Transit Adventure – February 1, 2005
I was “picked up” on the bus home from work today. He was so smooth that, by the end, we’d exchanged numbers. Why is it that I’m not interested in the men who hit on me, while the ones that I am attracted to are married / gay / live in Toronto / etc.? Also, how could this guy be so smooth during the “pick up,” while I collapse into a stuttering, blushing pile of goop? I’m irrationally angry with this man.
His name is Sam, by the way. I think he’s a musician.
In Other News
Seamus and Caramel defy all logic. On their porch is the surplus straw from my latest insulating adventure. The straw is loosely wrapped in heavy plastic, with a 1×6 board on top to hold everything together. Every time I look outside, Seamus and Caramel are not nestled in their snuggly warm cage, as I’d intended, but rather perched on the 1×6. They are so comfortable there that Caramel has pooped right at the fulcrum of the board.
Work Epiphany
Last week at the dog training class the trainer said that dogs need to be “paid” to do “work” (i.e. give them treats if they sit), just like humans. She said that of course she had other things she’d rather be doing, but this was her job, and she did it to make a living.
Astounding. Here is a woman who works all day with dogs, which I assume she enjoys, and even SHE doesn’t feel like working all the time!
I love my job; I love being paid to write and think strategically. But sometimes I would prefer to be in bed, or watching bad TV, or eating Salmon burgers and Maple salad at Moby’s on Slat Spring Island. Then I feel guilty and ungrateful. But if the dog trainer has those moments, then I suppose I can too.
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Water Symbolism – February 2, 2005
I used to think it was goofy, the clichés about water being so prevalent in literature. It’s just water – why not trees or rocks or dirt? But then I read the Bible for English 409, and learned all the cultural/historical tradition of water imagery.
For example: the phrase “crossing the Rubicon” means a permanent decision, like burning bridges; there’s no going back. The Rubicon was a body of water (river? Lake? Ocean?) In the Hebrew (“Old”) Testament. It meant all kinds of symbolic things once the Hebrews crossed it. If I remembered exactly what, I’d tell you, but university knowledge has an expiration date. Emily Dickenson uses that phrase, “crossing the Rubicon,” in her poetry, and now the Rubicon is an SUV. I giggle every time I see one – it’s like seeing a car called Crucifixion or something.
Back to water . . . I finally noticed one day, while choosing bits o’ fiction for a reading, that there is a disproportionate amount of water imagery in my writing. I’m from Invermere, and my mental associations for water are either really cold glacier rivers or hot springs. Water means Beaver Fever, numb ankles, swimmer’s itch after a drunken skinny dip, sulphur, and fat Albertans with smarmy teenage children. Regardless, my stories include scenes from White Swan Park’s natural hot springs, drinking from a glacier spring, and (naturally – ew) sweat and tears and etc. It’s everywhere!!!
I don’t really have any stupendous conclusion to this rumination. I just think it’s nifty and worth recognizing that water has sneakily snuck (“sneakily snuck”???!) into my/our subconscious. Womb warmth, sustenance, rebirth, purification, comfort. And now I’m going to have a bath.
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Cuticles? What cuticles? – February 3, 2005
I got my first ever manicure today. My nails are beautiful and feel like satin. Thank you, Jessie.
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Confession of Side Effects – February 5, 2005
I write this knowing that
- Quinn (and potentially others) will admonish me for this; and
- Quinn doesn’t read my site on the weekends.
Due to certain factors, specifically my own laziness, I haven’t taken my anxiety meds for three or four days now. The problem with anxiety meds is that they are so effective that I feel 100% better when medicated, and therefore I have trouble believing that anything “bad” happens when I’m not medicated. I’ve been cured! Hurray! As a result, refilling my prescription is not a huge priority. (This reflects my desire to be independent of meds, I’m sure – I’d rather not take drugs in order to function.)
Anyhoo, the gradual effects of withdrawal have been building up for a few days now, and I’m starting to clearly remember why it is that I take the meds in the first place.
First Side Effect: I get angry and want to hit those who annoy me. Usually strangers. Usually drunk men.
Second Side Effect: My dreams are very vivid. I am confused as to what has actually happened in reality, because the dreams are so detailed and fraught with anxiety. For example: this morning I had no idea how to check the voice mail messages on my phone, because I clearly remembered punching in different passwords without it ever working. I wake up feeling like I’ve just fought with someone I love very much. And maybe I’ve killed my bunnies.
