"I think I could do much better..."
- Whale Tooth, Clever
Last night was the Final Steps to Sisterhood ceremony for my sorority. It took us 13 hours to introduce nine new sisters. I think Chaser was very pleased with the sister name I picked out for her. I have decided my new blog nickname for her will be Sister Heart, as a vague reference to the Mother Mother album O My Heart (because I used Mother Mother heavily as a factor in her sister name haha). When I got home around 5:30 am I put my things down by the door, walked upstairs, took my glasses off, and passed out on my couch, still wearing what I had been wearing for the end of our ceremony.
I am thinking I need to embark on a month-long cleaning journey in my room. I am the messiest person I know. To my credit, there is nothing gross about the mess in my room - there is no food garbage, and cleaning my cat's litter box is done very frequently. I also regularly put baking soda in it because I have grown to be incapable of smelling cat-smell in my room so I have to stay ahead of it. I just don't have a lot of storage space and am also very lazy, so everything I touch tends to end up on the floor. Books, clothes (if I don't feel like throwing them in the laundry basket... which I usually don't), magazines, papers, shoes, make up, jewellery, etc. It all finds its way to the floor and stays there. I want my room to be super clean when I leave for Katimavik though. I want to make sure that my cat will be as comfortable as possible and that my sister will actually want to spend time in there - because in addition to feeding, watering, grooming, and cleaning up after her, I need her to keep the kitty company. She's going to miss me a lot, I know. As it is right now, even I don't want to be in there.
The worst thing about trying to clean my room is that something is wrong with the wiring so the only light I can get is from a desk lamp and my door if I open the curtains. So when I'm most awake and willing to clean, which is in the middle of the night, I can't actually see well enough to do anything.
I start my new job on Monday (yeah, I got it!) so maybe I'll manage to switch my sleep schedule around and be alert in the afternoons and then I can get some stuff done. That would be pretty awesome.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Three Nights In Bars
"But for the planets, and the stars, and everything else, and Mars - it's like paradise, spread out on a butter knife!"
- Mother Mother, The Stand
On Friday night, Cat and I went on the Superhero Pubcrawl organised by my sorority. It was the first time either of us had done a pubcrawl, and it was a great night. One small blip in the form of a panicky thing in the bathroom of the last bar we visited, but it was 1:30ish and almost everyone else had left at that point and Cat and the two remaining sisters assured me they didn't mind that I needed to leave right then.
On Saturday, after spending most of the day in a weird depressed fog to the point that I almost called in sick to work, I went out on the town with Love for the first time in a few months. She thought she might be ready to enjoy herself in public for the first time since losing Angel. And truly, we both had a good time. We danced, talked, and laughed. And for two glorious minutes, I got a little back massage from a friend of ours who works the bar at night and works as a masseuse during the day. Haha. So that was nice.
Then on Monday, finally, after what felt like months of waiting, it was the Mother Mother concert! Wrecking Ball, Cat, Hey Rosetta!, and I (along with a guy we know from high school that I referred to as "the boy with the guitar" in March... but not sure if he really warrants his own nickname... so we'll see) piled into the car for the hour and a half drive to the same bar in which we had seen them perform back in April. We listened to the radio on the way down, with Hey Rosetta! and I working ourselves into giddy fits of laughter over some potty humour. The concert itself was fabulous, as was to be expected. The opening act was unfortunately not Whale Tooth, but Rococode, who opened for them back in Toronto. So they weren't wholly unfamiliar, but I really missed the performance value of Whale Tooth's Elise.
I took a lot less pictures that night than I have at their previous shows. I realised a few minutes in to the concert that the only difference between the pictures I was taking and the ones I already had were the band members' outfits and the fact that I was a bit farther back from the stage than usual. So I made sure to grab the shot I like - Jasmin using the megaphone during The Stand - and ignored my cameraphone for the rest of the night. I didn't even bother to record the performances of Ghosting or Wrecking Ball as I have in the past, because I haven't actually watched any of those recordings. It was better to just sway or bounce or just move to the music without worrying about what it was going to do to the recording. I was able to enjoy the songs a lot more.
I wanted to talk about changes I've noticed the band making to their performances. I wanted to do a second entry about getting fancy things in the mail. But I was up way later than I should have been last night and miraculously woke up at a decent hour anyway - which means I need to go to sleep right. This. Minute.
More later.
- Mother Mother, The Stand
On Friday night, Cat and I went on the Superhero Pubcrawl organised by my sorority. It was the first time either of us had done a pubcrawl, and it was a great night. One small blip in the form of a panicky thing in the bathroom of the last bar we visited, but it was 1:30ish and almost everyone else had left at that point and Cat and the two remaining sisters assured me they didn't mind that I needed to leave right then.
On Saturday, after spending most of the day in a weird depressed fog to the point that I almost called in sick to work, I went out on the town with Love for the first time in a few months. She thought she might be ready to enjoy herself in public for the first time since losing Angel. And truly, we both had a good time. We danced, talked, and laughed. And for two glorious minutes, I got a little back massage from a friend of ours who works the bar at night and works as a masseuse during the day. Haha. So that was nice.
Then on Monday, finally, after what felt like months of waiting, it was the Mother Mother concert! Wrecking Ball, Cat, Hey Rosetta!, and I (along with a guy we know from high school that I referred to as "the boy with the guitar" in March... but not sure if he really warrants his own nickname... so we'll see) piled into the car for the hour and a half drive to the same bar in which we had seen them perform back in April. We listened to the radio on the way down, with Hey Rosetta! and I working ourselves into giddy fits of laughter over some potty humour. The concert itself was fabulous, as was to be expected. The opening act was unfortunately not Whale Tooth, but Rococode, who opened for them back in Toronto. So they weren't wholly unfamiliar, but I really missed the performance value of Whale Tooth's Elise.
