What I Want to Remember from 2006

Here I sit in my disastrously untidy room in my little basement flat in Lethbridge, trying to relive the moments that made 2006 memorable -

Well, there was that big boxing day sale at the Gap (two pairs of pants and a shirt for $50).... ok, just kidding. Let's try again. If I keep going on like this, no one will ever believe that I'm not terribly materialistic. (I work in a mall, okay? I can't help getting excited about clothes for cheap.)

One of my best memories from Taylor was sitting beside Randa on the edge of the Schindler bathtub - shaving our legs and doing pedicures - and just talking about life and school and how time goes by so fast. That was a few days before I moved to Lethbridge.

Oh April! You were so rainy... so dark and depressing and cold. I was looking for a new job - meeting new people - trying to decide what the next year of my life would look like. I'm glad that that decision was wrenched out of my hands - even though my life right now isn't what I planned at all, I wouldn't trade it for anything else.

And then I met Galac. I remember the day he asked me out - I remember the terribly awkward movie that we went to (has anyone even heard of The Brick? No, I didn't think so) - I remember the delicate process of getting to know each other - I'd like to say that I remember our first kiss, but that would be a lie - heck, it happened, and anyways the first kiss is not usually the rock-your-socks-off moment that chick flicks like to make-believe. I remember the day that I knew I was in love with him - I was sitting on the bus on my way to work (at Subway. I was going to try to get through this memorable-moments-of-2006 post without mentioning that job, but I guess I just did, so I'll just say that I didn't exactly enjoy that chapter of my life, and move on - I have a better job now) and I was thinking about him, and suddenly I just knew. I've never fallen in love before... so it was kind of terrifying and joyful and giddy all at once.

Little Miss Sunshine. I couldn't talk about 2006 without mentioning the hands-down, best-ever movie of the year. I could watch Little Miss Sunshine every day.

And then there was the guy who tried to break into my house. Probably lost at least two years of my life from that scare. I know it's overplayed, but Snow Patrol's "Chasing Cars" is definitely on my top songs of 2006 list. (Okay, I don't have a list exactly but if I did that song would be #1.)

And kudos to Jose, my raunchy Mexican car. Jose I love you even if you are slightly touchy and tend to crash into things (or is it just my bad driving) and by the way your wipers suck and it would be great if the gas gauge would work but whatever you're mine and I'll try to look after you. I promise.

Oh, and in 2006 I made the Best Chocolate Cake Ever. I wish I had a picture to show you guys but you'll just have to take my word for it. It was amazing.

If there's one thing I learned this year, it's to not take your loved ones for granted. They could be gone at any moment. Life is short - breath is fragile - so cherish the people that you love. And tell them. Every day. That's important.

I guess this is it for 2006. I'll see you all in the New Year. Happy partying, may you all get as hungover or un-hungover as you want to be.

p.s. The picture at the top was taken at my parents' house this Christmas. We had a wonderful holiday - it was pretty loud and there was lots of excitement but I must say that it was a great finish to 2006.

Random Thoughts about Christmas

Christmas is almost here.
Is it just me, or did this year fly by? It seems like just yesterday that I was sitting in my room at Taylor, staring at the mess, and thinking about how great it would be in my new place in Lethbridge. That was in April, and the eight months that followed have been a blur. Meeting Galac... working at Subway... falling in love... working at Bluenotes... my new roommate... my new car... my sister's wedding... my brother's engagement... it's been insane, but in a good way.
Galac and I celebrated six months together on December 6th. Six months! To me, an insecure commitment-phobe, that's crazy. How did I end up in such a fantastic relationship?
As usual, I'm working through the whole holiday season. I get Christmas Day and New Year's Day off, but only because the mall is closed on those days. The Christmas crowds have already arrived in full force. I'm actually typing this on my break, and my head feels as if someone has been repeatedly kicking it. Possibly that could also have something to do with my lack of sleep, but that was my own fault. From here on in, I need to make sure that I go to bed early every single night - the deluge of grumpy customers is only going to increase in intensity.
I was thinking the other day about how happy I am to not have a school Christmas banquet to dress up for. Oh Taylor, how I don't even miss you one tiny little bit.

Quote of the day

Grace (to customer, who has come to pay for a pair of jeans): "Would you like to grab a second pair for half price?"

Customer (with a very confused look on her face, while staring at the price tag on the pair of jeans she already has picked out): "How much is half price?"

Some people apparently didn't pass third-grade math.

I love my job.

A new job and a new car

In the last month, two very exciting things have happened to me:
1. I got a new job.
2. I got a new car.
The job is a full-time keyholder position at Bluenotes. No, that is not a bar - it is a clothing store. I get to help people pick out jeans - I am the one who knows everyone's waist size in inches. I especially love the women who come in who ask for a size that we all know is much smaller than they will fit... but I give them what they ask for because in order for people to part with cash, their egos must be stroked. I really do enjoy my job, although some days the customers are insufferable. I find that the more tired I am, the ruder people seem to be. Coincidence? Probably ;).
And the car... oh people, I love my car. His name is Jose, and he is the gorgeous color of poo-brown, with a burnt orange interior. Jose is an 85 Honda Accord. I adopted him just last weekend, and I already love the little luxury of having a car. I named him Jose because I bought him from a man who lived in Mexico, and Jose just sounds so much more raunchy than Pedro or Pablo. Jose is a raunchy car. I don't even want to think about what the previous owners used the backseat for. It is just that kind of a car.

LOVE

Which Charlie and the Chocolate Factory Character are you? Willy Wonka "It's in the fridge, daddy-o! Are you hip to the jive? Can you dig what I'm layin' down? I knew that you could. Slide me some skin, soul brother!" - Wonka

Click Here to Take This Quiz Brought to you by YouThink.com quizzes and personality tests.

And to think that I saw it on Mulberry Street...

Today on my way home from work, I encountered a woman pushing two small dogs in a baby carriage. Lost in my own thoughts, I wouldn't have even noticed this unusual sight, but a car full of rowdy and probably intoxicated adolescents cruised through by the crosswalk, and started yelling at the poor lady. "That's cruel! That is SO cruel!"
It was quite amusing.
I'm sure that lady must have had a screw loose somewhere. Who in their right mind would put a dog - no, TWO dogs - in a baby carriage and take them for a stroll downtown?

the boy

I don't know about you guys, but I think we make a pretty cute couple!!

Chocolate Chip Cookies

I have a great, huge, hideous Fear that lives in my head. The Fear of Getting Fat. It pokes its nasty fingers at me whenever I get a longing for Marble Slab ice cream and it either succeeds in keeping me to my diet or else makes me feel terribly guilty when I don't listen to its screechy, whiney voice. Somedays I wish this Fear would just leave me alone forever; some days I wish it would yell louder. I want to have a Jennifer Anniston-flat stomach... but I'd rather not exercise the self discipline for it. (Besides, obviously her stomach wasn't enough to keep one of People's Sexiest People - Brad Pitt - around for her. So why should it work for me?) Instead, I live in the shadow that the Fear of Getting Fat casts on my existence.
And today I made chocolate chip cookies. I plan on taking some of them to work, and some of them are for my boy. In this way I hope to get them out of my house before I eat any (more) of them. But oh... the smell of brown sugar and butter and chocolate all mixed together... Dear God, why did you make chocolate chip cookies taste so good? And why did you make it so perversely difficult for me to self-discipline myself to actually get up off my fat butt, put on my nikes, and go running? I always enjoy it while I'm out there, so why don't I do it more often?
And why do fitness magazines always make it seem so easy to schedule an hour workout which includes a balance of cardio, strength training, and stretches, into a normal person's life?
These are just a few questions I have.