Third Side Effect: I can’t stop thinking. It’s like driving with a small hyper child who narrates everything she sees. (To be honest, that’s usually me . . .) The strangest part is that I kind of enjoy these side effects. A skateboarder once told me that pain should be appreciated, because it’s temporary and rare and therefore an interesting, unique experience. I’m the kind of person who likes to pick scabs. And the rare times that I find myself in withdrawal, it’s scary but fascinating to see the inevitable, predictable changes in my brain. But I know that this state will lead to hiding in my house, and not being able to answer the phone or talking to anyone or going to work. So the strategic part is getting down to the drug store before I feel that need to hide. It’s like playing chicken with my chemistry.
Perhaps this is partly why I’m so confused by people who use drugs. It’s exciting, sure, but given a choice I’d prefer to not ever feel this way. I hate knowing that I can’t control it. It’s like people with 20/20 vision closing their eyes when they walk along a highway.
On a Happy Note
I have a pot of tea, lots of milk, a loaf of bakery-fresh rye bread for breakfast, and an energetic bunny renovating my couch. This is my favourite way to spend Saturday morning.
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Garden State – February 6, 2005
I might be pushing this interpretation, but Garden State (the movie with/by the guy from Scrubs ) has some sketchy parallels to Hamlet.
For example:
Rosencrantz & Guildenstern + the grave diggers = the hometown guy friends.
“Newark” = Denmark
Samantha = Ophelia, the crazy girl friend
Scrubs guy = Hamlet . . . actually, he’s not. Hamlet thinks but doesn’t do anything; the Scrubs guy does things but doesn’t feel anything.
The “silent Velcro” guy = Hamlet, kind of – rich but inactive – but he’s such a minor character . . .
And then you have the plot, with the dead parent, and the revelation about those circumstances . . . the incest aspect is covered via Rosencrantz, whose momma sleeps with a guy his age . . . and the themes of disease (“There’s something rotten in the state of Denmark”) are nicely dealt with via the psychologist dad, Sam’s epilepsy, Scrubs‘s medication, the mom’s paralysis, the dead hamster . . . and, speaking of pets, all the graveyards scenes! The water where Ophelia drowns could be the pool, but it’s the Scrubs guy who can’t swim, and Sam does just fine. Oh! It could be the bathtub, but then the mom = Ophelia. Hmm. Maybe it’s more the themes and plot that parallel – the Hamlet characters seem to be fragmented. Regardless, an interesting film.
Re: the whole medication aspect of the movie, I find that a lot of movies about meds seem a little one-sided and righteous. The person (usually a weak stand-in for the neurotic screenwriter) is mentally ill and medicated, but “chooses to feel” and so goes off his/her meds with minimal side effects. (The movie ends before they go crazy again and run, hysterical, back to their doctor.)
Lesson Learned
Quinn reads my site on the weekends.
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Ohimigod ohmigod ohmigod – February 7, 2005
Spencer cut my hair today after work! I love it. For some reason the hair on the back of my head tends to grow unreasonably quickly, and I live in fear of the inevitable mullet. But Spencer swooped in just in time, and now I’m trimmed and neat and “broomsticky,” which is the look we’re going for. Like that chick who sings “Kiss Me,” in 6 Pence None the Richer or some band like that. I can’t wait to wash it. That’s the best part after a hair cut, when you lather up the shampoo and then – hey! Where’d the hair go? Yep.
In My Mailbox
No, not a letter from Levi. Blue Cross sent me my cards for extended health and dental benefits, beginning March 1. Now I can get my wisdom teeth yanked out, if I have to, and still afford rent! Very exciting. There must be a way to get massages covered.
Maybe that’s why society has/had that whole “choose a career or choose a family” thing for women – either I need a man to rub my back, or I can get my employer to pay a professional to do it.
My Dream
Our floor at work is buying lotto tickets. If I won, I’d open a tea shop and bake ginger snaps and pie and serve great tea. I wouldn’t run it myself, but I’d sit at a table and drink tea and write all day long. Ironically, I don’t need to win the lotto to do this. So once I’ve paid off my loans, etc., that’s the plan.
And Finally
I’ve realized that a perk of my massive student loan debt is that I get to claim the interest I pay as Income Tax credit. So that’ll make my 2004 claim extra exciting.
