Yep, another posting about chemistry. I do apologise, but I'm getting my ass kicked over here - I actually chucked my text book at a wall in a fit of frustration (and maturity, obviously) earlier. Then I felt bad, stood over it for a minute, only considered lighting it on fire, then picked it up and started again. To no avail I must add. I'm still completely stumped - this is like trying to put together an entertainment center with the instructions in Japanese. And as I have an assignment due Monday, and the midterm the in two weeks, I've broken a sweat. A concerned sweat. Someone commented a few days ago that I won't actually be breaking down the equations for ionic bonding when I'm a nurse (thanks for commenting by the way, I eat this stuff up), which is true and AWESOME, the sad truth is to be allowed to be a nurse I gotta pass this course.
The good stuff - it's already Thursday. Can't even believe it, this week left scorch marks, it's flown by so quickly. I found out today that no matter what the student handbook says, I'm going to be allowed to write my exams in such a time frame that I can go visit my fella and friends in December. That's pretty giant my peeps, pretty giant indeed. Oh, there's gonna be shopping. My main lady friend is going to do the girly stuff shopping with me so I don't have to subject my fave man to all that boredom. The M.A.C. store should be prepared (and maybe a little scared) for my visit. I may move in. Do they allow drinking in malls? Whatever, try 'n stop me.
Not one person pissed on my steps today. I may have a glass of champagne to celebrate.
You know what else? I got many sweet kisses today.
The Help
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
I just had another one of those "where the hell do I live?!?" moments - I had to ask a woman to stop peeing on the ground at the bottom of the steps at my place of work. I was even polite to begin with, but then (sigh, yes, mid-stream), she told me it was my own fault for not letting her into my building to defile one of our lovely washrooms. Of course, she was not that articulate, this is much more accurate: "Ipeeoutdoors, you donletme in. Fuck you bitch!" The fuck you part is always very clear. Again I say onto you, sigh.
In other news, I was starting to feel the slight pull toward sheer panic earlier today, because of the things I don't know for school. But a little pep talk from my man, and a block of four serious hours of study later, and I feel way better about things. Can't panic. Not yet anyway. Heh.
I forgot to bring my copy of the idiots guide today, so I'm going to post an essay that I wrote about a year ago, and though it's a serious piece, don't think that I'm sad. This is probably my proudest thing, this essay, so I didn't want it to disappear in the vacuum that is the world wide web. Before I post it however, some good things - I have a choir. We had a rehearsal on Monday, and my god, these people! I'm so proud and happy....I forget about school and work and people pissing on steps. This choir makes me burst with pleasure (in the non-perv way, ya perv). We began working on a Zepplin tune this week. Yeah, you heard me.
I got lots of solid work done today. I got many sweet kisses.
And now, the essay......
Fat
If you are looking for a heartwarming story of a fat girl who came into her own, and has the happy ending - finding the man, losing the weight and somewhere along the line learns some valuable life lessons: stop reading. This story is not for you. I learned a large (pardon the pun) part of my life lessons young, the hard way, where all hits were below the belt.
I have always been fat. In varying degrees, fat has always found me. I joke that the only time I was thin was the day I was born, and I got over that pretty quickly. I have done the diets, eaten the blessed soup three meals a day. I have almost accepted a lifetime of cautionary tales, suggestions, helpful advice, dieting tips, exercise regimens and self help books. Maybe the problem is my self esteem, a fear of failure or abandonment, or some other psychological failing attributed to being overweight. Maybe, just maybe, there is no one or no person to blame – maybe I just like food.
I used to fantasize about living in the “olden times”. The time when the only junk food available was an orange in your Christmas stocking and maple syrup from the tree in the yard. You ate what was put in front of you, because that was the only option. Now, as an adult, I know that I would have stuck my head straight under that maple spout, right in the tree, and gotten fat anyhow. There is a kind of relief that comes with knowing, no matter what the circumstances, I would have ended up the way I am.
So I guess the big question is this; is there really anything wrong with me? I have a good life. I work too much, I have money, a multitude of friends and family who love me. I’m interested and interesting and creative. I’m smart. I can read a book and understand it’s meaning without anyone explaining it to me. I can watch a movie and laugh out loud at the jokes, even the heavily disguised ones. I was lucky enough to be born Canadian, which comes with global respect and an almost complete lack of war and need. Yes, I was seriously mocked as a child. Yes, I have horrible memories – I can never think of Inspector Gadget with fondness as that was a name that followed me around for years (remember how Inspector Gadget could pull a button and his jacket would puff up so he could float away? That’s how fat I was. I never once floated away). I’ve had people I once respected tell me I’m ugly, or worse, tell me I would be pretty if I only lost some weight. I had a boyfriend once wish that I was “hotter”, and the sad ending to that tale is that I did not dump his sorry ass, I cried, pretended like it didn’t matter, and stayed with him for another two years. This is the burden of the young fat girl. Staying with, staying sad because it’s better than being alone.
Of course since all of this, I have learned that the people who make fun, the people who call names, they do this because there is something missing in their own lives. It’s not really their fault, and I’ll bet that every person who called me Inspector Gadget would feel terrible about it now, if they even remembered. It’s big to me, in my head, because it happened to me. Children have no idea the lifetimes of hurt they caused, until it is far too late, and the idea is stuck in your head forever. I don’t blame those people anymore. I also learned that it is not my parents fault (and it’s not your parent’s fault either, unless they were cruel or abusive). Our parents, they all did the best that they could, all the while trying to be an adult and get past the neurosis that THEIR parents handed down to them. There was no turning point, no “a-ha!” moment. I just stopped being mad, stopped being hurt and stopped holding onto blame, and you’ll notice, I did not lose the weight. I guess the realization that we’ve all had a hard time somewhere along the road, the knowledge that everyone has a terrible story, something holding them back, makes me feel sorry and strong, all at the same time. Being human is hard.
I was convinced for a long time (because, man, it’s been a long time) that I would never meet anyone and I would eventually die alone, only to have my evil cat do his best to devour my corpse. But if you think about it, if I think about it, that’s kind of silly isn’t it? See, as mentioned earlier, I’ve got a lot of good things going for me, and if my belly is going to get in the way of love, my fat ass is going to prevent any and all future happiness, then I’m meeting the wrong kind of man. Of course I will meet someone. He probably won’t be prince charming, but who are we kidding, I’m certainly not Cinderella. I used to think “who could possibly want me” with the cellulite, rolls and penchant for salty things. Now I think, “what is wrong with those fools who don’t want me?” Fat is a word, a dirty word. It is not me.
I used to get jealous of the girls who lost weight, my sister, my best friend. Now though, now I can be content to be happy for them. They are not better than me because they lost weight – but maybe they are better for being good to themselves. I used to feel strange about eating in front of certain people, cause we all know, people are a bunch of judgers, and most people are probably smart enough to figure out that I like food, just from looking.
My most recent lesson is that thin does not equal happy. One of the most beautiful women I have ever seen, thin and married. Not happy. It was quite a shock. Another lesson learned is that men like me anyway, regardless of my rolls. Some say it’s the confidence (I gave up caring a while ago, and I guess it shows), some say it’s the laughs. May I suggest that it’s the above, plus the boobs?
I am not writing this to tell you my life story (though it certainly seems that way right now). This began as a story, I wanted to write some fiction for you, that revolved around someone very much like myself who ended up happy, even without the man, and without losing the weight. I hate those stories that start with an unhappy fat girl who emerges a (thin) butterfly who didn’t know her own power until she was tested, dieted and cosseted. And what I have come to is, I don’t have any fiction to tell you. I am happy, without the man, without losing the weight. Weird, huh?
The Help
In other news, I was starting to feel the slight pull toward sheer panic earlier today, because of the things I don't know for school. But a little pep talk from my man, and a block of four serious hours of study later, and I feel way better about things. Can't panic. Not yet anyway. Heh.
I forgot to bring my copy of the idiots guide today, so I'm going to post an essay that I wrote about a year ago, and though it's a serious piece, don't think that I'm sad. This is probably my proudest thing, this essay, so I didn't want it to disappear in the vacuum that is the world wide web. Before I post it however, some good things - I have a choir. We had a rehearsal on Monday, and my god, these people! I'm so proud and happy....I forget about school and work and people pissing on steps. This choir makes me burst with pleasure (in the non-perv way, ya perv). We began working on a Zepplin tune this week. Yeah, you heard me.
I got lots of solid work done today. I got many sweet kisses.
And now, the essay......
