New Year's Eve plans

My friend, the perfect one, and I have come up with a (hopefully) fail-proof plan for having a great New Year's Eve.

We're going to have a sleepover and drink raspberry and apple martinis in her parent's basement (she's living at home while she works on her masters thesis and her parents are conveniently out of the country). We're also going to soak in her hot tub, paint our toenails, watch a stack of movies, eat a bunch of baking and make New Year's resolutions for each other.

I'm really looking forward to having such a laid-back time. I've found New Year's Eve parties to be quite exhausting and they don't usually turn out all that well.

My best New Year's Eve so far was three years ago. A friend and I got all dressed up and went to a trendy downtown bar where we drank free champagne and danced with a bunch of cute geeky boys. We had a blast.

That's the only New Year's Eve where I remember having a great time. One year I resorted to playing Bingo with a friend, another year the guys my friends and I spent New Year's Eve with ran outside at the stroke of midnight to shoot their guns into the sky, another year the party I was at was so lame I started walking home a few minutes after midnight, and another year I pretended to be sick so I could stay home alone and mope after a crappy breakup.

It's nice to know that this year I don't have to worry about fending off leering old men, about making awkward conversation with strangers and about finding a safe ride home.

Happy New Year!

Saddam

You know what seems barbaric? Weighing a person's life, finding him inferior, planning his death and hanging him because you think he's too evil to be allowed to exist.

I know that Saddam did terrible things, things that deserve punishment, but it bothers me how society gathered together and agreed to kill him. Is that not also evil?

***

This is a quote from MSNBC story, "Nations welcome, condemn Saddam execution" ( http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/11497279/?GT1=8816).

"In Pakistan, an Islamic ally in the U.S.-led war on terror, a leader of a coalition of six religious parties said Saddam had not received justice.

'We have no sympathy with Saddam Hussein, but we will also say that he did not get justice,' Liaquat Baluch, a leader of the Mutahida Majlis-e-Amal, also known as the United Action Forum, told The Associated Press by phone.

'The execution of Saddam Hussein will further destabilize Iraq. There will be more sectarian violence in Iraq, and we believe that the execution of Saddam Hussein is part of the American plan to disintegrate Iraq,' he added (emphasis added)."

Sometimes I am lame

I just did something pathetic.

There's this anti-war organization that's doing a lot of good work in the country and that is connected to quite a few brilliant researchers and reporters whose work impresses me. I felt bad about not being able to donate to a campaign I believe in so I offered to volunteer, thinking I could help out by licking stamps or organizing mailing lists or something.

Well, the director of the whole organization e-mailed back almost immediately and asked if I would write for them to help people in my province better understand the issues. I said no. That's too huge and too intimidating and too important.

***

Thanks for the encouragement. The director of the organization replied saying a bunch of nice things and asking me to reconsider. I am. But I'm still nervous and intimidated.

An unflattering and rather uncomfortable dilemma

Faunty got me a few pairs of really cute underwear for Christmas. When I say they are cute, I mean they look nice folded up and nestled in tissue paper. They are less cute in practicality.

There's so little material in the back that I'm faced with a constant battle whenever I put them on. Which is sexier: a polka-dotted wedgie or a butt crack hanging out over lacy trim? I'm finding myself in a tug-of-war as I try to reach some happy medium which doesn't seem to exist.

Maybe I'll have to put granny panties on my list next year.

A snapshop (for Amanda)

I didn't have my camera with me while rescuing the hitch hiker but -- luckily for my curious readers -- I have an extraordinarly good memory.

This is how I remember the hitch hiker as he got out of my car at one town and continued on to the next in the middle of the night and in the middle of a fierce snow storm.

This is how I remember him: hunched against the wind, struggling on, wildly stubborn and alone. The hitch hiker reminds me of the monster in Frankenstein, desperate for somewhere to belong and for someone to understand him.

Pirate love

Because the hitch hiker is by nature a nomad, I didn't know if anyone else would call to wish him a merry Christmas so I called him last night.

While we were talking, I mentioned a new game Faunty and I had just invented. We were calling each other the grossest things we could think of from mucous bubble (Faunty) to rigor mortis (me). When I was telling the hitch hiker about how I called Faunty a pile of vomit, he said the cheesiest line I've ever heard.

He said, "It's weird how I like you so much that when you talk about vomit, I feel that vomiting is something I would like to do."

I'm totally swooning.

P.S. The hitch hiker is a lot older than me, just got a restraining order for knocking out his ex's new boyfriend, has a one-year-old son and works with toxic waste without wearing a face mask. I don't know how I'll ever be able to resist his charms.

Merry Christmas!

My little sister is getting very excited about Christmas. She asked me not to show her the present I wrapped up for her because it will make her too impatient for Christmas morning.

She's nine now and seems to be in the midst of a belief crisis. She doesn't really think the toothfairy, the Easter bunny and Santa Claus exist. Yesterday she asked me if Santa was real and if I believed in him. I told her that I don't not believe in him. No one has ever been able to prove that he doesn't exist and I'd like to think that he does.

(I also refuse to accept it when people say that Harry Potter and his wizard friends don't exist. All I know is that I've never seen a magical flying car or learned to conjure up a flock of birds.)

So my little sister and I will sleep in the living room, next to the Christmas tree, waiting for Santa to come and hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

Merry Christmas all! I hope you have a magical time and enjoy all the candy canes and sugar cookies you can eat.

Sucky snowplower

The snowplower and I are in the middle of ending things.

It sucks.

It sucks that I'm not going to have a date for New Year's and that I missed out on my once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to make out in a snowplow. It sucks that we never went snowboarding and that we didn't have a chance to go for dinner.