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The Warren – February 8, 2005
I don’t know if all bunnies are as spoiled and demanding as mine, but Seamus, Caramel and Peter are very picky about their food. Pellets, specifically, which is where they get their protein and etc. A few years ago they refused to eat the same brand, and so I would visit two separate stores (Safeway and the holistic pet store at Fort and Foul Bay) and buy the blue & yellow bag for Peter, and the red bag for the babies.
(I think Caramel refused to eat anything but, simply because a brown lop-eared dwarf was pictured on the bag and she’s notoriously vain. And if Caramel ain’t happy, nobody’s happy, especially not Seamus.)
Eventually I realized this arrangement was foolish and stopped buying the red bag pellets from Safeway. (Peter is the alpha bun, after all.) Ever since, all bunnies have eaten the same kind. HOWEVER, I was down to my last bag this weekend, and when I got to the pet store they didn’t have the appropriate brand. This caused a disproportionate amount of concern on my part. And I thought, “They’ll just have to eat a new kind or starve!” and bought a third, untried brand.
I checked on the babies today, and they have carefully eaten all of the old-style pellets, leaving the new brand pellets in the dish. Peter, however, as the responsible eldest and far more mature bunny, has eaten everything in his dish. THAT’S why he lives inside with me.
On Another, Less Rabbitty, Note
I had so many letters in my mailbox today! Sure, there was a bill and one stupid credit card ad thingy, but the very fact that there were five is exciting. None, needless to say, from Levi MacDougall. I’m starting to doubt that he’s worthy of my affections.
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My Hands Smell Like Meat – February 9, 2005
We used lamb meat for dog training tonight. (I’m sorry, Evy – it was already dead and packaged.) Celeste is a great student. She can sit and stand and pirohuette into a lie-down, and is learning to heel. Next week they’re going to have a skateboard there, to see if she attacks it.
Little Red Riding Hood
There’s a crossing guard on the route to my bus stop, and today she said it makes her happy whenever I wear my red coat. Apparently being a crossing guard for preteens creates a specific kind of job anxiety – she’s reassured that drivers will see me and stop.
Another Countdown
Alex will be here on the 17th! Yay!!!!!
And Finally: Canadian Television
To be fair, I don’t know if Medium is a Canadian creation. But it really sucks. The dialogue is painfully flat and self-conscious. Ironically, the images and the violence are so real that it’s truly scary to watch the show. After the first nightmarish (in so many ways) episode, I wasn’t going to watch it ever again, but I have a weakness for mystery shows and the protagonist has bangs, which I support . . .
Also, Corner Gas. I don’t get it. Do other people think it’s funny???
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The Terrible Psychic – February 11, 2005 – 8 am
Details will be posted later today . . . I came home last night late and drunkish, and now I am off to work, so no time for particulars! Teaser: fencing and shopping were involved . . .
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The Terrible Psychic – February 12, 2005 – 9:30 am
This is now old news.
The Party Pants Book
Mom sent me a book called Life is Short – Wear Your Party Pants and I now realize that I’m the perfect person. Growing up, moving from hometown to university to government work place, I sometimes feel “stunted,” like I’m still a kid being paid too much, surrounded by grown ups who actually deserve their successes. There’s this one woman who rides the bus with me sometimes, who’s about my age. She looks very professional every morning, with pointy-toed shoes and suits and a leather shoulder bag that undoubtedly contains critical documents. Sometimes I want to be like that, grown up and visibly a woman instead of a “cute” (EWWWW!) girl. But this book targets those visibly-grown up people, who are (presumably) unhappy in some way. It tells them to smile, to pay attention to the small pleasures in life, to see the beauty in a blue sky – essentially, to re-attain the curiousity and openness they had when they were kids.
But ha! I already do this! I take pictures of dead honey bees on the sidewalk, for Christ’s sake. I love manure season in Victoria, when the city workers put fertilizer in the plants and EVERYTHING smells like shit. Sure, I can become a moron around men I’m attracted to, but sometimes I also get exactly what I want, just because I ask for it. The other day I saw my bus-mate wearing very nice grey pants. I am fairly certain that they are the exact same pair that I own. And then I got off the bus, and saw myself reflected on a glass wall, and there was my broomstick hair and corduroy bag, and the green scarf from my Gramma, and now I see that I’ve chosen to be this way (to stay this way?) and that it’s a better way to be – at least for me.