I took a lot less pictures that night than I have at their previous shows. I realised a few minutes in to the concert that the only difference between the pictures I was taking and the ones I already had were the band members' outfits and the fact that I was a bit farther back from the stage than usual. So I made sure to grab the shot I like - Jasmin using the megaphone during The Stand - and ignored my cameraphone for the rest of the night. I didn't even bother to record the performances of Ghosting or Wrecking Ball as I have in the past, because I haven't actually watched any of those recordings. It was better to just sway or bounce or just move to the music without worrying about what it was going to do to the recording. I was able to enjoy the songs a lot more.
I wanted to talk about changes I've noticed the band making to their performances. I wanted to do a second entry about getting fancy things in the mail. But I was up way later than I should have been last night and miraculously woke up at a decent hour anyway - which means I need to go to sleep right. This. Minute.
More later.
Friday, November 18, 2011
47 Days Before
"And it rains when you're gone."
- Taylor Swift, Forever and Always
This afternoon I had a job interview for a jewellery store downtown and I have a reasonable amount of confidence that I got the job; I'll be hearing from the owner on Tuesday. I think I got the job because: she didn't say anything about other prospective hires; she needs someone to work while another one of her employees goes to Dubai, so obviously she'll be hiring someone; and I am leaving just as this other employee comes back, so right when she's faced with the awkward "do I fire her or just cut everyone's hours" choice that comes with the post-holiday dip that seems to affect every business from fast food to cellphone sales, I'll just slip away and she doesn't need to worry about it. She did say one thing that really threw me through a loop at the end of the interview though. She said that if she chooses to hire me (which, again, I strongly feel like she already has... knock on wood!) then the time that I'm leaving is great, "and if you come back, you can give me a call..." If I come back. If I come back. If.
That's a really weird one. Because truly, nothing says I have to come back. I could stay in Alberta, or go back to Saguenay (I have always thought I'd like to live in Quebec for a prolonged amount of time... not permanently, as I'd like to raise a family in an English community, but I do so enjoy speaking French...). I'd have months to find a place to live and a job before I even got there. To be honest, I don't think it had even occurred to me to not come back. But I suppose the option exists, right? I do fully intend to come back. I love my cat, and my sorority, and all of my friends. But it was an interesting thing to imagine while daydreaming later this afternoon.
I was reading the December Cosmo tonight (because it finally came in the mail after having been in stores for weeks) and it said that bringing a boyfriend to a wedding can make or break your relationship because apparently how each of you feels when you watch another couple walk down the aisle can trigger emotions, blah blah blah, reflect on the feelings you have for each other, blah blah blah, says more about your stance on commitment than on the relationship you're in. Or something. But I had to laugh when I read it, because I feel like if any early-January relationship event is going to "make or break" things with Wrecking Ball, it will be the fact that I hop on a plane to Quebec, saying "see you in six months!" In what I think is an understandable state of mind, I'm hardly worried about what either of us will think while we're chilling in the jacuzzi post-reception (because yeah, I sprung for a real nice room. After all, it's only one night).
Recap of tonight's Katima-feelings: Although I'm sure I'll come back, it's interesting to think about the fact that nothing says I have to; Cosmo magazine has rather silly advice sometimes and I don't think taking Wrecking Ball to a wedding will be a big deal, particularly since it will be only short days before I leave.
- Taylor Swift, Forever and Always
This afternoon I had a job interview for a jewellery store downtown and I have a reasonable amount of confidence that I got the job; I'll be hearing from the owner on Tuesday. I think I got the job because: she didn't say anything about other prospective hires; she needs someone to work while another one of her employees goes to Dubai, so obviously she'll be hiring someone; and I am leaving just as this other employee comes back, so right when she's faced with the awkward "do I fire her or just cut everyone's hours" choice that comes with the post-holiday dip that seems to affect every business from fast food to cellphone sales, I'll just slip away and she doesn't need to worry about it. She did say one thing that really threw me through a loop at the end of the interview though. She said that if she chooses to hire me (which, again, I strongly feel like she already has... knock on wood!) then the time that I'm leaving is great, "and if you come back, you can give me a call..." If I come back. If I come back. If.
That's a really weird one. Because truly, nothing says I have to come back. I could stay in Alberta, or go back to Saguenay (I have always thought I'd like to live in Quebec for a prolonged amount of time... not permanently, as I'd like to raise a family in an English community, but I do so enjoy speaking French...). I'd have months to find a place to live and a job before I even got there. To be honest, I don't think it had even occurred to me to not come back. But I suppose the option exists, right? I do fully intend to come back. I love my cat, and my sorority, and all of my friends. But it was an interesting thing to imagine while daydreaming later this afternoon.
I was reading the December Cosmo tonight (because it finally came in the mail after having been in stores for weeks) and it said that bringing a boyfriend to a wedding can make or break your relationship because apparently how each of you feels when you watch another couple walk down the aisle can trigger emotions, blah blah blah, reflect on the feelings you have for each other, blah blah blah, says more about your stance on commitment than on the relationship you're in. Or something. But I had to laugh when I read it, because I feel like if any early-January relationship event is going to "make or break" things with Wrecking Ball, it will be the fact that I hop on a plane to Quebec, saying "see you in six months!" In what I think is an understandable state of mind, I'm hardly worried about what either of us will think while we're chilling in the jacuzzi post-reception (because yeah, I sprung for a real nice room. After all, it's only one night).
