Category Archives: Little Spitfire

April 2005

April 13, 2005 Heather Leave a comment

Loose Ends Get Tied – April 2, 2005, 12:16 am

It’s been a busy week, what with writing love letters to Ryan and drinking martinis & so on. For example.

Quote of the Week
JESSIE: I can’t believe it’s 2005. That’s when Tylenol expires.

Namaste
Wednesday is Healthy Hell Day, because that’s when Q and I torture ourselves with a sweaty yoga class instead of the usual after-work alcohol and nappy naps. We learned a bunch of new poses this week, two of which I actually enjoyed.

The first is like playing leap frog – you sit back on your feet, knees raised to shoulders, and place your hands (like you’re praying) between your knees. Strangely comforting. Made me think of froggies, and therefore Kermit, with whom I have ALWAYS been in love. Warm rush.

The second pose is standing up with legs spread eagled, knees slightly bent, hands on hips and chin up. I feel very Amazon-warrior-esque with this one.

Genital Herpes
My favourite commercials of all time. They’re all so chipper and positive – AND THEY HAVE GENITAL HERPES!!!! ew. It’s surreal – I kept expecting a laughtrack, like it’s an SNL/Air Farce skit or something.

Family Bondage
My momma and dadders are coming to visit!!!!! They’ve been lured by the Tall Ships Festival here in Victoria – Daddy really loves his boats.

I was mapping out my “vacation days” for the next few months, and I have a lot of nifty keen adventures coming up, including a few days in Nelson and a massage/pamper-fest on my birthday (APRIL 12, for those who want to mark it on their calendars — I’ll be TWENTY-FIVE, or as Daddy says, 1/3 of the way to death.

April Fools Day
I called my momma when she was still sleepy this morning and told her that Q and I were buying a house together because we make so much goddamn money. Q might be my Non-Romantic Life Partner (NRLP) but we are NOT good roomies, and my momma knows this, but she bought it — I knew it was exactly the sort of I Don’t Understand Heather Anymore Now That She’s A City Girl decision that she’d be too confused by to doubt – and voila! Despite knowing better, she believed me. I’m so funny.

MOM: Have you really thought this through?

And More On Atomic Vaudeville
I LOVE their cabaret shows. The next one is Episode 11: David Lynch, and I can’t remember who the hell that is although I know we studied him in my movie class. Mulholland Drive . . . and ?

Monthly attendance is a handy way to stay in touch with the theatre folks in town – Britt Small the Director, Gina MacIntosh the Actress (and Valentine Pilate from my play last summer), et cetera.

Movie I Just Saw & First Impressions
Q wanted to see Downfall or something – about Hitler’s last few days. I pointed out that we’d been working hard all week and the last thing we/I needed was a movie about Hitler.

So we saw Hitch. I love Will Smith (not as much as Johnny Depp but whatever), mainly because of Six Degrees of Seperation which has innoculated me ever since to Wild West and his other “feel good” movies. I like the occasional stupid movie, and (despite Will Smith’s charisma and the cast of uber-attractive actors) this was one. The plot is GOD AWFUL. But it was fun and I smiled a few times. Maybe laughed, I don’t really remember. That’s the point of stupid movies on Friday night.

Just for the hell of it, here are some of the movies I like enough to see more than once:
Kevin Smith’s everything (although Chasing Amy is painful in parts, and I love Mallrats even though apparently no one else in the whole world does); Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas; Chicago (which I only saw recently and it made me want to be a singer/dancer/broadway musical star); The Hours; Memento; The Princess Bride; Reality Bites (Ben Stiller’s one great work of art); and the newer version of Hamlet with Ethan Hawk. I spent that whole movie staring at Julia Stiles, thinking how she was the most beautiful woman/girl ever and how I wouldn’t mind being her, if I couldn’t be me.

Fin (as in “done”)
I’m FULL of words today – pent up from the week, I think. I’ll continue tomorrow/later today.

Watching The Incredibles – April 2, 2005, 11:56 pm
It’s reassuring to know that there are other superheroes in the world.

Kryptonite
the back of my neck – the smell of cut grass – when a manvoice cracks – Kermit singing – yellow – Kerouac, reading – hot showers – sunshine – a bass voice – tall men – Louis Armstrong – Tom Waits – chocolate pudding with “scotch bonnets” (whatever the hell that is) – Skipper & Kevin (Barbie’s teen sister et al) – swing – Eminem – Seamus’s fur – lemon cheesecake with bits o’ rind – Buddy Holly glasses – eyebrows

Commentary on DVD
I have yet to understand the purpose of Director’s commentary, out-takes, alternate scenes, etc. THERE IS A REASON THEY WERE DELETED. I don’t like my “temporary suspension of reality” being tampered with; I don’t appreciate some self-important movie snot telling me what to think. The ONLY enjoyable “bonus” on any movie I’ve seen were “out-takes” of Monster’s Inc. Meta-fiction: the only justification.

When I Grow Up
I want to have a bunch of comfy lawn furniture outside and invite friends & family over every Sunday to have tea.

“Growing Up” will be achieved once my student loan is paid off and I decide where I want to live. I’m trapped here in Victoria for another year or two by a Dream Job, but I don’t expect that I’ll live here as a Grown Up. Nelson, maybe? I’ve never been there, but it sounds like a healthy mix of arts + viable work opportunities, Victoria + Invermere. Q wants me to move to Vancouver with him sometime, but Vancouver scares me – it’s so big! The only neighbourhood I feel comfortable in (so far) is Davie’s Street (the gay village), and we all know how ruinous that would be for me.

Speaking of Which
When in Richmond, Q and I heard KENT KAREMAKER on the radio!!!!!!!! It was so weird. I think it was the Duncan station (Sun FM?) but to hear his news broadcast in Vancouver made me so proud of him! He sounds very professional.

Birthday Plans, Thus Far
I don’t work on the 12th or 13th (vacation days – yay!), so I will sleep in and drink tea, snuggle with bunnies, and revel in being 25. Also, my present to myself this year is a spa day – massage, etc. Jessie and I are going for MAC makeovers (our second ever – the last time, I had whore-Barbie eyes for two days after). Our big birthday dinner is on Saturday, to accomodate drinking and guest attendance. I have seats for eight (including me) for a 3-course dinner, and guests so far include: Q, Jessie, Justin, Liv, and hopefully Spencer. I’m trying to get Q to invite Regan and Ryan over (as my “surprise” birthday gift – a sexy tall artist man with a big red bow on his head!). Q says that crosses the line: he’ll take me grocery shopping and lend me his car, but delivering snuggle-partners is wrong. He’s so moral!

After dinner, we might go to Upstairs or Prism. Or play games and bond at Q’s? I like being the Superstar of the Night – everyone has to do whatever I want!

It’s all my parents’ fault. They gave us excellent birthdays. (Balloon chairs . . .)

Confession to Inappropriate Anger Management
Peter is chewing on the wood trim again. This is a heritage house – I usually stop him, and give him something appropriate to play with, but the fuckers below me (including the landlord’s son) are having another loud scream-fest so screw it. Chew, bunny! Chew!

On another note (although I think this relates to the passive-agressive symptoms of my anxiety disorder) I sometimes get sudden strong urges to swear around small children. An interesting mental-health development.

Mike Bullard – April 3, 2005
He is such an ass.

Recent Additions to My Movie Collection
Moulin Rouge (another inspiration for my Broadway career) and Six Degrees of Separation.

Writing to Ryan – April 3, 2005
After Levi MacDougall, I can never have a worse penpal. While I was magically able to continue my one-sided relationship with Levi for a good eight months, it sure takes a lot of energy to sustain that sort of unreciprocated attention.

Ryan, on the other hand, gives me just enough positive feedback that I don’t get bored or worried that I’m “crossing the line” (where the hell is this line? What does it look like?). Victoria has transformed me into a Huntress, and while I like the confidence and finesse involved in being an Actively Single Woman, I get tired of choosing the wrong huntees. It makes me happy to have someone to write letters to and love, even long-distance.

So thanks for that

Monday Monday – April 4, 2005
Q and I just watched The Final Cut, with Robin Williams. I like it; Q thinks it’s stupid. Also, my laundry is almost done. So that’s great.

Oh, and I saw The Forgotten after work (Julianne Moore) and that was okay but it got all weird and extraterrestrial and uber-dramatic at the end.

Birthday Plans, Thus Far
Jessie and I are getting MAC makeovers for before my B-Day dinner. They weren’t going to let us – fully booked, some lame excuse like that, but I stomped my foot and said “It’s my birthday!” and so now we have appointments.

On my actual birthday-day I am going to the spa courtesy of my Non-Romantic Life Partner Q . . . he’s a superstar and I am excited.

A Word From Q
Ugh.

Crazy – April 4, 2004, 8:36pm
I need to grow up.

Confessions of Excessive Napping – April 5, 2005
I was home at 3 or so today, and made my bed with flannel sheets (yummy) and slept until 8pm. LOVELY.

Intervention, Episode #?
I still find these people obnoxious. One of the interventees today is especially grating – he’s a gambling addict and actively blames his parents for everything, including:

– his ruined relationship with his extended family (because his parents have “made it so that he can’t borrow money from any of them”);

– his personal debt ($200,000), because he lived a “sheltered” life and was susceptible to addiction (he doesn’t include the $80,000 debt his parents carry for him);

– trying to make him feel grateful for their financial help with his debts, because “it’s just a drop in the bucket.”

INTERVENTEE: It’s my personal view that when you have kids, you are responsible for them their entire life.

Oh gees.

Birthday Complications
My silly goober NRLP Q remembered that he’s flying to Vernon on the 15th for a wedding. Stupid wedding! Stupid forgetting!! This screws up my dinner plans, since I HAVE to have my Non-Romantic Life Partner there at my birthday dinner.

So I think what we’ll do is replace my dinner night with two (or more!) events: a dinner a week later, and a night with the girls at the strippers 🙂 I first saw male strippers on my twenty-first birthday. A bunch of icky short men with amazing aerobatic abilities . . . it is SO MUCH FUN. A great study in human nature.

Moment of Love for Celeste the Maltese Terrier
Celeste is sick. Fever, shivering, little bit o’ puke. Let’s take a breath and love her.

How Can So Much Be Done In a Day?? – April 6, 2005
Maybe leftover guilt tendencies from university or eldest child perfectionism or plain mad drive — there is so much to be done and created and read and watched and thought about — and sometimes it feels like there will never be enough of me to take it all in, process, regurgitate back into pretty, (un)palateable translation.