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TODAY IS THE DAY!!!!! – February 13, 2005
Levi MacDougall’s comedy performance airs TONIGHT on the Comedy Network!!!! It’s at 10 pm here in Victoria, but check your local (Invermere, Ottawa) guides: it’s listed under The Comedy Network Presents or something —- a Comedy Now! special.
We are still having a Levi party, even though 10 pm on a Sunday isn’t realistic for those of us who work early on Monday. Rachel has suggested it be a “support Heather in her love of Levi” party, which I think sounds perfect. I might even bake pie.
Also, I will DEFINITELY be taping the show tonight, so let me know if you miss it. I’ll happily provide a copy. This might be the final act of love in my relationship with Levi. (So sad . . .) He’s not the man I thought he was; his lack of spontaneity and adventure is disappointing.
Dreamweaver & Other Adventures
You might have noticed that my site is a pretty blue & yellow as of today. I’ve figured out the part in Fireworks/Dreamweaver where I can make the site and upload it to the internet — there are (of course) a few bugs, like bizarre gaps between the buttons on the left on some pages. If anyone has suggestions, please tell me. I’m just proud of having figured out the upload thing!
Yesterday I wanted to go dancing but also wanted a long hot bath and to snuggle with Peter. Compromise? I dressed up, did my Mac makeup, put my favourite red dye in my hair, and danced to Big Bad Voodoo Daddy while doing the dishes.
Peter was in a strangely friendly mood (it’s spring, after all — bunny mating season) and we rubbed noses and cuddled on the couch. He gave me a mini massage by walking & jumping on me — again, who needs a man???
Who Needs a Man?
First off, if you NEED a man then you’re fucked, because you don’t, really. You need to figure yourself out.
Secondly, I do WANT a man — Quinn said the other day that I should have a boyfriend, but when we drove to the boyfriend store it was closed, so no news there. The tricky parts in the whole “man” area are as follows:
– I’m picky. I don’t settle. I’m also very independent and there’s a fine balance between closeness and smothering.
– There is a limited number of straight, single, quality men on this stupid island. The ones I HAVE met aren’t the one(s) for me. That leads to very unfavourable odds.
Conclusion: yet again, I will hold a Find Heather Some Booty contest. Those who know me know what I want: height, personality, strength, intelligence, ambition. The winner will receive dinner and my thanks!
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February 15, 2005
Dear Levi,
thank you for the lovely flowers. You are a good person. Even though you’ve never written to me.
Love,
Heather xxxooo
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And Then She Remembered She Had a Website! – February 15, 2005
The last time I was home and NOT asleep was awhile ago, so I shall recap.
1. I lost my digital camera.
2. I drank martinis and ate steak for Valentine’s with some lovely, smart people, including my gay Mormon hair stylist who looks exactly like Brad Pitt in Legends of the Fall.
3. I learned that my friend and once-boyfriend is dating a couple.
4. I baked lemon meringue pies and they tasted yummy.
5. I found my digital camera.
6. I was nominated for an “M” Award in the category of Best New Play (for The Terrible Preservation of Valentine Pilate).
AND . . . I GOT FLOWERS FROM LEVI ON VALENTINE’S DAY! But here’s the thing — they were delivered to me at work, and Levi has no way of knowing where I work. That is, I’ve never mentioned it in my letters. The only way he could have found out would be via a search on google.ca, via which anyone can find my work address. Even then, there are two of us who work in the same place . . . Jessie’s theory is that Levi is stalking me. This doesn’t bother me, as long as he’s pleasant about it. And if he writes me a letter, I might even write back!
Levi’s show on Sunday night was WONDERFUL, and I am infatuated all over again. If anyone can hook me up, do it.
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What the Bleep Do We Know? – February 16, 2005
I watched a nifty movie last night with Q and Andrew – What the Bleep Do We Know? at Cinecenta. I found it more helpful than my counsellor. Considering that one of the interviewees was a dead woman, channeled through a psychic, that’s not so great.
I liked the idea that traditionally flakey notions of “positive thinking,” meditation and mantras are supported by quantum physics. I still have those nasty social assumptions that science is more valid than spirituality.
And I like the idea that I can “test” the theories they discussed, just by “creating my day” in the morning and then seeing what happens has a result.