Fat
If you are looking for a heartwarming story of a fat girl who came into her own, and has the happy ending - finding the man, losing the weight and somewhere along the line learns some valuable life lessons: stop reading. This story is not for you. I learned a large (pardon the pun) part of my life lessons young, the hard way, where all hits were below the belt.
I have always been fat. In varying degrees, fat has always found me. I joke that the only time I was thin was the day I was born, and I got over that pretty quickly. I have done the diets, eaten the blessed soup three meals a day. I have almost accepted a lifetime of cautionary tales, suggestions, helpful advice, dieting tips, exercise regimens and self help books. Maybe the problem is my self esteem, a fear of failure or abandonment, or some other psychological failing attributed to being overweight. Maybe, just maybe, there is no one or no person to blame – maybe I just like food.
I used to fantasize about living in the “olden times”. The time when the only junk food available was an orange in your Christmas stocking and maple syrup from the tree in the yard. You ate what was put in front of you, because that was the only option. Now, as an adult, I know that I would have stuck my head straight under that maple spout, right in the tree, and gotten fat anyhow. There is a kind of relief that comes with knowing, no matter what the circumstances, I would have ended up the way I am.
So I guess the big question is this; is there really anything wrong with me? I have a good life. I work too much, I have money, a multitude of friends and family who love me. I’m interested and interesting and creative. I’m smart. I can read a book and understand it’s meaning without anyone explaining it to me. I can watch a movie and laugh out loud at the jokes, even the heavily disguised ones. I was lucky enough to be born Canadian, which comes with global respect and an almost complete lack of war and need. Yes, I was seriously mocked as a child. Yes, I have horrible memories – I can never think of Inspector Gadget with fondness as that was a name that followed me around for years (remember how Inspector Gadget could pull a button and his jacket would puff up so he could float away? That’s how fat I was. I never once floated away). I’ve had people I once respected tell me I’m ugly, or worse, tell me I would be pretty if I only lost some weight. I had a boyfriend once wish that I was “hotter”, and the sad ending to that tale is that I did not dump his sorry ass, I cried, pretended like it didn’t matter, and stayed with him for another two years. This is the burden of the young fat girl. Staying with, staying sad because it’s better than being alone.
Of course since all of this, I have learned that the people who make fun, the people who call names, they do this because there is something missing in their own lives. It’s not really their fault, and I’ll bet that every person who called me Inspector Gadget would feel terrible about it now, if they even remembered. It’s big to me, in my head, because it happened to me. Children have no idea the lifetimes of hurt they caused, until it is far too late, and the idea is stuck in your head forever. I don’t blame those people anymore. I also learned that it is not my parents fault (and it’s not your parent’s fault either, unless they were cruel or abusive). Our parents, they all did the best that they could, all the while trying to be an adult and get past the neurosis that THEIR parents handed down to them. There was no turning point, no “a-ha!” moment. I just stopped being mad, stopped being hurt and stopped holding onto blame, and you’ll notice, I did not lose the weight. I guess the realization that we’ve all had a hard time somewhere along the road, the knowledge that everyone has a terrible story, something holding them back, makes me feel sorry and strong, all at the same time. Being human is hard.
I was convinced for a long time (because, man, it’s been a long time) that I would never meet anyone and I would eventually die alone, only to have my evil cat do his best to devour my corpse. But if you think about it, if I think about it, that’s kind of silly isn’t it? See, as mentioned earlier, I’ve got a lot of good things going for me, and if my belly is going to get in the way of love, my fat ass is going to prevent any and all future happiness, then I’m meeting the wrong kind of man. Of course I will meet someone. He probably won’t be prince charming, but who are we kidding, I’m certainly not Cinderella. I used to think “who could possibly want me” with the cellulite, rolls and penchant for salty things. Now I think, “what is wrong with those fools who don’t want me?” Fat is a word, a dirty word. It is not me.
I used to get jealous of the girls who lost weight, my sister, my best friend. Now though, now I can be content to be happy for them. They are not better than me because they lost weight – but maybe they are better for being good to themselves. I used to feel strange about eating in front of certain people, cause we all know, people are a bunch of judgers, and most people are probably smart enough to figure out that I like food, just from looking.
My most recent lesson is that thin does not equal happy. One of the most beautiful women I have ever seen, thin and married. Not happy. It was quite a shock. Another lesson learned is that men like me anyway, regardless of my rolls. Some say it’s the confidence (I gave up caring a while ago, and I guess it shows), some say it’s the laughs. May I suggest that it’s the above, plus the boobs?
I am not writing this to tell you my life story (though it certainly seems that way right now). This began as a story, I wanted to write some fiction for you, that revolved around someone very much like myself who ended up happy, even without the man, and without losing the weight. I hate those stories that start with an unhappy fat girl who emerges a (thin) butterfly who didn’t know her own power until she was tested, dieted and cosseted. And what I have come to is, I don’t have any fiction to tell you. I am happy, without the man, without losing the weight. Weird, huh?
The Help
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
The first bump in the road
It's a pretty big one, as far as bumps go. Yeah, that would be chemistry. I'm kinda guessing, as a nurse, I will need to get a handle on this chemistry stuff, but right now, I have to concentrate on not muttering "I'm screwed, I'm screwed" whenever I consider my chemistry book. This is quite a task, talking myself out of being scared shitless, but the I'm screwed mantra is not a particularly positive thing to have buzzing around in my head now is it? So right now I do drive by styles studying. I do a chunk of notes, tackle some equations (wherein the trouble lies) and then do something fun. Like shove flaming bamboo shoots under my fingernails.
I had a kick ass weekend, so it was doubly hard to get my head back in the game this week. That fundraiser I mentioned? Raised over a grand for an awesome cause, and the winning participant got $600 of that all on her lonesome. I don't do names in this here blog, but if I did, this clearly kick ass rocker chick would be the first and only. And man, am I ever glad she's on my side.
Besides that, my favorite man took me to super fancy supper at a super fancy restaurant (I wore a dress - both my dress and my cleavage were extremely popular), and then we had a hotel room, where a great deal of none of your business went on, but there was also CABLE. I stayed up half the night watching the food network. This is not a euphemism, I watched the food network. Every now and again, he would say "can we watch something else now?" and I would try not to sigh, and say of course. But he is such a good guy, he never did make me change the channel. Am I the luckiest?? I think so.
Ok, ok back to chemistry. I'm listening to the Beastie Boys while I study.....when was the last time you listened to the Beastie Boys? Look into it, these guys are unstoppable.
The Help
I had a kick ass weekend, so it was doubly hard to get my head back in the game this week. That fundraiser I mentioned? Raised over a grand for an awesome cause, and the winning participant got $600 of that all on her lonesome. I don't do names in this here blog, but if I did, this clearly kick ass rocker chick would be the first and only. And man, am I ever glad she's on my side.
Besides that, my favorite man took me to super fancy supper at a super fancy restaurant (I wore a dress - both my dress and my cleavage were extremely popular), and then we had a hotel room, where a great deal of none of your business went on, but there was also CABLE. I stayed up half the night watching the food network. This is not a euphemism, I watched the food network. Every now and again, he would say "can we watch something else now?" and I would try not to sigh, and say of course. But he is such a good guy, he never did make me change the channel. Am I the luckiest?? I think so.
Ok, ok back to chemistry. I'm listening to the Beastie Boys while I study.....when was the last time you listened to the Beastie Boys? Look into it, these guys are unstoppable.
The Help
Friday, September 24, 2010
Friday, how I missed you
I can't sleep. This has been a life long, or at least adult life, problem for me. Most of the time it's ok, most of the time it's just one of those things, I'm used to running on way less sleep then most people. I must admit, it's been way worse since I've moved to the north. The problem is once I actually get to sleep, which in itself is a pain in the ass, I wake up really easily. And because I live in "downtown" Iqaluit, I'm inundated with crazies. Whistlers aside, theres generally lots of banging, rock throwing, quads and snowmobiles, and each of these wake me up. Don't even get me started on the drunken brawls and screaming matches. Lets just say that if I ever wanted to write a soap opera, I'd have lots of dialogue fodder.
Alright, alright, enough of my moaning. So, again, with my excess of spare time, I have put together and am hosting a fundraising event tomorrow night. It's a pub crawl/scavenger hunt to raise money for the Run for the Cure (and may I say, Yay Boobies!), and last year was kind of nuts. Almost got myself thrown out of the Legion nuts. I'm anticipating another round of boozy insanity, and I've put a lot of work into it, but here's the hilarious part - turns out I can't go. Well, I can go eventually, but I will miss the event itself. And the even crazier part is - I'm oddly ok with it. I took on too much, and I'm positively DAUNTED by the idea of having to go out. Not just go out, but run the show.