Recap of tonight's Katima-feelings: Although I'm sure I'll come back, it's interesting to think about the fact that nothing says I have to; Cosmo magazine has rather silly advice sometimes and I don't think taking Wrecking Ball to a wedding will be a big deal, particularly since it will be only short days before I leave.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
51 Days Before
"That's when I see you, with loving arms to fall into."
- Vengaboys, Kiss (When The Sun Don't Shine)
Tonight I am wondering:
1. what to pack
2. when to pack
3. if I can teach my sister how to use skype so I can still see my cat
4. whether or not the other girls in my group will like me (I have met two through Facebook; one of them legit looks like Megan Fox with a hint of Angelina Jolie)
5. what to do about the birthdays I'll be missing while I'm gone (I can think of 5 right off the top of my head)
6. to whom I'll be writing letters and whether or not I should bring stamps with me when I go
7. when to start work when I come back
8. if I should gamble with a new haircut before I go (I've been considering getting a real hairdresser to give me bangs)
The answers I have come up with are:
1a. I just shouldn't think about packing yet, but I'll make a list towards the end of December.
1b. But I know for sure I want to bring some of my favourite books, and my laptop (because I can't exist without my music). I want to bring my stuffy, Puppy, because I've never been away from him for long (he even came with me when I moved out) but at the same time I don't want to risk something happening to him - or worse, getting laughed at for still being sentimentally attached to a stuffed dalmatian. Maybe I'll leave him with someone I really trust and ask them to cuddle him if they miss me? Or maybe I'm actually insane. Also I don't know which shoes I want to bring. Do I even own winter boots? I may need to go shopping before I leave.
2. I'm super excited to go and want to pack like, yesterday. Buuuut realistically it needs to be done much more last minute. But not day-before last minute because what if something's missing and I'm packing at 11:30pm and don't have any way to acquire whatever it is that I only just then realised I don't have?! So I'm thinking maybe January 2.
3. I probably can, but I should probably use Skype to see people, not kitty. But I'll miss her :(
4. I'm pretty sure they will, and judging from what I've seen from other people I know who have gone, I'll actually get super tight with someone and we'll miss each other loads when the program is done. But that doesn't mean there won't be one or two people who don't like me and that does actually terrify me.
5. I already know I will be missing the birthdays of: Eevee (Jan 6), Jewel (Jan 13), Wrecking Ball (Feb 22), Hamlet (Apr 11) and my little sister (June 17). Those are just the birthdays I remember. Ok, I didn't honestly remember Hamlet's birthday, but I remembered it was in April so I just checked on Facebook for the actual date. I just really don't have the budget to get all of those people a gift before I go and then send it to them while I'm gone. And I know you're probably thinking "um, send them cards, duh", but I really enjoy giving people presents. Then again, what I enjoy is seeing them open it and like it, which I couldn't experience anyway...
6. I definitely want to write to Hey Rosetta!, Love, Wrecking Ball, and my sister. I can keep in touch with people through phone calls and Facebook, but I feel like writing will be a nice way to stay in touch too. I enjoy sending and receiving letters. I think I told Chaser I'd send her letters too. And I want to write to my sponsored child once or twice so that she knows I'm still thinking about her. But will I really have time to write that many letters? And also, stamps. I should probably just bring them with me when I go. Except for the ones for my sponsored child because she lives in the Philippines and I think the pricing on those stamps fluctuates.
7. I get back on June 20. I probably won't want to start work again right away, but I'm also going to be in desperate need of some moneys at that point. Well, not at that immediate time, but I will need to go back to work as soon as possible to start saving for school again. That's about as far as I've managed to follow that train of thought because then I think "ohfuckschoolfuckmylifewhatdoidoooooo" and start a game of minesweeper.
8. If they look awful I will need to figure out how to hide my awful hair from the people I am living with until they grow back which will probably take at least three months and I think they will notice if I am always wearing a hat inside. But bangs look really cute on a lot of people (see: Zooey Deschanel, Emma Watson, Reese Witherspoon and, if you know who she is, Hey Rosetta!) so I am really tempted to give them a shot.
In other news I remembered that I have a Pokemon Crystal emulator on my laptop and my sister and I are now collaborating on a game (translation: when we are both home and awake, which is about 4 hours a week, I let her play while I give her prods like "ooh, catch that one!" and "try that direction, I don't know, I haven't got this far before").
- Vengaboys, Kiss (When The Sun Don't Shine)
Tonight I am wondering:
1. what to pack
2. when to pack
3. if I can teach my sister how to use skype so I can still see my cat
4. whether or not the other girls in my group will like me (I have met two through Facebook; one of them legit looks like Megan Fox with a hint of Angelina Jolie)
5. what to do about the birthdays I'll be missing while I'm gone (I can think of 5 right off the top of my head)
6. to whom I'll be writing letters and whether or not I should bring stamps with me when I go
7. when to start work when I come back
8. if I should gamble with a new haircut before I go (I've been considering getting a real hairdresser to give me bangs)
The answers I have come up with are:
1a. I just shouldn't think about packing yet, but I'll make a list towards the end of December.
1b. But I know for sure I want to bring some of my favourite books, and my laptop (because I can't exist without my music). I want to bring my stuffy, Puppy, because I've never been away from him for long (he even came with me when I moved out) but at the same time I don't want to risk something happening to him - or worse, getting laughed at for still being sentimentally attached to a stuffed dalmatian. Maybe I'll leave him with someone I really trust and ask them to cuddle him if they miss me? Or maybe I'm actually insane. Also I don't know which shoes I want to bring. Do I even own winter boots? I may need to go shopping before I leave.
