As cool as a high school musical

"Nat, you are a very mysterious person."

That is one of the best things anyone has ever said to me, and it was completely unexpected. Granted, I was being rather coy at the time. It was about three years ago and I was at work chatting with Michael, a co-worker. We were talking about some fabulous concert that was coming to town and I mentioned how I was much too broke to go.

Michael: Broke? It seems like you're always broke. You make as much as I do and you don't even have a family to support!

Nat: Yeah, well, I have a lot of bills and...stuff.

Michael: What, do you have a nasty drug habit or something?

At that point in my life I was quite firmly NOT out as a bi person. In fact, I was so far in the closet that I was practically hanging out with Mr. Tumnus and eating Turkish Delight. (Not that I'm terribly out now, but that's a different post for the future.) No one had any idea that I had a significant other and that she was a female! How could I tell him that my girlfriend wasn't working and so I was actually supporting us both? How could I explain that together we had a lot of bills to pay and sometimes we'd be so broke that I'd have to use my gas card to buy us groceries at the corner gas station? (Expired bologna and Wonder Bread, anyone?) I couldn't go into any of this, so I simply smiled and said, "No, just a lot of bills."

I've always wanted to be one of those mysterious women. You know the ones - they have this aura about them. You want to know everything about them but they give you nothing. They make you feel flustered and nervous when you try to talk to them. They're just so...so cool!

That's when he called me mysterious. I was THRILLED! I am the opposite of mysterious. You will know my life story within seconds of meeting me. "Hi-I'm-Nat-I'm-a-feminist-socialist-treehugger-who-hates-being-patronized-and-who-likes-music-and-art-and-taking-pictures-of-weird-stuff-and-long-walks-on-the-beach-and..." I'll go on and on. SO not cool.

However, as time goes by I've accepted that I will never be that dark, mysterious woman in the corner who everybody wants to know, and I think I'm alright with that. I like me, even with all my nerdiness. This brings us to the latest reasons why.

17 Reasons I'm Not Cool (And I'm Okay With That)

• I've always like school, not for the social aspect (I never had many friends), but for the learning. How geeky is that?
  
  
• I play the flute. Not the sultry saxophone or the wailin' trumpet or the pounding drums. The flute. Like Alyson Hannigan in that awful movie franchise, only with less body invasiveness.
  
  
• I'm an adult and I'm taking beginner piano lessons.
  
  
• I cry. Oh MAN do I cry. None of this stoic, strong stuff for me. I cry, I weep, I sob, I blubber. I cry when I'm sad, mad, or happy. And I don't look all cute when I do it, either. My whole face turns red and blotchy and swollen, my nose runs, my voice turns raspy. It isn't pretty. I'm just one big ball of deeply-felt emotions.
  
  
• I get excited about things like sunsets and autumn and Northern Lights and hoar frost. (By the way, as I write this there is a particularly beautiful batch of fresh hoar frost outside. Fucking gorgeous.)
  
  
• I take the bus. Or as my co-worker is fond of calling it, the Loser Cruiser.
  
  
• I love reading!
  
  
• I will go to the movie theatre and watch a movie by myself.
  
  
• I am not cynical. I usually believe the best in people and give them second and third and fourth chances when they let me down.
  
  
• I don't really do sarcasm. I tend to not realize when others are being sarcastic towards me and when I try to say something sarcastic, it comes out all wrong and people miss it entirely.
  
  
• I like things! Cool people never seem to like anything. It doesn't matter if it's a movie, a band, a song, a holiday, or whatever - chances are I like it and all the cool kids don't.
  
  
• I really really love my family. I know - how uncool! You're supposed to barely put up with your dysfunctional relations. You're supposed to make a sarcastic, cynical appearance at Christmas dinner and then get the hell out of there as fast as you can. You're NOT supposed to stick around and play crib or Scrabble.
  
  
• I play crib and Scrabble.
  
  
• I go to the library regularly and take out books.
  