Ants again

Well... I know I haven't been posting much lately, but it's been so busy. And really, this post is only because my older brother was at my house yesterday nagging me to publish something on my blog. "Some people still read it," he said sarcastically.
I've been living in Lethbridge for 3 months now. It feels so short and so long. I'm kind of discouraged because I was planning on going to school here... but now I'm not going for at least another year, and I will be working full-time at Subway. Aaagh. Not that it's such a bad job, it's just hot and sweaty and I come home smelling like subs... and when people ask where I work, I have to be truthful and say "Subway" and it's kind of humiliating. Well, that's enough of that.
I have to tell you about the ants. I posted a bit ago about the flood in my basement. Well, if that wasn't traumatic enough... it seems that when we ripped up the carpet in my room we also opened up an anthole. When I got back from my sister's wedding I noticed a few little ants crawling around in my house. I can deal with that, I thought. The ants were really tiny - no big deal, right? That was until last weekend when I was sitting at my computer, and, no joke, there were at least 50 ants crawling around my chair. I kind of spased and then vacuumed them up. I thought they were coming in my window so I closed it... but then, an hour later, there were still ants all over my bedroom floor. They were marching in a little line out of a hole in the carpet. I spased again, got out the vacuum cleaner, and then laid down ant poison all along my wall, under the carpet.
Now the ants are dead.
It makes me happy.
And that is the story of the ants. This summer has been crazy for ant problems. They are still really bad outside, along the side door. Those are the big ants, but those ones don't seem to want to come inside anymore, which is nice. One less ant problem to worry about.
And no, I haven't seen Ant Bully yet. And I don't plan to. I don't need to have nightmares about the ants' revenge on me.

little bits of news

The last two weeks of my life have been busier than the past six months combined! Well, maybe not quite, but they certainly have been eventful. Last Thursday my family and I flew out to Victoria to go to my sister's wedding. It was a pretty busy weekend but a really wonderful time. I think I got a lot of issues in my life figured out while I was there, which is what I was hoping to accomplish. Talking with my sister usually helps. We are more alike than I want to admit. I don't have pics of the wedding yet, but they will be coming soon and I will post some here. It was a gorgeous day, and the location on top of the mountain was just beautiful. Now I have to come up with a better place for my wedding! It would just be too normal and boring to have it inside a church after the stunning mountaintop view that Marie had.
And in other news... I've started my new job at Subway, and it's working out OK. I still work at Bluenotes, so that breaks up the monotony a bit. This next week will probably be pretty busy again, but I have today off at least and hopefully will get a little bit of baking done.

New Job!

Well, after much complaining and whining about my pathetic hours at the Wholesale Club, I finally got my fat arse off of the couch and went out looking for a full-time job. I finally found one at Subway. OK, so it's not exactly an amazing career opportunity but at least I won't be sitting at home every morning and borrowing money from my parents to pay my Mastercard bill. I start there on July 4th, after I get back from my sister's wedding in Victoria. I wish I didn't have to leave the Wholesale, since it was so easy and convenient. But I just can't make two part-time jobs work!
In other news, I've finally moved back into my own bedroom, the carpet having dried sufficiently. It smelled like sewage in my basement for a while but I think either I've gotten used to it or else it's finally actually been aired out enough.

You Are Homer Simpson

You're just an ordinary, all-American working Joe... With a special fondness for pork rinds and donuts. You will be remembered for: your little "isms" and philosophies on life Your life philosophy: "Weaseling out of things is important to learn. It's what separates us from the animals ... except the weasel."

The Simpsons Personality Test

Your 2005 Song Is

Since You've Been Gone by Kelly Clarkson "But since you've been gone I can breathe for the first time I'm so moving on" In 2005, you moved on.

What Hit Song of 2005 Are You?

Your Love Life Secrets Are

Looking back on your life, you will have a few true loves. You're a little scarred from your past relationships, but who isn't? You expect a lot from your lover - you want the full package. You tend to be very picky. In fights, you seek compromise and back down from conflict. You always try to smooth things out. Getting over a break-up doesn't take long. Easy come, easy go.

Your Love Life Secrets, Revealed

Cashier Awareness Days

OK, so I don't think that there's such a thing, but I wish there was! I guess I will just have to take on the formidable task of educating the public about How to Make a Cashier's Life Infinitely Easier. I know it's a hopeless task, but a girl can always hope! So, here's some simple, common-sense tips on how to make your sojourn into the grocery store a little bit quicker, more efficient, and more pleasant for everyone involved.
1. When you put your groceries on the belt, always, always, ALWAYS use a divider to mark the spot where your groceries end. You'd be amazed how many people expect me to watch them unload their groceries and know exactly which bananas are theirs and which bananas belong to the man ahead of them. Just taking that extra half-second and putting the divider down saves everyone a lot of grief.
2. If you have 24 dahlias in your cart, DON'T unload them ALL onto the belt. They spill dirt everywhere, take a lot of time to unload and reload, and they should stay in your cart! The cashier only needs to see 1 of them.
3. If you want a tub of Number 7 tobacco, please tell me if you want 65%, 85%, 95%, or 100%. Before I walk all the way to the tobacco cage. Believe it or not, your kind of tobacco is not the only kind we sell and I can't read your mind about which kind you want.
4. When I ask you how many bags you want, don't turn away and kind of mumble the number into your shirt. It's noisy in the grocery store, and I can't hear you. Then I have to ask you again, and you get miffed because I didn't hear the first time.
5. Don't tell me how to do my job. If there's twenty people in line and it's obvious that I haven't yet had time to wipe up a spill from the last person's potted plants, don't point at the counter and say "Look, there's dirt there." Yes, I know there's dirt there. Yes, I am going to clean it up. But if you knew what kind of dirty hands had already pawed through your peaches while they were still on the display, you wouldn't be worried about a little clean dirt out of a pot.
OK, so maybe I'm being a little bit anal about this! I just thought that the public needed to become aware of some of the pet peeves of grocery cashiers. After all, we're people too, and I think we deserve a little respect!

Flooded

Those pictures were taken at 3 am. In my basement. My very wet basement. On Tuesday night we had a nasty thunderstorm in Lethbridge, and the window in my bedroom couldn't withstand the onslaught of water. Luckily, Jen was worried about the books that I keep in that window, and so she came downstairs at about 2:30 am to see if everything was alright. Well, to make a long story short... we ended up spending about an hour and a half mopping water out of my carpet. Then we discovered that the floor in my kitchen was leaking as well. Needless to say, it was an exciting night.
Now my basement smells just a little odd. Musty, dank, dungeon-esque. Lovely. It's still kind of drying out, but some scented candles and open windows have helped.
How about those Oilers? I'm writing this during the commercial break before the third period, game 6 against Carolina in Rexall Place. Go Oilers!!!
p.s. I'm still a Flames fan at heart. Really.

Fantastic Music I Have Been Enjoying Lately

Fernando Ortega:

The Most Relaxing Classical Album... Ever!

Shrek 2: The Soundtrack

Norah Jones

Violet: a sample of some of my writing

I'm always talking about writing, so I thought I'd post the beginning of one of my stories. I wrote this last winter.

Violet Anuree would most likely have gone on to be an excellent professor of English literature. She would have been well-loved by her students, well-liked by her colleagues, and well-rated in peer-reviewed journals. She would have written a great many exceedingly boring articles and spoken at a great many only slightly less boring literary conferences. She would have married a clean-cut gentleman whose intellectual pursuits complemented her own, and they would have raised three exceptional children who excelled in art, music, and sports. She and her professor-type husband would have grown comfortably plump and old together and gradually faded away, visited to the end of their lives by a prolific number of grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

But Violet Anuree never found out what her life would have been like had she pursued this venue of academia. Some days – when the sun was too hot, or a particularly large bug crawled into her purse, or she was just really longing for one or another of the hygienic amenities that were once an ordinary facet of her existence – on days like those, perhaps she fancied that she regretted never becoming a professor and raising a family. But deep down, Violet Anuree knew that what she was meant to be was what she was becoming.

Violet would have never discovered this simple truth had it not been for a series of ordinary and extraordinary events. She was in her dorm room in Edmonton on a very snowy night in December. The name of the university she was attending is not important to our story. Neither are the names of her best friends, or her ex-boyfriends, or even that professor whom she liked so much and longed to emulate. I am only telling you that she was in university in Edmonton, because you need to know where she was when her life changed.