2. I'm super excited to go and want to pack like, yesterday. Buuuut realistically it needs to be done much more last minute. But not day-before last minute because what if something's missing and I'm packing at 11:30pm and don't have any way to acquire whatever it is that I only just then realised I don't have?! So I'm thinking maybe January 2.
3. I probably can, but I should probably use Skype to see people, not kitty. But I'll miss her :(
4. I'm pretty sure they will, and judging from what I've seen from other people I know who have gone, I'll actually get super tight with someone and we'll miss each other loads when the program is done. But that doesn't mean there won't be one or two people who don't like me and that does actually terrify me.
5. I already know I will be missing the birthdays of: Eevee (Jan 6), Jewel (Jan 13), Wrecking Ball (Feb 22), Hamlet (Apr 11) and my little sister (June 17). Those are just the birthdays I remember. Ok, I didn't honestly remember Hamlet's birthday, but I remembered it was in April so I just checked on Facebook for the actual date. I just really don't have the budget to get all of those people a gift before I go and then send it to them while I'm gone. And I know you're probably thinking "um, send them cards, duh", but I really enjoy giving people presents. Then again, what I enjoy is seeing them open it and like it, which I couldn't experience anyway...
6. I definitely want to write to Hey Rosetta!, Love, Wrecking Ball, and my sister. I can keep in touch with people through phone calls and Facebook, but I feel like writing will be a nice way to stay in touch too. I enjoy sending and receiving letters. I think I told Chaser I'd send her letters too. And I want to write to my sponsored child once or twice so that she knows I'm still thinking about her. But will I really have time to write that many letters? And also, stamps. I should probably just bring them with me when I go. Except for the ones for my sponsored child because she lives in the Philippines and I think the pricing on those stamps fluctuates.
7. I get back on June 20. I probably won't want to start work again right away, but I'm also going to be in desperate need of some moneys at that point. Well, not at that immediate time, but I will need to go back to work as soon as possible to start saving for school again. That's about as far as I've managed to follow that train of thought because then I think "ohfuckschoolfuckmylifewhatdoidoooooo" and start a game of minesweeper.
8. If they look awful I will need to figure out how to hide my awful hair from the people I am living with until they grow back which will probably take at least three months and I think they will notice if I am always wearing a hat inside. But bangs look really cute on a lot of people (see: Zooey Deschanel, Emma Watson, Reese Witherspoon and, if you know who she is, Hey Rosetta!) so I am really tempted to give them a shot.
In other news I remembered that I have a Pokemon Crystal emulator on my laptop and my sister and I are now collaborating on a game (translation: when we are both home and awake, which is about 4 hours a week, I let her play while I give her prods like "ooh, catch that one!" and "try that direction, I don't know, I haven't got this far before").
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Discovery
"The moment I could see it, yes, yes, I can see it now."
- Taylor Swift, Mine
I had a pivotal moment tonight at work. I can only compare it to the scene from the first season in Friends (which I suspect is the end of the episode The One With Two Parts: Part 2 but I can't confirm this right now) when Ross comes to truly understand that he is going to be a father. He mentions earlier in the episode that he knows he is "having a baby" but that he hasn't thought about "being a dad", and he later has a talk with his father where his dad shares that he didn't feel like a father until the first time baby Ross grabbed his finger with his whole tiny hand. Finally, at the end of the episode, Ross' monkey Marcel is in the hospital, in recovery after choking on some scrabble tiles. Marcel grabs one of Ross' fingers, and the look on Ross' face (though he never articulates the feeling) shows that he is, at that moment, ready to be a father.
My moment was not about parenthood. It was about my choice of career.
One of my coworkers is a young, immature girl. I often feel protective of her, like when she admitted that she was using no form of birth control other than "pulling out", or when she passively mentions something that makes her boyfriend sound like Acadia. I was disappointed when she dropped out of the eleventh grade in the spring and jubilant when I found out that she decided to go back this fall. I'm sharing all of this now because I want you to know a bit about her, but I don't intend to give her a nickname, because I'll probably never mention her again.
At the end of our shift tonight, she came running to me from the back of the store. She told me that she had just pinched her finger in our (dirty, old, dangerous looking) ladder and that she didn't know what to do. She was coming to me for help - not the other supervisor, not our boss. She wanted my help. I helped her clean and bandage the cut. I got her to put a glove on so that she could keep helping us clean without risking getting dirty water or cleaning products on the band-aid. And (in a clever moment of which I'm rather proud) I wet some paper towel, molded it to her finger, and put it in the freezer because we don't have an ice pack but we wanted to counter the inevitable swelling.
Her injury was neither gory nor disturbing. The cut was long but shallow, so the bleeding was minimal, and the bruising obviously wouldn't start in earnest for some time. So the fact that I was very calm while I helped her was no surprise to me at all. What did come as a pleasant surprise where all the other feelings I experienced. I felt competent, professional, and confident. It felt like all of my gut instincts (because I have to admit I remember nothing from the First Aid courses I've taken) were the perfect actions to be taking, given the circumstances and the supplies at hand. Everything felt so natural and right. Like I was truly doing what I was supposed to be doing. And I don't just mean what I was supposed to be doing in that moment. I mean what I'm supposed to do, for years.
I just feel it. I truly and fully want to be a nurse. It's what I'm meant to do. It's going to take me a while yet to get there - honestly, I've fucked up, there is no way I'll finish my correspondence courses before I leave, so I will have to finish them in the summer and inevitably be waitlisted in the nursing program until the fall of 2013 - but I'm going to get there. I know I've had doubts recently, but I doubt everything I do. I think my recent feelings have been more about things being wrong inside my head than things being wrong with the decisions I've made. And although that doesn't fix the way I feel, not really, it does take away some of the hopelessness in which I've been wallowing lately. And that's as good a step as any.