It sucks that he kept making jokes about us eloping, being married ten years from now, going on a snowboarding trip with him in January and about me hypothetically moving in with him. While
I know it's way too fast for him to be talking about any of those things and while I didn't really want any of them anyway, it made me feel like he really liked me.

It sucks that I'm sad during the happiest time of the year.

It sucks that I've never had a real relationship and that a three-date relationship means something to me.

It sucks that I got him a pack of Bernie Botts Every Flavour Beans for a little Christmas joke that he won't get to find funny. The candies come in the strangest flavours including soap, sardines, vomint, cherry, ear wax, earthworm, bacon, rotten egg, blueberry, booger, lemon and dirt. I would have kept dating the snowplower until Christmas just to see his reaction.

It also sucks that he isn't likely going to give me the interview I need to finish the story I was working on about him. And at Christmas time it's not going to be too easy to find someone else to do the interview.

That'll teach me to kiss people I need to interview before getting all the information I need from them.

Our new old house

There's carpet in my house again. The holes in the walls have been filled. The computer is plugged in again and all is well. We still have a bunch of painting to do and I can't wait to see how our house turns out.

One of the carpet guys was working in the living room and singing "I want you to want me" really loudly. I couldn't stop giggling.

Temporary hiatus

Sorry for the lack of posts lately. Our house flooded back in October and the reconstruction work is finally in full swing. We had to unplug the computer and probably won't have it back for a few more days. It's strange not being able to post whatever I want whenever I want.

Heh?*

The snowplower and I have had two dates since we met three weeks ago. Normally I would think that if he doesn't make time to hang out it would mean he isn't too interested in me, but he's been calling every day. Some days he calls three or four times.

I don't get it.

*This is the most annoying sound in the world.

Friday night fun

It's Friday night and I'm at home alone wearing fuzzy pink sweats. It's nice. I just made some Christmas presents and got a few Christmas cards ready. Maybe I'll make cookies, write in my journal or have a bath. I hope no one comes home for a few more hours.

Sometimes I like having some time to hang out with myself. I've been staring at our Christmas lights with my glasses off and I love how the lights smear and stretch out and blend into each other. I wish I could figure out how to paint how I see them.

Honourable discharge

Today was my last day going for physio therapy for my neck and back because of two car accidents I was in last year at this time.

The girl who was working with me is "very pleased" with how much better I am, but she told me I need to keep doing my routine exercises three times a week in addition to any other fitness programs I might want to take. That's a lot of work, but I guess being able to shoulder check is worth it.

A little bit of like

I think it's about time for a happy post.

The snow plower and I met up again today. He came over for a little while before going to work and brought me lunch.

He's cute, funny, calls almost as often as I want him to and seems to tolerate my weirdness. I kinda like him.

Melancholy complaining

A guy I went to school with is hosting the evening news, some of the ambitious girls are working in public relations for government departments, others classmates have taken internships at huge papers, some are getting married and a few are off on international career-building adventures.

I, on the other hand, am still doing nothing.

I don't want to sell shoes (or anything else), don't want to get paid to type up lies, don't want to be on any radio or TV news shows and don't want to have to hunt people down for interviews on subjects I don't care about.

I can't find anything I want to do, I'm running out of money and I'm feeling suffocatingly bored all the time.

My date yesterday wasn't bad. We ended up going for a long cold walk instead of going to the gallery. There were quite a few awkward silences, but it was mostly fun. I kinda like him and his odd sense of humour, but I'm terrified of all the bad things that could happen.

Date Day

The snowplower and I have a date this afternoon (!).

We're going to the art gallery and then maybe out for coffee or something. I'm wearing my new sweater, purchased specifically for the occassion, and am getting a little nervous.

My last date was almost a year ago and it did not go well. It was the one where I spilled water all over myself, tripped on a step and kept clanging my utensils on my oversized plate. Hopefully my coordination is better today.

The snowplower seems nice, fun and interesting, but there is a red flag: what kind of guy wants to date someone who's unemployed and living with her parents?

It was the boots' fault

I applied for a job at a shoe store because there's a pair of too-expensive cute boots that I want. I applied yesterday and (of course) got the job.

As soon as the boss said I had it, I felt sick. I don't want to sell shoes from sweatshops made from animals's dead bodies. I also don't want to work for minimum wage.

I don't want to keep getting jobs and turning them down.

I want some perfect job doing something I believe in, but I don't really know where to start looking. It's seeming more and more likely that I'll be back in school next semester by default.

$$$

I get excited when I find a loonie I had forgotten about, especially now that I thought I was down to my last $5. While I was taking my rent out of the bank I was confused by my balance. It was $400 more than I remembered having!

Now even if I don't get a real job, I can afford Christmas and next month's rent!

The snowplower

I met a really cute snowplower while out on assignment last week. While nice to look at, he didn't really help much with what I needed. He had my phone number and e-mail address for business purposes.

Today he-mailed to apologize for not being more helpful and to ask if maybe sometime I might like to go for dinner with him. (Of course I said yes.) But I'm kind of confused as to why he asked. I had just come in from the cold when we met and looked pretty much exactly like this.

Guess I must have a good personality:)

He called a few hours ago and he wants to teach me how to snowboard later this week. I'll be all red-nosed and red-eared and falling down, but he doesn't seem to mind.

Another gross job

Too bad no one guessed I'd quit my job after 5.5 hours. You little darlings have entirely too much faith in me.

I quit a few minutes into my lunch break after these events occured:

1. The HR woman tried to get my new co-workers and I to sign a contract for $9.50 an hour even though the job ad we replied to said we would be making $10.00 an hour. We had to convince her to give us our proper pay rate and in return she made it so we wouldn't be eligible for a raise until we had been there for a year.

2. My contract also stated that I was hired as a full-time worker. I never agreed to that and was told I could have a part-time shift.