I will, however, tell you about Maxine Topher. Maxine gets a spot in the story, because although she is dead now, she played a very important role in Violet's story in the moments before Maxine's untimely death. Maxine was one of those people who make the world just a little bit more interesting. Her friends would have described her as a unique, although somewhat abrasive, individual. Violet would have described her as loud. Violet lived below Maxine, and she wondered how such a skinny girl could make such heavy thudding noises at such regular intervals that one could only suppose that a heavy-weight champion was having a casual wrestling practice on the floor. Furthermore, it seemed as if Maxine woke up when Violet went to bed. Violet was always calling upstairs to crabbily tell Maxine that the loud noises had to stop. Violet prided herself on not being scared to be blunt.

However, Maxine had other interests besides dropping large objects on her floor. Maxine also enjoyed playing with fire. Her room was filled with many flammable objects that were meant to be lit, and many other objects that weren't. She had stacks of matchbooks and every kind of candle imaginable. On this particular evening, Maxine was enjoying a rather dirty romance novel while she sat beside a long row of lit, scented tealights and absently sipped a martini.

Downstairs, Violet was writing a paper that she really didn't want to write, and thinking about Christmas holidays, and how she wished she was anywhere but here at school. She was almost ready to start another game of solitaire when her phone rang.

Violet answered it, spoke for a few minutes, and then pulled her coat on over her pyjamas and went outside. Her boyfriend had parked his car in the loading zone by the front door of her dorm. He was just swinging by to drop off her wallet that she had accidentally left in his car the night before. He also wanted to ask her if he could borrow her Sociology of the Family notes from yesterday's class, which he had skipped. Violet had reluctantly acquiesced, and she had a photocopied stack of notes for him. She had a faint idea that he was using her; however, he was very good-looking and Violet liked keeping him around.

On this particular evening, Violet's boyfriend was in a very impatient mood. He was late for a movie that he had promised to meet a friend at, and although stopping to see Violet was mutually beneficial, he couldn't resist honking his horn rather loudly as she stepped outside.

Upstairs, Maxine, who was deeply engrossed in the throes of a particularly romantic love scene in her novel, started at the sound of the horn. Her elbow jerked slightly...

...tipping over her martini glass...

...which spilled onto the tealights...

...causing the entire table to erupt into flames!

Maxine stared at the scene, transfixed in horror. The flames were licking at the bottom of the window, ravenously devouring the ancient drapes. The angry tongues of fire climbed quickly...now they were at the ceiling...now the ancient tinder of the roof and walls had caught fire and were beginning to crackle dangerously. For someone who normally reveled in fire, Maxine was paralyzed with fear. She ran into the room across from hers, shouting intelligent things like “Oh my God! Fire! Fire!” Then, she lifted the window and jumped out.

Maxine's shouts had brought the rest of the girls into the hall. Then, the fire alarm finally went off, screeching shrilly at the smoke that was now coming from Maxine's room. Chaos, panic, and general pandemonium ensued.

Half an hour later, 150 girls were standing outside the dorm, watching all of their earthly possessions perish in the now out-of-control blaze. The asbestos and dry wood of the dormitory had erupted in flames almost instantly, and by now the entire building was consumed. There would be no salvage. The firefighters had hardly even bothered to try to douse the raging inferno. Schindler Hall was, in the words of one of the firemen, “a bonfire waiting to happen.”

Violet, watching in a kind of a dreamlike trance, didn't feel any emotion. Her first thought was for her new hoodie, trapped in her room and by now surely destroyed. She'd probably miss her computer... her music collection... and there was a slice of pecan pie in her fridge that she'd been looking forward to eating... but this hadn't really been her home.

The question burning (excuse my pun) on Violet's brain was actually whether or not she would have to complete that paper she had been working on before the fire had so rudely interrupted her.

These Sunny Days

Oh goodness. Where to begin? So much has happened, and yet life is still the same. I eat, sleep, read, go to work... those are the basics of my existence. I don't like to think about the past, and I'm scared of the future. So I just live in the moment.
I want more out of my life. Yet I'm frightened to try to make it happen.
I want to write something real, something that's from my heart and yet not just a rehashing of the last couple years of my life. I want to write a novel that will transport me from my bland, mundane existence. The problem is, the only thing that I actually do write is this darn blog. And cheques to pay my rent.
Ick.
I'm going to pop out to the library now, just to make my Sunday afternoon complete. I want a mystery novel, a fantasy novel, a good cookbook, a couple good movies, and an interesting CD.

DEAD

The ants are dead!!! I came home from work on Sunday evening to discover that Liana, bless her heart, had scattered pink powdery ant poison all around the sides of the house. The ant traffic was noticeably diminished. By today, the ants were mostly gone. I only saw one ant inside my house today. He was a big sucker, crawling industriously across my kitchen table. When I squished him, his guts were a red and gooey rather than being the normal blackish color. I think he had been gorging himself on the pink poison and was about to die.
That last paragraph was a little bit gruesome. I apologize.
Oh joy, I can finally sleep at night without worrying about six-legged insects getting into my bedclothes.

Icky Creepy Crawly Things

Today I cleaned house. I killed one spider, one nasty worm, one weird beetle thingy, and about 25 ants. I do realize that I live in a basement and that bugs happen... but oh lord, I hate them! I don't have a fly swatter and so I dispatched most of the ants with my fist. Squishing them with my fingers is too gross to do, so I try to deceive myself into thinking that I'm not touching them by just using the bottom edge of my hand. The spider I killed with a dustpan, the beetle thingy I killed with a shoe, and the worm was already dead when I discovered him while I was sweeping my kitchen floor.
Now, it may sound like I need to clean house more often. But the sad truth is that my house is actually pretty clean all the time. Those darn bugs just get in! I am going to buy crates of ant poison and line them up all around the door and in strategic spots in my rooms. Then I will sit and grin fiendishly while those nasty little ants gorge themselves on sugar and then keel over dead. Mwah-ha-ha! This is my evil plan for world domination.
In other news, I think I would like to write a novel this summer. Haha, as if that will ever happen. Over the past two years I've started several sketchy stories that never even made it to page two. Then there was the story about Violet, which died a sudden yet subtle death once I realized that I actually had no idea where the plot was going. It was mostly cathartic writing anyway, since I was making Violet do all the things that I wished I could do in real life yet couldn't - like eating three brownies in one sitting and then taking a trip with a strange man to Peru. Yet I think that story could have some promise, if only I could think of the plot. If all else fails, I'll keep the first paragraph. I really liked the first paragraph.
The reason I have this sudden urge to write a story is probably because lately I've been rereading some of the books I used to love, and feeling that urge to create something that others will love. That is my dream. When I forget why the heck I ever decided to go to university in the first place, I remind myself of my love of writing, and hope that someday I will be able to write masterfully intricate stories of danger and fantasy and heroes and romance... and... oh geez, who I am I kidding? That's the way my thoughts go. But... you know, with enough practice... it could happen, right? Ah, who knows where my life will go. First I need to find a job that will actually keep food on the table.

Crazy

I know I haven't done a real update in a while... and it's not like I haven't had time. Actually, I've had a lot of time on my hands. First I couldn't find a job... and then I got a part-time one and had to keep looking for another one. But I'm finally employed at two places - the Wholesale Club, which is pretty boring - and at Bluenotes, which I haven't started yet but I hope will be a little bit more interesting. Other than that... hmm, I've just been hanging out, getting sunburned, watching movies, meeting new people, and getting to know my housemates better.
It's definitely fun to be in Lethbridge, and to have my own place. But sometimes it gets pretty lonely in a new city where you don't know anyone. And it's weird to suddenly have a different life after you've been living somewhere else for two years. Lethbridge is gorgeous in the spring, but it's taking some adjusting to make it feel... normal. It doesn't feel like home yet. I hope that after I've been here for two years, it'll feel like my city. I'll know where to shop, where to eat, where all the best deals are and the best running trails and which places you definitely shouldn't walk at night. I can't wait til that happens.
I've been listening to this lately. It's really good music... definitely a recommend.