And then sometimes I see someone else who feels the same, and I watch them capture every butterfly and whack every mole, and they still keep running around – and I think how amazing it is that great things are accomplished every day when so many others just sit and watch Maury Pauvich or sleep or drink or ride their comfy rut home to their beer or drug or nap. (Not that I don’t also revel in my cold cider and sleep too much.)

An active life burns out the liver (hee hee) quickly – mental health issues because we take in so much shit from the world, because we spend so much time inside our own heads ruminating and having epiphanies and translating and being sad at all the sad things in the world. One drug might be chemical; another might be to stop thinking, stop interacting, settle into an automatic existence. I’ve been told too many times that life is happy + sad . . . life is also numb + open . . . and that means thinking about why a movie makes you feel lonely at the end, and why country songs make you cry, and why it’s so crazy beautiful to see a blue sky after four months of clouds.

Limited Empathy Capability
And then again, all these thoughts and hypotheses on mental health and I am limited – I still doubt that I am medicated for a “health” reason, that it’s me that limits me. What about those with no control? I have never had that discussion . . . everyone I’ve talked to with crazy-issues is reacting to something else. No genetics, no purely chemical innate shit. I want to have that discussion.

Writing to Ryan – April 6, 2005
Made a CD today – hope it works – or three:
1. Kerouac
2. Kerouac
3. Ani DiFranco (because . . .)

It is doable to combine music + poetry/writing on a disc. Even Eminem does it. Ani is the pinnacle of Finesse.

Ani DiFranco is Really Great – April 7, 2005
I always forget how much Ani makes me happy, and then I accidentally hear a song and it’s Love At First Sight all over again.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALEX!!!! – April 8, 2005
Happy Birthday Alex!!! (Because you live in Ottawa and it’s already April 9th over there . . .) Wish I could be there to spank your sexy ass . . .

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALEX!!! – April 9, 2005
21 . . . ah yes, I remember 21.

Actually, I don’t 🙂

INCREDIBLY EXCITING NEWS OHMIGOD
I have never liked this bulky web address, so I now have a new one. (!!!!) It’s already sort of working, but I used older pages to test it, so give me some time and we’ll start using that new site.

Address: www.littlespitfire.ca

Isn’t that BRILLIANT???? I feel so web-sexy. Also, there is LOTS of space on this site, so I can post way more photos, archives, etc. If I can figure out how to make a pretty slide show, I will do that . . .

Random News From the Front
So much has happened lately, and I never seem to have time to write it down here. Anyhoo, let’s get started:

I waxed my armpit last night. Yep. I always wanted to try it – how convenient would that be?! No shaving armpits for weeks on end! So I experimented with my left one, and results include: ouch! also, not all the pit hair was gone – about 1/4 was waxed off. I suspect smaller strips would do the job, but that’s a lot more agony to undergo. It was achy until I fell asleep, but I can’t feel it this morning. No redness or weird bumps, etc. I shall report back later with any developments.

Q’s momma is visiting. Perhaps Suzanne was lured by her love for her son, perhaps by the World’s Curling event . . . regardless of motivation, we’ve enjoyed some special dinners, at Moxie’s and the Forum (best Chinese food in town). Today Suzanne has a hair appointment with our beloved gay Mormon stylist, Spencer. They keep wanting to spend time with me, and I’m busy emotionally and spiritually preparing myself for my 25th Birthday, so it’s difficult to navigate. But how lovely to have someone (in addition to Celeste) to assist with the Daily Attention Requirements of my darling Petunia, Q!

As for the bunnies, Peter slept at my feet last night. I love it when he does that – it’s as if I have a real house pet, instead of a demanding, dependent roommate. Also, my hair is intact this morning, and there are no displaced poops to report, so everything is perfect. He’s currently gobbling his food . . . there must be crack or sugar in those pellets.

Caramel & Seamus need their water bottles refilled today, and perhaps I’ll clear some more of their winter straw. They seem fairly content these days. I’m looking forward to the sunny weather so we can all play together on the porch.

Oh, I almost forgot!

Heather & Higher Education
I am going to get my MFA in Creative Writing. Well, I’m going to apply to get my MFA in Creative Writing. UBC just started a new “Low Residency” MFA program, which will only require my physical presence in Vancouver for 10 days each summer. The rest of the year I can wander around or work or whatever, as long as I have a decent computer hookup. This means that I will be able to AFFORD my MFA! Wow, what an idea! No debt?!

For those who don’t know, a Masters in Fine Arts (Creative Writing) is not exactly a career-advancing move. Either I will be a Great Writer or I won’t. But the work that a Masters requires will motivate me to write complete stories/plays/novels etc, and it will inspire me to WANT to be a Great Writer. The thesis I have to write at the end is not the usual 300,000 word essay on molecular Shakespearean intergovernmental trade, as it is for most disciplines. I get to write a novel or short story collection or play. So there.

I apply with my portfolio in December . . . until then I will write more pieces to submit, and build on my publication credits, and maybe produce another play. Also, I will feel like a SuperStar for not selling out to my generous government paycheck. It’s odd, how comforting it is to have this next goal in mind. At 25, I’ve done the checklist of highschool, university, having long-term relationships, developing life long friends, living alone, having a Grown Up Job, blah blah blah. The only thing left (in my eldest child mind) was to fall in love, get married, and have babies (not necessarily in that order). But we can’t control those things, and this MAKES ME CRAZY. So grad school is a neat, safe little addition to my Life’s To-Do List. And I can control it. Sort of.

(This is not to say that I am not in love. But my love lives in Richmond and has his own Adventures to survive, so I’ve got some time to kill.)

On Love
I am tired of being the active one in my love relationships. Where’s the happy compromise between “stalking” and “participating in a mutually-affectionate relationship”? The men who approach me are, necessarily, Victoria men. This means that they are NOT for me (i.e. short, pale, slightly inbred in appearance). The rare Non-Victoria men are transient and therefore only to be found in transient locations, like UVic.

This dilemma explains my interest in Far-Away men (i.e. Toronto, Richmond). But unless they are motivated penpals, there’s really no reciprocation, and that’s just frustrating.

Yes, I have to move. But I’m not ready to move: I still have student loans to pay off, and my work is Victoria-based work.

Meanwhile, Let’s Self-Medicate with Movies!
I started Moulin Rouge last night, for the second time . . . I LOVE this movie. I think I’ll watch some more now.

A Word Regarding Joel Kroeker – April 10, 2005, 7:04am
I saw him as the opening act for Hawksley Workman sometime last year, and he was the best part of my night. And he’s short. (!)

He sang Hallejula and it was the most amazing moment – oftentimes, like this morning, I want that song and it’s not on my Joel Kroeker cd and I can’t find it on iTunes and I’m terrified of kazaa et al, so I must live without.

Story: Joel Kroeker, when introducing the song, said he’d had a very scary, important moment in his life and that Hallejula helped him through it. After the show, when Hawksley was finally out of costume changes, Joel Kroeker was by the exit and I asked if I could hug him. He was the most beautiful person I’d ever met, you see, and he seemed so sad. I hugged him and asked him what the moment was, and in true Out Of The Blue Straight-Forward Fuck Reality style he said he was going to kill himself but that song stopped him.

Moment of sadness for a world without Joel Kroeker.

I want to tell him that he can call me anytime he feels sad and I will explain to him that he makes this world more beautiful and we need him in it.

Current Status Report
Dunno if I’m still drunk or just tired. No matter when I go to bed I always wake up early, thanks to work hours. Also, last night I did Celebrate Goodbye Age 24 thing and intentionally didn’t eat before going out to the comedy show. Thusly, 3 pear ciders and I was looped. Moments like watching Punch Drunk Love occured and I’m still not sure if time stayed linear last night. Causality? Pshaw. Regardless, my head is heavy and I’m cold. I think the temperature is due to FREEZING GODDAMN APARTMENT oh and I left the window open last night. I should go close that mo’fo.

Comedy Show
The jiff martin comedy show with special guests atomic vaudeville and Spilt Milk improv was my excuse for drinking and loving last night. Lovely lovely feel good evening: Q and Spencer and Jessie, Justin, Jessica, theatre people, and others. Technically it was a fundraiser for Open Doors (for Victoria folks in need) but in reality it was a drunken fest and near-brawl. (Not really, just like the word “brawl.”)

Atomic Vaudeville showed off some of their best stuff: The One Man the Matrix, the Vaghina Monopause, Thriller, and probably some other things. The Matrix wasn’t as amazing as last time because they didn’t use cool pictures to represent the Multiple Mr. Smiths, but still it was hi-larious. (Flashbacks to drunken reenactment of skit with Jessie at Q’s Bring Your Own Stranger party . . . in skirts, nonetheless.)

Anyhoo so then Jessie & Justin went home because Justin was being difficult and wanted Jessie to drive him to the ferry Sunday morning at 7am. Silly Justin. We went to the Joint and I ate two slices of old pepperoni pizza. And Jessica wandered over to Darcy’s and Q & I . . . I think I’m missing something, but eventually we were at Prism and Spencer was dancing like the beautiful man he is, and Q and I talked about something, and then we left and I taxied home. The driver was nice and had an earring.

Yep.

Last Day At 24 – April 11, 2005
I don’t feel different yet — but then I still have 15 more hours until I turn 25. Apparently I’m still impatient.

I have a few birthday traditions that I’ve made for myself. First off, I spoil me. Strangely, I haven’t yet got myself a gift, which I usually do. Past years’ gifts include: a necklace & bracelet; a quilt I made myself; my computer. Actually, that was my UVic grad present, but whatever.

I’m considering a “divan coverer” or whatever it’s called, because my quilt has been chewed up by Peter over the years. Or maybe . . . yeah, I don’t need anything. How funny.

Anyhoo, another tradition is to write a letter, or more like a summary, of where I am and what I’d like to do this next year. I have one from last year to read, but I’m going to write this year’s first so that I’m honest.

Now’s a good time, post-dinner and waiting for Rick Mercer’s Monday Report . . .

. . . Okay, done. That was weird. I wrote my letter, then opened up the envelope and there was a blank survey inside, for me to fill out and then compare answers to previous years. I love surveys — how funny that I’d account for this. I know me so well.