3. In my interview I said that I was only available for the day shifts and wouldn't consider working a night shift. That was totally fine with the guy that hired me, but when my supervisor found out that I didn't want to work nights, he made it seem like I was being unreasonable. He pointed out another woman in our training class and said because she has children she has an "excuse" to only work day shifts but I'm selfish because I don't want to work the crappy shifts.

4. I used my cell phone on a break and my supervisor saw me. He waited until our training class was together again to say, very chastisingly, that we aren't allowed to use cell phones unless we're in the lunch room.

5. I had a nosebleed on a two-minute break and was a few minutes late getting back to work. That, of course, warranted another public chastisment.

6. Also, the job is boring and in a suffocating environment.

7. I couldn't think of a single reason to stay.

Hot or not

Isn't my sister gorgeous? I gave her a little photoshop makeover and think she looks fab. I am especially fond of the boil/giant zit on her cheek and her exquisite unibrow.


Faunty wanted me to let you know she thinks she looks much better in person. (So do I, but that's a secret).

At least it pays

I had a job interview today for a boring corporate desk job that I don't really want.

I got it. Training starts tomorrow.

I'm down to my last $20, so that's a bit of incentive to test it out. Any wagers on how long I'll last at this one?

Pirates: part three

My hitch hiker, who reminds me of the pirate version of Jonny Depp, called last night to let me he made it to his next destination in one piece.

He also let me know that although he is a professional hitch hiker, he found a listing for a job near me and is considering applying for it to be closer to me. I'm not sure if I find this more creepy or flattering.

I have a tiny (and embarassing) crush on him, and it would make a funny how-we-met story if anything were to happen, but I'm getting a little worried. I hear pirates make pretty crazy stalkers.

Pirates: part two

I'm worried about my little hitch hiker.

I called the RCMP to see if anyone had reported seeing a frozen body on the highway, but luckily no one had. I hope he's safe, warm, full and asleep.

Stupid kind (or Pirates: part one)

It's storming today. There's snow and freezing wind blowing all over the place. I had just dropped a friend off at her house and was headed home (around 11 p.m.) when I saw someone walking on the side of one of the roads in town that turns into a highway.

I've never picked up a hitch hiker, but it was so very cold out. Walking from my car into Tim Horton's was enough to make me feel like my blood had frozen solid, so I had to stop. I offered to take the hitch hiker, who turned out to be a 37-year-old Italian/Swedish man, anywhere in the city, but he wanted to continue on his journey.

I didn't want him to die on the side of the road, so I offered to take him to my house and get him something hot to drink, a bite to eat and a warm blanket. He, having no better options and wanting to warm up, agreed. I had him wait in the car while I grabbed some things for him and told my mom I was dropping him off on the highway and would be back soon.

I took him to the highway but, maybe because it was so late or so stormy, there weren't many vehicles heading the way he wanted to go. He got out of my car and started to walk. And as he headed down that cold windy road, I thought about how easy it would be to lay down in the snow and freeze to death. And if he did, I would never be able to forgive myself.

So, after realizing I had - hopefully - just enough gas to take him to his next destination and to make it back home, I picked him up again.

We talked about how his parents died when he was a teenager, how he has no family and no roots anywhere, how he gets bored with all the places he goes and how he believes the earth and all that's in it couldn't have existed without a creator. We talked about how he always hitch hikes during the winter because his birthday and Christmas holidays are in December and he needs some way to celebrate them.

He told me about how he jumped off a barn roof with an umbrella when he was a kid to see if he could fly. He told me how he sometimes spends the night in mall entryways or bank vestibules. He told me how he scams free food from MacDonalds when he gets hungry and how he's travelled all across Canada, the U.S. and Europe, hopping from one job to another and one place to another.

I feel this odd kinship towards him, like my soul recognizes his. Like we are the same person, just in different circumstances.

He's going to call (collect, of course) when he gets to his next destination, just to prove that he's still alive.

My ADD dream life

After a very awkward interview that included me burning my tongue on some very hot tea, I am now a bonafide freelance writer. I get to do all kinds of fun things and will be getting paid to write the same kind of stuff I blog about.

(Sorry Michelle and Samantha, but I can't be more specific about the job without giving away my identity.)

I won't get many hours with this job, but it's the foundation I wanted for my reformed life here. I get so bored of regular jobs, that I'm thinking of getting three or four easy part-time ones (like working at a coffee shop and a bookstore), getting more into volunteer work and taking another university class or two. If all goes perfectly, I'd move into a place of my own and get back into yoga and painting.

Finally, an interview

I finally called about a dream job that I've been salivating over for months.

I talked to the Big Important Guy today after about an hour of staring at the phone, sweating and being terrified. Once I finally managed to dial, the call went well and we have a meeting tomorrow afternoon!

The Big Important Guy said he'd "love" to hear my ideas, so I'm nervous and excited. And still sweating.

My little sister has 29 of these bobble-headed babies.

Today she and I came up with names for each of them. It was great fun, but not quite as fun as the time I rediscovered how to post pictures on my blog.

The little entrepreneur

My littlest sister, 9, has started up a business in our home. She turned her room into a spa and is charging for services that include massages, manicures, pedicures, waxing, makeovers and hairdos. Her massages cost $1 a minute, so she's certainly not losing any money with this venture.

She is also selling leftover Halloween candy and is allowing people to do homework or read in her spa for free. She has a list of services, prices and the hours her spa is open.

Now that she has a home business and all her Grade 4 school work and activities, I'm feeling worse about not being able to find a decent job. But at least I don't have far to go to get a massage :)

At the big newspapers, reporters don't get to write their own headlines. The person laying the story out on the page is in charge of the headlines because it can be tricky making a headline fit in the space that's allowed. So pardon me if I can't think of clever headings for my posts; it wasn't part of what I signed up for.

