27 Years of Wisdom (and Stamp) Collecting

When I was a kid, I used to daydream about 'future me' and what she would be like. Then I would wish that she could travel back in time and tell me everything she learned so that I wouldn't have to go through the trouble of experiencing it. Sort of like Biff in Back to the Future, except I wouldn't be a bitter old man who only wanted his past self to be rich. That's still something current me hopes that future me figures out and comes back to the present to share.

"It's *leave*, you idiot! "Make like a tree, and leave." You sound like a damn fool when you say it wrong." 

So here we are, on the eve of my birthday, while I am awaiting to turn 25 for the third time, and I'm actually proud to say that in many ways, I have become that woman I wanted to be. True, I may not be a famous musician, or actress, or writer, and until recently was best known for my wildly out of control ketchup addiction, but more importantly, I've learned some character building life lessons. I've also attained some more realistic goals, like my goal of learning how to set goals. Understandably, given this vast amount of wisdom and knowledge I have accumulated in my humble 27 years, there is much of it that I would like to go back and share with my past self, such as:

• If you leave milk out on the counter, it will go bad. I can't stress this enough. Put it in the refrigerator, or, failing that, a cool, damp sac
• Oil changes are the single most important thing you can do to extend your car's life. You've heard dad say this many times, but shake me upside down and call me Susan, he was right
• You know all that money you made at your summer jobs that you are going to blow on frivolous things? Yeah, take all of that, put it into this account called a "mutual fund", and don't touch it until early 2007.
• Stop plucking your eyebrows. I know you think you know what you are doing, but you don't. Just stop and go to a professional
• When you are travelling, you should always always pack extra socks and underwear. Just...trust me on this
• You are allergic to cats. Know this now before you move out and get a cat. But get her anyway because she is adorable and worth the dried out eyelids and hives
• "Definitely" is not spelt "definately". It took you far too long to learn this

Then to freak her out a bit, I'd tell her about Justin Bieber and the invention of crocs. 

In all seriousness, I would tell her that the real world isn't as big and scary of a place as she thought it would be, and that it's actually quite an adventure. I'd tell her that happiness is an amalgamation of the attitude you choose to have every day about the world and about yourself, the types of people you choose to associate with, and the amount of effort and action you are going to take and put behind the things in life that are truly valuable. I would tell her that sometimes the best way to get over yourself and what you're dealing with is to shift the focus off of you and onto helping someone else. 

Then I would subtly hand her the 2015 sports almanac and be on my way.

Maybe If I Could Bedazzle Them?

I discovered something very important about myself today.

After a classic battle of Lorraine vs. herself that has lasted many years and caused many sleepless nights, I finally conceded.

I, Lorraine, third (and favourite) child of Doug and Sandra, lover of all things that are Heinz ketchup, in sound mind and body, declare in a LOUD BOOMING VOICE, AS INDICATED BY THESE CAPITAL LETTERS, THAT................

*dramatic pause*

I totally don't like plain t-shirts.

I KNOW, I KNOW! How can she not like plain t-shirts? What is there not to like? I swear, I TRIED to like them! Oh how I did try. You don't know how many times I stood in a change room after worming my way into a cost effective, comfortable plain t-shirt and convinced my reflection:

a) that it actually looked really good on her

b) to accept that not every shirt requires a design or unique characteristic to look good

c) that the plainness of the t-shirt is, in effect, its very own fashion.

Regretfully, these successful self-convincing arguments triggered countless plain t-shirt casualties. Perfectly acceptable plain t-shirts were purchased and promptly demoted to pajama shirt status. Yes, these plain t-shirts were not even granted the dignity to be worn in public. That is, until they were packed up in the semi-annual closet purge and donated to charity, where hopefully someone who was a little more appreciative of plain t-shirts gave them a loving, accepting home. A home where their self-esteems could flourish, away from the constant degradation they had become accustomed to in my residence; where they could feel the sweet exhilaration of being chosen above all other shirts, and not just worn on laundry day; where they could maintain their fresh laundry scent until the next time they were worn instead of gradually absorbing the wooden odor of the chest of drawers during their six month hibernation period.

As soon as I built up the courage to admit to myself that I don't like them, I felt a wave of freedom wash over me. The shackles were broken. My eyes were opened. Somewhere in the distance, the hallelujah chorus started playing. I don't like plain t-shirts, and THAT'S OKAY. I don't have to be ashamed. It was like I was trying so hard to be someone I'm not - someone who likes plain t-shirts.