  
• I don't have cable television.
  
  
• I can't dance yet I love it so I flail around every chance I get. Cool people either don't dance or dance very well.
  
  
• I have a video tape of when I was in the community band. It is of our summer tour to the mid-western United States. It's filled with concerts and marching competitions. I love this video tape. When I first met my ex, I made her sit down and watch it with me. To her credit, she did not go running for the hills.
  

All I need to do now is find people who think this list is what makes me cool, not what prevents me from being cool. And if one of them should also think I was kinda cute, well that wouldn't be so bad either.

Hope

I saw this a while ago and it made me feel happy.

My Christmas wish list

1. A job where:
   
   
   
   • I feel like I'm contributing in a meaningful way
     
   • I get to interact with people with whom I have things in common
     
   • My co-workers acknowledge my existence, are curious about me, and will actually initiate conversations with me instead of just answering direct questions
     
   • I am doing something I enjoy
     
   • I can somehow help people
     
   • Even one of the above
     
   
   
2. More friends. Don't get me wrong - the ones I have now are awesome and I couldn't love them any more. However, I'm always on the lookout for more so that my current friends don't reach their Nat Saturation Point (the NSP) and get annoyed at everything I do and say. Have I mentioned that I REALLY like people and enjoy being around them a lot? The NSP seems to occur quite quickly these days.
   
   
3. A photography class where I can learn how to actually use my awesome little digital camera properly. When I purchased it at the beginning of the year, I had no idea I'd turn out to like photography so freaking much. To be more accurate, I've always enjoyed looking at photos, but I've never been much of a taker of photos. It used to take me an entire year to finish one roll of film. However, since I bought my digital camera? Look out! Um, so yeah. Knowing what I'm doing would be nice.
   
   
4. Peace, love, and understanding.
   
   
5. Someone to clean my apartment. Gawd, I hate cleaning.
   

Everyone's a critic, especially Lucy

I've been listening to Christmas songs for a couple of weeks now. Yes, I'm a bit of a Christmas nut. In the interest of spreading joy and settling nerves everywhere, I shall share some of these favourites with you.

Nat's Nineteen Beloved Christmas Songs

1. A Christmas Festival by Leroy Anderson - The band organization I was in from when I was 7 years old until I was 16 years old was made up of 4 levels - D (beginners), C, B, and finally A (the best musicians). Every year, all 4 bands put on a lavish Christmas concert in our local concert hall. We'd have sets and special guest and a huge audience. Near the end of the concert, the A band would play this song and I can remember thinking each and every time that I could hardly wait until I was in the A band so that I could play it, too. You know how sometimes you hope for something so hard for so long that when it finally happens it's a big disappointment? That totally didn't happen here. I was in the A band for 4 years and I relished each performance of this song. I know it so well I could hum to you the different instruments' parts. My favourite bits include the chime notes in Silent Night and those fantastic triplets in O Come All Ye Faithful.
   
   
2. Sleigh Ride by Leroy Anderson - I also played this in band. It has to be the version with the whip-snapping sound, the jazzy section, and the trumpet-horse at the end. It was always amusing when someone new tried to do the horse sound. Sometimes in rehearsal they ended up sounding more like a wounded moose than an whinnying Clydesdale.
   
   
3. Claire Fontaine by Hawksley Workman - This song is not overly Christmassy by it's on his Christmas album and is fun, nonetheless. What's not to like about a tribute to a paper-maker? Claire Fontaine you seem to bring the best out of me and the things that I write to sing.
   
   
4. Happy Christmas (War Is Over) by John Lennon and Yoko Ono - You can't get cheesier than a couple of peaceniks and a children's choir but I love it.
   
   
5. Go Tell It On The Mountain performed by Mahalia Jackson - She has such a powerful voice that she kicks my ass all over the place and makes me temporarily forget that I'm an atheist.
   