In the last three weeks I have applied for three jobs and gotten none. Maybe that's because I'm remarkably unqualified for the jobs I'm interested in. And maybe I'm only interested in them because I can't have them.

I'm going apply for a few more lofty jobs, including one fancy government job making history.

If nothing works out, I may have to break out my crap-jobs resume soon.

Ode to Oranges

I ate five oranges yesterday. They were so fantastically delicious. There aren't any left now and I miss them and their popping flavour.

I read an orange juice ad that said: "Oranges were candy before candy was candy." That made me appreciate them even more. Sometimes when there are no oranges and no candies in the house, I settle for chewable vitamin C tablets, which are almost as good.

One time when I lived in a mountain resort town where we never locked our doors, I got a cold when I was supposed to be working (painting condos). I called in sick to work and hopped into the shower. I was just getting out when I saw my kind-of-creepy boss coming up the driveway.

Since I was in a towel, I ran and hid in my room. He knocked and when I didn't come to the door, he opened in and came in, calling for me. I remained in hiding and he left.

He had left cough syrup and a box of oranges just inside the door.

It only took a few days to gobble up all that orange goodness.

50 more things

1. The photographer used to have terrible allergies.
2. I felt bad for her, but happy for for my healthy non-allergic self.
3. I spent the past week miserable from a surprise allergy I've just developed.
4. A few years ago I found out that I am deathly allergic to the drug that's found in Tylenol (acetominiphine or something like that).
5. I had an out-of-body experience when I took that Tylenol Cold and Flu lemon tea mix.
6. I've never broken any bones, except for my big toe.
7. My dad and I were moving our ping pong table and one of the corners landed on my toe.
8. I'm not sure if was actually broken, but it sure hurt.
9. I've had quite a few near-death experiences.
10. For example, one day I nearly died three times in ten minutes. It was winter and the counrty roads were really slippery.
11. I was behind a truck carrying a bail of hay, when the bail tumbled off the truck and landed about two feet from my head.
12. If I had known how heavy bails of hay were at the time, it would've been scarier.
13. I kept going and couldn't stop at the next intersection I came to. I just barely managed to stop in time to avoid being hit by another truck.
14. The driver of that truck was going slowly, so I got annoyed and went to pass him. I was parallel to the other vehicle, when my car started to fishtail. My car spun around, just missing the truck, and ended up turned around in the other lane, as if telling me to go home.
15. I did go home then. That was definatley enough excitement for me.
16. My family started decorating for Christmas today.
17. I made shortbread cookies to make the atmosphere more festive.
18. There wasn't any white flour, so I had to use whole-wheat flour. Faunty thinks my cookies taste like biscuits.
19. I am a terrible cook.
20. One time I mistook salt for sugar when whipping up a batch of cookies.
21. I'm not very good at playing practical jokes, because I can't do them without laughing.
22. These lists are really hard to do.
23. I'm buying most of my Christmas presents from the World Vision and Foster Parents' Plan gift catalogues. I'm going to buy medical supplies, farm animals and warm clothing for the less fortunate around the world.
24. I don't really care if that's not what my friends and family want for Christmas.
25. I think people have way too much stuff.
26. Sometimes I'm judgemental. (See above).
27. I found a job I might want.
28. It's in the career that I've been thinking of quitting.
29. The editor is going to have to make a lot of promises to get me to work there.
30. My littlest sister thinks I'm the Tooth Fairy.
31. Last Christmas my sisters and I slept in the living room, waiting for Santa to show up.
32. I'm not convinced that Santa is made up.
33. I like when badminton birdies get stuck on the garage and I have to climb on the roof to rescue them.
34. I went cliff jumping off a mountain into melted glacier water.
35. I screamed the whole way down.
36. I climbed to a glacier in Switzerland.
37. I slept under the stars on an air matress in the Sahara.
38. I always hated piano lessons.
39. I also hated figure skating (too cold) and swimming (too much water up the nose).
40. I let out a huge snorting laugh in the first yoga class I went to. That Om chanting can be creepy.
41. I have had wildly inappropriate crushes on pretty much all of my male profs.
42. My really smart friend thinks she and I will both end up being profs because we hate working and like school.
43. I had to get a whole bunch of blood tests done years ago.
44. I was in New Brunswick at the time, so the results came back in French.
45. I still have no idea what all those papers said.
46. I'm getting bored writing this, so I won't be offended if no one reads it.
47. I always win Risk when I get the pink soldiers.
48. I cheat playing Dutch Blitz.
49. I have cold hands.
50. C'est fini, finally.