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY

Well this post is for one person, my favorite person: my mommy.
My mommy:
-Is always ready to give me a hug:

-She lets me call her anytime I need to talk (which is all the time):

-She kills spiders for me:

But all these wonderful things aren't really why I love my mommy. She's just the best: she's looked after me for almost 20 years and put up with me when I'm terribly grouchy and always forgave me for being a brat. Well, eventually, anyway. (I think you did, right mom?) She looked after six kids and taught us to eat healthy stuff and planted a garden every single year and let us get dirty. She's feisty and doesn't let anyone push her around and knows her own mind but she's still kind and gracious to everyone. Even when I think she should tell them all to just shove it you-know-where.
I'm not a Hallmark card (fooled you all, didn't I?) so I'll stop there, but I'm sure you get the picture. I think my mom is pretty much just fabulous. So Mom, happy Mother's Day! I LOVE YOU!!!!!

Take Your Irresistability IQ

I guess this describes me :) :) :) ... I like fashion, but I like sweat pants too :)

help!!!

I'm having a lot of trouble getting a job. I think that I need to go out and hand out more resumes. But I don't know where I should apply at. Any suggestions?

OK, so what now???

As of this moment, I have been living in Lethbridge for approximately 5 days and 4 hours. It feels like much, much longer. I have unpacked everything, used "my" new oven to my heart's content, eaten more than is good for me, scouted out some running paths by the graveyard and in the coulees, met a dizzying array of Jen and Liana's (my landlords) friends, handed out resumes all over town, and tried the bus system. Yet despite all these activities, I still feel bored. I still watch too much daytime television. I still feel unproductive and antsy. Would someone, somewhere, from any minimum wage retail job just give me a call for an interview? Forget trying to actually make money. I just want the reassuring beep beep beep of my alarm clock going off at an ungodly hour, telling me that I am gainfully employed and will be able to pay my rent and buy groceries. I am sure that soon I will be retracting that wish for the annoying sound of my alarm clock every morning, but right now I feel like my life is on hold and I'd just like to get this show on the road.
Maybe all this waiting time is for a reason. Maybe some Higher Power is telling me that I just need to learn to wait, to slow down, to relax, to trust. Maybe. Or maybe that Higher Power is telling me that I should have taken greater care with my resume. Or it could be that I am supposed to be learning a lesson in perseverance. Or frugality. Or maybe how if I hadn't bought that iPod in February I would have a nice little sum in my bank account right now.
I love how when it's almost 1 o'clock am, all the negative thoughts swarm my brain like drones around a queen bee.
Did I just use that metaphor? Good grief. I was just watching Jerry Seinfeld; maybe that's why.
This feels like such an odd time in my life. I feel so young and yet so old. Part of me knows that I'm 19; no one expects me to have it all together, to make loads of money and have perfect hair. Yet another part of me feels way older than 19; like I should know what I'm doing by now and shouldn't be scared by the thought of job interviews or learning how to work a lottery machine at Shopper's Drug Mart or trying to pick my courses for next year. But having spent the last two years of my life in a climate-controlled bubble, I don't really know what to do in the real world anymore. I don't know what's me and what's just a product of Taylor. I don't know what I want. I have no opinions. I laugh when other people laugh; I stare at people's shoes to make sure that what I'm wearing on my feet is at least passable. I know part of that will never change, but I also know that there's a part of me that really wants to break free and become itself in a way that never could have happened at Taylor. And that might take a long time, and it might take some work, but I want to try. Cause I really want to know who I am. And maybe that's the point of all this waiting - to find out what I want out of life and who "me" really is.
Oh geez. So philosophical. I should really go to bed now before I spill my guts all over this page, cause that would be gross and nobody wants to see it. I'm sure. Yukky.
So here's to tomorrow and sleeping in and doing nothing. Cause doing nothing is the only thing I can do at this point. Who knows? Maybe I'll even get called in for a job interview. I'm crossing my fingers...

My Last Day (ever) at Taylor

It has been a stressful week. A 16-page take-home final, my last day at work, packing everything, buying a dress for my sister's wedding, and a nasty cold on top of everything else has taken up all my time. And now here I sit, with the contents of my room in a haphazard pile of boxes in the middle of my floor. The shelves all need washing, and I have to move all the furniture back to where it was, and then vacuum. I guess I'll wait til tomorrow to do all of that.
It seems crazy to think that tomorrow night at this time I will probably be sinking to the floor exhausted... in my own little basement suite! I can't wait. I guess partly I'm really scared and nervous to be completely on my own in a city that I don't know that well - but on the other hand, there are so many exciting possibilities!
I will miss all the girls on my floor in Schindler so much! I've gotten really close to Randa, and it's crazy to think that I won't be able to have any more late-night talks with her in these rooms - I won't be able to just walk across the hall and say good morning - I won't be able to borrow her printer paper or ask her how my outfit looks. I will miss her so much! I'd forgotten what it's like to have a best friend.
Well, the packing is calling. Goodbye, sophomore year. Goodbye, Schindler. May all the traumatic, harrowing experiences be erased from my memory so that I remember these four walls not as a prison, but as a palace. (Schindler? A palace? Bwah ha ha!) But nonetheless - it's the end of my life in dorms, and it's bittersweet. Time to move one? Yes. But also a time to look back, and remember the good times.
Oh dear. I better not wax philosophical again. It reveals my melodramatic streak!

Gestalt, schmalt

Studying for a counseling psychology test (from 8:30 am til 2:00 pm, 23 pages of handwritten notes!!!) has its drawbacks.
For one thing, after the test, the terms "reality- cognitive- behavioural- Gestalt- existential- psychosocial- psychodynamic- family- structural- strategic- person-centered" all kind of mush together in my mind and severely hinder rational thinking. I feel like a stewpot of various theories of counseling. If you say anything to me at this point - however trivial or benign - I might just label you a neurotic individual who never completed the autonomy vs. shame and doubt phase of Erikson's psychosocial learning.
Another problem with cramming for a counseling exam is the fact that I've started analyzing myself. I'm afraid that I'm not a very self-actualized individual. You see, according to the human-centered approach to counseling, each one of us humans is like a little acorn with the potential to grow into a great big oak tree. That, my friend, is self-actualization. I think I'm pretty far behind. On Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs I've pretty much only mastered survival - food and shelter.
Not that you care about any of this. You'd think I was a psychology major, not a disillusioned would-be novelist who can't even find the motivation to start on my take-home Ren Lit final, due Thursday morning at 11:00. 12-20 brutal pages. I hate my life.
Goodbye cruel world. I'm going to write until I'm finished. Then I might crawl out of my hole in the ground (aka my stinky nasty smelly room) and face the light.

My New Shoes

Oh I know I already posted once. But I forgot about these! My first ebay purchase ever! Aren't they pretty?

Grrrr.....

I had typed out a really long post and then I pushed a random key and Blogger deleted it! I am so sad. I guess you guys don't get to read my ramblings after all. In the interests of time, I guess I will just make a list:
1. I had a lovely easter Sunday. Went to dinner at Randa's grandparents - she was gone so they adopted me. Then I had breakfast for supper - a bowl of cereal, a bagel, and yogourt - oh I know you guys don't care what I ate for supper, but it makes me happy to think about food, so humor me!
2. I get to move into my new place in 5 DAYS!!! I am really excited. Oh to have my own kitchen... my own counters... that reminds me, I have to go wash my dishes.
3. I've started reading the Circle Trilogy by Ted Dekker again. Such a good series! I was just very bored... since the library was closed this weekend (how dare they?!) ... so I grabbed a random book off my shelf and now I'm totally engrossed. I forget how they end. Last time I read them... well let's just say that I was an emotional basket case and I wasn't really concentrating. So this is exciting!
4. I'm leaving. Goodbye. The dishes are calling. Oh, and exams. Yuck. I hate exams. Who invented such nasty things? Why can't life be fun? ("I beg your pardon; I never promised you a rose garden" *cheesy lyric of the day).
Goodbye!!!