It's always the same people who run these things. The same people who run the PTA, and organize the bake sales and show up for committees and town meetings. And while most of these people enjoy being busy, and maybe even have a touch of control freak in them (I'm not saying anything about the actual control freaks and the scary moms who put their kids in pageants), they do this stuff because it needs to get done, and because they genuinely want to help, and they want do good things for their community. The point is (see? I have a point), a lot of these people are like me - they have a very hard time saying no. So I'm asking, on behalf of all of those people you always see taking care of these things, take it easy. Take no for an answer. Keep the guilt trips to yourself. Lend a hand.
And for me, and for the people like me, I must learn to say no. Anyone who judges me or holds it against me is a jackass. Next year, I'm just going to donate some money.
The Help
Alright, alright, enough of my moaning. So, again, with my excess of spare time, I have put together and am hosting a fundraising event tomorrow night. It's a pub crawl/scavenger hunt to raise money for the Run for the Cure (and may I say, Yay Boobies!), and last year was kind of nuts. Almost got myself thrown out of the Legion nuts. I'm anticipating another round of boozy insanity, and I've put a lot of work into it, but here's the hilarious part - turns out I can't go. Well, I can go eventually, but I will miss the event itself. And the even crazier part is - I'm oddly ok with it. I took on too much, and I'm positively DAUNTED by the idea of having to go out. Not just go out, but run the show.
It's always the same people who run these things. The same people who run the PTA, and organize the bake sales and show up for committees and town meetings. And while most of these people enjoy being busy, and maybe even have a touch of control freak in them (I'm not saying anything about the actual control freaks and the scary moms who put their kids in pageants), they do this stuff because it needs to get done, and because they genuinely want to help, and they want do good things for their community. The point is (see? I have a point), a lot of these people are like me - they have a very hard time saying no. So I'm asking, on behalf of all of those people you always see taking care of these things, take it easy. Take no for an answer. Keep the guilt trips to yourself. Lend a hand.
And for me, and for the people like me, I must learn to say no. Anyone who judges me or holds it against me is a jackass. Next year, I'm just going to donate some money.
The Help
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Sounds like a slice of fried awesome, doesn't it?
So it turns out that desperately wishing for more hours in every day doesn't work. I've been positive thinking the SHIT out of this wish (cause of The Secret yo), but still, more hours have not arrived. My bestie said something to me today that I'm pretty sure I've never heard in my life. I mentioned how I hadn't seen him in ages, and he replied it's because I don't go out anymore. And I couldn't argue his logic, I don't go out anymore. Let me re-phrase - I don't go out for fun stuff anymore. How quickly it all changes hey? This time last year, I was partying at least twice a week. Partying hard too, none of this standing on the side lines business for me. This time last year, I was the consummate single girl in the city. I don't know how I did it, cause this time last year, I was working three jobs.....AM I CRAZY?!? Possibly.
I like to keep busy, I always have. so every moment of my down time is taken, and honestly I feel guilty if I'm not up to something all the time. I have no idea why, it's just one of those things. I'd like to think that the constant busyness would keep me out of trouble, but do not be fooled dear readers. I just get in trouble in shorter spurts now.
Remember how excited I was to have last Sunday off cause I work every Sunday and etc? Well, it didn't actually happen, but my boss promises that I have this Sunday and each Sunday on off.....which of course leads to the major question - what will I do with this whole day of free time? No work and no school. It's almost unimaginable. I have to move choir night, and in all honesty, I'm feeling really selfish because I absolutely do not want to do it on Sundays, my one free day. Is that awful? I don't actually want to know the answer there, I'm still not gonna have practises on Sundays.
I've got big plans for Sunday. I'm gonna sleep in. I'm gonna cook, and eat. Maybe go for walks. Drink hot chocolate. Maybe write, maybe study, maybe make jewelry, make music, make love. I'm going to cling to every moment of my beautiful day with a talon-like grip, cause you know it's be over in a flash. The best guy ever is making me breakfast this Sunday. Once again I say - I am the luckiest.
Now all I gotta do is make it to Sunday.
The Help
I like to keep busy, I always have. so every moment of my down time is taken, and honestly I feel guilty if I'm not up to something all the time. I have no idea why, it's just one of those things. I'd like to think that the constant busyness would keep me out of trouble, but do not be fooled dear readers. I just get in trouble in shorter spurts now.
Remember how excited I was to have last Sunday off cause I work every Sunday and etc? Well, it didn't actually happen, but my boss promises that I have this Sunday and each Sunday on off.....which of course leads to the major question - what will I do with this whole day of free time? No work and no school. It's almost unimaginable. I have to move choir night, and in all honesty, I'm feeling really selfish because I absolutely do not want to do it on Sundays, my one free day. Is that awful? I don't actually want to know the answer there, I'm still not gonna have practises on Sundays.
I've got big plans for Sunday. I'm gonna sleep in. I'm gonna cook, and eat. Maybe go for walks. Drink hot chocolate. Maybe write, maybe study, maybe make jewelry, make music, make love. I'm going to cling to every moment of my beautiful day with a talon-like grip, cause you know it's be over in a flash. The best guy ever is making me breakfast this Sunday. Once again I say - I am the luckiest.
Now all I gotta do is make it to Sunday.
The Help
Sunday, September 19, 2010
I wish I may....
Man, do I ever want to go shopping. I went to this rummage/housewares/crafts kind of sale yesterday at the highschool. It was a complete frigging gong show - and it was nothing compared to what the big Christmas craft fair is like every year.
Picture it this way - we have 2 general stores here, so everything else gets bought on line or on trips down south. Once a year there is a Christmas craft sale, like a month before Christmas. I've always gone as a seller, not as a customer, but try and imagine....oh, hell. It's a living nightmare. Theres a line up to get in for at least an hour before, cause theres no other time to go Christmas shopping. The sellers like myself arrive several hours early to set up, and to shop among ourselves, and then they open the doors. There's this mad rush of frenzied people with fist fulls of cash. It's like when the cabbage patch kids came out. Genuinely frightening, and thank goodness I'm on the other side of the table. Complete madness, and I love every minute of it.
In other news, I went to a party last night. One of my closest friend's lady friend moved to town this week. There was drinking, my yes. She brought me a bottle of Absalut pear, and I brought a bottle of sour puss. It didn't take too long for those to get mixed. What a mess.....apparently after the bottle was gone, several people tried to wash the paper plates. Heh.
May your Sunday evening be filled with hot chocolate and lovin'.
The Help
Picture it this way - we have 2 general stores here, so everything else gets bought on line or on trips down south. Once a year there is a Christmas craft sale, like a month before Christmas. I've always gone as a seller, not as a customer, but try and imagine....oh, hell. It's a living nightmare. Theres a line up to get in for at least an hour before, cause theres no other time to go Christmas shopping. The sellers like myself arrive several hours early to set up, and to shop among ourselves, and then they open the doors. There's this mad rush of frenzied people with fist fulls of cash. It's like when the cabbage patch kids came out. Genuinely frightening, and thank goodness I'm on the other side of the table. Complete madness, and I love every minute of it.
In other news, I went to a party last night. One of my closest friend's lady friend moved to town this week. There was drinking, my yes. She brought me a bottle of Absalut pear, and I brought a bottle of sour puss. It didn't take too long for those to get mixed. What a mess.....apparently after the bottle was gone, several people tried to wash the paper plates. Heh.
May your Sunday evening be filled with hot chocolate and lovin'.
The Help
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Once again, Baffled.
We all know by now that I'm the help, you may even know that I work in a hotel. I've been on this side of the desk several times, in different provinces, but I must admit, I've never seen anything anywhere that compares to what I see here daily. I mean, I'm used to being a bouncer, a mother, a tour guide, and general fix-it for complete strangers, but good god.
Case in point: the city is full right now. Like super duper full, people offering money to sleep on the couch in the lobby, full. And it will be like this for several more weeks. The thing that boggles my mind today is this - I've had to tell 3 separate people that no, I do not have any space tonight. Which in itself isn't such a big deal, except that each of these people has countered with "I don't have anywhere to go, what should I do?" I mean, shit. That's a pretty rotten position to be in, but what am I supposed to do? Kick other people (note: people WITH reservations) out? Call in the by's to build on a few extra rooms in the next couple of minutes? This is not Toronto, this is not even St. John's. There aren't a lot of options, and perhaps this is something one should think about before, oh I don't know, GETTING ON A PLANE TO THE ARCTIC?? And then to show up and verbally shit on someone who is in no way responsible for how you run your shit.....I don't know man. I believe some growing up is in order.