Too much information

1. I am wearing a pair of jeans that are missing a button.
2. I am far too lazy to sew a button onto them.
3. I am also too lazy to find a belt.
4. That's why I'm using a skipping rope as a belt.
5. I moved home three weeks ago and I am living in three bedrooms.
6. There's the spare room, my old room (which became a library in my absence) and the photographer's old room.
7. I've always wanted a personal trainer.
8. Because of a few car accidents I was in last year, now I have one and my sessions are covered by my insurance.
9. I do not like having a personal trainer.
10. I have the skinniest un-muscley arms I've ever seen.
11. My sister, who never exercises, has perfect arms.
12. One time I bit her bicep.
13. That was only a year ago.
14. Faunty and I saw a singing, dancing and acting talent show.
15. The contestants were so terrible we had to watch the whole thing.
16. Then we had our own talent show.
17. We were nearly as good as the daily dancer (dailydancer@blogspot.com).
18. Sometimes Faunty makes me laugh so hard I have to really concentrate on holding my bladded.
19. This does not bode well for my future.
20. In high school I would have contests with other girls to see who could eat the least each day.
21. The days I won, I was so proud of my self-control.
22. There were a lot of days I would only eat a rice crispie square and an apple.
23. There were also a lot of days when I would eat an entire batch of cookies.
24. In hindsight, it's not really surprising that I developed an eating disorder.
25. I've been healthy for close to two years now.
26. That's about how long it's been since I've been in a destructive relationship.
27. I spent $20,000 to earn my degree and quit my career after four months in my field.
28. I don't regret it for a second.
29. I miss school.
30. In my first semester, a professor told me for every drink I bought him, he'd give me two percent on my final mark.
31. I thought he was kidding, so I joked that I could just blackmail him to get a good mark.
32. He wasn't kidding.
33. I didn't write the final exam.
34. Instead, I took a failing grade in the class and took a year off from school.
35. I hate how my glasses fog up when I come in out of the cold.
36. A few mornings ago, I shaved my armpits.
37. I had a nice patch of 5:00 stubble in the evening.
38. That's why I like waxing better than shaving.
39. I had a friend who used Nair on his head because he thought it would be easier than shaving.
40. He got a chemical burn.
41. I'm jealous of all the cool toys my littlest sister got for her birthday.
42. I forgot to watch Grey's Anatomy this week because my littlest sister and I were snuggled up watching Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.
43. I'm trying to sell my car but no one wants to buy it.
44. I never wanted to have a car.
45. I went on quite a few dates with this impossibly attractive guy.
46. He was boring and we had nothing in common.
47. I didn't find that out for a long time, because I did all the talking.
48. My favorite snack is butter, sugar and flour all mixed together.
49. Faunty is watching friends reruns and I have to join her.
50. I wouldn't have made it to 100 anyway.

My new acquaintance

I went to a pretentious English student's lecture series this afternoon because my newest non-single friend was presenting a paper she wrote.

Afterwards another student came up and asked if I had been at a New Years party at a beach with her 10 years ago. I said I hadn't, but she was sure she had seen me that night. "I was on acid and you were an angel with pretty hair," she said.

What a way to make a lasting first impression.

The last of my single frinds is no longer single. She's gorgeous, smart, talented and opinionated, so guys are usually quite intimidated by her. This one took almost a year to work up the nerve to ask her out.

While I wish her and her nice, cute, English-masters-student boyfriend all the best, I will miss my Saturday night date to the theatre and the symphony.

I've decided it's time to start dating again if for no other reason than to have a supply of interesting fiascos to post about.

There are no prospects yet, but I am accepting applications:)

Eliminated again

You know why I don't like football? Because we never win and because it gets depressing sitting a sports bar watching our team fall down.

Maybe next year will be better.

Wide open future

There are no good jobs anywhere. I applied for two jobs today, but I don't really want either of them. I registered for a few university classes for the winter semester as a backup plan in case I still haven't found a job by January.

Remembering

I made a promise to a Holocast survivor a few years ago.

After being rescued from a Nazi concentration camp, he came to Canada and tried to forget the things he had seen. He sometimes gives talks about the war and his experiences because he wants others to remember how fortunate they are. I went to one of his talks, which he turned into a question and answer period, and cried the whole way through.

He talked about seeing a soldier grabbing a baby away from it's parents and throwing it on the ground, smashing it's head in. He watched as Nazi's used steel wool pads to scrape his best friend's skin off. He managed to stay alive because the Nazi's needed people to carry bodies off to be buried.

I saw him in the hall after he had finished speaking. He was frail, his eyes were red and he gave me a hug that spoke of his misery. He made me promise to remember, to care and to be his voice when he is gone.

Spolied

One of my friends and I like the same kinds of clothes. Because we often go shopping together, a lot of the clothes I have in my closet are also in hers.

She is just a little taller than me, so everytime any of her clothes shrink or whenever she gets tired of them she gives them to me. A few days ago she gave me a garbage bag full of jeans, cute skirts and soft sweaters. It's almost guaranteed that her clothes fit and that I'll love them. It's fabulous having a personal shopper who passes on all her best finds for free.

Why Faunty should stay home with me all the time

Someone* played a cruel trick on Faunty while she was out.

She's been quite an absentee parent when it comes to her needy little dog, so he's gotten quite shaggy. Someone, who will not admit to any wrongdoing, decided to do something about the problem and got out the puppy razor.

Now her dog has a very silly-looking mullet and is so embarrased that he's been hiding out under the computer table.

*This someone may or may not be the same person that attempted to give Faunty's shoulder-length hair a trim a few years back, but ended up making her hair so short she couldn't do anything but spike it.

The candidates

A girl from the little town I recently escaped from said this to me a few weeks ago:

"I really liked this amazing guy, but I broke up with him because this other guy - who happens to be rather boring, but that's okay because I like his relatives - seemed more like he would want to marry me. Now we're dating and I have our entire future and career paths planned out." Cute.

I hope they get to live the long dull life they've always dreamed of.

I'll never understand why people make decisions like this. Is it really so bad to be 20 and unwed?

Because my computer won't let me post any pictures and because Jen is always changing her template, I decided to fix mine up too.

Can someone explain a very simple way to make a list of linking sites?

***

The technical difficulties continue.

The best I can do with this is to get __.blogspot.com to come up in the links sections, but it doesn't actually connect to the other sites. I don't get it.

This is what my template looks like (with more "divs" and arrows). Is something missing, or how do I find blogroll code?

Begin Links Section
div class "sidebox"
div class "sideheader"
Links
div
div class "side"
Replace this text with Blogroll code or list of links
div
div
End Links Section

Trading spaces

For quite a few years, my parents have been wanting to sell our house and move closer to my little sister's school. But our house is so big, the people who've come to look at it in the past have thought it really is too much house for them. Also, it's not in the best location.

Our house isn't on the market now, but a woman called my mom earlier today to ask if we would consider trading houses with her. Her house is exactly where we want to live and it sounded perfect from the way she described it.