I Knew It Would Happen One of These Days

I must be one of the ditziest people I know.
I try. I try so hard to be responsible, to be on time, to be one of those trustworthy individuals that everyone can depend on.
But what did I do on Monday night? I completely ruined my reputation for responsibility (flimsy and false though it may be) by blithely walking off the bus without my wallet.
To complicate matters further, I didn't discover this dismaying fact until Wednesday, when I was looking for my wallet so I could buy some groceries. When I couldn't find it, I went into panic mode, and started tearing my room apart. When that yielded no results, I admitted to myself - a sinking feeling beginning to take over my gastrointestinal regions - that most likely, my wallet had wandered away from me, slyly remaining on the bus while I walked away, oblivious.
I felt as if it had betrayed me, like the One Ring betrayed Gollum.
Being one of those stupid people who keep every document necessary for their identity inside their wallet, I knew that if I didn't find my wallet, there could be someone walking around out there, pretending to be me. I knew that they could be spending my money and getting into bars with my driver's license. It was an extreme situation.
You will be pleased to hear, gentle reader, that this grim picture I have been painting for you actually has a ray of hope shining rosily in the corner. The next morning I called the Lost and Found at the bus station, and to my great joy I found out that my wallet had been turned in, completely intact! I took a bus downtown to pick it up, and it was returned to me without a dime missing.
It makes me wonder, though. My entire life, my purses and wallets have struggled to get free from my grip. I have left my wallet in Wal-Mart, in grocery stores, and even at the zoo. Somehow, even the paranoia I now feel about setting my purse down in strange places didn't prevent me from leaving it on the bus last week. So, have I learned my lesson from this close call, or did the fortuitous turn of events that returned my wallet to me also prevent me from truly changing my scatterbrained ways? Will I have to irreversibly lose something in order for me to really learn my lesson?
I sure hope not. I don't think my heart can handle the shock!

Live like Wildflowers

I think I'm having an identity crisis.
I used to think I wanted to have a career, an academic life. I used to think that I was rather sophisticated because I wanted to have knowledge just for knowledge's sake. I was determined to finish university and have a degree and be worth something. Now, I don't know if I want to do that. I would like to write a novel, but I hardly think that would put bread on the table (even if I'm the next J.K. Rowling, which I'm not, she spent a lot of years in miserable poverty before she became a byword on the NYTimes bestseller lists). So I have to find a job of some sort that I can endure for a few years, a job that will have, if not beneficial, at least benign effects on my bank account.
I also want a job where I don't have to dress up every day. No lipstick and hairstraighteners for me every morning! Unfortunately, that kind of a job requires skills that I don't have, since I'm not exactly superb at outdoorsey-type activities (see, I don't even know what to call it when you work with your hands and get a tan from being outside all day!).
Then, of course there's my desire to travel. Don't even ask how that fits in. I don't want to teach English as a second language - it doesn't even tempt me.
I like cooking. A lot. But I don't think I'd like to be a cook. At least not a commercial cook. Maybe someone's personal cook? See, I just don't know.
I guess I have 2 more years to figure this out. That's when the university will spew me forth into the cold, cruel world and I will have to struggle to pay back my student loans using the skills I am supposed to be acquiring right now.
It's too bad, cause I think the only thing that university is teaching me right now is how to avoid schoolwork, how many hours one can waste on the computer, and how long one can put off writing a paper and still finish it without arriving to class half an hour late. See? Great stuff, especially as far as time-management is concerned.
Speaking of which... I'm sure there's something useful I ought to be doing at this moment... like reading (His Dark Materials, I'm on the third book and I don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight until I finish!)... or snacking (is there anything better than a bowl of homemade granola garnished with bananas and strawberries?) ... or studying (for my Bio exam on Tuesday night, it's gonna be great *ahem* sarcasm).
p.s. Oh yeah. The title. I've been listening to Lisa Brokop lately, and one of her songs is about how we should "live like wildflowers, find our place in the golden sun." It sounds good to me! Who needs an identity crisis, I'll just learn how to bloom where I'm planted... or something like that... yes I know I'm mixing my metaphors. Bear with me!

Kummerspeck

This word made me laugh. Because it's so me. It should probably be the name of my blog.
What does it mean, you ask? I found the definition here.
Kummerspeck: a German term for the weight people gain as a result of emotion-related overeating.
Sad, but so applicable!

March is a gross month

Why is it so hard to be happy in March? Wait, let me amend that. Why is it so hard to be happy in March when you're living in Edmonton? Hmm, I guess there's several reasons, one of which would be that, rather than being a blustery month of wind, rain, and melting snow, it's been a blustery month of wind, snow, snow, snow, snow, and hmm... what else... more snow. The weather that we should have gotten in December has finally showed up, bared its icy teeth, snarled at us, and driven us back inside. Where I have been huddling pathetically, neglecting everything important to me: my schoolwork, my diet, my exercise routine. My life is at a standstill. And it's starting to become extremely frustrating. I have no motivation. I can hardly force myself to go to class, to get out of bed, to wear anything else but sweatpants. I'm developing an eating disorder. And my grades are going down a very slippery slope of no return.
Well! That was a load of whining, and I feel somewhat better, having vented satisfactorily.
What worries me today is the fact that the library is telling me that a certain CD I distinctly remember returning two weeks ago is in fact still out. I suppose I ought to go to the library and get it cleared up right away, but it's not a very nice day outside and I don't really feel like tromping through the snow, waiting outside in the cold, and spending an hour in transit on the buses. Like I said, I'm feeling rather lazy, and it just all seems too overwhelming and confusing. All I can do is crawl back into bed and wait until it's all over.

Just Recently

I just got back from a visit at Randa's house. This weekend was really full for me. I can hardly believe it's already over. And then, only 1 month until school is out. 1 month, 1 paper, 1 video project, and 4 exams. I think I can handle this!
I am so excited to move into my new place. Did I ever blog about the little basement suite that I found in Lethbridge? Well, I didn't exactly find it. I was randomly talking to Amy Jo one day and she told me that her cousins had a place in Lethbridge and were looking for a renter for the basement. I went to see the place during reading week and immediately liked it. So I sent them a damage deposit and now it's waiting for me as soon as I want it. I can't wait to set up my living room, kitchen, bathroom and bedroom exactly the way I want them. I can't wait until I can keep everything as clean as I want it. I can't wait to sit down at a real kitchen table in the morning with my bowl of cereal and Sudoku or crossword puzzles. It's going to be lovely.
What won't be lovely will be trying to find a job. I have no idea where I'm going to work this summer. It worries me.
Well, I'm going to go and work on my Renaissance Literature presentation for tomorrow.

Three Stanzas of Stream of Consciousness Poetry

Maybe if I had ever felt that way
And you had ever looked outside
Then we could understand each other
But I feel the slippery slope
Of words, harsh and awkward,
Tumbling off iron tongues
And we find a plexiglass wall between us
Steel rivets and 2x4s
An engineering marvel wrought by our own power
Power of a misunderstanding.

Care Bears and sunny yellow fabric
Stitches of love, soft and warm
It caresses a too full belly
Will I ever ever go back to that place
When a rocking chair fixed it all
And I could forgive your mistakes
And mine.

Cause here I see a haze of sleepwalkers
Amazing, amazing, they chortle
Mouths full of cotton sleep,
Heads full of candy dreams
On the other side of glass, they love their lives
This deromanticized dream has become
A nightmare that I wake to every day
Oh I want insomniac pills
To stop up this bloated purple fear.