Anyway, I shall quit my bitching for now. I found out today that I have Sunday off this week. Which means a full day without work OR school, and it is the same one day that my fella has off this week as well. It's like my birthday and Christmas rolled into one! It's the little things folks - and coming from someone who has basically worked every Sunday for the last three years, this is an awesome treat. I believe I'm gonna have me some drinks on Saturday night (every time I've ever typed Saturday night, I get the song Saturday Night by Ned's Atomic Dustbin stuck in my head).
I still love school. I got many sweet kisses today. I am the luckiest.
The Help
Case in point: the city is full right now. Like super duper full, people offering money to sleep on the couch in the lobby, full. And it will be like this for several more weeks. The thing that boggles my mind today is this - I've had to tell 3 separate people that no, I do not have any space tonight. Which in itself isn't such a big deal, except that each of these people has countered with "I don't have anywhere to go, what should I do?" I mean, shit. That's a pretty rotten position to be in, but what am I supposed to do? Kick other people (note: people WITH reservations) out? Call in the by's to build on a few extra rooms in the next couple of minutes? This is not Toronto, this is not even St. John's. There aren't a lot of options, and perhaps this is something one should think about before, oh I don't know, GETTING ON A PLANE TO THE ARCTIC?? And then to show up and verbally shit on someone who is in no way responsible for how you run your shit.....I don't know man. I believe some growing up is in order.
Anyway, I shall quit my bitching for now. I found out today that I have Sunday off this week. Which means a full day without work OR school, and it is the same one day that my fella has off this week as well. It's like my birthday and Christmas rolled into one! It's the little things folks - and coming from someone who has basically worked every Sunday for the last three years, this is an awesome treat. I believe I'm gonna have me some drinks on Saturday night (every time I've ever typed Saturday night, I get the song Saturday Night by Ned's Atomic Dustbin stuck in my head).
I still love school. I got many sweet kisses today. I am the luckiest.
The Help
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
It shocked the hell out of me too
I've always been a pretty good student. And sadly for my prior academic career, I didn't have to try very hard to be a good student. And I was ok with that, I was still achieving things, still getting things done. But never before have I had such a desire to do well in school. Never before have I been excited to study, and to learn things, this feels AWESOME!! I think this is what people must feel like when they've found their thing, their calling. I'm not claiming that I've heard from God or anything, don't worry, I haven't reached that level of nuts (yet), but I do feel like this nursing this is what I was supposed to be doing all along.
Like, honestly, I couldn't ask for much more without being greedy. I have a good job, that I'm good at and allows me to work while going to school. I'm doing a program that I have completely fallen in love with and that if I get right, totally ensures my future career. I have this awesome boyfriend who is genuinely good people, gainfully employed, and completely behind me, no matter what I do. I think I could decide to go to clown school and he'd cheer me on. Probably honk my red rubber nose.
Don't get me wrong guys, things ain't perfect. My apartment is basically always a mess. My social life is pretty much non-existent, and I'm tired all the time. But it's a very accomplished tired, well deserved fatigue. I realise too that I'm only in week 2, so the real stress hasn't begun as such, and I know there will be times that I want to crawl into a hole, but my greatest hope is that when I do feel like disappearing, I'll remember how good I feel right now. Our instructors want us to succeed- they won't let me give up. In particular, my anatomy and chemistry instructor - he is possibly the best teacher I've ever had. He's farking hilarious, and he makes it easy to engage, and he makes you want to love this stuff as much as he clearly does.
Sigh, I'm a pretty happy chappy. I love that people read this. I expected to have one or two readers (what up Uncle Gerry!) and have this as an outlet, and it has turned into something that I care very much about. It makes me so happy that people have been reading, and participating. One woman told me that she has basically spent all of her free time on www.textsfromlastnight.com, laughing her ass off, and she heard about it here. AAAHHHHHHH!! What more could a blogger ask? A partridge in a pear tree??
For your entertainment today, I bring you www.peopleofwalmart.com. there are a zillion sites out there, putting people's shame on display, but never have I ever seen such amazingness. Try to keep in mind as you look at these pictures, they were all taken IN PUBLIC. Just do it, it'll make your day.
So for today my friends, I have work to do. As always, you are a delight, every one of ya's.
The Help
Like, honestly, I couldn't ask for much more without being greedy. I have a good job, that I'm good at and allows me to work while going to school. I'm doing a program that I have completely fallen in love with and that if I get right, totally ensures my future career. I have this awesome boyfriend who is genuinely good people, gainfully employed, and completely behind me, no matter what I do. I think I could decide to go to clown school and he'd cheer me on. Probably honk my red rubber nose.
Don't get me wrong guys, things ain't perfect. My apartment is basically always a mess. My social life is pretty much non-existent, and I'm tired all the time. But it's a very accomplished tired, well deserved fatigue. I realise too that I'm only in week 2, so the real stress hasn't begun as such, and I know there will be times that I want to crawl into a hole, but my greatest hope is that when I do feel like disappearing, I'll remember how good I feel right now. Our instructors want us to succeed- they won't let me give up. In particular, my anatomy and chemistry instructor - he is possibly the best teacher I've ever had. He's farking hilarious, and he makes it easy to engage, and he makes you want to love this stuff as much as he clearly does.
Sigh, I'm a pretty happy chappy. I love that people read this. I expected to have one or two readers (what up Uncle Gerry!) and have this as an outlet, and it has turned into something that I care very much about. It makes me so happy that people have been reading, and participating. One woman told me that she has basically spent all of her free time on www.textsfromlastnight.com, laughing her ass off, and she heard about it here. AAAHHHHHHH!! What more could a blogger ask? A partridge in a pear tree??
For your entertainment today, I bring you www.peopleofwalmart.com. there are a zillion sites out there, putting people's shame on display, but never have I ever seen such amazingness. Try to keep in mind as you look at these pictures, they were all taken IN PUBLIC. Just do it, it'll make your day.
So for today my friends, I have work to do. As always, you are a delight, every one of ya's.
The Help
Sunday, September 12, 2010
One of Each!
I have the next two days off (yay!), well, I just have school and choir, no work. I won't be around much in the next few days, so today's slice of awesome .....well, I'm already singing along.
I think I'm gonna make an apple pie tonight, and that may be my only accomplishment. Well, I've studied quite a lot in my "free time" these last few days, I gotta get my er, chef's legs back? Whats the kitchen equivalent to sea legs? Is there such a thing? Well there is now, I'm getting my chef's legs back, even just for one night, as tomorrow brings the return of school, and my first chemistry class (dun dun duuuuuuuun).
So for today's slice of deep fried awesome, it is Jenny Gear's cd. Without fail, no matter where I am, or what kind of day I've had, this cd makes me so happy. She has one of those voices, and this cd is a crazy mix of a bunch of different styles of music, and I think that's pretty awesome. The first song on the cd is written by a friend Amelia Curran, and it's probably one of my favorite tracks ever. Jenny Gear and her Whiskey Kittens. I can sing along to almost everything, I've listened to it so often, and I have yet to be anything but delighted whenever I hear it.
Let me know if you want me to save you a slice o' pie.
The Help
I think I'm gonna make an apple pie tonight, and that may be my only accomplishment. Well, I've studied quite a lot in my "free time" these last few days, I gotta get my er, chef's legs back? Whats the kitchen equivalent to sea legs? Is there such a thing? Well there is now, I'm getting my chef's legs back, even just for one night, as tomorrow brings the return of school, and my first chemistry class (dun dun duuuuuuuun).
So for today's slice of deep fried awesome, it is Jenny Gear's cd. Without fail, no matter where I am, or what kind of day I've had, this cd makes me so happy. She has one of those voices, and this cd is a crazy mix of a bunch of different styles of music, and I think that's pretty awesome. The first song on the cd is written by a friend Amelia Curran, and it's probably one of my favorite tracks ever. Jenny Gear and her Whiskey Kittens. I can sing along to almost everything, I've listened to it so often, and I have yet to be anything but delighted whenever I hear it.
Let me know if you want me to save you a slice o' pie.