We went to see her house this afternoon and it was so disappointing. It's 1/2 the size of our house, is 30 years older, has hideous basement and is painted a puke yellow.

It's only worth as much as our house because of where it's located, but we're thinking about it because we really want to live in that area and be so close to the places we drive to everyday. Living there would save us $300 a month in gas, but it will be a sad trade if we decide to go with it.

Bettering herself

Faunty is taking cooking lessons from my mom. Today's special: macaroni.

Jobs and more jobs

Should I be a legal assistant, a fitness techician, a coffee server, a pilot's navigator, or a police clerk? These are all the interesting job postings I've found and the navigating one is the only one I'd have to go back to school for. There are too many choices and none that seem perfect.

I'm thinking of talking to the editor of a fun paper here to see if he's interested in running a column idea I have and I'm considering talking to a local non-profit organization about a kids' book, but I seem to be lacking ambition. Maybe on Monday. Or maybe not at all.

In other news, I got called back for another shift on the movie set. The film is about a seriel killer and we were filming in a backyard in a rough neighbourhood. The crew dug a body-sized pit in the middle of the yard and buried a girl who was pretending to be a corpse. It was creepy but kind of neat.

Yummers

My little sister - who turns nine in a few days - let me take her trick-or-treating last night. I say "let" because in going with me, she knows that means I'll be eating tons of her candy.

It was snowy and very cold last night, so people felt bad for us and were very generous. Our living room table is covered in mini chocolate bars and little chip bags. The snacks are so tasty it's almost worth getting fat.

What this house does to me....

Today I stubbed my toe on the heel of my other foot.

A few minutes later I accidentally cut the skin on my one thumb with my other thumb's nail.

I was always remarkably clumsy, but it seems my parent's house makes the problem worse.

An unpleasant realization

In my first or second year of high school, these guys I had tiny crushes on were discussing the girls they knew. One of my friends told me they said: "The only reason anyone will ever like her is because of two round reasons."

A short while later while on a trip with my youth group, the youth pastor wasn't happy that I was having a cute little summer relationship with a guy from California. The youth pastor said, "Matt only liked you the day you were wearing your tight shirt."

Although I know it's stupid, I just realized today that I still kind of believe what they said. Maybe it's because I've really never received any evidence to the contrary, but I should be too old to be this dumb.

A twist of irony

I just got back to my parents' house with a van and a car full of stuff. I came back a day early because I'm doing a little work as an extra in a true-crimes T.V. movie and we're shooting tomorrow.

I didn't know what my character would be or if I would just be in a crowd scene until a few minutes ago when I got an e-mail from the casting director. I'm playing a reporter. How weird is that?

I'm a little disappointed that I never get picked to play drug addicts, homeless bums or any of the other crass exciting roles. The last time I worked for this production company, I played an off-duty police officer. I guess I must look wholesome.

**************

Filming was mostly boring because we were doing a lot of waiting, but the parts we were actually filming were fun. I was playing a T.V. reporter, so I had a camera man with me and was pretending to do a live hit in front of a court room.

I dressed for the part and was very glad I had. The other female reporter had to change into a hideous flowered dress with shoulder pads.

!

Happy last day to me!

My parents are coming tonight to help me move all my stuff and I'm so happy to escape this opressive environment where no one is able to communicate properly.

Besides being my last day, today is also payday and I just got a cheque for $400 more than I was expecting.

I promise my blog will soon be filled with all kinds of pictures, scanned images and less complaining.

Censorship

The police officer who tells court the evidence about all the ticket cases (ie. speeding and underage drinking) asked me for a favour. He wanted me to write a story about how a crazy woman* sneakily managed to convince the police to drop the charges against her.

I told the officer that while I think the story is news, I'm not sure it's a wise idea to write it. If I do, I'll have to explain what she did to get the charges dropped and I don't think it's in the public's best interest for law breakers to know a way to get out of their cases.

It's not my job as a journalist to censor the news; I should be opposed to that at all costs. But at the same time as I'm considering censoring this story, I like reporting because I'm uncovering the dark parts of things and (hopefully) encouraging change.

I already told the officer I didn't want to do the story, but now I'm not so sure.

My dilemma reminds me of a story I read about young girls taking crystal meth. The story was almost like an add for the drug, saying it helps people lose weight, have lots of energy, not need to sleep and not need to eat. Oh, and the story also mentioned how cheap meth is. There was only a tiny section on the dangers of taking meth. It made me angry that a reporter could write that without considering the social costs of the story.

Am I right that the cost to society is reason enough to refuse to write this story?

(I would ask the editor and the staff here, but they would think something like this: "If criminals knew there was a way to get their charges dropped, they would by the paper to find out how. There are a lot of law breakers in town, so we would make a lot of money. Let's put the story on the front page with a step-by-step guide to being cleared." So that's why I would really value some cyber-opinions.)

* This is the same woman who was charged with hitting a firefighter with a stick.

An angry rant (which may discuss semi-colons)

We're getting the paper ready to go to press right now. We're supposed to be editing it to make sure no mistakes get printed, but I can't handle it anymore.

There are mistakes in everything. They're all over the place. In one story I changed manor to manner because the reporter wasn't talking about a mansion and I fixed all kinds of comma errors. You'd think if you work at a newspaper, you'd know that you can't attach two sentences by adding a comma. And you'd think you'd know that shorter sentences are most often the way to go.

Also, they use the wrong big words because they don't know what they mean. For example, I had to change causality (something that makes something happen) to casualty because the writer was talking about soldiers dying.

But the thing that makes me too angry to do any more editing is the way people here use semi-colons. Not only do they think semi-colons can be used in place of any commas or colons, they use them because they think randomly plopping semi-colons into their work make them look smart. So I quit fixing their messes.

Good thing Friday is my last day.