Anyhoo, some answers were word-for-word identical. For example, I want to travel to Greece, Peru, and South Africa. This year, I got to write a (future) date for Greece, so that was thrilling. Also, under “accomplishments” I listed “self-sufficiency” again . . .

Now I’m going to have a bath. Because I can. Because I’m self-sufficient.

Writing to Ryan – April 11, 2005
Douglas Coupland is talking about Terry Fox on CBC. Why is Douglas Coupland . . ? Ah, it seems he wrote a biography or something.

It’s sorta sickly surreal to watch a cultural icon monologue on a cultural icon. I wonder if other people will feel this strange when CBC interviews you on knowing me, on being the addressee of my letters.

Or the other way around, and I write a Broadway SuperShow about Ryan the Rockstar, and meanwhile you’re all Rockstar and shit, and you’re not sure if you should sue my ass or just tolerate, as you always have, my affection.

No, let’s make me the really famous one. It’s my birthday tomorrow.

B-Day D-Day – April 12, 2005
I actually managed to sleep in, after a brief moment of restlessness at 5:35am! Peter and I had a lovely snuggle on the couch, and he tried to groom my housecoat for awhile. So a good Birthday so far.

I initially had planned to run around the block this morning to celebrate my newfound healthiness, but it is too cold and windy for that sort of behaviour. I am also newly mature, you see. So I will drink a pot of tea and then leisurely make my way to the spa.

Yay birthdays! And 25 feels like a nicely even number, considering that it’s odd. (I like even numbers – they are symmetrical.) 25 is the square of 5 (or something – I can’t remember mathematical terminology anymore) and it has always pleased me numerically.

Anyhoo.

25 Years Worth of Wisdom – April 13, 2005, 12:16am
I am butter. Q’s present of a spa day was ridiculous luxury. My back and shoulders are mushy, my fingernails are perfect and Barbie-pink, my toenails are perfect and Hooker-red. I smell so good from 5 hours of oils and lotions and etc. that Q kept commenting on it, which is unusual. I’m so used to:

QUINN: Your feet stink. Put your shoes in the hall and go wash your feet.

I had happy birthdays from Alex, Jessie, Momma & family, Grammas Walker and Demone, Shawn from London Ontario, the folks at work . . . and there’s something large and bulky on my porch, which is either from the bunnies or Kim, my neighbour and the Bunnies’ Fairy Godmother.

And I came home to find a package o’ love from Ryan in my mailbox, and now I’m all mushy inside.

Perfect birthday.

Oh, and I bought a tiara. For the weekend.

Tea & Repaired Hair – April 13, 2005, 6:48pm
Spencer revived my broomstick hair this morning! I missed it. And now I’m short-banged and frazzled yet again — back to the way I’m meant to be.

And then I went for tea at the White Heather with Aunt Pat, and Uncle Craig came along too, for my birthday tea. The food there is so good, and Mad Hatter tea is the best. It was really great to have some time with P&C — they might be going to Paris this year, and that will be exciting for them. Apparently Pat retired last May but I’m a gomer so didn’t realize it until Mom mentioned it last week. I like it when people do what makes them happy. It’s rare.

And then and then
I managed to talk Q into skipping yoga/pilates today, even when half-asleep. Now I get to drink cider and know that my kitchen dishes are clean, and I’m watching Medium and soon CSI on tape. Heaven.

Medium
The psychic’s kids are being all psychic and the parents are freaking out, with bizarre familiar guilt about “contaminating the gene pool” with their own weaknesses. Better fucked up than non-existent.

And Finally
Spencer & Q and I went to Luciano’s for steak and chicken and pasta. Yummy. Now I have a fridge full of leftovers, afternoon tea desserts and fresh tomato spaghetti. A good time for the apocalypse.

Goddamn Sleepless Night – April 14, 3:18 am
At first I couldn’t sleep because I’m busy ruminating on the riddles that Ryan sends me. Then I kept thinking of how to fix my stories or almost-stories, so I had to get up and write those down. And NOW the fuckers below me haven’t yet stopped their all-night scream fest.

But I am very proud of myself as SuperHero H-Bomb because I (finally) went downstairs and knocked REALLY LOUDLY AND ANNOYINGLY and said I had to get up for work in three hours and AAAGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!! (that was about as articulate as I got). So they said Sorry, Heather, Sorry, and told me to go to bed, and now they’re being loud again. I hate alcohol when I’m not the one drinking it.

I would watch some crap TV or even run around the block, because I’m wired and I can’t sleep anyways because they are so GODDAMN NOISY but I’m so exhausted that I’m shaking. So running isn’t a great idea. And TV? Well, I’m determined to take the high road and not contribute to the Ruckus in this house tonight.

So there. Moral righteousness triumphs again. (Or not.)

Giddy w/ Sleeplessness – April 14, 5:53 pm
I ran around the block — AND MORE — today!!!!!! Further than I’ve gone before . . . the sunshine was crazy bright and I’m powered by adrenalin due to lack o’ sleep . . . yay for me!

Writing to Ryan – April 14, 2005
How To Love A RockStar:
1.

I dunno. I’ve never loved a RockStar before. I’m more of a Tea-on-the-Couch-While-Watching-a-Movie-in-my-PJs kinda girl, not a giggly groupie. I giggle when I get tired, though . . . maybe that will help . . . ? And I’ve always wanted to be a groupie. Just for a little while. A monogamous groupie who bakes wicked pie . . . damn these domestic tendencies!!!

I wonder if he’ll write a Top o’ the Charts song for me — My #1 Fan Has Never Seen Me Play —

okay, that’s enough.

Moving to the City House – April 15, 2005
Q is off to a Vegan Wedding this weekend (that is so funny but it’s too long to explain so hahaha). I am doggy-sitting Celeste, which means that I am temporarily living at Q’s. Peter the Alpha House Rabbit wouldn’t like sharing his space with a dog, and so I’m the one who is inconvenienced. What the hell? Keep in mind, however, that Peter cuddled me and sat on my pillow and guarded me from the Forces of Darkness with his awe-inspiring bunniness all night, so this relationship is decidedly reciprocal . . . I’m such a mush. Anyhoo.

Also this weekend is Celebrate Heather’s Birthday With Girly Extravagence, and it will be handy to have Q’s urban apt as a downtown headquarters. What with the strippers and the vodka and such.

In Other News
Ryan is playing tonight, in Maple Ridge and we must all think happy RockStar thoughts so that everything goes A1 and maybe he gets all famous (or whatever he wants as an outcome) and then he can buy a private helicopter and fly over to visit me a lot. (Does that make me selfish? Whatever.) So everyone think STRONG UNBREAKABLE BASS STRINGS and CRAZY WILD SUPPORTIVE AUDIENCE and maybe even HAPPENSTANCE THAT PLACES KEY CONNECTION IN AUDIENCE WHEN S/HE IS SEARCHING FOR THE NEXT GREAT THING.

Strippers & MAC Makeovers & Martinis – April 17, 2005
I was a sexy 25 year old GODDESS last night. Post-MAC makeover (courtesy of Sabrina the future interior deesigner and current art student) I was ridiculously hot, as was galpal Jessie with her un-Jessie-like Cleopatra eye make up, and so we went all out and wore The Dresses that we bought after an entire day of searching in February. Pink spaghetti-straps for me; black salsa for Jessie. Yiminy.

We had dinner at Bravo’s (the best restaurant in town) and gorged on seafood & martinis.

And the strippers were alright — we went to the Boom Boom Room, where they have a “Ladies’ Night” every Saturday and buff, short men get naked in front of us while we drink. Yes, they’re short. And slimy. But they are also (eventually) naked.

FOR THOSE WHO DON’T KNOW: the essential difference between female & male strippers is that the (female-only) audience can touch and interact with the male strippers. Ew. But a lot of women take advantage of this — especially when out at a Stagette party or birthday or whatever. (In post-stripper analysis, it was decided that the male strippers were acting out a MALE fantasy of stripping, not the female fantasy. For example, female audience members would lie down on the stage while the strippers gyrated on top of them. Passive positioning!!!)

Eventually we returned to Bravo’s for chocolate lava cake (best ever ohmigod – baked when you order it).

Vodka, naked men, and chocolate. A good night. I have some great pictures, but they’ll have to wait until I’m home and can do my Camera Magic.

Meanwhile, I have a headache. I’m going to shower and play with my new make up, and hopefully there’s a greasy breakfast in my immediate future.

Also, My Gut
Apparently I’m losing weight. Jessie noticed a difference in Dress Worn in February and Same Dress, Worn Last Night. I suspect this might be due to eating fewer cheesey buns. I’m uncertain if it’s worth it — cheesey buns are so good.

New Simpsons Episode – April 17, 2005 – 8:04 pm
haha

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM!!!! – April 18, 2005
I love ya.

Something Smells Pissy – April 18, 2005 – 4:41 pm
And I KNOW I didn’t pee on the couch/bed/floor/whatever so it must have been Peter. I am disappointed in his behaviour. HOWEVER, I did leave him alone for the weekend, so I kind of sorta deserve it. If only I could track down the source and vinegar-ized!

Self-Confidence & Photographic Evidence
I am a fairly self-involved person with a healthy dose of self-confidence, so the following is simply meant as an objective comment:

When did I get a second chin????????? Did that come with the boobs????????

Damn Government Gut. Damn those yummy cheesey buns and non-active work environment!

But there’s hope: I walked to work AND home today, and tomorrow our rowing team starts practicing. Sure, I’m not actually ROWING persay, just yelling, but technically I’m on a rowing team with twice-weekly practices.

Quote of the Day – April 18, 2005

“You can be a murderous tyrant and the world will remember you fondly but fuck one horse and you will be a horse fucker for all of eternity.”

– Catherine the Great

Summertime – April 19, 2005
Today has been a very good day. It’s summer outside, and so I walked from work to my first EVER rowing practice. There were many many many beautiful people at the dock, including a number of men who must have moved recently to Victoria because I SWEAR that they didn’t exist before today. Most of them were just little baby boys, including our rowing coach. Still, they are very pretty to look at.

Other perks of rowing include me being the coxswain, which means that I don’t have to lift/carry anything or exert myself physically. I just get to yell at everyone else. AND I get to say that I’m on a rowing team, which makes me sound athletic. And, as we all know, perception is reality.