Work
Today was my sixth month anniversary of writing for the government! Very exciting. No flowers or fancy certificates, though. As a result of waking up at 5:30 a.m., however, I’m sleepy and useless. I’m ready for bed — Alex comes to Victoria tomorrow!!! YAY!
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What the Bleep Do We Know? – February 17, 2005
One of the points this film makes is that physical objects NEVER touch.
When, for example, a basketball nears the pavement, the electrons/whatever repel each other and that causes the ball to bounce back up. There is never a moment where the basketball actually TOUCHES the ground. It’s like an invisible shield around everything. (This means that you never actually touch anyone — an interesting perspective on love . . .)
Anyhoo, Jessie asked (after 3.5 martinis) why, then, there’s a sound that comes from the interaction of basketball and pavement (for example). That is a brilliant point.
Another point: physics does not distinguish between “past,” “present,” and “future”: there is no scientific basis for our assumption that what we do today affects our future.
AND FINALLY, the idea that most human beings (in our society) wake up in the morning and naturally do exactly what they did yesterday — we don’t even think about it, so we just function by habit. It’s like we’re living in our own self-inflicted Groundhog Day.
SO WAKE UP and do something different today! Get out of your rut!!!
Random Thought That Might Cross The Line
Jetsgo.com has crazy flight sales to out East – I could stalk Levi in person for $176 + tax, return. It’s a testament to my personal strength that I didn’t pull out my credit card immediately after reading the ad in today’s paper.
How I Woke Up This Morning
It was difficult, what with the bizarrely early work hours I’ve started. I woke up because Peter was tunnelling (or trying to tunnel) through my couch. Once I turned on the light, he did some “binkies,” which look like ninja kicks. He runs and then jumps up, a la Matrix, and does a sexy snowboarder pose, and then lands and turns around and does it again. SO funny. Bunny Capeoeira, or something.
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The Morning After – February 19, 2005
We had a wee “Welcome Home, Alex!” party last night over at Quinn’s — Alex is visiting for a week or two from Ottawa. Rachel made ridiculously yummy Indian food; even the tzaziki was homemade! Yummy good. And one of our party attendees (Chris, the 30-something year old Pureblood-gay who had a bizarre experience on stage at an Amstardam sex show when he was younger) is an accountant! Hopefully he can show me how to do my income taxes as a Working Woman in the Real World.
Peter’s Bingeing
Another episode in the saga of Peter the Alpha Bun’s weird spring behaviour . . . as I’ve previously revealed, we have switched pellet brands. Peter LOVES this new kind of pellet. In fact, this morning I noticed the bowl was empty AGAIN, so I refilled it. Peter, who was tunnelling under the couch, suddenly ran toward me, skidded on the hardwood floor, did a U-turn into the bowl, and started eating. I have never seen a rabbit do this. It’s like he’s a teenaged boy or something. Next thing, I’ll be finding PlayBun magazines under the cushions.
I Spy With My Little Lens . . .
Now that I’ve found my camera, I’m excited all over again about taking pictures. Today was a BEAUTIFUL day — blue sky, green grass, sunshine, and not too cold. I’ll post some new photos when I get to that stage in my Dreamweaver tutorials. For now, I’m just excited to have figured out what “rollovers” are.
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Mom’s Cafe & The Sooke Potholes – February 20/05
I had steak and eggs for breakfast today, and as a result I think I might have cracked the Dreamweaver code. We shall see, once this is launched online . . .
Justin, Jessie, Alex, Quinn, and Celeste and I walked up to the Sooke Potholes — the part where the resort is half-built, half-collapsed. It’s like a ghost-town version of Whistler, all stonework and high beamed ceilings, but the cedar beams are grey and the frame stands like a big skeleton. The Land Conservancy bought the land (thank god!) and saved it from potential development. This means that we’ll be able to swim and camp there next summer without paying resort fees and fighting fat Americans for the best beach spots.
Celeste ran free, and had a marvy time. I know I’ll go to Heaven now. We made a doggy smile and fall asleep in blissful exhaustian (how do I spell that word??).
Confession of an Obsession
I’m really not obsessed, I just like it when words rhyme. I taped Levi’s show last week, and I like to have it playing when I do puzzles or play with this site, or whatever activities that need some background sound. I’ve fallen in like all over again, and am planning a ferocious (last?) letter to send.