An angry rant (which may discuss semi-colons)

We're getting the paper ready to go to press right now. We're supposed to be editing it to make sure no mistakes get printed, but I can't handle it anymore.

There are mistakes in everything. They're all over the place. In one story I changed manor to manner because the reporter wasn't talking about a mansion and I fixed all kinds of comma errors. You'd think if you work at a newspaper, you'd know that you can't attach two sentences by adding a comma. And you'd think you'd know that shorter sentences are most often the way to go.

Also, they use the wrong big words because they don't know what they mean. For example, I had to change causality (something that makes something happen) to casualty because the writer was talking about soldiers dying.

But the thing that makes me too angry to do any more editing is the way people here use semi-colons. Not only do they think semi-colons can be used in place of any commas or colons, they use them because they think randomly plopping semi-colons into their work make them look smart. So I quit fixing their messes.

Good thing Friday is my last day.

What makes a yoga class crappy?

1. ...when the instructor's teeth are a distracting death-like shade of grey.

2. ...when no one tells you that you'll need your on mat, so you have to stretch out on the stinky sweaty carpet.

3. ...when the instructor farts loudly during one of the poses, then calmly says, "This pose promotes digestion and helps air trapped in the body to escape."

4. ...when you've been looking forward to it for months and it's too easy.

But I shouldn't complain. Afterall, I did get paid $40* to go.

* Because I covered the class for work, I got paid for my time. And because I was writing about it, I got to take the class for free.

"May we live long and die out"

The above quote is the Voluntary Human Extinction Movement's motto.

I agree with the group and its socially-responsibile position and decided quite a while ago that I don't want to have my own genetic children. If you'll recall, I do have very long toes and an extra vertebrae in my neck.

I don't want all of humanity to become extinct, but I agree with the movement to stop overpopulation and to treat the already-existing people and the earth a chance to be healthy and well.

The group's website is http://www.vhemt.org/.

Why my car was blushing

You know it's time to wash your car ... when you discover that someone's used the dusty hood of your car as a canvas on which to draw a gigantic male appendage.

I had gone around the back of my car and almost didn't see the new addition before going to cover a fancy event for the paper. I'm so glad I noticed the artwork and had time to give my car a paper-towel bath before heading out.

I have learned my lesson and will go to the car wash tomorrow.

Healthy choices

At the grocery store the other day I had a hard time picking a bluberry muffin mix over a chocolate chip one, but blueberry ended up winning since it appeared to be the healthier choice. But when I was making the muffins, I discovered that the blueberries were actually "blueberry-flavored nuggets."

From now on, I'm going with chocolate chip muffins.

True story:

A guy was charged with being in the driver's seat of a vehicle while intoxicated even though everyone agreed he hadn't been driving.

Apparently police came across a vehicle parked in the middle of a gravel road with the engine on late on night. When police got closer, they saw a male sleeping in the driver's seat and female asleep in the passenger's seat, both completely naked.

The guy's defence argued that the female had driven and parked and that "because of the activities that occurred inside the vehicle, the accused found himself in the driver's seat."

Even though he hadn't been driving, he was fined $1,000 for being drunk and in the driver's seat. In Canada, police are allowed to assume a drunk person intends to drive if he or she is in the driver's seat of a vehicle.

Though the boring and serious stuff going on the rest of the day, I kept trying not to laugh at the idea of this poor broad-shouldered naked drunk guy.

Still alive

I survived the election debate and the pile of interviews that followed, went back to the office and worked like mad. I didn't leave until 1:45 a.m..

Everything I was working on is done and ready to be printed. The only crisis now is trying to edit out and mistakes others might accidentally put into my stories.

Thus ends the peak of my job. Now on to the denoument.

Question:

If you were a 6'2" woman and your husband was 5'11", would your shoe collection consist only of heels?

Mine wouldn't. I'm around 5'7" (maybe 5'8" because of yoga) and wear mostly flats so as not to dwarf shorter people. Even though I'm not short, my neck was getting sore looking up at this ridiculously-tall woman.

Finally, a challenge

This may be The Busiest Day of my Career, but I'm not stressed yet.

I'm covering the local elections for the paper and things are hectic and exciting. There's a big meeting tonight, where all the candidates will speak about why they should be elected and then there will be a big debate.

The meeting will end around 10 pm and everything I'm writing for this issue is due, at the latest, by noon tomorrow. I may be in the office all night, since this is huge news and I'm giving it all the space it deserves. I've actually been practicing stating up late the past few nights, so I should be mostly coherent no matter how late I have to stay.

I'm finally doing something Important here and I love it.

A confession and a boast

I like watching Jeopardy. I know it's kind of an embarrassing thing to admit because everyone knows Jeopardy is for old people, but I am still a little fan.

Well, the Final Jeopardy Question yesterday was remarkably easy. It was:

"In Act One, this Shakespearean character said: 'The funeral baked meats did quickly furnish the marriage table.' "

No one got it right. But in my living room/bedroom I sure knew the answer. It's Hamlet. He was upset that soon after his dad died his mom married his uncle.

So I felt very smart for a few minutes, even though the question was too easy.

Of court and social gatherings

A kind-of-cute guy I met on the weekend was in court this week.

His situation, although under the Highway Traffic Act and not the Criminal Code, is interesting enough to go in the paper so I'm putting it in.

It won't make it into the paper until next week and I'm probably going to see him at an event I'm covering this weekend.

Here's how the conversation will go:

Him: Hi.

Me: Hi. So I uh saw you in court. Too bad about the charge.

Him: Yeah.

Me: So it was nice to meet you and I still think you're not too bad to look at, but could you maybe not pick up a copy of the paper this week?

Him: Vague mumbled threats.

Ahh, words

Funny things have been happening around here lately.