- Taylor Swift, Mine
I had a pivotal moment tonight at work. I can only compare it to the scene from the first season in Friends (which I suspect is the end of the episode The One With Two Parts: Part 2 but I can't confirm this right now) when Ross comes to truly understand that he is going to be a father. He mentions earlier in the episode that he knows he is "having a baby" but that he hasn't thought about "being a dad", and he later has a talk with his father where his dad shares that he didn't feel like a father until the first time baby Ross grabbed his finger with his whole tiny hand. Finally, at the end of the episode, Ross' monkey Marcel is in the hospital, in recovery after choking on some scrabble tiles. Marcel grabs one of Ross' fingers, and the look on Ross' face (though he never articulates the feeling) shows that he is, at that moment, ready to be a father.
My moment was not about parenthood. It was about my choice of career.
One of my coworkers is a young, immature girl. I often feel protective of her, like when she admitted that she was using no form of birth control other than "pulling out", or when she passively mentions something that makes her boyfriend sound like Acadia. I was disappointed when she dropped out of the eleventh grade in the spring and jubilant when I found out that she decided to go back this fall. I'm sharing all of this now because I want you to know a bit about her, but I don't intend to give her a nickname, because I'll probably never mention her again.
At the end of our shift tonight, she came running to me from the back of the store. She told me that she had just pinched her finger in our (dirty, old, dangerous looking) ladder and that she didn't know what to do. She was coming to me for help - not the other supervisor, not our boss. She wanted my help. I helped her clean and bandage the cut. I got her to put a glove on so that she could keep helping us clean without risking getting dirty water or cleaning products on the band-aid. And (in a clever moment of which I'm rather proud) I wet some paper towel, molded it to her finger, and put it in the freezer because we don't have an ice pack but we wanted to counter the inevitable swelling.
Her injury was neither gory nor disturbing. The cut was long but shallow, so the bleeding was minimal, and the bruising obviously wouldn't start in earnest for some time. So the fact that I was very calm while I helped her was no surprise to me at all. What did come as a pleasant surprise where all the other feelings I experienced. I felt competent, professional, and confident. It felt like all of my gut instincts (because I have to admit I remember nothing from the First Aid courses I've taken) were the perfect actions to be taking, given the circumstances and the supplies at hand. Everything felt so natural and right. Like I was truly doing what I was supposed to be doing. And I don't just mean what I was supposed to be doing in that moment. I mean what I'm supposed to do, for years.
I just feel it. I truly and fully want to be a nurse. It's what I'm meant to do. It's going to take me a while yet to get there - honestly, I've fucked up, there is no way I'll finish my correspondence courses before I leave, so I will have to finish them in the summer and inevitably be waitlisted in the nursing program until the fall of 2013 - but I'm going to get there. I know I've had doubts recently, but I doubt everything I do. I think my recent feelings have been more about things being wrong inside my head than things being wrong with the decisions I've made. And although that doesn't fix the way I feel, not really, it does take away some of the hopelessness in which I've been wallowing lately. And that's as good a step as any.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Lately
"I just wanted to prove wrong the people in my head [...] But first thing in the morning I'd still wake up and I'd hear them say: 'you're fat ugly and stupid, you should really be ashamed, no one will ever like you, you're not good at anything'. And sometimes I'd rise to the challenge, but other times I'd feel so bad that I could not get out of bed."
-Kimya Dawson, The Competition
I don't have anything to say, but I'm still here.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
The Peony Pavilion
"The world is open wide like a door, like a fire it burns, embrace the flame - don't be ashamed of your desire to learn."
- Amy Hedges, Libertine
Another night that I'm up too late, another entry where I just want to talk about a book. This time, it is Peony In Love by Lisa See.
In looking for the quote I wanted to use to start this entry, I happened across part of the Author's notes in which See explains that not only is the opera used throughout the story a real one, but the three wives of the male protagonist were real women who really wrote something called the Three Wives' Commentary (or, Wu Wushan's Three Wives' Collaborative Commentary of The Peony Pavilion). I was very surprised to learn this. I almost never read the author's notes in books I like because it often ruins things for me - an excellent example being the novel Th1rteen R3asons Why by Jay Asher: Asher reveals that he was going to name the girl Anna, but then decided there were too many suicidal Annas in teen books, so he named her Hannah, which bothers me both because it's a really dumb name change, and because I had been entertaining thoughts that Hannah might have been a childhood friend of the author. Essentially, I had romanticized the naming of her character because I thought it had to be important, only to find out that her name was actually a cheap knock-off of the name Asher had originally intended to use.
Now that I know Chen Tong and the other women in this novel were alive once, I can't really remember what I wanted to say. I think I'm having particular trouble accepting that these women were real because Peony In Love is a ghost story. Tong dies within the first third of the story, and after that we as readers follow her ghost across twenty years as she watches over the lives of her family, her intended husband, and the two wives he takes after her death. She possesses the second wife, Tan Ze, so that she can continue writing the commentary on the opera that she had started before her own death. Then Ze dies, and Tong possesses the third wife, Yi, to finish the writing project. So now I need to accept that this book actually exists and was actually written by these three women. Right.
Thanks to the way I jump from thought to thought, I just found a song I forgot I liked (the one I used to open this entry) and at the same time remembered what I wanted to say about the book.
Peony in Love talks a lot about the rightful place of women. The book takes place in 17th century China, so although the characters are all advocating for women to stay in the "inner realm", the author makes it clear that the free expression of women is a beautiful thing. Even as the women in the story tell each other that they shouldn't learn to think critically or express themselves through the written word, they find happiness, love, success and independence through exactly those means.