Avoidance of the Big "S"

Well, here I sit, enjoying the high feelings of euphoria gained from an eleven hour sleep, badly needed due to utter exhaustion from the day before. On Thursday night, Holly and Sara came out to Schindler, and we had a Mary Kay makeover party. Then, on impulse Holly stayed over and we all slept in Randa's room. Randa had to get up at 7:30 to make it to class and then to basketball, but Holly and I were going to sleep later - until I opened my mouth and volunteered to make french toast for everyone before Randa left. To make matters worse, Heather came in just as we were getting settled in bed and, of course, wanted to join the party. She asked if she could sleep in Holly's bed. Holly agreed. But Heather is a big girl, (5'11", I think?) and has no control over her muscles when she sleeps. She sprawled out, and Holly, desperately trying to not fall off of the bed, still couldn't sleep at 4:30 am. So she moved into my bed, and although there were no more falling-out-of-the-bed incidents, its always harder for me to sleep when I have to remain aware of how my limb movements are affecting the other occupant of a twin-sized mattress. I slept rather fitfully for the next few hours, and then got up to make french toast for everyone. It was fun. We set up a picnic in the middle of the hallway and wolfed down our food. Then, Randa and Holly left - Heather went to her room to do schoolwork - and I wandered around like a zombie for most of the day, getting nothing done.
It was our spring concert last night (and tonight again) and we were all supposed to dress up in prom dresses for it. It's supposed to be kind of funny, cause Geoff comes in right when all of the choir is on stage, dressed up, and he pretends to be some kind of redneck auctioneer. Well, it would have been funny on a different day. But I had a roaring headache and my eyes were involuntarily closing, and I was wearing Kirstin's dress, which although its gorgeous and makes me look fantastic (no false modesty - I'll post a picture later :) ) is also a size 2 and incredibly tight. We muddled through the concert (we'd had no dress rehearsal and the whole thing was basically a gong-show) and then afterwards I had to spend time with some friends from last year whom I haven't seen in a long time. So by the time I got in at about 10:00 I was exhausted, and went straight to bed, and slept for eleven hours.
All this would be well and good (and probably boring anyone reading this to death) but I have two papers due really soon and I have to get started on them and I haven't even picked topics yet. And here I sit, posting to my blog, about to call my mom, and in general trying to avoid schoolwork like it could kill me or something.
I will do some this afternoon. I will. I must.
Well... I guess there's always Sunday afternoon...

Mmm, chocolate....

The chocolate craving hit me yesterday. I had to have chocolate or I was going to die. So I grabbed Heather and we walked to 7-eleven where I purchased a rich bar of this...

...and a bottle of this...

because this juice really is one of the best ever.
But then I got back to my room and I decided that I didn't want to eat my chocolate right then anyway. So I saved it for this morning. Some people think chocolate should be enjoyed in the evening, but I think that 10:30 a.m. is one of the best times for a little pick me up.
I had never tried Hershey's pure dark chocolate before. Although it certainly does the trick (with 60% cacoa, it's very rich and stimulating), I think I like the cocoa camino bar better. Maybe next time. Safeway is rearranging all their organic stuff so I wasn't able to find the one I wanted at the grocery store.

Googley-Bear

So, to explain...
I had a dream this morning that I was hiding in my house from two bears. One was white, and she was rummaging through the box in the entry that has all the toques and gloves and scarves. Quite harmless, really, but I was still scared spitless. So I ran and hid in the bathroom, but as soon as I got in, I heard a knock on the door, and I knew that it was the other bear, the brown one. I opened the door because I was scared that he would get angry and tear it down with his claws, and then he would be much more likely to eat me when he got to the other side. When I opened the door, there he was, standing upright and dressed in a tuxedo like a circus bear. He grabbed my hand (it hurt, but only because he had nasty claws) and then he made me waltz with him across the kitchen. Then, he took me to my little sister's bedroom where he had been playing with her toys. He then pointed to himself and said "Googley-Bear." I smiled, thinking, What an appropriate name for a bear. I then pointed to myself and said, "Grace." But our conversation didn't get any further, because I then woke up with great relief that I had survived the bear attack.
Then I googled "Googley-Bear" and came up with the picture above. I guess the most common image associated with Googley-Bear is that weird one-eyed guy off of Monsters, Inc. Believe me, he looks very different from the bear in my dreams. But somehow my mind must have connected them... ah, I don't know. Dreams are weird.
Speaking of dreams, a side-note - I was at my friends' place for a sleepover the other night, and apparently in the middle of the night, I sat upright, patted my blankets and said, "I just love this pouffy dress. It's just the best dress ever!"I do not remember the incident, but Crystal Jackson swears that it happened. And I believe her, for I must admit to a tendency to say weird things in my sleep, a trend documented by every roommate I've ever had.

A Novel Thought

I spent money today that I shouldn't have. I wasted a whole afternoon at West Edmonton Mall. That is a very tricky place for someone such as myself with limited funds. I bought a pair of boots... a pair of very funky boots... and a new bag... and a pair of pink Roxy shoes, just because they were so cute. Then I missed my bus and sat miserably waiting for the next one, comforting myself by munching on SunChips.
But all this is not the reason I felt compelled to post. You see, this evening I started wandering around on the internet looking at shoes and bags (you see, once it starts it never stops) and I realized (not for the first time) that I am consumed by material things, and it's not good.
Then, I wondered what would happen if I started carrying around all my stuff in plastic grocery bags. Would my friends still like me? Would my coworkers still be nice to me? I came to the startling realization that they probably would. (I guess we'll never find out unless I try it, which isn't going to happen in the near future).
This realization led to another one. I thought - quite clearly - Grace, people don't like you for your stuff. And that thought stopped me short.
I see now that there's really only two possibilities. 1. I have been spending money unnecessarily in an attempt to impress other people/buy affection. 2. I have been spending money unnecessarily in an attempt to make me like me better. Or, in an attempt to bring myself happiness. Either way, the motivation is ostensibly for the sake of my own self.
If possibility number 1 is true, then my realization that "people don't like me for my stuff" should, if taken to heart, relieve the enormous pressure that I feel when ever I walk into a mall. Something is telling me to accumulate material possessions, and I unfortunately often listen. On the other hand, if possibility number 2. is true, then my realization won't do a thing for me. Only therapy can help at that point. (grin... mostly kidding)
It's my gut feeling that both possibilities are true. Possibility number 1 I will attempt to cure by a return to reality every now and again... the reality that people will not like me any better because I own a pair of suede, furry, trendy boots. Possibility number 2 I will attempt to cure by a little thing I call "self-governance." "Attempt" is the key word. Maybe I can find other ways to try to make myself happy. Like chocolate. Or fascinating suspense novels. Or B-12 Vitamins. I like them all. And they don't cost (much) money.

Do you have a card that says...

"How do you girls like working at Hallmark?" the customer asked Cheryl and me last night. It was 15 minutes until closing, and we had just sold her a card which she was filling out rapidly at the counter.
Cheryl and I looked at each other and shrugged. "It's pretty good," we said. I would have told her that it was an amazing job and I looked forward to coming to work every day, but by the look on her face I don't think she would have believed me.
"I used to work at a Hallmark in Leduc for four years," she said. "Man, that was weird. I can't believe some people. They'd ask me to pick out a card for their husband, or ask for a card with elephants or some other random animal on it. Or they'd ask how long I thought a candle would burn. Like, get real, lady! As if I know."
Cheryl and I laughed nervously.
"Do you guys ever get that?" she went on. "Like, where someone wants you to find a card that says something specifically for them?"
I nodded. Cheryl nodded. Since our explanations were not forthcoming and the customer was in a hurry, she just kind of grinned at us and hurried out of the store with a "Have a good one."
I looked at Cheryl with a wry smile. "Do you remember that guy earlier this evening?" I asked. Cheryl smiled back at me. "Yep. I sure do."
A couple of hours earlier, I was asked by a guy about my age to find a card for him... a very specific card. He wanted to ask a girl out, but he didn't want to use the "love" word. He wanted to stay out of the friend zone, yet he wanted to communicate his feelings about her. In short, he wanted the card to do the dirty work for him - to tell her that he liked her, thought she was special, and then ask what she thought about being his girlfriend.
I sent him to the blank card section. "That's asking a lot out of a guy," he whined. I told him that she would just appreciate him more because of all the time he spent on it.
He left the store without buying anything.
I thought this incident was pretty random. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I actually like helping people pick out cards. And I like to give my opinion on them. So... next time you're in a Hallmark store... don't be scared... if you need help, ask for it! We who wear the purple shirts are usually pretty good humored, unless of course you have BO or ask us inappropriate questions or go into the back room and steal money from our purses.

