Sunday, June 29, 2008

Miscellaneous observations

You may think it's a good idea to pick up the 4 kg box of frozen chicken breasts at the grocery store and carry it home because, after all, it's ONLY a 15 minute walk but dude, reconsider your decision.

"So You Think You Can Dance" really and truly is the best television show ever.

Nicolas Cage is an awful actor. He's wooden and stilted and I hate his "schmoopy" face and yet...I kinda love him.

You know how there are some people that you absolutely adore? And then you go out drinking with them and you end up walking home sobbing because you find out that the people you invited to go for ONE DRINK with, and who declined because they were far too busy and "nocando," actually went over to someone else's place to hang out and have fun. And it's not that they're bad or mean or anything, and they don't dislike you, they just don't LIKE you that much - they prefer themselves to you? And you tell yourself, "Screw them - who needs them?" but really you're asking yourself what the hell is wrong with you, and you're just fooling yourself because you really and truly adore ALL of them? But it makes you so sad to know that they look at you like you might examine dirt under your fingernails, so you try to delude yourself into thinking that you don't care about them? But really the whole situation makes you so sad that you start thinking that your family, if they loved you at all, would totally be happy for you if you stopped being alive because daily life is so fucking miserable for you that to want you to stick around is totally selfish of them?* Yeah. That sucks, hey?

Overheard at the Loverboy concert (oh shush - I was selling merchandise): Ah, back in the day me and my wife used to be BIG concert people. We'd go to all the good ones. We were pretty much famous for always being at the best gigs.

* Again, please note that I'm not going to actually do anything stupid. Promise.

Friday, June 27, 2008

It's a brand new game!

Lately, I've been playing a new game every night around 3:00 a.m. I call it "Identify That Sound." Let's play, shall we?

That would be my tub of lip balm hitting the floor and rolling s-l-o-w-l-y under the bed, stopping just at the point that no human arms can reach.

That's the sound of my glasses plummeting to the floor and (hopefully) not breaking.

Easy one! That's my book almost falling on top of my glasses.

Also easy - my tissue box hitting the hardwood.

That's my alarm clock on the floor now.

This repetitive noise had me puzzled for a while but I eventually realized it was my lamp being knocked against the wall and then falling back in to place over and over again.

Mew? Purrrrrrrrrr
Ah, and that's Lucy saying, "Can you PLEASE pay attention to me? I'm bored and your night table seems to be bare."

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Hair raising

My hair is inexplicably changing colour and I don't like it. About a month ago I noticed it seemed lighter than usual and that I had roots. Yes, I've dyed it recently but I dyed it darker, not lighter, so it didn't make sense. But logical or not, it just keeps getting lighter and lighter. Colours that used to look good on me no longer do. The whole look of my face has changed. It's weird.

At this rate, I'm going to be naturally blond by the time I'm 60. Then we'll see who has more fun!

Sunday, June 22, 2008

A note to my mom

There are many reasons why I love you, Mom, and I want the world to know how awesome you are:
  • I was in some sort of musical ensemble from age 7 until my mid-twenties. Band, choir, vocal jazz, chamber choir, musicals, the works. I can count on one hand the number of performances you missed, Mom. For hundreds of other shows, you sat in the audience, smiling, proud, filled with excitement and never bored, and you tried your hardest to clap louder than everyone around you. I always loved the moment I spotted you in the crowd.

  • When my girlfriend moved hundreds of miles away, you took me to the bus station to say goodbye. You held back while she and I hugged and cried and then you kept me busy for the rest of the day. You took me to buy a vacuum cleaner. We went grocery shopping. You made me lunch - I still remember what we had: salami, mustard, and melted Boccancelli on crusty rolls, and comforting soup. We went to a movie. You made sure it was a comedy. You gave me rumpled tissues from your purse and many hugs when I cried. I was 31 years old but you made me feel as safe as a child again.

  • I still remember those tough, sad days after we left dad and moved to the apartment in Winnipeg. I was 5 years old, so I didn't think that maybe you were hurting, too. You created special rituals that made me feel better. To this day I get the urge to sit down in front of the TV on a Friday night, watch the Muppet Show, and eat homemade pizza with a banana milk shake off of a TV tray.

  • Growing up I sang. All the time. From morning to night. It must have been annoying but you never told me to stop. (No, that's a lie. I recall practicing a song for choir while we were eating supper and you told me to give it a rest until after the meal. I can't blame you - I imagine my food was flying everywhere.) This past Christmas, I went over to help you decorate your tree and the two of us sang carols the whole time. I launched into an enthusiastic and quite-on-purposely bad rendition of "O Holy Night." You smiled and gave me looks. "Am I bothering you?" I asked, hopefully. "Not at all. It's nice hearing you sing again, even if you are being a smart-ass." Well...if it wasn't bothering you, what was the point of my badness? I kept going, though.
  • When you make my favourite soup (beef barley), you always set aside a huge container of it for me.

  • When I was little and we were not that well-off, you saved your money and took me to Boston Pizza for a Valentine's Day supper. We shared a heart-shaped pizza and you drank water so that I could order chocolate milk.

  • You put a self-centred teenage Nat in my place many times. "My hair's not done - I can't go out with you! Everyone will laugh at me," I would wail. "Yes, because everyone in the mall has absolutely NOTHING better to do than scrutinize you and your hair. I think they might have the spotlight ready for your entrance," you'd snark back. It helped turn me into a decent, kind, thoughtful human.
Thanks for everything you've done, big and small. You're my favourite person on this planet. Hope you have a great birthday tomorrow, Mom. I love you lots.