The Help
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Today is Just a Slice
I'm not having a very good day today. Theres no good reason, nothing happened, or didn't happen. I even got to sleep in a little, but I guess no matter how up beat someone (me) is, every day can't be awesome. There's gonna be down days, and that's just the way the cards are dealt sometimes. I really wish I could go shopping. A little eyeshadow purchase would do me a world of good I suspect. And even though I'm not having a great day, even though I feel like soggy crap, I know that this too shall pass, it always does, and in all honesty, it's been such a long time that I've truly been in a bad mood, I gotta accept my down day with a little hint of gratitude. Imagine how exhausting it would be to hang out with someone who's always on, who's always chipper and frigging delightful. Like a cross between Robin Williams and Kenneth from 30 Rock. Ugggh.
So lets talk about something else. I survived my first week of classes, which is pretty awesome. I was most concerned about anatomy, but as it turns out, it's my favorite class so far. There may be things to complain about in the north, but the secondary schooling has blown my mind. There are 8 people in my class. If I were down south, it's much more likely that there would be 80 people in my class, if not more. There is defiantly something to be said for small classes. The instructors don't talk to us like children, they talk to us like the actually give a rats ass about how we are doing scholastically. It's quite a nice change.....a perfect example: I've decided to re-do my psychology course. The first time I did it, there was, I believe 1200 people in my class - three rooms with 400 students. The professor was on a screen, broadcast from a different building. I never actually met the man. Obviously, I'm going to achieve way more when the instructor speaks to me, knows my name, makes eye contact, and doesn't mind repeating things when I lag behind. Also, the whole text book scenario is amazing. Books cost $200 per semester for every student. I'm pretty sure my chemistry book alone is worth $200.
And it seems that whistling practise was suspended last night which was a real treat for me. I shall explain. Every. Single. Fucking. Night. A bunch of kids gather across the street from my building, and practise driving me up the wall with whistling. To their credit, they are getting much better, and their repertoire is much bigger then it used to be - they've progressed from the "you're sexy" whistle (you know which one I'm talking about, it's the same everywhere in the world) to bird sounds. Well, spawn of Satan bird sounds, but bird sounds never the less. And this, this whistling is a great improvement from what it used to be as well. They would run around "singing" (meaning shouting in unison) something that sounded very much like an Irish drinking song, and the last line (the only decipherable line) was always "fight like hell!" Try to imagine, if you will, a group of 15 ten years olds marching around Irish Drinking Songing (sort of like caroling). When I've had visitors, and they hear this singing and/or whistling, they always ask me why I don't tell them to shut up. The reasons are threefold: 1. I can't be bothered. Laziness, my yes. 2. At least they're singing and whistling, not doing drugs or beating up the place and 3. They are entertaining as hell. It could be way worse.
I'll put in another idiot segment tomorrow, but for now, I've got homework to do. Phospholipids, yes!
The Help
So lets talk about something else. I survived my first week of classes, which is pretty awesome. I was most concerned about anatomy, but as it turns out, it's my favorite class so far. There may be things to complain about in the north, but the secondary schooling has blown my mind. There are 8 people in my class. If I were down south, it's much more likely that there would be 80 people in my class, if not more. There is defiantly something to be said for small classes. The instructors don't talk to us like children, they talk to us like the actually give a rats ass about how we are doing scholastically. It's quite a nice change.....a perfect example: I've decided to re-do my psychology course. The first time I did it, there was, I believe 1200 people in my class - three rooms with 400 students. The professor was on a screen, broadcast from a different building. I never actually met the man. Obviously, I'm going to achieve way more when the instructor speaks to me, knows my name, makes eye contact, and doesn't mind repeating things when I lag behind. Also, the whole text book scenario is amazing. Books cost $200 per semester for every student. I'm pretty sure my chemistry book alone is worth $200.
And it seems that whistling practise was suspended last night which was a real treat for me. I shall explain. Every. Single. Fucking. Night. A bunch of kids gather across the street from my building, and practise driving me up the wall with whistling. To their credit, they are getting much better, and their repertoire is much bigger then it used to be - they've progressed from the "you're sexy" whistle (you know which one I'm talking about, it's the same everywhere in the world) to bird sounds. Well, spawn of Satan bird sounds, but bird sounds never the less. And this, this whistling is a great improvement from what it used to be as well. They would run around "singing" (meaning shouting in unison) something that sounded very much like an Irish drinking song, and the last line (the only decipherable line) was always "fight like hell!" Try to imagine, if you will, a group of 15 ten years olds marching around Irish Drinking Songing (sort of like caroling). When I've had visitors, and they hear this singing and/or whistling, they always ask me why I don't tell them to shut up. The reasons are threefold: 1. I can't be bothered. Laziness, my yes. 2. At least they're singing and whistling, not doing drugs or beating up the place and 3. They are entertaining as hell. It could be way worse.
I'll put in another idiot segment tomorrow, but for now, I've got homework to do. Phospholipids, yes!
The Help
Friday, September 10, 2010
You'll never believe what I've gone and done now.
So you know how I'm going to nursing school right? I'll be trucking along, writing notes, or studying or drinking coffee or shaving my legs, like not thinking about anything really, and then it'll hit me out of the blue - holy fuck, I'm gonna be a nurse. Like when I'm done with the classes, when the last bell rings (no, there's not actually a bell, I'm going for some imagery here people), people are going to depend on me. People are going to put their health in my hands. This thought doesn't scare me as such, it does weigh me down however (and that's not necessarily a bad thing). It forces me to do well. I don't want to be the person who barely passed, I want to be awesome. Christ. Ok, maybe it scares me a little.
And what pray tell have I gone and done? Two things really - I've already done a few psychology courses in university, and I had the option of skipping the first psychology this year. I decided to do it anyway. My mark was ok at best, and I was 17 when I did it. Crazy? Or trying to get this right? And, the other thing - I signed up for student council, because obviously, the full time job, full time NURSING school, the choir, the beading, and spending time with the best guy ever was not enough. I mean, there's keeping busy, and there's me. Gonzo. But I think it's gonna be ok. I'll do what I can til I can't anymore.
I was going to put in another segment of the idiot series today, but I realised I haven't done a daily slice in a while. So today's slice of deep fried awesome - http://www.dlisted.com/. This is another gossip blog, but the writer, Michael K is pretty musch the opposite of Lainey. He is disgusting, and I love it. So again, not for the faint of heart, the homophobic or my mom, but shit is he ever funny. Funny!
Kisses!
The Help
And what pray tell have I gone and done? Two things really - I've already done a few psychology courses in university, and I had the option of skipping the first psychology this year. I decided to do it anyway. My mark was ok at best, and I was 17 when I did it. Crazy? Or trying to get this right? And, the other thing - I signed up for student council, because obviously, the full time job, full time NURSING school, the choir, the beading, and spending time with the best guy ever was not enough. I mean, there's keeping busy, and there's me. Gonzo. But I think it's gonna be ok. I'll do what I can til I can't anymore.
I was going to put in another segment of the idiot series today, but I realised I haven't done a daily slice in a while. So today's slice of deep fried awesome - http://www.dlisted.com/. This is another gossip blog, but the writer, Michael K is pretty musch the opposite of Lainey. He is disgusting, and I love it. So again, not for the faint of heart, the homophobic or my mom, but shit is he ever funny. Funny!
Kisses!
The Help
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Only Six Hours to Go
It has been quite a day my friends. I've been up since, oh I don't know, really fucking early, and today has been an excellent indicator of what kind of semester I'm gonna have (meaning: complete insanity). BUT! The good news - I finally got my schedule today (an hour after school started, hilarious. I thought of you my friends, I was writing this here post in my head as I was sitting there) and I got the first of my GIANT nursing text books. Further good news, my boss was able to work with my school schedule. Right? Could things get any better? Of course! Cause I have tomorrow and Thursday off of work, so I only have school and choir for the next two days, it's practically a vacation. There's gonna be baths. There might even be some vino, oh yes.
I cannot stress enough, how very exciting it is for me that I never have to go to karaoke again. Ok, my best friend is the host, so I'll probably show my face someday, but never again will I host. It's probably for the best, I was becoming emotionally unruly (ha! that is such a polite way of saying how I was feeling). So for my friend Matthew, who deals with this business so much better then I do, I dedicate this next segment of the idiots guide.
How to Go to Karaoke (Part 11)
Some say that hosting karaoke is not a job, but it's on my resume, and I had to show up every week for those two long years. Just because I was allowed to drink during....what anyone in the hosting position will tell you, you HAVE to drink to tolerate the goings on that go on at karaoke.
Are we sensing a theme here folks?