   
6. Fairytale of New York by the Pogues - Any Christmas song that includes the words scumbag, maggot, drunk, and slut is tops with me. Him: I could have been someone. Her: Well so could anyone. Amen, my sistah.
   
   
7. God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen/We Three Kings performed by the Barenaked Ladies and Sarah McLachlan - I know it's not cool to like BNL but I do. They're goofy and fun and their voices sound so damn good together. Add a kicky beat and the beautiful voice of Sarah and you have harmonic perfection.
   
   
8. Carol of the Bells performed by whomever - I know all the words to this and sing along vociferously. What? You don't believe me? You think this song doesn't have words? Hark how the bells, sweet silver bells, all seem to say, "Throw cares away." Christmas is here bringing good cheer to young and old, meek and the bold... I could go on. I won't.
   
   
9. 3 Generations by Hawksley Workman - The words remind me so much of my own family Christmases, which tend to revolved around the kitchen. Put away the turkey to make sandwiches tomorrow and put away the bones to make the soup for the winter - but not the wishbone, just put it on the counter and let it dry out this week in time to make a wish for New Year's Eve. And then there's that last verse that always makes me feel a little sad.
   
   
10. O Holy Night performed by Mahalia Jackson - When I was about five years old, my mom had a record of Christmas songs. When you opened the album, the middle had a pop-up nativity scene and I loved to look at it while I listened to the album. The one song I HATED was O Holy Night because it was performed by a soprano whose goal seem to be to shatter all the windows in my house. As I grew up, I associated the singer with the song and avoided it at all costs. Then I heard this version and the resulting goosebumps proved to me that the Mahalia is amazing and the song is actually quite lovely.
    
    
11. Baby, It's Cold Outside performed by Tom Jones and Cerys Matthews - This is an awesomely jazzy rendition that makes me want to dance around and sing loudly while twirling a feather boa.
    
    
12. What Christmas Means To Me by Stevie Wonder - Who doesn't like Stevie?
    
    
13. The Christmas Song performed by Nat King Cole - That voice makes me melt.
    
    
14. All I Want for Christmas performed by Samantha Mumba - Her voice is a tad whiny but that beat makes me move. Also my friend likes to sing along, including the super high note, and she always laughs at my attempt to hit the note. Sue me - I'm an alto at heart.
    
    
15. Christmas Wrapping by the Waitresses - Even though I love Christmas, I acknowledge that it can be a bit trying at times. This song sums up all the frustrations of the season.
    
    
16. Mary's Boy Child performed by Bony M - Oh. My. GAWD I love this song. So much fun to sing at the top of my lungs, especially the last section with all the different parts being sung at the same time.
    
    
17. Winter Wonderland performed by Aretha Franklin - What a voice. Also, she makes one change to the lyrics that makes me giggle: Later on we'll conspire as we groove by the fire. Hee. Oh Aretha.
    
    
18. Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas by Ella Fitzgerald - What's Christmas without a little Ella? It's nothing, that's what it is.
    
    
19. Hallelujah Chorus by Handel - When I was in band, we got together with an amazing choir and performed this in front of a gigantic audience. I'm pretty sure the shivers I experience during that performance stayed with me for weeks after. And he shall reign for ever and ever - King of kings, Lord of lords.
    

I got a little too loud with the singing on that last one and woke up Lucy. Here's the look she gave me:


So what are you listening to? Drop me a comment with the Christmas songs you love to love (or hate to love). If I had more readers and it wasn't illegal, I would hold a contest where the winning poster received a disc of all the above music. Ahem. [wink, wink]

Death by garland

This weekend I went to my mom and stepdad's house to help with the Christmas tree. I absolutely adore Christmas. I love the music, I love decorating, I love the fresh smell of a real tree, I love Christmas lights, I love baking, I love buying things for other people, I love cold Christmas mornings with sparkling snow, and mostly I love the warm, friendly chaos that comes from a house full of people who mean the world to you all rushing around getting supper together and presents wrapped and trying not to kill one another.