Tonight
I have decided to do EXACTLY WHAT I WANT and go see Joel Kroeker and Andy Stochansky play. (I also want to helijet to Richmond and make Ryan bond with me, but that will have to wait.) Jessie is attending with me – and I can sleep in past my usual BIZARRE WORK HOURS start time because Co-Worker Duncan has gone crazy and wants to train on my job for another day. So I get to sleep in. (And if Ryan happened to appear at my door later tonight, I could very easily call in sick to work tomorrow. Ahem.)

On That Note
I decided at lunch today that I will no longer be bothering Ryan the Vancouver RockStar with my daily letters and messages o’ love. While I will probably still think of him often and have insightful conversations with him in my mind while walking to work or in the shower, I am starting to feel like a stalker and that makes me very uncomfortable. So I’m going cold-turkey. Except of course for random references to The Man With Whom I Am In Love (TMWWIAIL) on this website. Because otherwise I wouldn’t be honest.

Goddamn Stupid Fucking Postal Service Mo’Fo’s
I HATE it when they don’t leave a parcel here, they just leave that goddamn note thing on my door handle. This means that I have to wait until tomorrow to go get the parcel, and we all know I’m chronically (terminally?) impatient. Also, sometimes when this happens it’s something stupid, like new cheques from CIBC. And then I get excited and go to all that effort of walking down to the postal office (and don’t forget your driver’s license! I did that once.) and all for nothing.

However, it’s still close enough to my birthday that it might be a present. So I’m going to let myself get excited. And maybe I’ll go down tomorrow morning, before work . . . yay!!!!

Epic Adventure – April 20, 2005
I walked down to the post office today and it was lovely. Bright green leaves and bright blue sky. Sometimes I don’t even bother to take a picture, because I know it won’t equal the real thing.

But I read the post office hours incorrectly and so my only recourse was to smash in the window and ransack the fucking place for my parcel.

Or wait until after work, when I could finally get my package.

It was from my family – a bizarre purse-pinata with candy and socks and undies and seeds for bunny gardens. I love having a month-long birthday —- the love never ends!!!!

Otherwise
I already miss TMWWIAIL. I liked writing love letters and et cetera. BUT I MUST BE STRONG and dignified and unstalkerlike.

Speaking of Unavailable Men
Q and Jessie and I had sushi-lunch with Raphael the Unhappily-Married Banker today. Raphael is helping me & Q figure out if we can buy a house. Not that we want to – it’s just something to do.

Also
I’m making burritos for the Q and me.

Paul Martin’s on TV – April 21, 2005
Why do we have old men making all the rules?

Thoughts on the Vacuum
My initial intent with this whole website thing was to STOP writing/thinking in a vacuum, but I’m not sure if I’ve embraced this resolution to its full potential.

I’m considering having a section where people can comment on things, but I’m relunctant — partly because THIS IS MY SPACE, DAMMIT but also because I have certain confidentialities that I have to respect (i.e. my work) and I don’t want to be responsible for whatever someone else posts on here. Still, if my self-prescribed mandate is dialogue (vs. monologue) then technically y’all should be able to respond, aside from just emailing me your thoughts and reactions. I don’t even know if you WANT the opportunity to comment.

Maybe if I can get some sort of password protected space, where comments can be posted by APPROVED readers only . . . then the Times Colonist can’t bust me for the ramblings of some random web commie.

Row, Row, Row Your Boat
I feel so athletic and healthy this week. (Despite the bottle of cider on the desk, despite my obsession with eating entire loaves of bakery-fresh rye bread.) After all, I’m On A Rowing Team.

What Were You Doing @ 4:35 am?- April 22, 2005
I was completely awake for no apparent reason — Peter was sleeping his bunny sleep and the house was quiet — and I suspect it’s because one of you was doing something exciting or life-changing or tramautic.

So is everyone okay? Just checking up . . .

Busy Busy Busy – April 24, 2005 – 1:13am
Friday was sushi day with Liv, Saturday was shopping with Jessie and my Official BDay Dinner, and I’ve been running around like a demon wanker trying to visit with everyone and bond with everyone. No time for CSI, even! No tea! I’ll try to write properly Sunday (today??) for awhile, but now I’m tired and ready for bed.

I am SO EXCITED about The Hitchhiker’s Guide on Friday. I’m going with Liv. Ohmigod ohmigod ohmigod.

Flowers on the Weekend – April 24, 2005 – 7:03 pm
It’s summer here all-of-a-sudden and flipflops are everywhere. How strange, that Victoria can be Canada’s Most Beautiful Dead-End, grey and clammy and sad for five months every year, and then it boings and there’s fertilizer in every flower box, shit-stink fills the air, everyone takes off their shirts and Summer Is Here. It’s almost sorta kinda worth living in Victoria.

Regan our UVic galpal came to visit this weekend and was our Guest o’ Honour at my BDay dinner Saturday night, so she got to see Victoria In the Summertime. (That’s how we fool them into moving here!) We’re old enough now to have “fond memories” with which to reminisce. When did that happen????

David Lynch
Jessie and I have invited newbies to this month’s Atomic Vaudeville performance! The theme is David Lynch, and I’m not sure we’ll find anything funny because we know shit all about David Lynch as a collective. But I’ve seen Mulholland Drive and The Elephant Man so I can tell everyone when we’re supposed to laugh at those parts.

Spencer’s in love with the Bush Twins. That’s what happens to single people in Victoria — gay Mormons fall for caricatures and straight girls stalk RockStars from the mainland.

Oh yah.

Kerouac Poetry as White Noise – April 25, 2005 – 9:28pm
It’s Ryan’s 23rd birthday today!!!!!!!!!! Remember where you were on this day — it will one day be a crucial point in the timeline of Ryan the RockStar Becoming Legendary Writer & Artist & MusicMaker, Etc. Not to mention the Greatest Love Story Ever Told, ‘Tween Future Great Canadian Writer Heather and Future Legendary RockStar Ryan.

There’s a quote in Hitchhiker’s Guide, about Capital Letters conquering the unknown. I like that.

I Have a Headache
But nonetheless today was an uber-productive day. I did my laundry and have Closets and Drawers full of clean cotton. I washed my favourite-ever butter-yellow sheets, and tomorrow I’ll make my bed (I’m too tired tonight). There’s something crazily pleasant about sleeping between yellow sheets. Like you’re inside a tulip, or something. It’s funny and surreal and Perfect Comfort. I have way too many clothes, but I managed to throw out some of them today so everything fits nicely in my little apartment. Also, I cleaned Peter’s litterbox(es) and it smells like hay.

Peter’s Litterboxes
This might just be a direct reflection of my laziness, but Peter now has two litterboxes. It’s an experiment. And yes, so far he’s managed to divide his . . . time . . . evenly between the two. He’s starting to have illusions of ownership in the apt, which is problematic because bunnies tend to mark their spaces with poops. That is unacceptable. So I’ve compromised and given him another litterbox.

These are the things that occupy my day.

Writing to Ryan – April 25, 2005
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I sent my tiara & Magic BDay Wand to you via Regan — use this power Wisely . . .

Coxswaining on the Gorge – April 26, 2005
I feel athletic and sunny and exhausted. The plan was to have a nap between worktime and rowing time, but instead, tormented by a dream of a bare porch, I cleared another load of straw from S&C’s playground.

Does anyone else dream that their porches are straw-less? It was such a disappointment when I realised that I still had to clear it.

Soooooo being all mature and responsible (I’m 25, after all) I am making myself eat dinner before I FINALLY get to bed. Chicken & pasta microwave dinner. At least it’s something. And not just cheese.

Christmas-Eve Complex
There’s a 70% chance that my RockStar sweetie pooh MWWIAIL will visit me tomorrow. For someone such as myself, who tends to get giddy with excitement when new adventures take place, this 70% is killing me. Luckily, tomorrow is also Atomic Vaudeville night, and Jessie and I have invited Liv & Spencer to join us as well. So regardless of whether my Beautiful Crazy ArtistMan appears in Victoria, I will have a great night.

Still, I’m grateful for the prozac.

Writing to Ryan – April 26, 2005
You should DEFINITELY come visit tomorrow. Even though I haven’t made pie.

Yet Again – April 27, 2005 – 11:07pm
New resolution: I will not fall in love with anyone who doesn’t fight for me. I want a strong man who will appreciate how super duper I am, and is willing to make an effort to win me.

Thusly, no more gay/bisexual boys; no more obscure Toronto comedians; no more flakey artists or RockStars. I’m tired of having my heart farted on.

Also
I had a wicked great time with Liv and Jessie at Atomic Vaudeville tonight!!!! It was brilliant. And they named their new curtain after me. It’s a really awkward-sounding name for a curtain. Anyhoo, cosmo martinis and salmon and one blowjob (shot) — brilliant company, brilliant night of Heather-Love-In. Also, I have tomorrow off (because I’m amazing and also unapologetically naive re: love) so I will sleep in and watch CSI on tape. Drink tea with sour milk. Et cetera. Live the good life.

Day of Recuperation & Heart-Bandaging – April 28, 2005
I ran this morning! My long route, down to Government House on Rockland, then up Royal and around Craigdarroch Castle. It’s about 2 long Eminem songs worth, or 10 minutes. I’m a SuperHero. Now that it’s cool again outside, I’m briefly contemplating going for a second time today, but I’ve already opened a bottle of cider so we’ll see about that. Also, don’t want to get all uber-exercise anorexic. So will eat cheese.

Other Adventures
Jessie & Q & I had sushi today at Ebizo. YUMMY. I could eat sushi every day and not get tired of it. It’s the saddest thing ever that I will have to forego salmon rolls when (eventually) I get knocked up. Jessie and I are trying to eat enough sushi to compensate for this inevitable trial.

Also, we had our fourth ever rowing practice! Our coach Fraser is sweet and Adonis-like & sun-kissed, but he says “okay?” after every sentence and I want to dunk him. (Actually, I’m just pissed because he was cranky today and criticised my rudder-steering skills. I don’t like having my rudder-steering skills criticised. Goddamn twinkie mo’fo.)

In Addition
I keep Roger, the wooden father from The Terrible Preservation of Valentine Pilate, on my porch. I can see him through the window, and it scares me EVERY SINGLE TIME because it looks like someone’s staring in and watching me. Eek. However, I’m purposefully leaving him out there, not only because I have nowhere else to put him, but also because I like the quick adrenalin rush.