While I do have a substantial trust in fate, destiny, etc. etc. I also believe that we are in charge of setting up the dominoes so that fate can knock them down. Perhaps I’ll meet Levi on a plane in 20 years and we’ll fall madly in love, but why not write him some letters now?
Perhaps this is only a symptom of my impatience, which my counselor has advised me (most unhelpfully) to reconsider as a character trait.
Impatience as a Negative Character Trait
Because I don’t think it’s a negative thing. To me, impatience is a synonym for adventure, spontaneity, excitement, forward movement . . . Patience means stagnation, waiting, circular movement, not being in control of my future . . . it’s boring!
Like all traits, impatience can be a negative thing if it affects how I treat other people. But that’s why I don’t put myself in supervisory positions – I know slow workers would make me crazy and frustrated and cranky.
My best and closest friends challenge me in their pace. They think quickly, and they are excited about the future. I have little patience (ha!) for those who ruminate and ponder and rethink and blah blah blah. Nothing in life is that important, to require a pause in breath. Just move on.
(This is one of those entries that I might rethink in future years . . . but that’s the beauty of writing. It enables self-reflection.)
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I Hate Dreamweaver – February 20, 2005
This is making me crazy. I keep trying different (logical) ways to make my pages look like I intended them to, but then they go online and the buttons eat up space and EVERYTHING IS CHAOS.
A crowd of us are going to go eat breakfast at our favourite greasy diner in 30 minutes or so — maybe that will help.
I Watched Movies Yesterday / This Morning
Yesterday I saw Chicago (finally!). I LOVE musicals that are that sexy and jazzy and women-centric. In another life I would have been on stage like that, and been completely happy.
This morning I saw My Life Without Me, and Sarah Polley (from Road to Avonlea) is the star — my gal friend Liv is in love with Sarah Polley, and I must admit that I was impressed. At no time did I picture her in a bonnet or gingham dress. It was kind of a cliche film, though. And Sarah kept having relationships with tall, beautiful, sensitive men (none of whom were gay or Toronto comedians or married), so I kind of hate her a little bit now.
When I Wasn’t Looking
Peter jumped onto the couch and managed to eat the Mute button on my remote.
Epiphany While Walking Celeste Along Dallas Road With Quinn Yesterday
The sun was out and everything was a primary shade of green and blue, and I am very happy.
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I Sat in the Sun Today – February 21, 2005
And then I got cold, so I came inside. But first I read a book that Nathan recommended: Weetzie Bat, which I got from the young adult section of Munro’s, but . . . well, it’s not like any young adult book I’ve ever read. Kids these days! Whewee! Anyhoo, it’s good. I don’t want to say too much until I lend it to Alex to read. Maybe some other people.
Now I’m drinking a lovely bottle of Glacier Berry cider. I’m a mountain girl, and I have a difficult time conceiving of what kind of masochistic plant would sprout berries mid-glacier, but it sure tastes yummy.
Things We’re Gonna Do This Summer
Drink vodka slushies and/or wine in Beacon Hill Park, eat brie cheese and salmon pate and apples, nap on a blanket, play Nerf football, and play with Celeste. Dance at clubs until we puke. Camp at the Sooke Pot Holes and eat s’mores; build a huge bonfire, skinny-dip in the really cold water, snuggle in tents, and cook bacon. Reevaluate our career, lifestyle, and relationship choices. Or not.
Scary Moment in Heather’s Future
Tomorrow is the “M” Awards ceremony. Alex, Q, and Jessie are coming to support me and feed me vodka. It’s a good rehearsal for the Booker Prize, but nonetheless I’m nervous. Let’s all pretend that I win!
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Bunny Pedicure & M Awards – February 23, 2005
First off, I will update those of you who I didn’t already email today. I got home last night sleepy and drunk, so there was no time to narrate our M Awards adventure.
Summary is as follows: great dinner, wonderful friends, lotsa margaritas and martinis, “It’s just an honour to be nominated,” “Hi John Gould,” and good night! I am proud of myself for attending the festivities despite my fragile emotional state. I seriously considered staying away and drinking with my ever-supportive homies (Jessie, Q, and Alex), but in the end all was best with me there at a prime table, surrounded by oddly dressed communists, clapping wildly for strangers. I’m actually proud to have been nominated, considering that my co-nominees were Charlie Ross’s One Man Lord of the Rings, which is freaking awesome, and Trying, a play I haven’t seen but which won and pulled a Chicago-at-the-Oscars, sweeping almost the entire Performance category. So I still feel like a super star. Which is, sometimes, the entire point.