Naturally, when my mom asked if I wanted to go help, I jumped at the chance. Because this is the first year my mom and stepdad will spend actually living in the same house, it's going to be a bit weird. I figured by helping decorate, it will help me to feel that much more at home over the holidays. Plus, since my ex and I broke up I haven't decorated my own place. She was also cuckoo for Christmas and it's just not as fun putting up a tree and decorating all by myself.

When I got to their house, my stepdad was hanging decorations around their sunroom and the tree was all assembled. It's the kind that comes with the lights already in there to make life easier. Mom and I started with the garland. THREE HOURS LATER we finished hanging it around the tree. "What happened?" you may ask. Were we interrupted? Was there a tree-falling-down catastrophe? Did we construct a gingerbread village in there somewhere? Oh no. It was all garland, all the time for those three hours.

You see, my mom doesn't like the usual tinselly garland that most people use on their trees. She thinks it looks tacky. (Yes, Mom. Because none of our other Christmas decorations are tacky. Here is an actual ornament we hang on our tree every year:)

One year she made my sister and me string popcorn and cranberries but that didn't work out as well as she had hoped. We used frozen cranberries and when they thawed, the colour bled all over the popcorn, turing the whole thing into a bloody mess. Also, our cat like to eat it. So one year my mom found this looooong string of silver beads that was to be used for garland and ever since that year, we've had to deal with the Law of Garland Attraction (or Death By Garland).

Fig 1. This is what the garland looks like in its resting state. (Clearly I am still traumatized by the whole incident, because this should be labeled Fig. 1, not Fig. 3.)


Did I mention this fucker is LONG? Because it is. And as long as the string is not touching any other part of the garland, life is fine. However, it's not so easy to wrap garland around a tree when the string is stretched across the living room, out the front door, down the road, and along the highway on its way to Vancouver. This means that you have to wind the string around your arm or neck or body or something. And so begins the Law of Garland Attraction - AS SOON as this particular type of garland touches any other part of the string, the silver balls are so attracted to (or enraged by) each other that they must get all twisted up. See Figs. 2 and 3:


For the result of this twisting, see Fig. 4:


For the result of the dreaded garland knot, see Fig. 5:


My stepdad kept poking his head into the living room and saying one of the following:

• Are you two still untangling?
  
  
• I can't believe how long that's taking!
  
  
• I can run to the store and get a different kind, if you want.
  
  
• You guys are crazy.
  

We just snarled back and kept on untangling. We'd get a nice length all sorted out and work on another section, only to have the first section end up in a knot. At one point my mom remarked that we must be the only people in the world who used that garland more than once. I think she's probably right. She has vowed to find something nice and simple for next year but I'll believe it when I see it. In the meantime, I'm going to enact my revenge by ending with a final picture of a beloved, not-at-all-tacky decoration that ends up in a place of honour every year.

Supersuspicion...ain't a word

I received this from the always-awesome Wench:

Tag, you're it!

The Rules:
Write a list of things of which you are suspicious. Any number of them will do. Even the number 0 works. This is the first meme that can be done without even doing it. In fact, you're doing it right now.
Include the list of rules, if you feel like it.
Link back to the person who tagged you. Or not.
Tag however many people you want to tag. You can skip this step.
If you acted on rule four, leave comments on their websites to let them know that they have been tagged. This step is also completely optional.
Feel fantastic.

So, with no further ado I present you with

Four things that cause me to be suspicious

1) Miracle cures - Today it's goji juice that cures all. Yesterday it was cranberries. Tomorrow it's going to be aloe or pomegranate. PEOPLE! There is no magic pill. No fountain of youth. No miraculous elixir. Eat well, exercise, and be kind to one another.