And On the Mental Health Front
Today was wonderful, having a vacation day and doing whatever the fuck I wanted at any given time. However, I was also battling an anxiety-breakdown at my disappointment over Ryan the RockStar not coming to visit me. Q is right: I set myself up for emotional catastrophe. But everytime my heart hurts I learn another thing about how I love, so I suppose it’s not a totally awful flaw. One of my many horoscopes this week said I’ve evolved A LOT since ’94/’96, and this is true. I’m a hell of a lot stronger and smarter and so on. (I suppose that’s to be expected – it was a whole freaking decade ago.) Anyhoo, I’m constantly surprised at how love makes me weak and vulnerable and stupid. I suspect that might just be the nature of love.

Writing to Ryan – April 28, 2005
Anger-stage is over. Anxiety attack, due to Christmas Eve Complex and chronic disappointment in love, narrowly averted.

Conclusion: you might not be a dink persay, but you hurt my feelings by not communicating your Heather-affecting plans to me and thusly your actions were dinkesque.

If you want me, you’re going to have to win me.

My horoscope for today – April 29, 2005

It’s not exactly a trouble-free day today in romantic matters, dear Heather. The Moon and the Lovers are working in tandem, creating an atmosphere of discouragement and uncertainty… You are inclined to distrust the good intentions of the people close to you and to question their love. It goes without saying that such feelings are diametrically opposed to creating an atmosphere of happiness and fulfillment… Be on your guard against an onset of the blues! In the work environment, your goals are clear and you know exactly what steps you need to take. Sadly, the same cannot be said of the people around you. In the twilight of the Moon, the people around you are somewhat lost. Their behavior is inconsistent and they create confusion and uncertainty. It’s probably best if you steer clear of them and get on with your own work.

YAYAYAYAYAYAY – April 29, 2005 – 3:28pm
Liv & I have established rendezvous coordinates for Hitchhiker’s Guide and I am giddy. Tickets have been purchased, game plan is in play. Bring your duct tape, this could get significant.

Afterglow – April 29, 2005 – 10:30pm
I don’t want to talk about it — I need to ruminate. But first impressions are YAYAYAYAY and there are some golden moments.

Also
Call it a Hitchhiker’s high, call it Fate, but I have overcome my anger-stage at the RockStar’s uncommunicated departure and I am once again Madly In Love & Proud of It. Honestly, I’m lucky he’s just a little flakey. There are so many worse things.

Writing to Ryan – April 29, 2005
Thank you for the love letter. I REALLY needed that.

Little Spitfire

March 2005

March 13, 2005 Heather Leave a comment

Adventures in Barbie Shoes – March 1, 2005

I wore my new high heels today: 3-inch heels, a 55-degree arch. They are stunning, but I can’t walk in them.

I psyched myself up, told myself it’d be an adventure, a threshold experience (as they say in feminist theory). But I kept seeing myself as one of those women who get their feet bound as preteens so that their toes fall off, or trying to run from a creepy person but hobbled and therefore taking little ineffectual steps.

Advice, when requested, included:

Jessie: “Practice.”

Rachel: “Take big steps and use your hips.”

Mom: “Mince.”

Co-workers: “Wear running shoes to work, then wear pretty, useless heels when sitting daintily at your desk all day.”

I made it until lunch, then managed to walk three blocks leaning on Quinn, then detoured to the mall and bought glorious, cheap, flat-soled black ballet-slipper-esque shoes. I can run from a pervert in these bastards, and (how liberating!) walk by myself. Funny, the things we take for granted.

America’s Next Top Model – March 2, 2005

There’s a new theme to this fourth instalment of Tyra Banks’s self-indulgent skinny-fest: “Pity Me, I’m a Young, Single Momma With a Baby and I’m Doing This For Him/Her.”

Ick.

The first story was sad, of course, but I swear there were 10 Pity Me, I’m a Young, Single Momma With a Baby and I’m Doing this for Him/Her – s (PMIYSMWBIDH/H). Thankfully, the first two elimination rounds cut out about half of them.

I can only tolerate so much human drama on a show designed to titillate. (That’s not the right verb, but I love it, so we’re going to use it tonight. Titillate. He he.)

Dog Training – Part 7 of 8
Celeste was being so good and attentive, so I had minimal doubts as to her potential success when Sally the Dog Trainer taught us a new technique.

(I wish I could draw a stick figure here to illustrate – maybe on the weekend . . .)

I hold the doggy treats (aka a piece of dead lamb – sorry, Evy) in my right hand, extended out and away from my body. I’m supposed to reward Celeste (with a “click” from the training clicker – a noise – and a treat) when she looks at me. (My eyes, not my hand with the treats in it.)

So I stood there.

Yep.

And I was getting nothing. No eye contact, no sideways glances to say “Hey, where’s my treat?”, nothing. Instead, Celeste sat and fixated on my hand. I could almost read her mind: Drop the treats, Hand. How can I please you, oh Hand?

Puppies were gazing at their owners, lovingly, and being rewarded. Puppy foetuses, practically. But nothing from Celeste.

Anyhoo, I’m disappointed because this only confirms that I AM NOTHING to Celeste EXCEPT A TREAT DISPENSER. I’m being used. For my dead lamb meat. That is the saddest thing ever.

. . . Except for writing fan letters to a Toronto comedian and getting no response whatsoever. (Titillate. Hehe.)

Super Heather Strikes Again – March 3, 2005

Not only did I run around the block, I ALSO did an extra loop around the castle! Yay! And I learned a new thing about running (at least for today, within this specific context of weather, my biology, not fitting into three different skirts this morning, etc.): there is a plateau after the sore-legs, out-of-breath phase!!! And it’s a happy plateau!!! I had flashbacks to when I was sixteen and climbed a mountain with Nate after eating nothing but a granola bar – I felt like I could have gone on forEVER. Adrenalin in a very nifty thing.

I considered doing a second lap, but my writing teachers always said to “leave them wanting more” so I just came home.

Heather’s Marathon Soundtrack
Instead of Eminem I listened to Q’s CD, the soundtrack to Love, Actually. It’s perkier, and more suitable for a spring-y day.

What’s Up for the Warren
The straw is EVERYWHERE. Caramel and Seamus have decided to carpet their porch. In an enchanting – but itchy- pale yellow. I plan to scoop it all up ASAP, since the cold season’s over, before my landlord becomes displeased with me. They sure love it, though – they tunnel and Seamus always has a bit o’straw on his head these days.

LETTER TO LEVI – March 6, 2005

Dear Levi,

I mailed your third (and possibly last) letter on Friday. In it, I argue every conceivable reason why you have not written me back or acknowledged my existence in any way. I’ve also included some self-addressed, stamped postcards in case you’re just too poor/lazy to send a letter.

You should know that I am now a fabulous blonde and I will probably meet a wonderful (straight, unmarried) man here in Victoria as soon as the sky clears. Act now! I don’t want to break your heart and be just another sad joke in your repetoire.

Also, there are cheap Westjet flights available now between Toronto and Victoria! Just a suggestion . . .

Love always (or until I move on),
Heather xxxooo

What Do Mouths Taste Like? – March 6, 2005

For the 2nd time in 24 years I have a weird situation where one of my tastebuds has become usually large and (due to an increase in surface area) unusually sensitive. This has led me to wonder why our mouths don’t have a flavour: salty, sweet, bitter, sour, or whatever the four tastes are. How lucky is that?! Otherwise, food would always be affected by the default flavour of our mouths.

Or maybe our mouths do taste like something, but we’re each so used to the taste that we think it’s flavourless. Maybe that’s why some people have bad breath – because their mouth has a very distinct and unusual flavour, and we aren’t used to it, so we don’t like it.

Peter and My Hair
Quinn kindly pulled strands of my hair through a cap last night – this requires a great deal of patience – and then I dyed it and now I’m back to my summer blond. Around this time of the year I tend to get impatient with the quasi-summer weather and I want to rush its effects. Anyhoo, The “highlights” encompass a great deal of my hair (thanks to Quinn’s OCD) and so I’m REALLY blonder than I was the day before. I love it. I feel like summer again.

I think Peter likes it too because he jumped up onto my bed last night (as he occasionally does) and bounced around like he was on a trampoline. He also sat on my pillow for awhile – I had to discourage him from chewing on my hair, which he loves to do and which has caused problems in the past – but we bonded overall and it was lovely.

And Everything Else
I’ve had a number of adventures since I last wrote, so I think I’ll quickly sumarize for the record:

Work: I’ve signed on for TEAMS, which is an on-call emergency response group that flies me to emergency situations (i.e. forest fires) and then I help with the public information part.

Physical Well-Being: I bought three yoga videos from London Drugs for a very reasonable $4.99 each (I guess yoga isn’t so cool anymore) and I’m going to incorporate them into my exercise regime (aka running around the block sometimes).

Alcohol and Friends, Not Necessarily in That Order: Yesterday Q and Jessie and I went to the annual book sale at the old Bay building and bought ridiculous quantities of second-hand books. My choices included an extra copy of Carol Shields’s Unless, which I love, and a few other as-yet-unread-by-me Canadian novels. Then we had breakfast at Milestones, and then I had a nap, and then Quinn dyed my hair, and then we went for drinks at the Keg, and then we went to a party where all the men (except Q and Justin) did things involving computers and they were NO FUN AT ALL because they just converged around a computer and mixed music and were boring. Then we left and I went to bed.

Family: I realized the other day that if Evy and Jared have a girl baby, and if they name her Abigail as has been discussed, then her name would be Abby Babitch. Say that out loud.

So I called Evy and left a message telling her this. I hope this convinces them to stick with “Walker.”

Namaste – March 6, 2005 – 8:49 pm

I did 25 minutes of yoga today. I’m always surprised that easy stretching and breathing can feel so strenuous. The worst “morning after” pain I’ve ever felt was due to a beginner’s pilates class back in the early days of Fitness World.

I *heart* Huckabees
Q and I rented this and watched it today. Or, I watched it and ruminated on the nuances of existential and nilhistic thought – Quinn had a nap on the couch. It was a celebrity-version of What the Bleep Do We Know?, the same sort of “what is reality?” themes (and/or mission statements).

One character, “Brad” (Jude Law), reminds me of a lot of people I know who are caught up in their daily routines. No time for thinking! It just complicates everything! I must be pretty and charming, all the time, in case you’re watching! Who cares if I’m happy or sad, as long as you think I’m happy!