Thank you to everyone for their well wishes. You people, my dear readers, you are the shit.
The Help
I cannot stress enough, how very exciting it is for me that I never have to go to karaoke again. Ok, my best friend is the host, so I'll probably show my face someday, but never again will I host. It's probably for the best, I was becoming emotionally unruly (ha! that is such a polite way of saying how I was feeling). So for my friend Matthew, who deals with this business so much better then I do, I dedicate this next segment of the idiots guide.
How to Go to Karaoke (Part 11)
Some say that hosting karaoke is not a job, but it's on my resume, and I had to show up every week for those two long years. Just because I was allowed to drink during....what anyone in the hosting position will tell you, you HAVE to drink to tolerate the goings on that go on at karaoke.
- No, no one is going to force you to sing. If your friends are the type to force you, don't act all surprised when they write down your name. You know your friends. The host really doesn't give a shit if you want to sing or not, and they definitely don't want to waste any time trying to talk you into it.
- Oddly, the host does not know all the numbers (song numbers, cd numbers) that coincide with every song. I LOVE it when people write down just the song name. LOVE IT! Oh yeah, there are only 12000 songs to pick from, but no no, I'm the one not doing my job if I don't know them off by heart. Pull it together!
- "You don't have the song I want!" (so much better is said in a whiny voice, and throw in a foot stomp for good measure). You are right. There are lots of songs I don't have - grow up and fuck off. If you can't find one song in 12000 that you want to sing, you are clearly not the sharpest knife in the drawer, and don't deserve the adulation that comes with being a karaoke star.
- Believe it or not, the host does have an order. There is a method to the madness, even if you can't devine that method in your drunken stupor. The person who asks every few minutes, the person who insists on being a dick about it, these are the people who's selection magically disappears. Opps.
- There is no heckling at karaoke! It's really hard to be on the business side of a mic, and some people are totally pushing their personal boundaries to do it, so keep that in mind the next time you hear a bad singer. It's FUN. Remember fun?
- If you don't sing, you don't get a vote. About song selection, priority singers....shit, even if you do sing you don't get a vote. Shut your trap and play nice.
- The whole thing goes a lot easier for all concerned if you just have another drink.
- It's a very rare instance that being friends with the host bumps you up in line. Any person that has to ask - we aren't that kind of friends. You stay in line.
- It is very bad form to pick a song and then refuse to do it, or worse, do part of the song and walk away. You don't get two chances with me, I have a VERY long memory.
- Singers, keep in mind that no one is expecting professionals. It's karaoke, chances are you're going to be ok at best. Have fun, throw in some dance moves, sing it like you mean it! Is that so much to ask?
- It's a good rule to sing songs that you have actually heard before. And if you have overestimated your knowledge of a song, you go all William Shatner on their asses. Works every time.
- As with hotels, and retail, it's the karaoke host's JOB to be an approachable party starter. This is not an invitation. i was once bitten on the leg mid-song by a really smart drunk who thought I was askin for it. I did not junk punch him in his man business, but I certainly considered it as I got him kicked out of the bar.
Are we sensing a theme here folks?
Thank you to everyone for their well wishes. You people, my dear readers, you are the shit.
The Help
Monday, September 6, 2010
A Little Late
I know it's late in the day, I got a little turned around today time-wise. I've never really gotten the hang of Tuesdays, but apparently the same time/space laws apply.
So It's Monday, I've just been informed. No wonder I'm messed up.
Tomorrow is the first day of classes so today has alternately been the longest and shortest day of my life thus far. Truth told, I'm scared to death. I keep forgetting and making plans for tomorrow, but then I remember that I may very well be in class when I'm making these plans. I don't know yet of course, as I haven't been given a schedule yet. That's right, no schedule for classes that I will be expected to attend tomorrow. Cue maniacal laughter! I'm a pretty organized broad, so all of this chaos is kind of throwing me off kilter.
Wish me sleep tonight my friends, I'm gonna need all the help I can get.
The Help
So It's Monday, I've just been informed. No wonder I'm messed up.
Tomorrow is the first day of classes so today has alternately been the longest and shortest day of my life thus far. Truth told, I'm scared to death. I keep forgetting and making plans for tomorrow, but then I remember that I may very well be in class when I'm making these plans. I don't know yet of course, as I haven't been given a schedule yet. That's right, no schedule for classes that I will be expected to attend tomorrow. Cue maniacal laughter! I'm a pretty organized broad, so all of this chaos is kind of throwing me off kilter.
Wish me sleep tonight my friends, I'm gonna need all the help I can get.
The Help
Sunday, September 5, 2010
And on the seventh Day, there was True Blood
Well, actually, there was work, then True Blood. Gonna have me a marathon tonight....a wonderful guest has loaned (lent? Whatever, gave over) the first 2 seasons of the show, and I have seen maybe 5 episodes up to now, and it's very exciting times for me. I like those HBO shows, I like the fact that they don't hold back on the bloodletting or the swearing. And sometimes frontal nudity! Whoo-hooo!!
Lets talk about the bloodletting thing shall we? People ask me all the time why zombies, mayhem, and horror movies (I basically only watch horror and comedies. I think life provides enough drama, fuck it). What is the deep seated psychological reason behind my blood lust? No idea. I love the gore, and I live for inventive killing techniques. Like Diary of the Dead, one of King Romero's most recent efforts, is a godforsaken pile of crap but it has one redeeming quality - the kills are interesting. At one point, the group of characters is in a hospital, and when a member of the recently undead comes for one of the cast members (Good old George, he's a fan of the old school slow moving zombie), she puts defibrillator pads on either side of the zombie's head and zaps. Eyeballs explode, brains leaking......aah, good times. The helicopter blade massacre in 28 Weeks Later? Forget about it. I'm almost never scared by any of these movies, and double plus bonus, I am completely prepared for the zompocolypse.
So last night I went to a bonfire. There was just 4 of us there for most of it, and it was really chill. At one point, my fella and I walked far enough away from the fire that we couldn't really see the fire light anymore. And then we looked up. My God, talk about the wonder of the universe. It was possibly the most amazing thing I've ever seen. It was like we could see til the end of the world. I've never seen so many stars, such a wide scope of sky, uninterrupted by light pollution. It's nights like that, when the northern lights come out to dance for us, and a shooting star makes it's trek across the sky (for real), the most wonderful man has his arm around me.....it's nights like that that make me forget. I forget about school stress, and fear, and annoyance and bad service. It's nights like last night that make me realise how very lucky I am. I see amazing, beautiful things that MOST people in the world will never ever see, and I am so grateful. Shit, I wish I could paint. But maybe the view, and the world, and the universe I saw last night, this giant vista of sheer awesome, maybe it's better just in my head.
I will leave you at that my friends, til next time.
The Help
Lets talk about the bloodletting thing shall we? People ask me all the time why zombies, mayhem, and horror movies (I basically only watch horror and comedies. I think life provides enough drama, fuck it). What is the deep seated psychological reason behind my blood lust? No idea. I love the gore, and I live for inventive killing techniques. Like Diary of the Dead, one of King Romero's most recent efforts, is a godforsaken pile of crap but it has one redeeming quality - the kills are interesting. At one point, the group of characters is in a hospital, and when a member of the recently undead comes for one of the cast members (Good old George, he's a fan of the old school slow moving zombie), she puts defibrillator pads on either side of the zombie's head and zaps. Eyeballs explode, brains leaking......aah, good times. The helicopter blade massacre in 28 Weeks Later? Forget about it. I'm almost never scared by any of these movies, and double plus bonus, I am completely prepared for the zompocolypse.
So last night I went to a bonfire. There was just 4 of us there for most of it, and it was really chill. At one point, my fella and I walked far enough away from the fire that we couldn't really see the fire light anymore. And then we looked up. My God, talk about the wonder of the universe. It was possibly the most amazing thing I've ever seen. It was like we could see til the end of the world. I've never seen so many stars, such a wide scope of sky, uninterrupted by light pollution. It's nights like that, when the northern lights come out to dance for us, and a shooting star makes it's trek across the sky (for real), the most wonderful man has his arm around me.....it's nights like that that make me forget. I forget about school stress, and fear, and annoyance and bad service. It's nights like last night that make me realise how very lucky I am. I see amazing, beautiful things that MOST people in the world will never ever see, and I am so grateful. Shit, I wish I could paint. But maybe the view, and the world, and the universe I saw last night, this giant vista of sheer awesome, maybe it's better just in my head.
I will leave you at that my friends, til next time.