Now, let me be clear; I don't want to be labeled as an anti-plain-t-shirter. I am all for plain t-shirts. They are versatile, comfortable, and look great on many, many people - most annoyingly, those girls who could make even a burlap sac look fashionable. (I hate those girls.) However, I need some character to my t-shirts. Some pizzaz. You know why? Because I am FULL of pizzaz. Maybe even some flair, depending on the day. And if my clothes can't reflect who I am, then really...why even bother wearing them in the first place?

Trouble In Technological Paradise

My cell phone and I haven't been on good terms lately. There's been some bickering, some emotional manipulation, and even threats of violence. And while we generally try not to go to bed angry with each other, it's kind-of been inevitable lately. Patience and forgiveness are wearing thin. Naturally, I fully blame my cell phone for all of our issues. If it would just BE NICE and RELIABLE we wouldn't have anything to argue about.

I originally got the phone around a year and a half ago. I was home for Christmas in Ontario, on a tight budget, and willing to sign a three year contract if it meant I didn't have to pay a cent for the phone. I got my wish, and came home with the LG Wave. Which I bought mainly because it starts out red at the top and transitions to black, and gosh darn it, it looked pretty. (See picture). It also didn't seem strewn with unnecessary bells and whistles, which I honestly hate about cell phones these days. If I could buy a cell phone without a camera installed in it, I would, but I don't think they even exist anymore. What happened to single function devices? Everything has to be multi-functional, and yet all the functions it incorporates are not nearly as high quality as individual functioning devices. For example, there's no way a tiny little camera built into a cell phone is going to have anything close to the quality of my 10.0 megapixel 20x optical/digital zoom camera. So until they make that possible, I will stick to my single function devices. Such as my ipod. Which has 80 gigs. Which an iphone would not have. My point continues.

As far as I can remember, my cell phone and I generally got along pretty well. I can't remember exactly when it started - as I suppose most people in troubled relationships can't - but gradually my cell phone began to act...well...different. These actions included, but were not limited to:

• Lying when it said it was making a phone call. It would TELL me it was "calling", except there was no ringing, and then after about 30 seconds of waiting, I would finally get the cold, hard truth: "Call failed".
• Not giving me my text messages until eight hours after they were sent. (It chose 4:30 a.m. to deliver them.)
• Not letting me send out texts (possibly out of jealousy, as there WERE some male recipients.) It would tell me it's "Connecting" for five minutes before informing me "Message is not sent. General problems." GENERAL PROBLEMS? If you're going to screw up my texting, at least think up a worthwhile excuse! You stupid, stupid phone!
• Mood swings: one minute having a full signal, and the next having no signal at all. (While remaining in exactly the same location.)
• Closing itself on me in the middle of sending texts because I made the mistake of holding it vertically and apparently it just took too much effort to stay open in that position.
• Only staying charged for one or two days max. (Burnt out from all the arguing, I assume.)
• General brattiness: the T9 word function always changes "it?" into "i8.", I SWEAR just to annoy me. Also, when I type "chiropractor" it first gives me "chipossabuns". THEN I have to hit "next" to get to "chiropractor." Which is completely logical. I'm always texting about chipossabuns. (Is that even a word?)

Lately it's new way to irritate me has been to send the wrong "reply to" number when I text, so when someone tries to reply to me, they end up talking to some random person in Alberta, or, as occurred on one occasion, B.C. Either that or I receive replies asking "who is this?" because the text appears to be coming from a number that is not mine, and, let's face it, receiving a text that says "I just narrowly missed walking into a firetruck" may sound pretty bizarre to someone who doesn't know me or my texting ways.

I finally had it up to HERE with my phone, and decided that our relationship needed to come to an end. So I marched into Telus (a.k.a. the divorce lawyer) to investigate my options. They said they would give me $150 towards a new phone or $200 towards a "smart" phone. (Because clearly, the old phones are stupid phones. Hahahaha. Haha. Ha...ah.) However, if I don't want to incur any extra costs, I have all of two phones to choose from. One of them is an LG model that is very similar to the one I have now, and the other one is so old it's on the verge of being discontinued. SPEAKING OF DISCONTINUED; I was also informed that my phone, as well as the entire "Chocolate" line from LG, was discontinued months after it was released because they were just, so, BAD. I wish they recalled cell phones like they do cars.