My New Favoritest CD

Beautiful voice. Beautiful music. A must-listen if you're suffering from February... oops, March... blahs.

The Strange, Random, Beautiful Chaos of Life

You Are a Caramel Crunch Donut

You're a complex creature, and you're guilty of complicating things for fun. You've been known to sit around pondering the meaning of life... Or at times, pondering the meaning of your doughnut. To frost or not to frost? To fill or not to fill? These are your eternal questions.

What Donut Are You?

I think coincidences are the queerest things to think about. Because you know, there are some people who hold to the view that there is no such thing as a coincidence, and everything happens for some kind of purpose. Then, there are others who believe that things just happen, due to the interactions of probabilities. Those people don't think that anything occurs according to some grand master plan. I suppose I would place myself somewhere in between those two groups. I'd like to believe that there's some purpose to life... but on the other hand, I feel like so much of life is just "the way it happens." Lately, I've been leaning toward the "random occurences" viewpoint.
But occurences as of late have been changing my way of thinking. I shall explain. But it might take a long time, so sit tight...
It was reading week last week. I went home in a state of extreme excitement. I love reading week. There's no other week of the year that is as much appreciated, filled with as much nothingness, relaxation, movies, shopping, good eating, and good times with friends. Sometimes, I like to call it "Suicide Prevention Week" or "Sanity Preservation Week." Whatever you call it, it's also my yearly opportunity to purchase useless things (in my case, an iPod nano - so pretty) and to look forward to summer and how I'll do things differently next year. So, I had a lovely week at home. I was able to procure a basement suite for next year. I went and visited the U of L, and was duly impressed. I even found a couple pairs of pants that aren't going to fall off my cadaverous butt. (Note: I do not mean to say that I'm just one of those skinny girls who naturally look like they're anorexic. I only mean that my poor little legs are sadly out of proportion to the rest of my body, and thus my pants usually require a belt for the sake of modesty.) I managed to ignore most of my homework, yet finish the most pressing assignments. It was a very productive week.
Now, on to the coincidences. I was on my way back to school on the Greyhound, and lo and behold my seatmate turned out to be this lovely girl in her third year at the U of A, a Christian, a fellow home-schooler, and - as I found out just before we arrived in Edmonton - someone who knows my brother's friend Christy! Now, if that's not weird, I don't know what is. (Christy, if you're reading this, you are known by your book club - I mentioned the lovely time that I had had at your book club, and Gina immediately wanted to know what your name was, and it turned out that her parents know your parents!) It was extremely coincidental, and since coincidental things never usually happen to me (at least not the good coincidences, like winning the lottery) I was forced to reflect on life, and whether coincidences are actually coincidences, or actually nonexistent. That was a long sentence. I guess I just wonder how much of what happens in my life is up to me and how much of it is a product of random chance.
Well, I guess my ruminating is done. This was a weird post. I had a lot I wanted to say and I don't think I said it all, but that's OK. I'm sure it will all come out sooner or later.

GOING HOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm just a little bit excited! Yes, I am taking almost two whole weeks off from the rat race. I'm going to travel 5 hours south to the obscure little village from which I originated. There I will vegetate, ruminate, and watch movies until I have complutely obfuscated the mass of useless knowledge spinning inside my head. Yay!!
going home going home going home going home going home going home going home going home GOING HOME GOING HOME GOING HOME GOING HOME GOING HOME GOING HOME GOING HOME GOING HOME GOING HOME GOING HOME GOING HOME GOING HOME GOING HOME GOING HOME GOING HOME GOING HOME GOING HOME GOING HOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Happy Valentine's Day!

I Love You... Blah Blah Blah

Well, apart from the slightly bitter/caustic tone of that heading... I'm really having a good Valentine's Day. And yes, I am single.
Last year my cousin rescued me from wallowing in my despair on this day of Cupids and kissing. This year, I'm hanging out by myself in my empty dorm, working on an annotated bibliography for Renaissance Literature, surfing the Internet, and just getting caught up on everything (like this poor neglected little blog). So I guess I didn't get rescued, (even my mom didn't send me a Valentine's Card! Boo) but I was considering my wonderfully single predicament, and I have come to the realization that I don't need rescuing. Cause I am OK with who I am. And although I would love to be in a different city and in my own house and out of school... I realize that this is a journey, and that I just have to struggle through the occasional mud-storm.
So I'm just waiting for reading week! Maybe I'll meet some charming young man on the bus. I certainly don't meet them at Hallmark - they're all buying cards for their wives and girlfriends. By the way, I never knew how busy a store could be until last night. Good grief, is every man in the city of Edmonton a last-minute shopper? Ladies, feel special. The price of cards is outrageous. I know, cause I hear about it every day from our customers. Yet, Carlton is more expensive. Shop Hallmark. Really. It's much better.
I think I covered at least three different topics in that last paragraph. My profs would cover their eyes in shame. Naughty me.

Pink Martini

Check out these guys! They're great, especially if you like something just a little bit different from your music.

Lunch

Did you know that you can make scrambled eggs in a microwave in under 1 minute, 30 seconds? Fully cooked scrambled eggs, no less?
I know what I am going to be eating every morning for the rest of my life.
In other news, I now have a persistent nagging scratch in the back of my throat. I suppose getting sick was inevitable, since my best friend has had 3 different flus in the past week and we frequently share things like food and breathing air.
Bring it on.

favoritest band EVER!!!!

OK, so I was looking around on the internet and I came across these. It's cause I broke out my LaRue Transparent CD today, which was like the third CD I ever bought in my life, and I fell in love with it instantly. It always makes me happy. Anyway, I was pretty much in love with this guy. I thought he was so hot (OK, I still do) and my friend ended up confiscating all the pictures from the CD cause I kept staring at them and I had dreams where I got to meet Phillip LaRue. Anyway, these are pictures from the album. Mmmm, so good. I just had to share them! (You all think I'm nutty now. Sorry, I'm in a weird mood today. Three posts in one day! When has that ever happened?)

I like it....

being antisocial, I mean! OK, so when I logged on this morning I really wanted to write about something... but I forgot what... and I just remembered now when I was looking at a friend's myspace. I realized that I have spent all day in my room, and I suppose people would call me antisocial. That used to be a dirty word for me. Now, I embrace my destiny! Haha, just kidding. I guess I just don't feel very antisocial... I have friends at work, and I have really good friends in my dorm. But other than that... I don't get out much. I go and watch basketball on weekends... I go to the library, go to class, go shopping, see the occasional movie. But I eat in my room, and I would rather spend the afternoon with a good book than with mostly anybody from Taylor. Cause they're stupid, awkward people. Oh geez, I shouldn't have said that. I just realized it this weekend though. Some of the guys that I know from last year were like, "Hey, where have you been? I never see you anymore." And I thought about it, and realized that I've been trying to avoid social activities at Taylor. So I guess that makes me antisocial. Not an introvert, cause I aint. People have been trying to pin that label on me for the last year. It just doesn't fit. I like parties and I like meeting new people. I'm not shy. I'm just... antisocial... here at Taylor anyway. I don't know what makes me think it will be any different anywhere else... I just know that I want to try anyway. My mom thinks that the loud, obnoxious individual I used to be is my real personality. Anyone who knew me before grade 12 would have slapped the label "sanguine extrovert" on me faster than you can say "green eggs and ham." Why is it so different now?
Ah, the mysteries of life! I'm sorry, I just had to get all that off my chest. I think that was a very disjointed paragraph. That could be because I just got up from a nap in which I had disturbing dreams and the whole time I've been writing this I've been looking at the clock on my computer and wondering how so much time has passed without me noticing. Maybe it's cause I'm dreading Monday so much. The more I try to dig my heels in the faster time goes. Oh drat, I'm off on a tangent again... don't expect anything coherent from me today.