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Last night I had the strangest dream

I hardly ever remember my dreams. I know I have them because I'll wake up and think, "Huh. That was weird." But even as that thought is forming in my head, the content of the dream is slipping away and I'm just left with a vague impression. Sometimes I'll have sad dreams and wake up sobbing, yet I won't be able to remember what it was that made me so upset.

Or, if I do happen to remember my dreams, they are unremarkable. I recall one time my ex dreamed she was fighting ninjas and got sliced in the stomach and was bleeding to death and then woke up. That same night? I dreamed I took a shower and when I was done, I discovered someone took my towel! I couldn't dry off! The horror!

But last night I had the best dream I've had in AGES. It was a Hollywood movie-quality dream.

It started at a party. My friend Cake and I were incredibly drunk and left at about 3:30 a.m. We were really far away from my place but right next to his apartment. Public transportation wasn't running and I had no money for a cab. For some reason, he didn't suggest that I crash on his couch. Instead, he said I should go sleep at his old apartment. (In real life, Cake just moved from one apartment to another.) Cake said that he knew the front lock on the building was broken and he still had his old key, so I could get in with no difficulties. AND his old suite wasn't yet rented out!

Not wanting to sleep in the street, I took him up on his offer. I walked a short distance and found his old building. Sure enough, the front door lock was broken and I could easily enter without causing suspicion. I walked up the stairs to his apartment and saw 2 men at the other end of the hall, talking. They looked familiar but I was still really drunk from the party and just wanted to sleep, so I didn't pay them much attention. I opened his door and sure enough, no one was living there yet. Oddly, the place was fully furnished but I didn't question it because in dreams, things just make sense.

I stumbled to the couch and had just started to drift off when I noticed that the apartment didn't smell right. It smelled like soil, like a garden. So I got up and snooped around to see what the source might be. I opened the door to his old bedroom and discovered that it had turned into a HUGE marijuana grow operation. There were plants of all sizes, in all stages of growth, crammed into that room so tightly that there was hardly room for a person.

"Holy shit!" I thought. "I better get outta here before whoever's running this comes back!"

And, on cue, I heard the voices of the two men I had seen in the hall earlier. The were talking about "checking on the plants" so I knew I had to get out fast. Somehow I snuck out of the apartment without them noticing which unit I had exited and as I walked past them, I was surprised to see that they were none other than Seth Rogen and Jonah Hill.

"Those guys woulda killed me if they had found me in there!" I oh-so-rationally thought.

I safely got out the front door of the building and onto the sidewalk when I noticed that in my haste to leave without being killed by stoners, I had forgotten my shoes. So there I was, miles and miles away from home, penniless, drunk, and barefoot. At that point I checked my cell phone and saw that Wizard, a friend of mine, had called me only ten minutes earlier! What luck! So I called him back.

"Hey, Wizard. I see I just missed your call."

"Um...nope. I called you hours ago."

"But my phone says you called, like, ten minutes ago."

"Couldn't have. I was sleeping when you called."

Then I heard a woman giggling in the background and asking who it was on the phone. Wizard shushed her and then said, "Sorry, Nat. I've gotta go." Then he hung up.

I clearly wasn't going to get any help from him! Despondent, I started shuffling along the street towards home. A vehicle drove up along side of me and honked and I turned to see another friend, Mutton, driving the Love Bus. (In real life, the Love Bus is a Christian initiative in the city where they've transformed an old school bus into a traveling refuge of sorts. The take it to the rougher areas of the city and offer prostitutes and people on the street a place to warm up and a cup of coffee if they want. My friend Mutton is quite active in the Christian community here, though I don't know if he's involved with the Bus directly.)

"You need a ride home, Nat?"

"Aw, Mutton! That'd be awesome!"

"Well hop on."

And then I woke up.

Was that a great dream or what? I mean, guest appearances from Seth Rogan and Jonah Hill!

If there's anyone out there skilled in interpreting dreams, feel free to tell me what it all meant because fucked if I know.

Monday, June 9, 2008

Things I miss

I've been on this planet for 33 years and I have lived with at least one other person for 31 of those years. Living alone isn't all bad. I get to do what I want, when I want. I never have to share the bathroom. If I put a bag of cherries in the fridge, I know that when I go looking for it later that it's going to be there. I always leave the toilet seat down.

Yet there are times when I miss being around people so much that my chest aches. Here are some of the things I miss
  • The smell of bacon when I first wake up in the morning and the sounds of someone making me breakfast

  • Talking

  • Not talking and just being

  • Snuggling in bed

  • Being goofy with someone

  • That feeling of joy when I'd discover that I had an unexpected morning or evening to myself after weeks of no Me Time

  • Road trips at night when it's raining and I'm snuggled under a blanket, eating junk food, listening to great music, and talking to someone I can't get enough of

  • Sharing moments of reality-TV-induced incredulousness or delight

  • Singing harmony (or trying to)

  • Feeling a bit sick and laying down on the couch while someone moves around in the kitchen, listening to CBC Radio 1 and puttering around

  • Lazy Sundays filled with Scrabble, chai, knitting, fires in the fireplace, and homemade meals

Days like today, when the loneliness is palpable, I long to be a kid again and living with my mom, feeling safe, warm, and loved.