The injustice of this entire cell phone situation has stirred deep within me, conjuring up some sort of Cell Phone Avenger superhero-type character who wants to right the wrongs for all those who have been screwed over by a cell phone service provider, or suffered because of the lack of quality of their cell phones. Here is my logic, and I'm really going to emphasize this, so you might want to cover your ears:

IF THE CELL PHONE IS NOT OF HIGH ENOUGH QUALITY TO LAST THE TERM OF THE CONTRACT, IT SHOULD BE REPLACED FREE OF CHARGE!

Why should the consumer have to pay for the lack of quality?! We're already getting screwed by outrageous phone plans, especially now that you have to pay to receive texting! (Don't even get me started on that.) If I buy a phone on a three year contract, I expect that phone to last the duration of the contract. And that is just how it should be! And each one of us needs to step up and fight for how it should be. Let's ban together! Riot for cell phone quality! Protect the rights of the consumer! Better cell phone service for all! *flips cape*

For Sale

One (1) soul.

-rarely used
-excellent condition
-would make lovely shelf display
-can be twisted into a cute balloon animal
-bulletproof
-comes in many different colours; most notably blue, grey, and black.
-free shipping
-no warranty available

Seller would like to sell as soon as possible. $3/obo.

Negative Parking Meters

The other day a friend and I headed out to get some food at The Snooty Fox. (I almost wrote Snotty Fox...I'd imagine the restaurant would have significantly less appeal if that were it's name...) We parked, put money in the meter and headed inside. After a yummy breakfast complete with potato catapulting contests (actually it was just me launching them at him,) we came back outside to find our parking meter expired. The weird thing is it wasn't just expired, it was actually showing a negative amount of time by six minutes. In light of this occurrence, I must ask the following series of questions:

• Since when do parking meters actually start counting the time that's passed since the meter expired?? Am I really that behind on my parking meter technology?
• How does it get reset? Does it monitor the weight of the car on the parking spot so it knows when one leaves or pulls in, like a drive through?
• Is this REALLY how we are using our advances in technology?? Parking meters?? Who the hell is out there devoting their life to developing more technologically advanced parking meters? "I used my university degree to develop a better hearing aid for the hearing impaired." "I used MY university degree to develop a more efficient device for diabetics to keep track of their blood sugar." "...I used MY university degree to make parking meters count backwards."

Kudos municipal government. If you're going to start charging for expired time, I'm going to request a refund for the remaining time on the meter the next time I leave before it's expired.

Coachella, Here I Come

I leave in 8 hours.

I'm scared but excited. Last night I was terrified...there was so much that still needed to be done and arranged. Most of it has been sorted out, but I still can't shake the thought that this is crazy. I've never planned a trip of this magnitude on such short notice, and I also tend to excessively worry about things that could go wrong. But when I look at the coachella website and see pictures of all the campers and look at the message board and see how excited everyone else is and how fun (rather than scary) everything looks, my worries really significantly melt away. And I'm going to meet so many people...including famous people. Thank you Johny and backstage passes. I hope I manage to squeak out something that resembles English and not consisting of "uhhhamm...Hiiiii, yeeeaahhh....I think you're, erm.....uh.....GREAT........totally. Sooo.....I me you famous n'....wha ummm....shnu???"

Maybe I'll just stay down in California, away from offices and paperwork and the shittyness that I've been feeling lately. It's doing things like this that really make me feel like I am living life and not just idly watching it pass me by.

Final thoughts:

-Is three sets of rechargeable batteries for my camera enough?
-Can they see alcohol bottles through x rays in checked baggage?
-I really like my new hair. Unrelated, but still relevant.
-I hope I don't get mugged/beat up/hurt/murdered
-This is going to be awesome

I'M GOING TO CALIFORNIA (gonna live the life...sippin' on tequila night after night...)

Sorry about the gay boy band lyric title. But I've had that song stuck in my head ever since I found out that...well...there's an excellent chance I am going to California. In just under two weeks! You see, there is this little music festival there...I'm not sure if you've heard of it...it's called...COACHELLA!!!!!

I couldn't possibly think of a better birthday present. *cough*This FRIDAY APRIL THE 13th*cough* Rage Against the Machine will be reunited...and I will be there to bask in said reunion. Not to mention the Chili Peppers! They're going to be Red Hot.

