them a favour. Maybe I'm paranoid as well. I figure, either way we are going to be talked about. If we go, we will be talked about negatively afterwards. If we don't go, we will be talked about during. I'd rather not be there and have everything cattily snowball. Let them all enjoy themselves without the tension. I must admit, however, I do regret not seeing them off as I doubt we will hook up to say goodbye.

Otherwise, it's a quiet evening. Our company has left and my partner stepped out for a bit. I'm here. Craving sweets and feeling moody, nervous. Ack, too much coffee during our socializing!

I read online that Stephen Harper is going to hold a vote in parliament on the topic of gay marriage. I knew this would happen if he took control of the country. I don't see why they should open this topic up again when it was already made legal. I see no harm in gay couples getting married. It's a great step forward and a harmless one at that. Why vote only to have to potentially take a large step back? There are many more issues they should be concentrating on, other than the "tradition" of marriage. The way I see it, the ideas of traditions of marriage has been altered and changed. It has evolved - just like everything else in the world. The concept of marriage has been ruined a long time ago and NOT by gay couples. What makes the government vote valid when it comes to love anyway, especially when the people voting are most likely heterosexual and religious? I think they should just leave it alone. It's not hurting anyone. Next thing you know, he'll pull a South Dakota and ban abortions. And that thought rathers frightens me.

They should take a vote about Harper's hair. It doesn't move and looks like a helmet - that, I do not trust.

02 June 2006

Hanging By a Thread - UPDATE

Immediately after posting this weepy blog, I received a phone call from my workplace. They asked me come in for three days of recruitment work. I certainly won't come out of it being a millionaire after three days, but I will have a little extra money to line my empty pocket.

It's funny (not HA HA funny) how I seem to have a good ol' breakdown about money and then they call me in for some extra work. It puts everything into perspective, to a certain degree.

I'm not spinning off the walls with sheer giddiness...but I feel a little appreciated and grateful that I was one of two people called in for this job because I am very good at my McJob.

McRelieved!

Hanging By a Thread

I have been forced to listen to Outkast to improve my gloomy mood. Due to this craving of mood turning, my partner has been forced to flee the apartment in horror. Well, not really. He is simply picky about his choice of music and Outkast isn't on his list of favourites. I guess he just doesn't have the strength to suck it up and be surrounded by Hey Ya! and other such tunes. Ah well, it's a nice day and he has chosen to play the geetar outside.

I found out yesterday afternoon that I have officially been declined for employment insurance benefits. This has severely dampened my mood. I was expecting it so I shouldn't take it so hard. It was my ticket home, however. It was my last hope - well, before Mastercard and Visa. This was my way home. And I have been declined. I sigh a big heavy sigh today.

I'm sad and discouraged.

Looking for work is never fun. Actually, I find it a belittling experience. It is one full of bullshit and lies, false enthusiasm and forced smiles. Reading over my CV is like reading over a pathetic chunk of my history. It feels like it only exists to show me how lame my life choices have been. I'm just around the corner to 30 and my years have been whittled away with pointless retail and catty salon jobs. Other than learning how to fold a mean towel or sweater and sucking up to other people, what have I learned or been challenged by? I want to be able to work in an environment that I somewhat thrive in. I want to wake up and be like, "Fuck yeaaaah! I love my job!". Since moving here, it's been far from it.

Not like I even liked my jobs back home either. Even though I complained about working at the music store, at least I got myself a sweet discount and my customers were darlings. I felt appreciated by them. I gave them excellent customer service and they gave me the equal respect, generally speaking. Sadly, I even enjoyed flirting with old man customers just to make a sale. It was a fun job on the most part.

And here I am.

I live in Quebec. I am a stupidly slow learner who gets easily frustrated and enjoys to give up. Therefore, I am still unilingual. I am English and it means nothing here. It is my own damn fault for not learning the language. I have been two years and though people are better understood, I am still living in a world where I can't make complete sense of everyone around me. Combine that with the fact that I don't even have a set of my own friends and what you get is a very lonely female.

My job choices are limited here, being English only. I can be a telemarketer. I can do market research, which I was doing until I got laid off. I can do slutty webcammery. And I'm sure I could probably work at some sort of warehouse/sweatshop. And that's it, it seems. I'm sure there are others but they are never advertised and I don't even know where to look in the first place. Maybe it's all who you know and I don't know jack shit in this town.

I don't know about you but the prospect of being a telemarketer, telesurvey interviewer, or web cam "hostess" just doesn't appeal to me. How enthusiastic can I feel about that? Just thinking about those three jobs suck the life out of me. I know sometimes you have to make sacrifices and I know I probably haven't tried hard enough. I feel like I have failed. I feel like I will NEVER get ahead living in this city. It's just one struggle after another. I am not getting any further in regards to paying off my bills. I am stagnant. It feels like I will never get what I want and believe me, I don't want that much. I feel stuck.

It was so much easier back home, in a sense. Somedays, I just want to run home and curl up in my own bed and know everything will be okay. I want my old job and I want to feel that connection I had with so many people (friends, family, strangers) there. I want to have one more cleavage Wednesdays just to sell some crappy Linkin Park cd to frustrated business men. I just want the familiar and stable of HOME.