2) Studies - The media is always reporting on studies done to prove this or disprove that. Who did these studies? Who funded them? How conclusive are they? Are there other studies that refute the claims? The other day I was ranting about the prevalence of gender-specific marketing for children's toys. If I see one more happy little girl in her playhouse with the realistic kitchen (to cook her man some supper), I might just vomit. Anyway, my friend said there was a study that proved little girls are naturally attracted to dolls while little boys went for the trucks. Really? Who did this study? Who were these children? Were they newborns? Because that's the only way to avoid preconceptions. If they live in our society for any amount of time, they're going to be exposed to gender stereotypes everywhere they look. That HAS to impact the study! Did the media report any of that when they presented the study? Which takes me to...

3) The media - There is no such thing as unbiased media, so instead I choose the radio stations, newspapers, magazines, and TV shows that have a bias I agree with.

4) People who compliment me - Whenever someone makes a positive comment about me, my gut reaction is, "What do you want?" because I can't actually believe they simply like something about me. Through rigorous training, I now just say, "Thank you."

And that's all, folks. I'm not overly suspicious. I'm that trusting person that makes it on the news because she let a stranger into her house to use the phone and ended up dead. Except I wouldn't do that (due to my rigorous training mentioned in #4).

I don't think I'll tag anyone, but if you're reading this and want to make your own list, leave a comment letting me know and I'll check it out.

Home again, home again, jiggity-jig

Okay, this time I've REALLY taken off my travelin' shoes. Honest. See - there they are in the back corner of my closet.

I have just returned home from another week away, this time in the far-less-glamourous (and much-less-smokey) city of my birth: Winnipeg. My time in Winnipeg is always a swirly mixture of eager anticipation and dread, fun and boredom, happiness and sorrow. It's great to see my family, but I'm never there long enough and people usually end up with their feelings hurt and fighting over me. (Sidenote: This used to drive my ex crazy. She didn't see why I put up with the snide comments and manipulation. Once she accused me of actually liking it. I quickly set her straight.) To tell you about my rollercoaster time there, I shall divide it up into the different people with whom I visited:

My dad
As you know, my relationship with my dad is not ideal. He's a long-time alcoholic who still acts like he's 16 years old. Most of the females he has dated since my ex-step-mom left him 2 years ago have been my age or younger and have been...oh, how can I say this nicely? Alcohol-soaked bar flies who used my dad for his money and generous spirit? Yeah, that has a nice ring to it. Well now he's dating someone one year OLDER than he is that he met at a pig roast! She's lovely and the two of us got along quite well. Normally when I visit my dad, he drinks rye and cola, I drink diet cola or water, and we sit on his couch and watch movies on his gigantic screen TV while I inhale 2 packages of second-hand smoke each day. This time, though, I hung out with his girlfriend and went shopping and got a pedicure instead. It was nice. Oh, there was still a lot of TV-watching on my part and rye-drinking on his part. And karaoke. My dad is a regular at a beer parlour on north Main Street and they have karaoke every Friday night. I tried to escape it but I couldn't - he wanted me to go experience the fun for myself. He wanted to show me off to all of his drinking buddies, including the guy who couldn't talk due to years of inhaling household chemicals, the 350-lb biker dyke with the black eye, and T-Bone, who only communicates by grunting. It was an interesting night, I must say. Oh yes, and my dad and I sang a lovely rendition of Bye Bye Love.


My grandma
I love staying in my grandma's house. I have my own bedroom, bathroom, and television in her basement. She cooks me delicious meals (I'd stab someone with a chef's knife to get at her buttermilk pancakes and chokecherry syrup). We go shopping, we play crib, we go for walks, she does reflexology on my feet. I adore my grandma. However (you knew there was a however, didn't you?), she tends to drive me a bit crazy. She points at my hair and says, "Did the hairdresser mean to do that?" She squints at my year-old, snazzy winter jacket and says, "You've been wearing that old thing for 15 years! Let's go get you a new one." She also jealously guards her time with me against anyone else, especially my dad. "You've stayed at your dad's for 3 night and only 2 nights with me. When are you coming back to my place?" she'll inquire. Sigh. This time she was actually quite understanding. She knew she'd be seeing me for Christmas and that I hadn't seen my dad for almost a year, so she allowed unequal visiting time. She also bought me a new winter coat because she didn't like my old one and a new pair of shoes because she didn't like the ones I was wearing. I drew the line when she suggested making an appointment for a hair cut with her hairdresser.