To add more randomness to this spontaneous trip, I'm flying down by myself and meeting my friend from England and his friend there. (In a little place called Palm Springs.) Johny English, as I lovingly refer to him, got me a ticket AND since he is related to the guitarist in the Arctic Monkeys, we also have backstage passes!! BACKSTAGE PASSES!!! I've never had backstage passes to anything in my life, besides like, talent shows I've been in. And even then we didn't have backstage passes...or talent for that matter.

Everybody seems to know somebody who is going to this festival. When I told my cousin Rob, he informs me that his friend gets to INTERVIEW Rage Against The Machine and have a photoshoot with them for The Toronto Sun. I told him to hook me up with her. I mean, not sexually. Although I would if it got me in to meet Rage.

So nothing is set for sure yet...I still have to confirm time off work and make sure flights are ok. But I just keep thinking to myself...I am young once, and there is no good reason why I SHOULDN'T go to this. Life is too short to make excuses not to do something amazing. And I'm pretty much at the point where I would say "Uh...you can either give me the time off work or I'm taking the time off work...either way I am going." I'm sorry, I just cannot turn this down.

The only hard thing will be not eating between now and when I leave so that people won't shriek in shock and disgust when they see me in a bikini. Although I've lost a good chunk of weight in the last month or two, I'm still not bikini ready. I am, however, beach and palm trees and good music ready. Goodbye unexpected April snowstorms!

Personal Office Statistics

I'm 95% sure that the cup I am drinking my tea out of was mistakenly placed back in the cupboard as clean when it was, in fact, dirty.

I'm also 84% sure that I will ignore this fact, push any thoughts of germs out of my mind, and will drink the rest of it anyway rather than forward the phones, trudge back upstairs, go to the opposite side of the building where the kitchen is and pour myself a new cup.

I'm 68% sure that these statistics will gross at least one of you out.

I'm 52.73% sure that I don't really care if this grosses you out.

I'm 100% sure that I will blog about this.

Remembrance Day

I'd like to take a moment out of my normal brand of zaniness to discuss Remembrance Day. I just returned from a Remembrance Day service and I need to type my feelings and thoughts before they go out of my head and I return to my egocentric life routine. Remembrance Day has always been a day that hits me hard, and yet I never think it hits me hard enough.

At the Canadian Warplane Heritage Museum the turn out was a few thousand over the the few hundred expected. Laura and I mostly sat surrounded by people twice our age with the familiar hats of a veterans randomly popping out of the crowd. We were stuffed in shoulder to shoulder.

The ceremony started out as they usually do; greetings, welcomes, bringing out the flags or "colours" as I learned they are called.

We stood respectfully for the two minutes of silence. I don't know if it was planned, but the steady buzzing of an aircraft started to build from what must have been just outside. We couldn't see it but we knew it was there. It slowly rose to a crescendo and filled the hollow hanger. It was everywhere; engulfing everybody and reverberating through my brain. The noise wasn't anywhere near deafening, but it consumed you the way a deafening sound would. I closed my eyes and imagined standing in a field while hearing that sound overhead.

The Redeemer University College Concert Choir helped the speaker with a passage of Scripture. He would read a line and they would sing another line, bouncing back and forth like a tennis ball. They started out with just the girls singing in unison. Then the girls split into two part harmony. With each session they added more voices and split into more harmonies until at last the sound was rich and full. It was beautiful. "And I will raise you up on wings of Eagles and hold you in the palm of my hand."

The video presentation hit me like no other. Under a soft voice singing Oh Canada the pictures of soldiers who have died in Afghanistan focused and faded across the screen. It took me a moment to realize that these lively faces captured in photographs that could not have been more than a year old were no longer living on this Earth. There were so many. It's one thing to see old crosses and black and white photos from wars sixty years ago. There is a certain amount of acceptance that comes with remembering. But to see the young faces of present day Canada and to know how recently they died...I can't describe how this hit me. There are no words. The only way to express what I felt was through the involuntary lump in my throat and the tears streaming down my face. I felt silly crying at first. I couldn't see anyone else crying. And then I thought how trivial it was to be worried about how I looked crying. I let my tears spill over without bothering to wipe them away.

We've been fighting so long for peace...isn't there some sort of an oxymoron in that? I start thinking about the nature of war and why we fight. The last few decades have given us a new reason to fight. Not over land, but against terrorism and inhumanity. What saddens me is to think that no matter how hard we fight...no matter how long we fight...we will ALWAYS be fighting against these demons. All we can do is hope to better the world and save the lives of the ones we love. But the issues of war are too big for me to analyze. There is too much and I just feel overwhelmed by the enormity of it all.