Maybe that’s everyone? I keep assuming, since I’ve been obsessed with the power of thought and etc. due to my anxiety thingy, that everyone is reading these same books and having these same internal/external/drunken discussions about happiness and what the fuck we’re doing next weekend and why exactly we’re doing it. But then I offer the same epiphany-triggers to friends or family, whoever, and it’s just another book to read or movie to watch or fight to have. I like that about teachers — that they so often manage to find a universal trigger. The best teachers (like Mr. Funnel, my physics/chem teacher in highschool) can jolt your brain on a regular basis, because they are so good at knowing how to make those synapses fire.

I’m sleepy and not being very clear —

Intentions
I have some great pictures to post. Fireworks is tempermental, though, so I will have to wait until it’s happy with me before I can post anything. I have a picture of the M Award Alex made for me, and of the portrait I painted of Peter today, and of my baby bunnies, and lots. Perhaps tomorrow.

Sleepy at 7pm – March 7, 2005
It’s too early to go to bed, even for someone (aka me) who woke up at 5:30/6am. I want to stay awake! Rick Mercer’s Monday Report is on tonight, as well as CSI Miami; I have three new books to read in addition to my existing shelf of “in progress” novels; and a 7pm bedtime is really uncool for a 24 year old woman.

But I’m sleepy and my bed is so comfortable . . .

Intrusive Procedures and How I Feel About Them
I had my first ever not-unpleasant PAP test today! Memorable PAP exams have included vomiting, fainting, crying, and a general feeling of unhappiness. My doctor referred me to his wife, another doctor (of course — like she’d be an accountant or something, giving PAP tests), and she is wonderful. I didn’t even take ativan or drink before the exam. And afterward, I went back to Q’s and made us tacos for dinner. (A healthy uterus, and a good little kitchen whore too! What a combo! Order now, while supplies last!)

Peter
As usual, he’s eating. I don’t understand what he likes so much about these new pellets. I’ve briefly considered that he’s politically psychic, because the new brand is “Martin” but I’m not too sure what the implications of that are.

Why I’ll Go To Heaven
I’m responsible for SO many people working in their dream jobs. Let’s all take a moment and appreciate me.

Portrait #2: Not So Great – March 8, 2005

I painted me and Q from a picture Q has in a frame above his TV. It’s pretty terrible – Quinn looks like a Muppet. It was exciting, though, to use colours other than the grey and black and white I used to paint Peter. And people are tricky — bunnies are just ovals with appendages. I’m not sure where I will display this distressing work of art, but for now it’s haunting Quinn from his dining room table. When it’s dry, I’ll hide it in the closet, or maybe paint over it like artsy painters do, thereby increasing its artistic and monetary value.

Meanwhile, Peter’s portrait has found an extra nail to hang from in the hallway of my house. It makes me smile when I come home.

Baby Bunnies
I refilled their food dispenser, and only Caramel ran out to check up on me, and for a second I thought she’d eaten Seamus, or he’d fallen off the wall, or something terrible. But no, he was hiding behind the water bottle in the upper story of their cage. So all is well. Except that my sweet male bunny is a wimp.

Canker Sores & How to Deal With Them
Occasionally I get a canker sore — apparently they’re a symptom of stress, although I don’t feel stressed out. There are many ways to treat these icky apparitions. Last night I applied some special numbing medicine stuff, but then my face froze and I drooled all over my pillow. It’s probably for the best that I sleep alone. Tonight I applied salt, which stings at first but has usually led to a speedy recovery. I wonder if lip cancer feels like this. I’m very glad that I don’t use chewing tobacco.

This Epiphany Brought to You Courtesy of Government-Funded Counselling – March 10, 2005

Forgive any spelling and/or inarticulate sentences – it’s thursday and martinis are on special at Syn.

My counselor Beth and I discussed the circumstances of when stress first appeared in my life. Namely: money, and a lack thereof at a time when I needed it to pay for university. And then she said, But you don’t have to worry about that anymore.

And it was a freaking Good Will Hunting moment (“It’s not your fault!”) and I realised that I DON’T have to worry about money anymore. I’m fine, I’m self-sufficient, I pay my bills when (or before) they’re due, and I can feel fairly secure in my income level (i.e. even if I lose this job, I’m qualified for an equally-great one). I don’t need to expect family or friends to support me; I can do it myself.

And AHA! that means I can release all the stress, refocus all the energy, and exhale all the worry that I’ve carried around for three/four years about money, and my expenses, and my financial security. Because even though I’m not exactly financially secure, this is about as good as it gets.

Phew.

It’s funny how, even long after the game is done, we still think we have to play by the rules.

Entertainment O.D. – morning, March 13, 2005

It’s Tourist in Your Own Hometown time, and yesterday Jessie, Justin, Q and I exploited Victoria. Our adventures included:

Miniature World, The Undersea Gardens (which wasn’t total crap, as we’d suspected), the Wax Museum, Tea at the Empress, and the IMAX.

Future exploitations (due to post-dated perks) include whale-watching and an exceptionally decadent buffet feast at Kipling’s.

Also, we saw Robots at SilverCity last night — it was funny, but strangely unoriginal in parts. For example, the son lives to impress his father, which is “heart-warming” and “admirable,” and ultimately rewarded. Another son exists to please his mother, who is nefarious and scheming – she dies, and he is emasculated.

ALSO
There are SUPER COOL movies coming out soon — including The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. (!!!!!!)

Roulette – evening, March 13, 2005

Our Tourist package included $5 for slot machines at the Casino, so Q and I kidnapped Lindsay and went gambling.

We didn’t win anything. It was fun, though.

Also, Q and Celeste and I went walking on Dallas Road, along the beach. SO pretty – blue skies and sunshine – I was warm in a tanktop and skirt. Celeste went swimming and had a MARVelous time chomping on a buffalo bone that Q brought to entertain her.

I’m really sleepy – tomorrow will be busy. So nothing profound to share tonight . . . I’m making a scrapbook in preparation for a summer of adventures, so I might play with that before I go to sleep.

Dinner @ the Empress – March 14, 2005

We gorged. Jessie and Q shared Merlot, Justin peeled platefuls of shrimp, and I practiced my snooty British accent. Two hours of gourmet buffet = heaven.

Jobs That We Do, And Even Enjoy
A game! Yay! Mix and match to connect our ideal employment positions with a favourite friend!

a.) accept calls from cranky, angry, and sometimes crazy people, get yelled at, sworn at, and then try to help them.

b.) carry heavy pieces of wood around. Work outside in the winter cold, or in the summer heat, and negotiate with neurotic, cheap rich people.

c.) stare at a computer screen all day, from 6:30am to 2:30 (sometimes 5) pm. Transcribe hour-long talk shows. Email people to tell them they have a crisis they need to deal with.

d.) entertain small, sticky, germy, leaky children.

e.) cater to the whims of a family with no hope of being appreciated.

f.) be the middle-man between politicians and bureaucrats. Send emails to chasten busy people when they miss deadlines.

ANSWERS:

a.) Jessie; b.) Dad; c.) Me!; d.)Evy; e.) Mom; f.) Quinn.

I’m really not being negative, I just find it HILARIOUS that we all hate each others’ jobs, wouldn’t do it for a million dollars, and yet all do exactly what we love and excel at. (Except Quinn, who will one day be one of those politicians . . . )

The Source
I haven’t received my eBay-purchased Johnny Depp movie yet. Hopefully all is well – it’s coming in from the states, so I’m trying to be patient.

Future Events and Excuses to Be Social
Our St. Patrick’s celebration this year is a BYOS party (Bring Your Own Stranger). We’re trying to meet new people. It’s oddly difficult to think of a “stranger” to invite, considering that we live in Victoria.

Protege Goes AWOL
I’ve been trying to help a guy from London, Ontario, get a job with PAB, and we got to the Follow-Up Email stage about a month ago, but I haven’t heard from him since. Very strange. I think he must have died.

Soviet Canuckistan – March 15, 2005

I’m watching a very old episode of This Hour Has 22 Minutes. SO funny. I wonder – if Levi and I ever meet and fall in love, will we cuddle on my couch and watch Canadian satire together? How romantic . . .

Random Annoying TV Commercials
I hate the Charmin toilet paper ads. BEARS DO NOT USE TOILET PAPER.

Fun With Income Taxes
I’ve spent a good few hours navigating forms and explanations of forms, and I think I’m done my 2004 income taxes.

Sad News: I’m too wealthy to get a GST refund for 2004.

Happy News: I’m still poor enough to get a refund! Yay! Thank you, six months of unemployment and leftover tuition credits! Perhaps I shall use my sudden windfall for a Greek cruise – or groceries . . .

Things Momma Said That I Didn’t Believe Until Now
I thought, hey! I’m a poor student, I live off of $10,000 to $20,000 a year, and still can afford play tickets and alcohol! When I’m grown up and have a real job, I’ll be RICH BEYOND MY DREAMS!

What Momma said: Your expenses inflate with your income.

Conclusion: Sure, I have new clothes and a sexy laptop and happy, plump bunnies with food dishes full of gourmet bunny pellets, but where the hell did my paycheck go?!

Also – March 15, 2005 – 1/2 hour past my bedtime

I forgot to mention that I came home to find my new movie, The Source, in my mailbox! It’s my first ever eBay purchase.

I watched about half of it – up until the point where William Burroughs shot his wife while high on LSD (or something) and playing William Tell. It’s a documentary: I already know how it ends.

It’s a mystery why I love the Beat movement so much. Women were nothing more than sexual objects to read poetry to. The men were open minded about EVERYTHING (race, sexual orientation, art, drugs) except respecting their girlfriends/lovers/mothers-of-their-children. AND YET, every goddamn time I hear a recording of Jack Kerouac reading, or ANYone reading his work, and while watching The Source or reading their books, I feel completely at home. It’s like comfort food, but with sound.

My parents didn’t play me Jack Kerouac’s recordings in utero — my Daddy was only 7 when On the Road came out — so I have no real reason to feel this strongly about a bunch of druggies who shared girlfriends.

Then again, why question this gift of comfort? It’s rare to feel at home in this “mad” world.

New Favourite Quote:

I’m with you in Rockland.
– Allen Ginsberg, HOWL

Doing the Dishes w/ Big Bad Voodoo Daddy – March 20, 2005

I want to learn a certain kind of dancing – maybe the Charleston? Swing? It involves music with horns and a great bass line – Big Bad Voodoo Daddy or something like that. And there’s a special kind of dress. Something that moves a lot. I can either dance with a partner, alone, or in a group – on stage or in a club or in my kitchen.