The Help
Saturday, September 4, 2010
The Hangover Crises of 2010 has passed
Alright, so maybe it was only a crises to me, but it felt like the battle of the end of days was happening inside my noggin for much of yesterday. See, I drink Jack Daniels. Jack Daniels with water as my mix. The brave few who have tried it have decided that it tastes like either perfume or nail polish remover. I think it tastes like awesome, but it is very, very hard on the head. Like getting beaten up from the inside out. It would probably be best if I talked about something else now, all this JD talk is making me shaky and scared.
I'm feelin less bitter toward the world today as well, which is probably nice for everyone, in particular, my fella. I don't think I was very pleasant to be around yesterday. I finally, after about 2 weeks of wrangling, procured a plane ticket off of the wonderful people over at aeroplan (oh, how my tune changed when I actually got the ticket), so for the first time ever since I've moved here, I will be flying down south in December. Gonna visit my man, some friends, and a giant cheese. I also ordered beads today - in my obviously copious spare time, I make jewelry. So the bead shopping was a treat. Yep, I've got the world on a string here today.
So in the spirit of my lack of hangover, I present to you another segment in the Idiot series -
How to Party (Part 14)
Everyone, including you, needs to party more. The world would be a much nicer place if everyone spent a little more time getting stupid. At 33, I figured I'd be past the partying stage, but no, I party. Remember when you were 22? Me either, so it must have been a hell of a good time:
Happy Saturday my friends.
The Help
I'm feelin less bitter toward the world today as well, which is probably nice for everyone, in particular, my fella. I don't think I was very pleasant to be around yesterday. I finally, after about 2 weeks of wrangling, procured a plane ticket off of the wonderful people over at aeroplan (oh, how my tune changed when I actually got the ticket), so for the first time ever since I've moved here, I will be flying down south in December. Gonna visit my man, some friends, and a giant cheese. I also ordered beads today - in my obviously copious spare time, I make jewelry. So the bead shopping was a treat. Yep, I've got the world on a string here today.
So in the spirit of my lack of hangover, I present to you another segment in the Idiot series -
How to Party (Part 14)
Everyone, including you, needs to party more. The world would be a much nicer place if everyone spent a little more time getting stupid. At 33, I figured I'd be past the partying stage, but no, I party. Remember when you were 22? Me either, so it must have been a hell of a good time:
- Better to over dress then under dress. So you may be the only person in a skirt and heels, but wait! What's that sound? That's the sound of everyone noticing you.
- Don't plan too much. You've got 14 parties you are supposed to hit up tonight - bring enough cab money, but also resign yourself to the fact that you may not want to leave the first party, let alone the 8th. If you're having a laugh, you are not missing out.
- Bring only the essentials - ID, money, booze, lipgloss, condoms. Think about what you're bringing before you go. If you end up drinking in an ally somewheres, you don't want to be lugging around a duffle bag full of foundation and spare pantyhose. If you don't want to carry it, don't bring it.
- Know that (if it's a good party), by the end of the night, you're going to look and smell like a wet ashtray, no matter how much prep time you put in or how much crap you haul around with you.
- Life is too short for shitty parties! If you aren't having a kick ass time, pull up stakes and get the truck out of there. Any hot number such as yourself will find a fresh new gig double time.
- Don't leave your friends behind. Or let them get felt up by nasty dudes with facepaint in the living room corner. Also, if a friend wants to leave, take their word for it - fuck off with the moaning and the guilt trips. Let them be adult enough to decide for themselves. Help them get home, it doesn't mean you have to pack it in right?
- This is very, very important. Partying often leads to drinking. Drinking often leads to drunkness. Drunkness inevitably leads to DUMBASS BEHAVIOR. I once had a friend physically remove the phone from my apartment so I couldn't drunk dial an ex. He gave me back my phone the next day and will forever be exempt from my "people to kill" list. Friendship yo.
- If you see an ex - friend/partner/sister in law, don't get into it at the party. Neither of you will be making any sense and it just brings everyone down. Don't be a buzz kill man.
- Know your limits, drinking, drugs, gambling, strippers. Know when enough is enough. If you just got hitched to a busty gal named Candy, you may be over the line. If you've vomited on anyone (especially Candy) you have crossed over. If you have come to the realisation that you have licked several people's faces, go home. You've had enough.
- If the cops come: firstly, congrats, clearly it's a kickin' shin dig. Secondly, don't argue with the cops. They don't give a fiddler's fuck about what you were up to before they arrived (unless there was virgins being sacrificed or something), chances are, they just want you to simmer down some. turn the music down, stop riding the dog like a bull, put your clothes back on.The cops don't want to arrest you, they want to get on to the next call.
- If you are going to get it on at a party, EVERYONE will know about it soon enough, and you have just engraved your own gossip invitation. All in good fun right?
Happy Saturday my friends.
The Help
Friday, September 3, 2010
I would like to preface by saying I have a hangover. This hangover seems to have a life of it's own, this is a vile beast of a hangover, haven't had one this bad in a while. But there was no morning after puking, which in the few times it has happened, I've found very alarming. I mean shit, it cannot be a good sign if you actually couldn't sleep it off. Perhaps my liver is actually trying to up and run away. I'm not telling you this for sympathy's sake, I'm telling you so that if I seem particularly rotten today, it's because everything is colored by a slightly green, nauseous, vaguely fuzzy patina.
There's days I really hate living here. And yes, I do understand that no matter where in the world I am, there will be days that I hate living there, even the far greener pastures of Newfoundland. Please to tell dear Help, why so bitter? Well I'll tell you. Aside from the awful bureaucratic frenzy that has been the start of my northern academic career, I've had a pretty heavy case of south-sickness these last few days. Not home-sickness as such, it's defiantly a south thing. I can't tell you what I would give to be able to go to a bookstore. Have a latte. I went looking for some kind of treat for myself yesterday, as I was really needing a little retail therapy, and the two stores that are available didn't offer any relief. I went home empty handed. Do you know how nice it would be to be able to buy a t-shirt, just because? So take delight in these things, my friends who live in the south. Think about how lucky you are to be able to go and sit under a tree.
Case in point: there are basically four restaurants in this fair city. Four that offer sit down, people will bring you food, service. There are other options, sort of, but that's not what we're talking about today. I have a group of friends, and generally once a week, we get together for lunch at one of these establishments. It's really nice for us, it's a cool oasis where none of us (meaning me) have to cook. Of the four restaurants, there is one we cannot visit because it is the former employer of one of the group. We are down to three. The one place we visit the most often has typically laughable service, but it is again something that one becomes accustomed to in the north. We overlook. We don't complain. We keep going back. But today dear readers, even the usual craptastic service, was above and beyond. They outdid themselves this day, and everyone in the group left roaring mad. I won't get into the major details, cause really who cares besides us, but I will say this - everyone was late for work. I had to miss an entire orientation event because they took so long getting it together. And the bit that really galls me is that we all had to pay FULL PRICE to have them fuck up our day. If we were in the south, this restaurant would be out of business. If this were the south, these managers who were afraid to look any of us in the eye, would be kissing our asses so we didn't tell everyone and their sister of our ordeal. There would be free dessert. And that is another reason why I have this deep seated south-sickness. They treat us poorly, offer "two slices of deep fried awful (so says my good friend Chris)", and give us food that is ok at best. They do this because they can. What are our alternatives? We are running out of restaurants. Try, my southern friends, to wrap your head around the notion that there are TWO PLACES you can go. Scary isn't it?
I realise that there are many things wrong with the world, that there is hunger and strife and Miley Cyrus assaulting the eardrums of our fragile youth, and so my grievance with exceptionally poor service my seem a tad shallow, but the day to day living in the north is never easy, and so a life stripped of simple pleasures is a very frightening prospect.
But enough. There have been good bits from these last few days as well. Last night was my last time hosting karaoke after a 2 year run, and most everyone I've ever known and loved in this city came out for the final showdown. I sang my ass off, shook it like I owned it, and of course got silly drunk.
Several people who's opinion I hold very dear told me that they love my blog, and send it on to their friends. I've had almost 500 views of this here blog in the scant week that I've been doing it. I only figured out how to check the stats yesterday, and I was completely boggled. So for that, thank you.
My choir had it's first rehearsal of the season last night, and I'm still high. It was such a joy, we all left walkin on sunshine.
I got many sweet kisses today. I am a lucky girl indeed.