During the singing of God Save The Queen (to which Laura and I could not sing along because we have never learned it) the man sitting next to me pointed to a veteran infront of us and informed me that he had flown the Spitfire. I have to admit, I am not very knowledgable with Canadian history. But I knew from the way he said it that it was very prestigious. I told Laura after. I'm not sure if she knew or not either, but she gave the same reaction as I did. "Oh wow."

At the conclusion of the ceremony the speaker asked the veterans to stand up. It was a veteran three rows ahead of me who clutched the hand of his wife as he stood that set off my tears again. How much had they lived through together!

At the retiring of the colours I felt humbled and in awe of those that serve their country. Those that risk their lives to make this world a bit of a better place for you and me to live in. Who of us can declare such selflessness?

Wear a poppy. It's the least you can do.

When you go home
Tell them of us and say,
For your tomorrow
We gave our today

-From a World War II British Army monument on the Kohima Ridge in Burma

Loud Music, Bigger Sizes and Seductive Beds

Can somebody please explain the logic of playing really loud music in a retail clothing store to me? The way I see it, it only provides disadvantages. If the type of music is something the shopper doesn't like, it will be made twice as uncomfortable by being loud. It makes it hard to talk. The sales staff go mental after awhile because they play the same tracks all day. Is that a safe work environment? What if a sales clerk is right on the brink of taking a potato gun to everybody in the store and it's the loud thumping rapper beat chanting "BABY YOU SO FINE OH BABY, DAMN GIRL" that pushes her over the edge? Well, I hope you brought your ketchup...cause potato spuds are gonna fly.

While shopping today I had to endure endless loud bad music in certain stores. And quite honestly, it nearly drove me out. I swear, if that store hadn't been overflowing with $10 pants to keep me preoccupied, I wouldn't have been able to stand in there for five minutes.

My other issue: the abundance of 1's and 3's found on every rack and the lack of...ummm...'higher' sizes. You'd think that when stores sell out of the bigger sizes, clothing manufacteurers would clue in and adjust their quantity of bigger sizes accordingly. Perhaps they are trying to give us incentive to diet? Oh wait I said size 1 and 3 didn't I...incentive to be anorexic?

Last but not least...I'm tired. Which is awesome because it's earlier than 3am! Which means I might not sleep in till 2pm! Which means I might be able to do something productive tomorrow! Which means...uhh...ok I can't derive any further meaning from that. I CAN tell you that I am currently daydreaming about my bed. It's right behind me, calling to me. "Lorraine...sleep with me...SLEEP WITH ME!" Now this is one situation where instead of providing a slap in the face, I will be happy to obligue.

Cinderella Pinatas

Pinatas: The only time you're rewarded for beating the crap out of something. Except maybe that stupid Ultimate Fighter show...shudup.

The other day I was killing time at Walmart during my oil change. While I fought off McDonald's cravings, I wandered down various aisles till I found these: Cinderella pinatas.

Is it just me, or does the idea of clubbing a beautiful poised princess for the objective of smashing her to pieces to get candy out strange to anybody else? What happened to the ugly donkeys?? Animal rights activists step in? I mean, did they ever think that little girls would be a little hesitant to beat the crap out of someone (that I assume) they idolize? Although I suppose they are blindfolded when they are carrying out the beating...than how heartbroken would they be to take off the blindfold and discover they had beaten Cinderella to death?? Oh, the humanity!

The only way I can make sense of this is to use the Cinderella pinata as an outlet for pent up rage for not being able to have the fairy tale life that she has...and for stealing Prince Charming. Lord knows how few good guys are left out there, and she has to seduce the best of them. However, that should be geared to a girl more of my age than a six year old. Hmmm...I think I just thought of a new marketing strategy for Disney pinatas! AND a new therapy exercise...not that I have any other therapy exercises...cause I'm not crazy. I swear. *cough*

Little Lorraine

What a strange experience to read about where you thought you would be at this age from when you were young. Upon going through old memoribilia from elimentary school I stumbled across my school journal from grade 7:

Entry #17: Where do you see yourself in ten years?