There is one quote that really strikes a chord with my latest round of paranoid thinking. "We let women read and then what happens? Do they aspire to noble thoughts? No. They read plays, operas, novels, and poetry. They read for entertainment, which can only impair contemplation." Of course the majority of the book is pointing out that that perception was false. But on the same day that I read the passage in which that conversation was had (because that wasn't the narrator's opinion) I had been thinking for the umpteenth time about how I never catch myself thinking seriously about anything. Instead of teaching myself about current events or politics or anything relevant, I am reading and rereading novels. Books about love and friendship and families and fluff. Okay, that may be a little harsh. Some of my books touch on serious things, like The Book of Negroes and The Help. But today I started reading Emily Giffin's Baby Proof. What is that about? True love and the compromises people learn to make. Sure, Giffin has some real insights about relationships; her protagonists are always expressing thoughts that I have gotten close to but never quite been able to articulate. One such gem is when she describes how in relationships there is always someone who loves more. Which person it is can switch back and forth, and it is impossible to quantify love and truly determine who loves more, but love is "seldom - almost never - an equal proposition." The point that I'm trying to reach, though, is that I'm reading chick lit and then beating myself up for not knowing anything about anything. What I think I should be doing is trying to figure out why I'm not just making an effort to make the improvements that I want to see in myself. I want to be more informed. So I read about a third of Maclean's magazine through the course of a week and then abandon it, unfinished, when the next issue comes out. I could be watching or reading the news every day or every couple of days. I could be doing all kinds of things, but I'm just not, and I don't understand why.
It's 5 am, I can't remember where I was going with this entry. I hope I got there, I guess.
- Amy Hedges, Libertine
Another night that I'm up too late, another entry where I just want to talk about a book. This time, it is Peony In Love by Lisa See.
In looking for the quote I wanted to use to start this entry, I happened across part of the Author's notes in which See explains that not only is the opera used throughout the story a real one, but the three wives of the male protagonist were real women who really wrote something called the Three Wives' Commentary (or, Wu Wushan's Three Wives' Collaborative Commentary of The Peony Pavilion). I was very surprised to learn this. I almost never read the author's notes in books I like because it often ruins things for me - an excellent example being the novel Th1rteen R3asons Why by Jay Asher: Asher reveals that he was going to name the girl Anna, but then decided there were too many suicidal Annas in teen books, so he named her Hannah, which bothers me both because it's a really dumb name change, and because I had been entertaining thoughts that Hannah might have been a childhood friend of the author. Essentially, I had romanticized the naming of her character because I thought it had to be important, only to find out that her name was actually a cheap knock-off of the name Asher had originally intended to use.
Now that I know Chen Tong and the other women in this novel were alive once, I can't really remember what I wanted to say. I think I'm having particular trouble accepting that these women were real because Peony In Love is a ghost story. Tong dies within the first third of the story, and after that we as readers follow her ghost across twenty years as she watches over the lives of her family, her intended husband, and the two wives he takes after her death. She possesses the second wife, Tan Ze, so that she can continue writing the commentary on the opera that she had started before her own death. Then Ze dies, and Tong possesses the third wife, Yi, to finish the writing project. So now I need to accept that this book actually exists and was actually written by these three women. Right.
Thanks to the way I jump from thought to thought, I just found a song I forgot I liked (the one I used to open this entry) and at the same time remembered what I wanted to say about the book.
Peony in Love talks a lot about the rightful place of women. The book takes place in 17th century China, so although the characters are all advocating for women to stay in the "inner realm", the author makes it clear that the free expression of women is a beautiful thing. Even as the women in the story tell each other that they shouldn't learn to think critically or express themselves through the written word, they find happiness, love, success and independence through exactly those means.
There is one quote that really strikes a chord with my latest round of paranoid thinking. "We let women read and then what happens? Do they aspire to noble thoughts? No. They read plays, operas, novels, and poetry. They read for entertainment, which can only impair contemplation." Of course the majority of the book is pointing out that that perception was false. But on the same day that I read the passage in which that conversation was had (because that wasn't the narrator's opinion) I had been thinking for the umpteenth time about how I never catch myself thinking seriously about anything. Instead of teaching myself about current events or politics or anything relevant, I am reading and rereading novels. Books about love and friendship and families and fluff. Okay, that may be a little harsh. Some of my books touch on serious things, like The Book of Negroes and The Help. But today I started reading Emily Giffin's Baby Proof. What is that about? True love and the compromises people learn to make. Sure, Giffin has some real insights about relationships; her protagonists are always expressing thoughts that I have gotten close to but never quite been able to articulate. One such gem is when she describes how in relationships there is always someone who loves more. Which person it is can switch back and forth, and it is impossible to quantify love and truly determine who loves more, but love is "seldom - almost never - an equal proposition." The point that I'm trying to reach, though, is that I'm reading chick lit and then beating myself up for not knowing anything about anything. What I think I should be doing is trying to figure out why I'm not just making an effort to make the improvements that I want to see in myself. I want to be more informed. So I read about a third of Maclean's magazine through the course of a week and then abandon it, unfinished, when the next issue comes out. I could be watching or reading the news every day or every couple of days. I could be doing all kinds of things, but I'm just not, and I don't understand why.
It's 5 am, I can't remember where I was going with this entry. I hope I got there, I guess.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
I Just Don't Can't
"It makes me sad that, because you drew that, you will never think it's as beautiful as I do."
- Love, on Monday night. This quote isn't because it really relates to this entry (save for perhaps the end) but because I really liked it and want to remember and share it.