In the Background
I’m tolerating (NOT watching) Open Water, about the couple who went scuba diving and were abandoned by their tour boat in the middle of the ocean. I’m very interested in how the filmmakers intend to keep my interest in a story about a stationary set of characters in a static environment.

They just escaped a pack of jellyfish. She’s crying.

Peter and My Night Away
Jessica had a very lovely party last night, with wine and some people I didn’t know. We wandered to the Brick Yard for pizza and then went dancing at Prism. I stayed over at Q’s, to snuggle with Celeste, and when I returned this afternoon Peter was QUITE distressed. He was sitting on the couch when I opened the door, and just stared at me. Accusingly. I fed him right away. And then I threw out the single poop he’d left on my pillow.

Open Water
Wow, interesting twist! She napped, floating on her back, and woke up with no hubby nearby, just some sharks . . .

Oh, there he is. I hope they tie themselves together now.

Apparently this movie is one mysterious, below the water ache/tickle at a time.

The woman character is obnoxious. He was supportive of her hysteria, sea sickness, sleepiness – and when he started freaking out, she just starts a fight with him! She is NOT a good character. I’m a MUCH more supportive person. Too bad he isn’t stranded in the ocean with me.

SUSAN: “I wanted to go skiing.”

Belated Sharing of an Epiphany
At my last counseling session, Beth the Counselor made another intriguing distinction for me – she separated the “work” and “finances” parts of human life. I think I’m closer to understanding this distinction than some, since I enjoy my work and also consider my non-paid writing to be work, but still Beth’s revelation struck me. Do people really work, even if they don’t need money? If you won the lottery, would you quit your job? Would you do a different kind of work?

And Finally: Tea
The Empress gave us each a box of tea to take home after our shmancy Afternoon Tea experience. I’ve been chugging it on the weekends – it is SO good. Very strong, but subtle — not as chalky as most bagged teas. I wanted tea this morning at Quinn’s and I cracked open his box — how exciting that I have my tea flavour of the week at both the apartments I frequent!

Open Water
It’s night! And there are really big sharks! This is awesome. I’m going to make some tea and eat sandwiches.

“Intervention,” Episode 2 – March 20, 2005

This is the 2nd episode – the first one was about a heroin addict and a prescription meds addict. This one has a pill popper and a cutter.

I expected to find some understanding with this new series, but the people are so self-involved! The cutter’s dad keeps talking about Jesus and how she should feel guilty because she isn’t respecting her “temple” (i.e. body). Ick.

Quinn just called during the commercial – we’re comparing viewing experiences. I said I just wanted to smack her and tell her to get out of her head; Quinn said he felt sorry for her. Interesting.

Favourite Part of Any Book Ever Written (And something that I think better explains things):

It happens that I am going through a period of great unhappiness and loss just now. All my life I’d heard people speak of finding themselves in acute pain, bankrupt in spirit and body, but I’ve never understood what they meant. To lose. To have lost. I believed these visitations of darkness lasted only minutes or hours and that these saddened people, in between bouts, were occupied, as we all were, with the usefulness monotony of happiness. But happiness is not what I thought. Happiness is the lucky pane of glass you carry in your head. It takes all your cunning just to hang on to it, and once it’s smashed you have to move into a different sort of life.

– Unless, by Carol Shields

Restlessness
I really don’t intend for this to be a gloomy piece of writing! Sometimes we ruminate on happiness, sometimes sadness, and that’s part of a normal, up-and-down life (hee hee, I’m a puppet! Anyhoo . . .).

So, I’m trying to define a feeling – it’s not sadness, and it’s not . . . BAD, necessarily – it’s restlessness, and my first associative thought is Aritha Van Herk, and her book where the protagonist hires a hitman to kill her (the protagonist — a complicated suicide). How morbidly hilarious.

On Intervention, they just talked about self-medicating, in that the addict KNOWS that a particular something – drugs, alcohol, physical pain – works, and so it’s very very difficult to give up that guaranteed remedy. There’s something so pleasing about a truth, said in plain language. I guess the secret is to replace that negative remedy with a healthy one. The strange thing, though, is that these self-medicating addicts at least have an idea of what makes them feel better. If you don’t already know a cure that works for you, it’s kind of tricky to replace it.

Analogy: the room is dark, and you want to screw in a lightbulb, but you don’t know what the correct wattage, style, whatever, is. It’d be easier if you already had a bulb that worked in the lamp, even if it was burnt out, but if you don’t then you have to buy a whole bunch of bulbs and try them one by one, risking sparks and electrical mishaps. And maybe none of the bulbs fits properly, because it’s an IKEA lamp or something. Frustrating. Makes you want to ignore the goddamn lamp and use a flashlight. Maybe it’s silly in the long term, but at least you can read your book.

A Good Start to a Decent Day – March 21, 2005

I got an email from my London, Ontario new friend! Yay! I thought he might be dead, but he isn’t.

The Little Paws Saga
Q “tried out” a doggy named Daisy for 6 days in December, and has been paying for it ever since. For four months, the Victoria Little Paws Rescue Society guy has been dodging Q’s emails and phone calls, lied about the $275 refund check being “in the mail,” and twice stood up Q at an arranged meeting time.

It was a stressful evening, but three and a half hours after this last no-show, “small claims court” google results on the computer, Q contacted the Vancouver founder of the group and all is well (knock on wood). Apparently Rob is a pooper, and a full refund is on its way.

I’m a wonderfully supportive friend. I even made gyoza for snacky snacks!

And Now
It’s past my bedtime and Peter is nowhere to be seen — he might be pouting, since I pet him a little bit this morning and then wasn’t here after work to give him the attention he deserves. What a demanding bunny!

Also
Happy first day of spring! I received my new Tupperware flyer in the mailbox today . . . the new lids are pink and green and yellow and blue. AND I might go to Vancouver this weekend — IKEA! I love kitchen ware.

Last Minute Peter Update
He has shown himself — all is well. Meanwhile, I can hear smokers coughing on the communal porch, and I’m concerned about my babies – can bunnies get emphysema?? Goddamn smokers!

Lamb, Asparagus, Mashed Taters – Oh my! – March 22, 2005

Q and I had dinner and discussion at my Aunt & Uncle’s tonight, plus the company of my Gramma. VERY yummy and pleasant, especially since everyone is living their own adventures these days and it’s neato to compare, and see how utterly insufficient solipsism is, because people just keep on DOING things, even when you aren’t there to watch.

Cranky and Sleepy & Grumpy (Another Triad)
Peter has spring fever. That’s my diagnosis. I DID NOT sleep very well AT ALL last night, because he was on my bed, jumping and tunneling and scratching and sitting and bouncing and running. While I do love his shiatsu-style massages, it’s stressful having to worry about waking up with a bunny hair cut (sometimes he thinks I’m hay, or that he has to groom me). I rebelled at work today, watching Rick Mercer’s Monday Report online, taking a leisurely breakfast break at 9, and gorging on sushi for lunch.

Rick Mercer’s Monday Report
I could give you the link, but why bother when we have google?

Rick was at UVic last week, and there’s a clip on his site with interviews of students. Also, there’s a VERY funny “Farewell to Paul Cellucci” (or whatever his name is — the US Ambassador).

America’s Next Top Model – March 23, 2005

I’m deathly ill. Contributing factors: bizarre work hours, a shitty sleep Tuesday night, a bunny rabbit with Spring Fever, and indecisive weather, which causes me to walk around with bare legs, spring shoes, and heavy wool coats thereby compromising my internal temperature balance.

Kate and Heather B. are wonderful people. They practically shoved me out of the office (apparently I looked like a lemon . . . ?) and I went and slept for HOURS. Then Q and I had our yoga class, and I tried to ride an exercise bike for awhile after, but my balance is wonky and I’m full of snot, so that didn’t work very well.

Anyhoo, so now, well-fed and hydrated, I’m watching America’s Next Top Model. It’s how Alex and I bond, long distance. I want to have a HOT shower and chug some nyquil . . . I just hope I feel healthy tomorrow! Sickness sucks, especially right before a long weekend!

My House Is a Mess
Yep.

And I Met My Neighbour
I’ve been nervous about the neighbour who lives below me – Peter can be fairly noisy, with his stomping and tunneling.

However, my neighbour also has noisy social gatherings. So screw him.

Menthol is Super
Whenever I get sick I run over to Shopper’s Drug Mart and buy menthol kleenexes. If you’ve never used them — well, you should. They are WONDERFUL. The menthol makes my sinuses go woowee, and I can breathe!!!! Sometimes. The times it doesn’t, I can still huff a little menthol . . .

Interesting Perks of Bizarre Work Hours – March 25, 2005

Since I go to bed at 8:30pm, I have to miss the only tv shows I’m interested in: CSI! Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday. So I tape them.

THEN, since I’m used to waking up early, I can’t sleep in past 8:30am. So on the weekends I get up, make a huge pot of Liption Yellow Label tea, and watch three hours of CSI. Since normal people aren’t awake until much later, I don’t get bothered by phone calls or weekend plans.

Heaven.

Dr. Heather’s Prescription
I left work at 2 yesterday, caught a bus home, and SLEPT. I woke up at 6:30, ate some soup and crackers, then SLEPT. This morning I got up for tea & CSI at 8:30 — and voila! I feel a lot better. Nyquil is a miracle drug.

And Today
I’m making a Greek dinner for Q and some of our coworkers. It’s been a long time since I cooked Greek food, so I hope I can remember how to do it! I’m tempted to place random stones around Q’s apartment, and then if anyone picks them up we’ll set off sirens and arrest them. Hehe.

(That was a clever reference to current news – if you don’t think I’m funny, buy yourself a newspaper. Gees.)

MOST EXCITING NEWS EVER – March 26, 2005

Levi MacDougall’s Comedy Now! special is re-airing tomorrow night (Sunday)!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

If you are ANYWHERE near a tv, or know how to operate your VCR, you MUST watch/record this miracle of programming. He’ll be on the Comedy Network at 10pm, PST and EST.

I might watch my tape again today, just to celebrate.

Meanwhile

I’ve been ruminating on the nature of friendship. A lot of my “friends” and I have different sorts of relationships, and I find it interesting that expectations, obligations, and levels of effort vary so much.