November 26, 1997

10 years from now, I will be 22 or 23. I hope to be married (no kids yet) and to be a famous actress, author, musician, or something to do with animals (like a trainer of some sort). Oh, I wouldn't mind being a singer or in a band, either. I also, sometime in the future, want to move down to Florida. Maybe Tampa, or Orlando. Close enough to go to Disney World, Universal studios, Sea World, Busch Gardens, and other cool places. I like it down there because there's beautiful weather, and so many nice places. No earthquakes. I might even get to see a tornado or two!

I suppose I'm not 22 yet (not till next April) so my grade 7 hopes could still come true, haha. I can't help but wonder what the younger me would think of where I am now. I hope she'd go easy on me for not being rich and famous (yet, haha). Looking back on this entry, a few things stick out to me:

• I have no idea where the animal trainer/Florida stuff came from...that was probably the only place I'd ever really travelled to at the time.
• I clearly had no concept of how quickly those years pass by; Married right now? HA!!
• Apparently I had better spelling and grammar as a twelve year old than most people I currently speak to on the internet...or at least from that dang plenty of fish site. And I think that's more a commentary on today's level of literacy than my writing skills.

All that aside, I think I've discovered a new way to live my life; to make my younger self proud. Hopefully she's easy to please and has a special place in her heart for laziness and cheesecake consumed in large quantities.

Superman is my kryptonite

The title really doesn't have much to do with this post, but I like the cut of it's jib.

Just saw the superman flick, and I have these insightful comments to make:

When the ham sandwich did previews and coming attractions start to take up so much time?? 15 minutes my friends...15 freaking minutes!! That's like an eighth of the movie! Someone actually yelled out "finally!!" when the "feature presentation" graphic finally reared it's head, met by much agreement around the theatre. Does anybody remember the days when they never played commercials before a movie? I do...back in my day...when I had to walk 5 miles to school...in the snow...uphill....BOTH ways...

When they were on the alien rock thingy, what did they plug their computers into? HMM??

"Bowman is dead...he got hit by a piano..." I think Sandra and I were the only ones laughing hysterically at this line. Hit by a piano...hit by a piano!! Who gets hit by a piano if you're not a looney toons character?? I was looking around the theatre to try and see if others found it amusing, but no...apparently the thought of death by piano wasn't humorous to them. Thus I'm pretty sure I was "that girl who laughs when nobody else does in the movie."

Sandra and I had lots of witty banter. For example, when Perry is directing how each department of the newspaper has to cover superman: "Business: how he will affect the stock market. Sports: how are they going to get that plane out of the stadium. Human interest: where has he been and is he seeing anybody. Lifestyle..." Me: "...is superman gay? He DOES where those revealing spandex tights..."

Sandra: "I just don't get how they couldn't know it's him...he's just wearing glasses....it's just glasses people!!!"

Sandra: "He's such a show off flying all around like that." Me: "Yeah, I'd do it too if I could...except I'd fly funny banners from my ankles...."

Also, that poor guy Lois is engaged to...same actor from The Notebook! That poor boy is destined to fall in love with girls that love other men...and he's such a hot nice boy too!! What's the deal?? If that were real life he'd have turned all bitter and women-hater by now. And possibly gay.

Overall, the movie was ok, but the ending dragged out too long...perhaps I'm just mad cause we originally went to go see Pirates Of The Carribean 2. Sold out...a likely story.

It's 2:34 am and I'm off to bed to dream about being a superhero whose cape keeps getting stuck in the phone booth.

One Month's Notice

I just gave my one month's notice at my job here.

Initial thoughts:

• I'm hungry
• What the crap am I going to do now
• I hope that by being off of work I don't get my days and nights backward again
• As much as I have a love/hate relationship with my job and place of work, I think I might actually miss it, in a really anal-retentive way. I've gotten used to the routine and redundancy of it...it's familiar and I know what I'm doing and know how to do it well.
• My boss was really really nice about me leaving and said although she doesn't want to see me go that she thinks I'm doing the right thing and that I'll always have a place here
• I don't think it will really sink in for another month; I don't feel that different
• I'm going to have to get all my personal crap off this computer; especially those nudey pics!
• I've left a BIG pile of "mail to cancel" for whoever replaces me
• OOOOOOO THERE ARE CUTE LANDSCAPING BOYS OUTSIDE!!! God bless these huge windows in reception!
• Can't think...still watching cute boys...
• I hope I'm doing the right thing
• What will I do with all this useless knowledge in my head?