So I woke up this morning at 9:30 am. I got up, had a big bowl of Shredded Wheat and bananas, did my crossword puzzle, and then crawled back into bed for 3 more hours, where I readThe Divided Crown , a very badly written but nonetheless entertaining fantasy novel by Isabel Glass (obviously not required reading for any of my classes!), and munched on raisins and peanut-butter-smeared rice cakes. Then, I made myself french toast and ate 4 (yes, 4!) pieces smothered in applesauce.
It was a very enjoyable morning. I haven't even made a pretense at personal hygiene. Showers are just one of those things that should never happen on a Sunday. (God made it a day of rest, right?)
Actually, it was a very enjoyable weekend altogether. Maybe that's cause I went to the library (hence the novel-reading) and then spent some of my paycheck on those yoga pants from Jacob that I've been coveting for a long time. And yesterday and Friday I spent a lot of time watching basketball, which was fun and entertaining - and time consuming. So today I have to catch up on my schoolwork. Ah, well, that shouldn't be terribly painful either.
I suppose I should be feeling guilty since I didn't go to church this morning. The truth is, I don't. The church I used to go to with Cherise hasn't exactly endeared itself to me. The pastor is actually kind of a rude person (and rude pastors are one of my pet peeves; the only rude pastor that I like is C.S. and he's not my pastor anymore). Generally, I think that pastors should be soft-spoken, knowledgeable but not arrogant, and ready to listen to people. Also, I like it when they're over forty. That way I know that there's a good chance I'm listening to someone who has more wisdom than I do. Really, I'm not picky, and I don't want to be demanding, I just figure that if I pick a place to spend a morning when I could be sleeping in, it better be with someone I respect.
I actually really miss going to church, though. I miss church in Champion, cause I know everyone there and it's really comfortable and the sermons are challenging and God-focused. One of the things that I've promised myself about next year in Lethbridge is that I'll find a church I like and make an effort to be involved. I really want that to be a part of my life again. For two years now, I haven't had a church family, and I don't want that to happen anymore.
I'm listening to Chris Rice right now. I love his CDs; they are so relaxing. His songs are very real and open and honest. I feel uplifted, yet not bombarded with trite Christianese. Sometimes, in Poetry 208, we do what Nathan and Reuben have lovingly dubbed "song-bashing." It's not as bad as it sounds; what we actually do is take apart a contemporary Christian worship song and talk about why it doesn't make the grade as good poetry, whether due to ambiguities, metaphors that don't make sense, or just unrealistic promises and statements. What's interesting is that so many of these songs we don't really think about when we sing; we don't listen to what we're saying. I think that it's been rather eye-opening for some of us, although some people just get upset that their favorite worship songs are being picked apart, and then they get all sullen.
Hmm, well, I think that's about all I wanted to vent about! Don't ask about school, I get more disgusted with Taylor everyday. (Would you believe that Ralph Korner, Residence Head-Person-Thingie, has lied to me? Yeah, like so much for integrity). OK, I'll shut up about that because I'm trying to learn stress-management techniques, which consist mainly of, don't think about it and maybe it will go away.
OK, bye!

Stanley Climbfall

It's the name of a Lifehouse CD. Actually, I don't even really like the CD. I just really like the name. Climbfall. Cause isn't that what life's all about? You climb and climb... and then you fall... and then you climb again.
I just always wonder exactly what it is we're all climbing. The ladder of success? I don't think I am. I'm too lazy. I want to have a good job, but I don't want to be a go-getter. I'm sure that most of you are shaking your heads right now at the fatal flaw in my logic. I know, I know. Just right now I don't want to think about it.
This is my sister, when she was home over Christmas. Haha, I know that if she finds out I put this picture of her on here, she'll kill me. But she's just so cute in her pjs.
And this, haha, this is a picture of my favorite winter things. I don't have many, so these things are pretty special to me. A. Chocolate (and it's actually good-for-you chocolate, so those of you who know that I'm a hard-core dieter don't need to die of cardiac arrest right now). B. Chatelaine. I just love that magazine. It's happy, real-life, and Canadian. Nuff said. C. My white mittens. I wear them everywhere and they keep me warm and cosy. I'm a big fan.

The Pirates!

I've been reading a hilarious book. It's called The Pirates! In an Adventure with Scientists. Definitely on my "recommend" list. Maybe it's not classic literature or intellectual reading, but if you want a book of distracting, fresh, and funny fluff, definitely pick this one up. I think that there's others in the series too, the first one being titled just The Pirates!

I'm learning appreciation!

Yep, it's that time of year again. January sucks, and I say that in the kindest way possible. See, there has to be a January... and a February... in order for our finite human minds to understand that May, June, and July are so amazing. Those living in tropical countries, although admittedly they can enjoy summer temperatures all year round, really don't have the capacity for appreciating the spring and summer months that we Canadians do. By the time winter is over, we're so sick of it that green grass, blue skies and fresh fruit are like a little taste of heaven here on earth.
This is my attempt to be thankful for snow and -12 temperatures. I'm learning appreciation for summertime. Bring on the snow. I'm Canadian. I can deal with it.

So Bored!!!

I've spent the last week doing absolutely nothing. I'm all caught up on my homework, too, which is the sad part. Why do they try to bore the heck out of you all the way through January and halfway through February, and then after reading week and all through March and April they throw everything at you at once? This semester I'm going to have absolutely nothing to do anyway, since I found out that one of the courses I registered for doesn't transfer to the University of Lethbridge anyway. Actually, two courses, but one of them is kind of interesting. And if I was taking only 10 credits, I might die of boredom. So I've decided to drop my Friday morning class, Psychology and Christian Thought, because a. it's useless to me, b. it's boring, and c. why bother doing all that work and not getting any credits for it? So I'll still have thirteen credits, but I'll be paying for seventeen. And I can't even pick up a different course that will transfer, because there isn't a single one that fits with my time schedule. Not even one!
Sigh... life is so unfair. Poor me.
On the brighter side - I never knew I was such a good cook. I like to make everything I can from scratch: casseroles; interesting combinations of vegetables and melted cheese in pita pockets; hard-boiled, fried, or scrambled eggs; salads; fruit and yogourt smoothies; steamed vegetables; pancakes. I haven't tried my crockpot yet, but I probably will sometime this week. It will be an adventure, but I've had pretty good luck so far with trying new things.
It seems like everyone is just trying to make it through January. What a terrible month! December is so full of good food and parties and pretty lights, lots of warm and fuzzy feelings, and of course, time spent with your family (even if they do try to shoot you with BB guns and swear at you - what can I say, I guess we're dysfunctional). Then you get to January, and it's all anyone can do to get out of bed in the morning. No one has any money, the snow that was so pretty in December is dirty and crusted over, and reading week is a whole month and a half away. No wonder everyone is in a bad mood.
I was thinking today about how much I complain about everything. I'm a very negative person a lot of the time. I am really very blessed, but there's always something to whine about, whether it's Taylor's policies, the annoying people that I go to school with (I really do love ... most of ... you guys) or just plain old boredom. But I should try to look on the bright side, because I have a roof over my head, good food, and a loving family. I'm getting out of this gongshow in three months, and then hopefully life will start to get a little bit brighter. With any luck I'll find a good-paying job (or two of them) in Lethbridge and spend the summer in a nice little basement suite. (It'll be so good to see the sun again!!!) I'll spend my weekends relaxing, reading good books, and sun-tanning. It will be lovely. The best part is that it's so close to home that I can go anytime I want. And that's important to me too.
So... here goes nothing. Bring on the boredom, I'll enjoy it while it lasts.