I refused to go home at Easter because I assumed I would have the time in summer, as I will be alone all summer anyhow. But no. I'm fucking stuck. I am fucking stuck in Stinktown this summer, working at some fucking stinkjob peddling phone book directories to American companies or, even worse, peddling myself to horny men (I'll never do that, don't worry) just to get by because I CAN'T DO ANYTHING ELSE in this city.

Needless to say, I'm hanging by a thread today.

And it's my grandmother's birthday today. I will call her later and put on a tremendously happy voice that will end up exhausting me. I love my grandmother, don't get me wrong. My family worries about me, however. I'm sure they know how I really feel though, but I gloss it over with false enthusiasm and positivity. They know it hasn't been easy for me but I hide it too damn well.
Talking to my grandmother will snap that thread. It's bad enough I am not there to celebrate her 86th birthday, but I have felt guilty for moving every single day when I know all they want is for me to be there for them.

Ah well.

I'm not this emotional and dramatic when I'm working and successfully distracted. When money is flowing into my bank account, I am calm and balanced. My worries are small, even if when have a "McJob".

All this growing up, and I'm still working jobs that sixteen year olds can probably do better than me. And worst of all - Outkast isn't doing the trick today. Hey, ya.

01 June 2006

Scraps and Plans

I wish, sometimes, that complete ideas could bloom inside my ol' noggin. I get scraps. Scraps of inspiration, usually designed to make me (and often others) laugh at my own stupidity. For example, getting an traditional and old school tattoo design. Instead of swallows on my chest, I would get owls. So when I'm at a bar or something, I can say to a stranger - "If you buy me a drink, I'll show you my hooters!"

I would never say that in the first place. Simply, the thought of it would make me laugh. Hoot, if you will.

As well, I come up with brilliant movie titles. I will not name any here because you never know - I don't want anyone making money off my own ridiculous scraps of thoughts. They're mine, dammit!

I have a sincere desire to create - to write, to draw, to make something my own, and to appeal to others with my words or design. At the end of the day, I feel I am lost with all my scraps of ideas. Perhaps, it is just a way to hold myself back. Who knows. What I do know is that I come up with these small morsels of ideas that could actually go somewhere and I don't know how to further it, to give birth to it. Any suggestions?!

I came up with another morsel. A website/blog idea. I cannot reveal this secret. Mwahaha! It could be amazing, if done well. Or it could just amuse me immensely, which would be a personal success nonetheless. I have to plan it out better but I completely fail at any sort of planning. If I told my sister this, I know what she would say. Make a list.

Shudders. Lists...they frighten and intimidate me. Unless, it's a grocery list because that I can do with ease.

My ideas lack direction and committment. I need to improve this.

When I write anything outside of a blog, I feel stunted and stagnent. I feel the only way I can write is while thinking about my past and in blog-like form. Have I lost my creativity or am I just better suited to memoir writing or commenting on daily life? If so, would it be considered a creative cop-out? Why do I need reassurance?

Is there some sort of plan for people who are plan-challenged?

If so, let me know.

Smoke Alarm

Yesterday, we found out that a friend of ours came across some bad luck. His apartment burnt down. He wasn't injured and he managed to get a lot of his musical equipment out. He just doesn't have a home now. I feel terrible for his loss. Thankfully, his cats woke him up to get out in time.

I have been here for two years come this week. We have never once changed the battery in our smoke detector. I told my partner that we should. Everybody should change the battery in their smoke detector every spring and autumn, just to be safe. He told me that it doesn't work properly and there is not even a battery in ours! This does not sit well with me.

I am a constant worrier. It's what I do best. I was raised to worry. My mother is the kind of person who checks to see if the doors are locked about fifteen times before she leaves the house. She checks to see if every appliance is unplugged. It's her constant to-do list in her head. Call her OCD that way. My sister is like this too.

I am a little less neurotic but slowly becoming like them. I check to see if my partner has locked the doors and will worry if I don't know for sure. I'm a little less crazy when it comes to the unplugging of appliances but many a nights I have rechecked the ashtray just to know for certain that all butts were appropriately ashed out. Sometimes at night and before I fall asleep, I have vivid images that float in my head about me in bed - holding a cigarette and falling asleep. It's very surreal and I wake up all panicky only to realize I am simply in bed. We don't even smoke in the bedroom anyway. Well, we did once - after a sleepy and saucy morning, when I first visited here. I ended up dropping a lit ash into my armpit. Don't ask me how, but I wear a little scar because of that!

So now, we live without a smoke detector. It makes me very paranoid. It seems that so many buildings here go down in flames. I don't know if it's faulty wiring or carelessness or gang wars. Regardless of the reason, it does not sit well with me. I've been watching too many episodes of Dead Like Me or something - I don't want to go down in a blaze of glory. I'd rather fall asleep peacefully in a cold snowbank, if I had the choice of either two. Actually, I don't want to go out like that either.

This is on my mental to-do list. Get a smoke detector. Put fresh batteries in it. Live with some reassurance.


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