One thought this whole quitting thing keeps bringing to mind is what in the world do people DO? It's brought out this whole philosophical debate in me! And I can't help but wonder...what is the point in anything at all? We work and work to keep the world turning and running, but why? Just to stay alive? Why do we want to stay alive aside from a biological instinct to? I just don't see the big point in everything...does that make sense at all? We procreate so that our children can do the same thing...we toil around and work jobs to sustain us to do...what? To watch tv in our spare time and then retire when we have enough money? Is happiness really the point of life like so many people claim? Sucking up every enjoyable thing out of life because nothing else matters? I can't accept that. There has to be something more. I just have no idea what it is. And therefore no idea what I'm going to do when I'm done my job. One thing I do know; I'll probably have the money to do whatever it is. Which makes me temporarily happy.

If anybody knows what life is all about, please let me know...cause I'm drawing a blank. Thanks. Word.

Back to pointless work.

The Pre-Birthday Blues

I distinctly remember waking up one birthday morning and getting so excited that it was my birthday that I started jumping on my bed. That was last year. No just kidding...I was probably 7 or 8. But the thing is, the excitement of birthdays tapers off more and more every year. Last year I spent the majority of the day being depressed that I was another year older and still hadn't accomplished anything close to what I wanted to by now.

I think I take my birthday too seriously. For a long time I wanted to make a huge deal about it...get all my friends together and do something big and exciting. The downfalls of this are my birthday is in April, prime time for exams, and it's hard enough to get my friends all together in one place at one time. A few of my close friends are still just below the drinking age which also limits places you can go.

So last year I decided to just let my birthday pass me by. I didn't want to hear about it, I didn't want anything to do with it. The only way I acknowledge by birthday is by allowing myself to be selfish for that day lol. I can eat chocolate and other sugar-fat filled things guilt free. Why? Because it's my birthday!

Another thing is, I always want everyone I see to wish me a happy birthday, like at work and such. However, what can you do, go up to them and say "Guess what, it's my birthday, wish me happy birthday!!" That seems awfully self absorbed and I don't want to be like that. So I sit quietly and do my work as if it's just another day. Cause really.....who cares.

I've always wanted a surprise party too but never had one. That's ok. I know they're rare. But it would be pretty cool...who wouldn't want people to go to the trouble of throwing them a party without them knowing. We threw my dad one this year and he loved it. Maybe when I turn 60 someone will throw me one. As for this year...the milestones are running out...I can drive, I can vote, I can drink in Canada, and as of this birthday I will be able to drink in the States. You know, cause I go to the States so often to drink and all. I think the only milestone left is being able to rent a car, which I think is around 24. Won't that be an exciting birthday.

Anyways...April 13...don't forget to not wish me a happy birthday. Thank you.

Canadian Idol...?

What do you guys think??

I was interogated for 10 minutes yesterday about whether I was going to try out for Canadian Idol or not. "You should, you should, just go and do it!" Me: *quivering in proverbial boots*

It's not so much that I don't think I'm good enough, although that is a huge part of it...it's the paranoiya of ending up on the "worst of" show. I would die. Knowing me and how flustered I get under pressure I would say something ridiculous or not resembling english at all, or just fall flat on my face. Literally...I mean, walk in there, trip, and fall flat on my face. It's me, let's face it...it would happen. Also that and the fear of making it to the judge's round and them tearing me apart to the bone...there's probably not too many things more humiliating than being berrated by professional critics on national television. International television I should say...

Those fears aside, there's the more realistic fear: going and not even making it past the first round. "Sorry...you don't even pass the 'can you carry a molody' test". Although that wouldn't really be the worst thing to possibly happen...I mean it's not like it would crush me...I've won scholarships (ok ONE scholarship) for singing before, and got a 90 (first class honours with distinction) on my vocal exam...so I guess I have to be somewhat ok-not-terrible-y?? Bahhh....I'll also have to take time off work...but half the people that push me to audition are from work, so let's hope they don't mind covering for me lol...

My dad of course is ridiculously supportive convinced I could make it into the top 10...I told him he was biased and his response was "absolutely". There's nothing like a parent's blind faith in their child.

Auditions are the end of April. Hopefully I'd get to meet John Dore...he's dreamy.

Missing: One Best Friend

Diana has left me for the land of the Scots. Not that I can really blame her...who can resist the lure of Scotland? I just hope Scotland treats her as great as it treated me. Perhaps even better...less hair pulling and alcohol poisoning...