So today's slice of deep fried awesome: www.fmylife.com. Whatever kind of bad day you've had, these poor mo-fo's have had it much worse, promise. These are little tales, and they are all so mortifying, you start to feel good about yourself, cause while lunch may have been shitty, and there's no place to buy books or shoes, at least no one pissed on your pillow and stole your grandmother. Silver lining right?
I hope today is the best day of your life. And I hope tomorrow is better.
Love,
The Help
There's days I really hate living here. And yes, I do understand that no matter where in the world I am, there will be days that I hate living there, even the far greener pastures of Newfoundland. Please to tell dear Help, why so bitter? Well I'll tell you. Aside from the awful bureaucratic frenzy that has been the start of my northern academic career, I've had a pretty heavy case of south-sickness these last few days. Not home-sickness as such, it's defiantly a south thing. I can't tell you what I would give to be able to go to a bookstore. Have a latte. I went looking for some kind of treat for myself yesterday, as I was really needing a little retail therapy, and the two stores that are available didn't offer any relief. I went home empty handed. Do you know how nice it would be to be able to buy a t-shirt, just because? So take delight in these things, my friends who live in the south. Think about how lucky you are to be able to go and sit under a tree.
Case in point: there are basically four restaurants in this fair city. Four that offer sit down, people will bring you food, service. There are other options, sort of, but that's not what we're talking about today. I have a group of friends, and generally once a week, we get together for lunch at one of these establishments. It's really nice for us, it's a cool oasis where none of us (meaning me) have to cook. Of the four restaurants, there is one we cannot visit because it is the former employer of one of the group. We are down to three. The one place we visit the most often has typically laughable service, but it is again something that one becomes accustomed to in the north. We overlook. We don't complain. We keep going back. But today dear readers, even the usual craptastic service, was above and beyond. They outdid themselves this day, and everyone in the group left roaring mad. I won't get into the major details, cause really who cares besides us, but I will say this - everyone was late for work. I had to miss an entire orientation event because they took so long getting it together. And the bit that really galls me is that we all had to pay FULL PRICE to have them fuck up our day. If we were in the south, this restaurant would be out of business. If this were the south, these managers who were afraid to look any of us in the eye, would be kissing our asses so we didn't tell everyone and their sister of our ordeal. There would be free dessert. And that is another reason why I have this deep seated south-sickness. They treat us poorly, offer "two slices of deep fried awful (so says my good friend Chris)", and give us food that is ok at best. They do this because they can. What are our alternatives? We are running out of restaurants. Try, my southern friends, to wrap your head around the notion that there are TWO PLACES you can go. Scary isn't it?
I realise that there are many things wrong with the world, that there is hunger and strife and Miley Cyrus assaulting the eardrums of our fragile youth, and so my grievance with exceptionally poor service my seem a tad shallow, but the day to day living in the north is never easy, and so a life stripped of simple pleasures is a very frightening prospect.
But enough. There have been good bits from these last few days as well. Last night was my last time hosting karaoke after a 2 year run, and most everyone I've ever known and loved in this city came out for the final showdown. I sang my ass off, shook it like I owned it, and of course got silly drunk.
Several people who's opinion I hold very dear told me that they love my blog, and send it on to their friends. I've had almost 500 views of this here blog in the scant week that I've been doing it. I only figured out how to check the stats yesterday, and I was completely boggled. So for that, thank you.
My choir had it's first rehearsal of the season last night, and I'm still high. It was such a joy, we all left walkin on sunshine.
I got many sweet kisses today. I am a lucky girl indeed.
So today's slice of deep fried awesome: www.fmylife.com. Whatever kind of bad day you've had, these poor mo-fo's have had it much worse, promise. These are little tales, and they are all so mortifying, you start to feel good about yourself, cause while lunch may have been shitty, and there's no place to buy books or shoes, at least no one pissed on your pillow and stole your grandmother. Silver lining right?
I hope today is the best day of your life. And I hope tomorrow is better.
Love,
The Help
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
No more coffee for me today!! Will try and curb my exclamation point use!!!
I'm kind of hovering above my chair, ready for take off. I don't usually drink this much caffeine, and my, it's hit me like a wet brick here today. I got up super early for orientation (which I did show up to - a mere 20 minutes late. Those 20 minutes were spent trying to figure out where in hell it was), and had some crazy tea, and thus the caffeine spiral began. ANYWAY, orientation was, uh, something. People kept asking me if I was an instructor, my sunglasses were stolen during a 3 minute getting to know you exercise, and if anything I am way more scared then I was this time yesterday. But it'll be ok, every little thing is gonna be alright. Bob Marley told me so.
So today I'm going to add another Idiot segment. I've decided to go out of order, and this segment, "How to Be a Friend" is one of my faves.
How to Be a Friend (Part 4)
Ever since the big guy put the first two idiots out of Eden and told 'em to multiply, we have been on an all idiots, all the time joyride. Thankfully we have friends to hold us up. Again, this seems pretty basic, but we are a BUNCH OF IDIOTS, so we need all the help we can get:
So wish me luck in the madhouse tomorrow.
Go do something nice for someone you love.
The Help
So today I'm going to add another Idiot segment. I've decided to go out of order, and this segment, "How to Be a Friend" is one of my faves.
How to Be a Friend (Part 4)
Ever since the big guy put the first two idiots out of Eden and told 'em to multiply, we have been on an all idiots, all the time joyride. Thankfully we have friends to hold us up. Again, this seems pretty basic, but we are a BUNCH OF IDIOTS, so we need all the help we can get:
- No, it's not ok to call up a friend in the middle of the night to borrow money for lap dances. In fact, you probably shouldn't call in the middle of the night in general. If someone calls me in the middle of the night, I want to see either a bone sticking out of skin, or a corpse.
- There are two simple ways to fuck up a solid friendship: money and sex. Don't have sex with your friends fool! And money....have you ever watched Judge Judy? That is why you should never lend your friends money. Obviously, I'm not talking about the cost of a meal if your wallet gets left home, I'm talking real advances. Money for car payments, or rent, or the quickie annulment after your most recent trip to Vegas.
- If you have messed up, and done one of the above, it's ok, there are solutions. About money: write it down, make a re-payment plan and stick to it even though it sucks to get all up in your peep's grill. Think how much worse it will be after a few months, and you haven't said anything, and they're scared you're going to, so they've found new friends, and you're resenting being the good guy.....you know what, just don't lend your friends money. and the sex issue. First you have to figure out if you want to get it on again, or if that one ride on the platonic hobby horse is enough.If it's just the one time, know that shit is gonna be awkward and weird for a little while, and then you'll both move on. If you want to do it more then once, then you're either getting into a relationship, or becoming (dun dun duuuuuun) friends with benefits. I may be an idiot, but I'm not that stupid.
- The debate every person has had with themselves at least once in their lives - because I'm a good friend, do I say something about the stupid hair/fat ass/bad choices in partners/BO? Or, because I'm a good friend, do I never ever say anything about the unibrow/shoulder pads/hippie stank? This is a very tough debate, and I think it hinges on several factors. You never say anything about fat, life choices, or partners (think of it this way - if they stay together forever, who was the asshole that doubted and spoke up? Holy lifetime of resentment Batman). You never say anything about coulda, woulda, shoulda (yeah, cause you want to hear I told you so from someone besides mom). The other stuff, weigh in only if it gets brought up. In private. With kindness and love. You gotta remember, these people probably don't realise that they smell or whatever, and it certainly was never their intention to draw attention to themselves in such a negative way.
- Don't bail on your friends to get laid. at the beginning of a relationship, poeple are going to disappear for a bit, it's inevitable. Don't be the person who disappears forever. Don't be the person who forgets that they had a whole wide life before meeting the new fun times partner.
- Give your friends a hundred chances. Or better yet, don't count the chances.
- Know that, sometimes things said, even out of love, can cut to the bone.
- A true friend never brings a friend on Maury Povich. Or forgets a birthday, or pulls away when lovin' is needed. You don't need to buy extravagant gifts, or leap to action every time something is wrong. More often the knowledge of not being alone, knowing that there is always someone in your corner is far better then any potential beat down a friend could provide.
- If you ever make a friend choose between you and another loved one, you will be the one to lose. Everytime.
- To paraphrase the great Chip and Pepper, "friends don't let friends wear speedos". Also, friends don't let friends have mullets, butt bows on wedding dresses, Twilight obsessions, listen to the Eagles, or wear dresses that are the equivalent of poring ten pounds of sugar in a five pound bag. Or crocs. Under any circumstances, crocs are not ok.
So wish me luck in the madhouse tomorrow.
Go do something nice for someone you love.
The Help
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