And Peter
His nails were uber-long, since he runs around on hardwood floors all day (and night), and he hates pedicures so I try to avoid giving them. Anyhoo, he hopped up to join me on the couch the other day so I grabbed him and cut his nails, and I think we’re both glad that I did. It’s a surprise now to see him, because I don’t hear him approaching.
Dog Training Epiphany
Celeste, Quinn’s Maltese-terrier diva lovey princess dog, is probably reacting to my/our expressions of apprehension when certain strangers approach, and therefore she thinks we’re scared of them and tries to protect us by attacking them. Of course, we look apprehensive because we’re just afraid she’ll attack them, so it’s just a vicious cycle. This is such an effective realisation.
Also, we had a skateboard at training class tonight, and it evolved from Celeste growling and hiding and jumping on Q for protection, to her actually standing on the board. Hopefully we’ll be able to convince her that wheels aren’t scary. The trainer also suggested that we put her food dish on a skateboard, to show her that they aren’t evil and inherently dangerous.
One Final Note
Jessie is going to restart her writing passion, and I am thrilled for her. I’m trying to sell her on the Victoria School of Writing, in July. If anyone has an interest in running away for a few days to an environment of writing and calm and support, I HIGHLY recommend the VSW.
Plagiarism of the Day
“What’s so deadly about greed? Greed is about a hopefulness for grabbing more out of life . . . an abundance mentality . . . an opulence not only of mind, but heart and spirit . . . a drive for creating . . . a way to express self-love and give to others. . . . greed is A MAJOR SPIRIT ENLIVENER, helping you to BELIEVE AND PURSUE an endless flow of what you hanker for.”
– The 7 Lively Sins, by Karen Salmansohn
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Another Atomic Vaudeville – February 25, 2005 – a.m.
(Tangent: Peter keeps following me around this morning, nosing my legs and licking my slippers. He just bit me – what the hell??? I think it’s a Full-Moon-Spring-Fever combo.)
Jessie and I attended another stellar performance of the Atomic Vaudeville series. Highlights include: the One Man The Matrix, in honour of Charlie Ross; and the Star Trek spoof, with an all-white cast due to limited Victoria actor-reserves, and Captain Kirk (Mike Delamont)’s bum crack.
Also, I reunited with Caroline, “the tap-dancing dishwasher” from The Terrible Preservation of Valentine Pilate.
As For Counselling
Pshwah. I’m losing faith in the healing power of conversation. Beth suggested acupuncture (I THINK NOT!!!!!!), Reiki, and hypnotism as further tools against the Deadly Anxiety Tsunami-Wave. I’m thrilled about the whole Reiki thing — I love the idea of energy and I intend to explore this homeopathic alternative.
Work
I gave myself a later morning today because my bosses aren’t in, and so I don’t have to make a 7:30 a.m. call to announce the state of the world. Oddly, I still woke up at 6 a.m., which is truly unnatural.
Poetic License re: Spelling, Grammar
First off, I know what the hell I’m supposed to do. I have a $50,000 poetic license and a job that pays me to know that shit. I’ve consciously decided not to care about spelling, grammar, etc. on this site because I like the idea of a spell-check-free space. Perhaps I’m contributing to the decline of the English language, perhaps I’m demonstrating my own dependence on the infallible spell-check tool, but what the hairy fuck.
Nonetheless, I do appreciate input on those goshdarned words that I have never been able to spell. For example: meringe (thanks, mom!). Phonetic spelling can be both a blessing and a curse.
(Tangent – or new topic? Peter is now skidding across the floor from living room to porch door. I think there’s crack in that new bunny food.)
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I’m a Trampoline – February 26, 2005, 10:21 a.m.
Peter woke me up by jumping on my bed this morning. Whenever he’d get tired, he’d rest on my ankles. 10:21 a.m. Speaking of which, I was born at 10:21 in the morning on April 12. Nifty coincidence.
Jogging With Eminem
Q has returned his discman to me, which enables me to jog. I ran around the block today, to Slim Shady, and now I feel like a superstar.