The Root-Friend
For example: Liv, and Matte. I’ve known each since my first year in Victoria, and I know them quite well (at least, I did at some point). I like to think that I understand some of their primary motivations, history, goals, etc. We accidentally run into each other every few weeks or months, and then stop to summarise the +/- changes in our lives, give new contact info, and (maybe) make actual plans to meet up to fully discuss all the new things in our lives. I’ve met their parents and siblings, and know their hometowns, and am usually somewhat current on their work and romantic status.

The Non-Romantic Life Partner
For example: Quinn. We know each other REALLY well; have met each others’ extended family, have stayed in one another’s family homes, and see each other daily. We have inside jokes and can communicate via telepathy. If one of us is sad or happy or worried, we call each other first, and then the other will support us (financially, emotionally, physically).

The Best Friend(s)
For example: Jessie. We haven’t known each other since birth, but choose to spend a lot of time together and grow together. We share crises and successes. There are still LOTS of new things to be learned about each other, and that’s part of the thrill. There’s a sense that “we’re in this together” and we look forward to being together when (for example) we decide to have babies, etc.

The Others
These are fun, interesting, or kind people that I like to spend time with, usually in a group setting. Jessica, for example, is brilliant and a LOT of fun, but we’ve never had a personal conversation. Justin is a sweetheart, and I like to watch his capeoira performances and eat brunch with him, but he’s “Jessie’s boyfriend” and I wouldn’t know him otherwise. Spencer, my Mormon hair stylist, is a wonderful man to talk to, and a rowdy dancer. I don’t even have his phone number.

The Balancing Act
This is the heart of my personal debate. We are all changing – most of my day-to-day aquaintances are in their 20’s, and so are changing DRASTICALLY in terms of work, finances, spirituality, love, home, personal goals, identity . . . There are exciting, happy, thrilling moments (like when we realise we’re getting paid to do what we LOVE), and there are sad moments (when our relationships are boring or frustrating). There is so much opportunity during these times for jealousy, frustration, self-involvement, neglect. It’s especially hard (and, I think, especially important) to maintain your friendships during this time.

After all, most of us live apart from our families, and our only support networks are the friends we make and keep. Also, our lives are often different from our families. My sister, at 23, is going to have a baby. In Invermere, with her friends, this is a VERY normal and natural step. In Victoria, with my friends, this would be weird. We’re just doing different things right now. And so, having established these networks of people who live with the same “status quo,” we can feel supported and make our deicisions with confidence (or less fear).

(I’m trying to avoid and generalize my concern, but this is my website so goddamn it, I’ll be straightforward.)

The Thing Is
Our friend is getting married, and she’s starting to shed her friendships. This scares me. I’m all for being best friends with your partner, but loving someone in isolation is unhealthy. What happens if the relationship isn’t working? or you need something that your partner can’t provide? Isn’t it a good idea to have friends outside of your “couple friends”? It can’t be fair to the other person, if you rely on that one person to help provide all the emotional, spiritual, intellectual support you need.

A couple-ship (even marriage) makes it even more important to have outside supports. That’s how abusive relationships begin and continue – because s/he has no one to help them get out. I mean no disrespect to Rachel or her man – he’s lovely, too, and I certainly don’t expect them to have an abusive relationship. It just worries me, to see our friend reject her supports when SHE DOESN’T HAVE TO LOSE THEM. She can have it all, her man and her own friendships. And who doesn’t want to have it all?

Conclusion
In my ruminations, I’ve concluded that there is a formula for a healthy friendship. I think this applies to EVERY model listed above:

Energy & Time in Heather’s Friendship Formula is divided as follows:

50% focus on the friend
. . . half of which is spent on happy news (minimum)

50% focus on you
. . . half of which is spent on happy news (minumum)

However, a TRULY healthy friendship should also include 10-25% of unhappy news (within each friend’s 50%). In order to properly appreciate someone’s successes/luck/greatness, we need to see their failures, fears, and misfortunes. (It’s like seeing the light because it isn’t dark.)

For example: I feel silly telling a stranger or acquaintance that I got published, but if they already know that I’ve been rejected ten times before then they can be happy with me, and share my pride. I’ve watched girl friends go through negative relationships, and then when they find someone who is kind and worthy, I can be happy for them.

This doesn’t mean that friend-times should be a bitch fest. Note the MINIMUM 25% happy news requirement. But, as so many obnoxious people have pointed out, life = happy + sad. If you or a “friend” is only sharing happy news, then it’s mathematically logical to say that you/they are hiding something, and if these people truly are your friends, then YOU DON’T HAVE TO HIDE IT. Take advantage of these silly people who choose to like you! Exploit the Friendship Formula! Bitch and swear and scream about that fucker at work, and then drink a martini and say how much you love your mate. THAT’S what friends are for.

Anyhoo, I suppose this is a long enough ramble. I don’t claim to be a great friend – I’ve cut off relationships because they were inconvenient, and neglected friends because I was enraptured by a new boyfriend. But I think I’m learning. And I think my BRILLIANT formula, applied retrospectively, explains why some of my relationships have worked, and others haven’t.

Sleepy and Chilly & Content – March 28, 2005
All is well — please see “Letters to Levi/Writing to Ryan” for today’s more long-winded entry.

WRITING TO RYAN – March 28, 2005
Due to various factors, my love affair with Levi MacDougall has ended.

Happily enough, I have now (re)met Ryan and he is a Vancouver rockstar and future Jack Kerouac, and I will be Neal Cassidy (or maybe we’ll take turns – or maybe Burroughs and Ginsberg, since they had sex and Ryan’s very pretty . . . anyhoo) and we will exchange vivacious insights into this mad world and one day publish our correspondence and be the Mad RockStar and SuperHero H-Bomb of our generation.

[A photo of Ryan was posted here on the original blog site.]

For those who are thinking, Hey, that Ryan guy kind of looks like Heather, I say, sure he has lovely eyebrows and he happens to have bleached hair at this particular point in time, and yes I’m an unapologetic narcissist, but he’s also 6’3″ so clearly I’m not merely in love for superficial reasons. Ahem.

That is enough loving for today – I am freezing in this goddamn apartment and I’m going to have a bath.

I Don’t Wanna But I Do – March 29, 2005

I’m so close to going for a run that I have proper clothes on (sans running shoes) and my hair in pigtails. But it’s COLD outside!!!

However, CSI is on tape in the VCR, and that provides a mighty tempting reward. Also, Q will return from IKEA later today with my IKEA purchases in his trunk, and I like to brag to him that I’ve run because he doesn’t believe that I can maintain any sort of fitness routine (which is true – I never have – but this time it’s definitely different).

Okay . . . here I go.

. . .

Done. Well, that was thrilling. Also, I bought two BEAUTIFUL bouquets of flowers today – one is white and yellow, and the other is 12 dozen yellow roses. They are all squashed together in a vase on my coffee table. So pretty.

Q is in Richmond today and Jessie was sick at home, so I was all alone for lunch. I wandered around and read greeting cards, which I strongly believe should be a recognised hobby. There should be a magazine for greeting card readers. Once I wanted to write them, but that path wandered away and now I only make cards on occasion. Instead, I hunt for brilliant, subversive bits of Hallmark Art and send them to unsuspecting (or suspecting and tolerant) acquaintances.

I Hate All My Neighbours – March 29, 2005

Mainly because the guys below me make me feel like an old lady. I wake up at 5:30 am (ideally) and so I go to bed at a stupid time (8:30pm) and sometimes they have drink and music fests on the weekdays. For example, it is now 10pm. Also – and I SWEAR this is true – they say “fuck” more than I do.

GUY: Fuck fuck fuck fuck – bang bang – fuck!

A direct quote. Honestly. I can hear every fucking word through the old fireplace.

The saving grace is that they play (very loudly) music that I like. I guess I’m not that old. Blink 182, Sum 41 – those baby punk bands with numerals. It’d be ideal, if they’d just shut the fuck up so I could listen to the music.

Anyhoo.

Other neighbours I love to hate are the Jehovah’s Witnesses, who have their hall right next door. They take up all the residents-only parking. Luckily a woman was leaving just as I pulled up in Q’s car, so I didn’t have to massacre the mo’fos.

Ginormous accomplishment of the day
I built a set of drawers. OR assembled. Whatever. IKEA furniture is a lot harder to put together than you might think. I had to use four different screwdriver bits. And a hammer. I will post a picture as soon as I get around to it.

Oh, and, saddest news ever
One of my new green IKEA bowls broke!!!!! I unwrapped them to find one with a massively chipped side. Maybe I’ll mosaic something. It’s a particularly intoxicating green. But still sad – I thought about those bowls a fair bit today . . .

Flashback to a Favourite Disclaimer
It’s gone from the archives by now, so I’ll just repeat that I have a Christmas Eve Complex. I’m like the guy on Swingers who gets a girl’s phone number, then calls within the hour and has a whole relationship with her answering machine until she picks up the phone and tells him to never call again. I GET EXCITED.

This explains a lot: lusting after an unresponsive Toronto comedian; obsessing over green IKEA bowls; and falling in love with a stranger who lives in Richmond. Yep.

The Music is Gone
I’m too fucking proud to stomp on the floor . . . kids these days . . .

Sleeping-In is AOK – March 30, 2005

I wandered into the office today at 11:30am, then went for lunch. I love my job.

Sometimes, All We Need Is Love
Independent, Self-Sufficient, Lives-Alone-And-Loves-It Heather is losing it. I’ve finally met that point where I don’t NEED anyone – somedays, I don’t even WANT anyone – in a boyfriend/lover sort of way. But I’ve noticed myself getting bitter! Ick! It’s hard to trust in fate, destiny, yada yada when I’m trapped on a goddamn island of couples and old men and gay boys. I’m in the wrong city.

I’m going to have another drink now 🙂

Post-Atomic Vaudeville – March 31, 2005

My alarm goes off in 5.5 hours — I should go to bed. Jessie and I had another excellent girly night, with martinis, steak, lobster tails, ice cream, shopping, cider & wine. Oh, and we went to see Atomic Vaudeville’s 10th episode, “The Passion.” Mike Delamont sang – it was fantabulous.

I’m going to drink a litre of water and go to bed. Bon nuit.

Heather McLeod

Category Archives: Little Spitfire

April 2005

March 2005

Heather McLeod is a mystery writer based in British Columbia, Canada.