She's gone for a whole month...but get this, as soon as she moves back she's moving to Cambridge for a year! A YEAR! Did you get that? 365 1/4 days...4 seasons...52 weeks...525,600 minutes *cue Rent soundtrack*

In a lot of ways I felt like I was saying goodbye to my best friend last night forever. I guess that happens when you grow up and people follow their own path which most often leads them away from you and your own path. *life pondering moment*

I'm going to go binge on some low fat ice cream.

Lifehouse - Trying

Could you let down your hair
Be transparent for awhile, just a little while
To see if you're human after all

Honesty is a hard attribute to find
When we all want to seem like
We've got it all figured out

Well let me be the first to say that I don't have a clue
I don't have all the answers
Ain't gonna pretend like I do

Just trying
To find my way
Trying
To find my way the best I know how

Well I haven't memorized all of the cute things to say
But I'm working on it
Maybe I'll master this art form someday

If I quote all the lines off the top of my head
Would you believe
That I fully understand all these things I've read

I'm just trying
To find my way
Trying
To find my way
Trying
To find my way the best that I know how

Well I haven't got it all figured out quite yet but
Even if it takes my whole life to get to where I need to be
And if I should fall to the bottom of the end
I'll be one step back to you, and

I'm trying to find my way
Trying to find my way
I'm trying to find my way
Trying to find my way...

Jonathan Inside Edge Guy vs. Apostrophes

A question was proposed to me today...which do I love more, Jonathan Inside Edge guy or apostrophes. Anybody who knows me will know how difficult a question this is to answer. I mean, Jonathan did recently sign my website, and although it was short, he didn't have to do that. However, apostrophes are part of the thread that weaves our language together. It contracts words, thus contributing to my lazyness. It defines the difference between "your" and "you're." It takes the letters "I" and "m" and makes them into a word. And look at it...it's so cute and innocent looking, just casually hanging there.

The same friend who proposed this question to me also notoriously leaves out apostrophes in our online conversations. He knows he does it. He also knows it drives me nuts. "Your just going to have to accept that its an issue with you not me." (2 apostrophes intentionally left out).

Also, my brand spankin' new cell phone has a strange quirk with apostrophes when I'm text messaging. For some reason whenever I put an apostrophe in, it capitalizes the next letter. So if I'm writing "you're" it would come out "you'Re". I wonder...what were the people at telus thinking?? It's not even like it's a period where you would capitalize the next letter at the start of a sentence. It's also very annoying for a grammatical stickler such as myself to have to key it in, backspace so it takes the capitalization off and key it in again. Telus, please, take heed and wisen up.

So which would I pick? I'd want Jonathan and the apostrophes together. With some whipped cream.

Miscellaneousnessness

A) Back from the land of the Scots. There was fun, there was drama, there was excitement, there were tears and a whooooooole lot of alcohol. I forgot one of my most important possessions in Scotland...my liver. Pictures to come shortly. (Not of my liver...I left it in Scotland remember...)

B) I'm back at work. This is depressing because 1) I am not in Scotland, 2) as much as I dress up my work area with yellow flags of red lions and play bagpipe music in the background, I just can't seem to fool myself into thinking it's Scotland 3) It's work...and really, who is happy while they are at work?? Unless you have a really cool job as...say...a ghost tour guide...unlike anybody I know...specifically anybody named Euan, Chris, Chris, (no that isn't a typo) or Kev who I didn't see AGAIN or some weird guy named Andy who apparently planned to sleep with me in Euan's bed (he actually told Euan he couldn't sleep in his bed that night) but I fell asleep (passed out) in a chair instead...which is really too bad...and by "too bad" I really mean "great" and "lucky." Oh right, Andy wasn't a tour guide and just works in the office...I wonder why with people skills that advanced.

C) I've decided it's time for life construction (or perhaps deconstruction). Too often we get stuck in the redundancy of everyday life and forget what else is out there. I refuse to retreat back into my little daily bubble...it's out to live life for me! Looking into schools! Travelling more! Taking risks! Drinking more alcohol! K, we'll discuss that last one...this whole mini life crisis "life is passing me by and I haven't done anything with my life yet" thing has almost peaked...and I like it. I will name it Bob and he shall be my squishy. QUICK NAME THE MOVIE...3...2..1...too late.

D) Meow meow meow meow, meow meow meow meow, meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow meow.

E) Please refer to D.