And then I was hungry, so I made minestrone soup, because there is nothing else to eat in my house. The eggs and cheese and rye bread are rotten, and I’m out of milk. I hope the apocalypse doesn’t come today.
Levi on TV
While stalking (in a nice way) Levi on google.ca the other day, I discovered (via a current bio) that he’s just filmed a pilot for the Comedy Network. EEK! Imagine watching a show with Levi . . . I hope he writes me back before he gets all famous and successful and aloof. That way he can love me because I appreciated him when he was still a struggling comedian.
Also, Nathan was going to smuggle me into the Comedy Awards in Toronto, thanks to his Vancouver-girl who is on the board of something related. But the awards aren’t until October, which is a very long way away. Hopefully Levi and I will be penpals before October, and then I can be his date for the awards and I won’t have to squish into Nathan’s suitcase.
Plans For Today
Jessie and I are going to shop for beautiful, sexy dresses today because we’re going dancing tonight. I’m thinking of something strapless, to accentuate my new boobs.
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Family Contact & Funny Moments – February 27, 2005
My little sister Evy called me this morning, which was lovely as always. I find it hilarious every time we talk, because our worlds have become so incredibly different in the past few years.
Example: Evy asked what I was up to, what was new, so I told her about the sexy grown-up dress I bought yesterday to wear dancing, and I said I was drinking hot chocolate and working on my play, and very happy.
Evy’s news included an engagement ring (from Jared — I asked, hee hee) and her pregnancy.
I love how natural this is, her buying a home and loving Jared, and having a baby, etc., while I live with my house-rabbit(s) and go drinking with my friends. I love it that we can live such vastly different lives, and have entirely different perceptions of the “status quo,” and yet we grew up together and love each other, and can be happy for and proud of each other. Evy came to help with the premiere of my play, and to sit in the audience with me and read my interviews in the newspaper; I’ll go home in September and pamper her and love her new baby, and buy her slippers and manicures to make her feel loved and special and pretty.
In Other News
I am extremely pleased with my dress purchase from yesterday. It’s the sexiest thing I have ever owned, and I can’t wait to go dancing and look stunning. Too bad dog-walks on Dallas Road don’t require formal dress.
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LETTERS TO LEVI – February 28, 2005
Dear Levi,
Congratulations on your Comedy Network pilot!! I hope it takes off and you become the next Seinfeld (but funny). Just remember, Levi, that I supported you when you were a Toronto-centric, beginning comedian; my affection for you goes beyond your newfound celebrity. You can count on me in good times and in not-as-good times.
Unless, of course, you never write me or acknowledge my letters, in which case WE ARE DONE, and I will love CSI’s Greg instead. And he’s an American, so neither of us want that to happen.
Anyhoo, write me soon 🙂
Love,
Heather xxxooo
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Another Day, Another Run Around the Block – February 28, 2005
Oh yes, I went for a run today after work – MY THIRD DAY IN A ROW! I am an athletic superhero. Also, I’m the coxswain for our rowing team at work, starting sometime in April, so I am going to be ridiculously buff ASAP. Except that I don’t think a coxswain rows (I’m not sure what I do) but I do know there’s yelling involved, so my vocal chords will be macho.
And Then I Ate Leftover Domino’s Pizza
It was yummy.
Let’s Make A List
Things I Like to Eat (Specifically: At Restaurants):
Salmon Burgers
Hamburgers with mushrooms on them
Tacos
Salads with maple balsamic dressing
the Salmon Chanted Evening salad at Pag’s
Roast beef dinners (with Yorkshire puddings)
Turkey dinners
Fettuccini Alfredo
Seafood Cannelonni
Pesto
Eggs Benedict with salmon, or spinach & tomato & bacon
BLTs on sourdough
Sourdough toast with various spreads
Rye bread toast with various spreads
Sandwiches with any of the following: swiss cheese, sprouts, cucumbers, pepper, mayo, dijon mustard, gouda, turkey.
And One Final Note
If Levi and I are not meant to be together, I might substitute “Greg” – the lanky lab guy – from CSI Las Vegas. He’s pretty in that same strange sort of way, and tall, and etc., and I like his (character’s) sense of humour. But first I’ll give Levi another chance, with a third (and final?) letter.
On an entirely separate note, if anyone has photos (ditigal or real) of me looking pretty and smart and sexy, please forward ASAP; I’m preparing a very special parcel for a certain Toronto comedian.