I think I need to stop telling people about any plans I make because then I feel awful when I change my mind. Prime examples of this are the trip to Jamaica that I was going to take to go to my aunt's wedding last February, or the trip Love and I were going to take to Cuba in August, or even just going to Halifax later this month for Mother Mother (though in my defence it sold out before I was sure of my decision). Those all involve travel, true. But I felt the same way when I let it be known that I had decided not to keep going to university late last winter. And I'm going to feel the same way if I don't end up going into nursing.
I'm having another "where do I want to go in life?" crisis. I don't know what's causing it. I'm getting quite agitated. Every day when I'm working I have to force myself to smile at the customers, and I have to actively remind myself to keep doing my job because I have stopped enjoying it. I don't want to work there any more and I don't know if I still want to go into nursing. I feel like I am in the wrong place and I don't understand why. I don't know anything about where I want to go.
I've just taken 4 online quizzes about jobs. According to these (and I know I shouldn't trust them too thoroughly), based on my skills, I should go into nursing, or social work, or one of the many fields in dentistry. But my interests are telling me to be a journalist or to go into marketing, graphic or interior design, or the performing arts. And when I just look at these, they all sound pretty appealing, but none more than the others.
During this time I also took a quiz with results that really freaked me out because of how well they reflected what I've been feeling the last few days.
I originally chose to go into history because of how much I liked historical fiction. But these days I've been reading books about women who live in big cities and work boring office jobs and date lots of people until they find the right one and then everything works out perfectly. So what, should I move to New York City and find a job I hate and just marry someone rich enough to support me so well that I can quit and paint all day? I don't think so.
My dad suggested I do graphic design since I like art and am supposedly good at it (tonight I'm in the sort of mood where I won't believe any compliment I receive) and reminded me that I enjoyed the Graphic Art & Design courses I took in high school. He said I could get a job at an ad company. I think there's a reason I didn't try to do that after high school and it still applies now: I don't want to ruin my enjoyment of art by doing it professionally. Is that a valid reason not to do something? Or is it just a lame excuse because I'm more afraid that someone is going to tell me that I'm actually no good?
- Love, on Monday night. This quote isn't because it really relates to this entry (save for perhaps the end) but because I really liked it and want to remember and share it.
I think I need to stop telling people about any plans I make because then I feel awful when I change my mind. Prime examples of this are the trip to Jamaica that I was going to take to go to my aunt's wedding last February, or the trip Love and I were going to take to Cuba in August, or even just going to Halifax later this month for Mother Mother (though in my defence it sold out before I was sure of my decision). Those all involve travel, true. But I felt the same way when I let it be known that I had decided not to keep going to university late last winter. And I'm going to feel the same way if I don't end up going into nursing.
I'm having another "where do I want to go in life?" crisis. I don't know what's causing it. I'm getting quite agitated. Every day when I'm working I have to force myself to smile at the customers, and I have to actively remind myself to keep doing my job because I have stopped enjoying it. I don't want to work there any more and I don't know if I still want to go into nursing. I feel like I am in the wrong place and I don't understand why. I don't know anything about where I want to go.
I've just taken 4 online quizzes about jobs. According to these (and I know I shouldn't trust them too thoroughly), based on my skills, I should go into nursing, or social work, or one of the many fields in dentistry. But my interests are telling me to be a journalist or to go into marketing, graphic or interior design, or the performing arts. And when I just look at these, they all sound pretty appealing, but none more than the others.
During this time I also took a quiz with results that really freaked me out because of how well they reflected what I've been feeling the last few days.
I originally chose to go into history because of how much I liked historical fiction. But these days I've been reading books about women who live in big cities and work boring office jobs and date lots of people until they find the right one and then everything works out perfectly. So what, should I move to New York City and find a job I hate and just marry someone rich enough to support me so well that I can quit and paint all day? I don't think so.
My dad suggested I do graphic design since I like art and am supposedly good at it (tonight I'm in the sort of mood where I won't believe any compliment I receive) and reminded me that I enjoyed the Graphic Art & Design courses I took in high school. He said I could get a job at an ad company. I think there's a reason I didn't try to do that after high school and it still applies now: I don't want to ruin my enjoyment of art by doing it professionally. Is that a valid reason not to do something? Or is it just a lame excuse because I'm more afraid that someone is going to tell me that I'm actually no good?
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Contentment
"The sound of our voices made us forget everything that had ever hurt our feelings."
- Kimya Dawson, Tire Swing
There isn't much of a point to this entry. I just wanted to think about something happy after that last entry, and I thought I may as well share these thoughts too.
I realised on Friday night that I feel very comfortable with Wrecking Ball. Maybe I had noticed it at some point before, but it really struck me then. I was taking off the last of my makeup (I was dressed as a 60s Gogo Dancer for the party, so I was wearing foundation and eyeliner and mascara and all that jazz) and it occurred to me that in that one night, he saw me with makeup on, and without makeup on, and even crying just a little bit, which I don't usually do in front of people. I was thinking about Love and he was rubbing my back and I just sort of let go. Usually when someone sees me cry it's because I am completely overwhelmed by anger or sadness or whatever it is that's making me cry. But this time it was just... I don't know. I just felt comfortable being with him, and I was sad enough. And as for the makeup thing: people see me with and without makeup all the time; I put it on completely at random. But not many people have seen me go from wearing heavy makeup to none at all in one night. I don't feel like I need it to be attractive, but at the same time I know that my face looks different with and without it, and I did feel like it looked nice to have it on, so it follows that my face must not look as good without it.