Uncle Steve
Uncle Steve is recovering nicely from his operation. It was great to spend some time with him. He cooked me breakfast one day and lunch on another. He drove me places, even though he's not supposed to be driving much yet. We talked about books we were reading (me: Saving Fish from Drowning by Amy Tan; him: Death at Sandringham House by C.C. Benison), good movies we had watched (me: Martian Child; him: Rocky Horror Picture Show for the first time ever), delicious new recipes we've discovered (me: Curry Zucchini Soup; him: Mediterranean Salad) and recent obsessions (me: taking photos of homeless people; him: finding cheap organic tomatoes). It was a little startling to see him looking so skinny and moving so slowly but his sense of humour was still there, thank goodness.


Auntie Beth
I don't often spend a lot of time with Auntie Beth. She's my dad's sister and I've never been especially close to anyone on my dad's side of the family. They're not what you would call a loving bunch. Nonetheless, my aunt wanted to get together for supper with me one night and introduce me to her girlfriend, Lola. We went to a Chinese buffet restaurant (bleh) and actually had a pretty good time. Even though I don't know her very well, I like Auntie Beth. It took me FOREVER to figure out her roommates were more than roommates. Even after I knew they slept in the same bed, it still didn't dawn on me they were anything but friends. I was a slow child. Give me a break - it took me almost 25 years to figure out I was attracted to both men and women. (We'll save that for another entry.)


Jane
Jane and I have been friends since university. Here's the story of how we met. It was my very first semester of my very first degree. I walked into my first French class and scanned the room for a friendly face. I saw someone who looked interesting and sat at the table in front of her. The tables sat groups of two - why I didn't sit with this potentially-interesting person, I'll never know. As the room filled up, a really odd-looking woman entered and looked for a place to sit. "Please don't sit here, please don't sit here...ah crap." She ended up being as weird as she looked. The next day, I made a beeline for the interesting woman's table and said, "I don't want to be stuck with that weirdo as a conversation partner all semester!" We laughed, bonding over the poor weirdo's weirdness. That was Sharon. (The interesting person, not the weirdo.) Sharon was friends with Jane and introduced us. Today, I haven't spoken to Sharon in years but Jane and I remain good friends. Sadly, she lives in Winnipeg and I don't get to see her much. I managed to see Jane not once but TWO WHOLE TIMES while I was there! It was great. There was beer involved and, on one of the occassions, her equally fantastic and hilarious sweetie.


Princess
Princess is a relatively new friend. We met through work - she works in the Winnipeg office, I work in the Regina office. Her position required her to take trips to Regina every now and then. We clicked immediatley and even though she no longer works for the same company, we've kept in touch. Before I left, I informed her that I would be visiting her city and that I'd love to get together one night. When I called her from my dad's house to see what she wanted to do, she informed me she was kidnapping me Saturday evening and not returning me until Sunday afternoon. She had a whole big adventure planned out - dinner, beer, dancing, and brunch the next morning. (My dad and my grandma weren't very happy about losing one night to someone outside of the family!) We ate sushi for dinner (delicious!), met up with her husband, Jane, and Better Than Awesome Paul for drinks (goofy good fun), and went dancing until the wee hours at a club located in an old bank, complete with the carved stone pillars and high tin ceilings. The next morning, while we were getting ready to go for brunch to a little bakery/eatery down the street, we heard on the news that a guy was stabbed to death in the very same nightclub where we were dancing to "Sexyback"! We both agreed that I should tell my family we were at a different club - one where there were no fatalities!


And that was my trip. I'm good until at least next summer or fall, when I'll have to do it all again. One of these days I'm going to take a secret trip to Winnipeg where I just tell Princess and Jane.