So there I am in Wrecking Ball's bathroom, wiping off the last of the makeup, and I realised how nice it feels to be so comfortable with him. I didn't feel any touch of awkwardness about taking off the makeup. I didn't feel embarrassed about having cried. I just felt eager to get back to him, and it was nice.
- Kimya Dawson, Tire Swing
There isn't much of a point to this entry. I just wanted to think about something happy after that last entry, and I thought I may as well share these thoughts too.
I realised on Friday night that I feel very comfortable with Wrecking Ball. Maybe I had noticed it at some point before, but it really struck me then. I was taking off the last of my makeup (I was dressed as a 60s Gogo Dancer for the party, so I was wearing foundation and eyeliner and mascara and all that jazz) and it occurred to me that in that one night, he saw me with makeup on, and without makeup on, and even crying just a little bit, which I don't usually do in front of people. I was thinking about Love and he was rubbing my back and I just sort of let go. Usually when someone sees me cry it's because I am completely overwhelmed by anger or sadness or whatever it is that's making me cry. But this time it was just... I don't know. I just felt comfortable being with him, and I was sad enough. And as for the makeup thing: people see me with and without makeup all the time; I put it on completely at random. But not many people have seen me go from wearing heavy makeup to none at all in one night. I don't feel like I need it to be attractive, but at the same time I know that my face looks different with and without it, and I did feel like it looked nice to have it on, so it follows that my face must not look as good without it.
So there I am in Wrecking Ball's bathroom, wiping off the last of the makeup, and I realised how nice it feels to be so comfortable with him. I didn't feel any touch of awkwardness about taking off the makeup. I didn't feel embarrassed about having cried. I just felt eager to get back to him, and it was nice.
Love's Angel
"An Angel in the book of life wrote down my baby's birth, then whispered as she closed the book, 'too beautiful for earth'."
- Anonymous
It was only recently that I mentioned that Love is pregnant. We've known since late August; I just didn't know quite what I wanted to say. I wanted to talk about how happy I was for her and how I was jealous that she would be a mom before me, and that I was excited to support her and watch her baby grow.
On Thursday while I was at work, Love sent me a text to tell me that she is miscarrying. I didn't, and still don't know what to say about it. I told her I am sorry she is going through this, and that I love her. She doesn't like to be alone, so her mother and I are staying with her as much as we can. We stay up all night together, sitting in solidarity. We talk about everything, and nothing. We talk about her baby, and the funeral, and we talk about anything else at all. Sometimes we just sit in silence, doing our own things - reading, drawing, browsing the internet, watching whatever is on the TV. It's a comfortable silence, and an eerie one.
On Friday night, I went to a Halloween party with Wrecking Ball, and then I went home with him. Love and I were texting a bit throughout the night, and I was still trying to process the news that she was losing her baby. I had a dream shortly after falling asleep that she was talking to me about losing Angel, and when I woke up I had such an odd feeling. When you wake up from a bad dream, you think "I'm glad that's not real." Instead, I woke up thinking, "This isn't fair." I moved closer to Wrecking Ball and went back to sleep. I had more bad dreams, worse ones - I've actually had nightmares every night since Thursday, which Love and I think is due to my own stress for her - and every time I would wake up and move closer to him again. I stayed so close to him through the night that when I went home I could smell him on my own skin, which is something I've never noticed before.
Statistically, Love says, this wasn't supposed to happen. The odds are supposed to be in your favour, and usually they are. It breaks my heart that she is going through this. There isn't much more to say. This is happening, and it's sad. There just aren't words for the rest of it. There's a feeling in this room with us now, while Love and I do whatever we're doing on our laptops and Love's mom sits and thinks quietly. We understand it, but we're not talking about it. I guess we're just here together, to do what we can about Love's grief.
Rest in peace L.B.
- Anonymous
It was only recently that I mentioned that Love is pregnant. We've known since late August; I just didn't know quite what I wanted to say. I wanted to talk about how happy I was for her and how I was jealous that she would be a mom before me, and that I was excited to support her and watch her baby grow.
On Thursday while I was at work, Love sent me a text to tell me that she is miscarrying. I didn't, and still don't know what to say about it. I told her I am sorry she is going through this, and that I love her. She doesn't like to be alone, so her mother and I are staying with her as much as we can. We stay up all night together, sitting in solidarity. We talk about everything, and nothing. We talk about her baby, and the funeral, and we talk about anything else at all. Sometimes we just sit in silence, doing our own things - reading, drawing, browsing the internet, watching whatever is on the TV. It's a comfortable silence, and an eerie one.
On Friday night, I went to a Halloween party with Wrecking Ball, and then I went home with him. Love and I were texting a bit throughout the night, and I was still trying to process the news that she was losing her baby. I had a dream shortly after falling asleep that she was talking to me about losing Angel, and when I woke up I had such an odd feeling. When you wake up from a bad dream, you think "I'm glad that's not real." Instead, I woke up thinking, "This isn't fair." I moved closer to Wrecking Ball and went back to sleep. I had more bad dreams, worse ones - I've actually had nightmares every night since Thursday, which Love and I think is due to my own stress for her - and every time I would wake up and move closer to him again. I stayed so close to him through the night that when I went home I could smell him on my own skin, which is something I've never noticed before.
Statistically, Love says, this wasn't supposed to happen. The odds are supposed to be in your favour, and usually they are. It breaks my heart that she is going through this. There isn't much more to say. This is happening, and it's sad. There just aren't words for the rest of it. There's a feeling in this room with us now, while Love and I do whatever we're doing on our laptops and Love's mom sits and thinks quietly. We understand it, but we're not talking about it. I guess we're just here together, to do what we can about Love's grief.
Rest in peace L.B.
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