At the town council meeting I was at a little while ago, all kinds of big words were being thrown around. I heard several mentions to "frontage" and "flankage," which are ways of measuring people's yards.

Then I heard a man who was trying to sound impressive say "irregardless," which just so happens to not be a word. He meant to say regardless and the mayor gave a little smirk when he said that.

Nearing the end of the meeting when there was only one thing left to discuss, the mayor was reading from his briefing papers and said something that sounded like this, "blah, blah, blah in camera blah, blah...".

When I didn't get up to leave, the town administrator explained that "in camera" means closed to the public and that I, the only member of the public at the meeting, would have to leave. I find it almost too funny that I was dismissed in Latin.

Today I discovered mistakes in a story I had written about a family where I referred to them by their last name, but with an "s" added to show I was talking about both family members.

It was edited to have an apostrophe before the "s" because "it just looks better." (Even though an apostrophe after a name means that something belongs to that person - ie. the Jones' cat.) I'm getting to be quite good at undoing the mistakes people put into my stories.

Also today I was editing someone else's work for the paper and saw that the word "contentious" was used where the word should have been "conscientious." I'm actually disappointed with myself for fixing it.

After my many observations, here is the conclusion I have come to: pompous words sound stupid whether or not they are used properly.

At least a little thankful

One of my favorite people was planning to come for a visit this weekend.

She was going to take the bus, but apparently it isn't going to be running on it's regular schedule since it's Thanksgiving weekend and Greyhound doesn't want to cart people home for the holidays.

My friend could drive, but her car is a huge polluting beast and burns crazy amounts of gas.

So I will try to remind myself to be thankful for pumpkin pie, for a freshly-cleaned apartment and for more time to hang out with myself.

I'll also be thankful that I'll be moving home at the end of the month and we'll be able to spend heaps of time together.

Happy Thanksgiving.

You probably shouldn't read this

I had another not-normal dream.

I dreamt that I had cashews sticking out of my eyes and I kept pulling them out. I ended up with a handful of them and my parents said we should eat them. I thought that was a strange idea, but I shared the eye cashews and we all ate them.

Gross.

A darling proposal

One of my sisters (thelonelyphotographer.blogspot.com) just got engaged!!!!!!!!!!!!

They got all dressed up for dinner last night and there was a huge bouquet of roses on their table. He told her the things he likes about her and asked if she would marry him.

Somewhat in shock, she said, "uh, sure." Then she was too excited to eat, so he ate her food and his.

Isn't that cute?

I had to spill this much, but the rest of the details are for her to tell. They have no date set yet, but I'm going to have an engagement party for them on October 14.

Congratulations dear. I wish you all the best and hundreds of pink roses.

Can I take the pictures at your wedding?!? (You know I had to ask.)

A mystery

Can anyone explain to me how cell phones can call home phones and how home phones can call cell phones? I don't get it.

It sounds logical enough that one cell phones' frequency bounces off a tower to connect with another cell phone. And it seems easy enough for a landline to call another through the telephone wires that connect them.

But how do cell phone calls hop off of a tower and into a phone line? And how does a call that starts inside a landline end up a frequency that bounces off a tower and makes a cell phone ring?

If you know the secrets of technology, please explain this to me. I get rather agitated when I know I don't know something that's knowable.

I'm famous (in a town with less than 5,000 residents)

Lately strangers have been coming up to me and asking if I'm the girl who works at the paper or asking what I'm working on for my column.

When I say yes, they seem a little awed, which is kind of confusing because the paper is kind of crappy. (I have to do a whole pile of editing just to make sure the stuff that goes in is actually in sentences.*)

So I just had to let you know I'm like totally a celebrity here. I should start autographing copies of the paper :)


*This reminds me of a third-year English class Faunty and I took together last year. The prof was getting irritated with how little some of the students seemed to know about what was expected from an essay she had assigned.

One of the students, seeming quite worried about the essay, asked, "What kind of format would you like us to use?"

The prof answered, "I would like it to be written in sentences and paragraphs."

The "lying contest"

I have a date with justice today.

A case about a drunk driver who crashed and gave his passenger some brutal injuries is going to trial today. I've been following his case since July and am curious to see what will happen next. He's pretty much guaranteed to go to jail and could face up to 10 years in prison.

He had pled guilty before, but I think he got scared when he realized how bad the consequences could be. I read somewhere that the fight for justice is really only a lying contest. So I guess I'll soon find out who the better liar is.

I think he'll be found guilty but might only recieve a year or two in jail.

Update: So the case has been postponed again. It's not going to happen until January 11. Maybe I'll come back to town to cover it if the paper pays for my gas.

Delicious and nutritious

I heard somewhere that buying socially-responsible products is kind of like voting with your money. Since I heard that, I've been buying things that may cost more but are better for me and the environment.

I bought some groceries on my lunch break and fell in love with organic blueberry jam. It has 100% more flavour than regular jam. Yum!

I read this one ad that said, "oranges were candy before candy was candy." That's why I try to carry an organic orange in my purse at all times.

Priorities

What's more important: a retired teacher being thanked by the school (when she'd already had a story about her career a few months ago), a fishing tournament, a woman writing about her cat, or a news story about how the mayor just won his spot back by acclamation and there are 6 candidates fighting over 5 town council spots?

Clearly in a local paper with a local focus town elections don't matter. Afterall, who would want to read that?

I seriously had to argue for the elections story to go in.

If I hadn't already given my notice...

Heuey, Dewey and Louie

My two-year-old nephew is the cutest kid ever. We were playing floor hockey on the weekend and he hit me (lightly) with his stick.

I asked why he did that and he said, "I hit you with my stick because I love you."

Then he went back to hitting the puck.

His brothers are 11-month-old twins and they were in a baby race this weekend. While they didn't come close to winning, it was fun to watch them try.

You know you're in a small town when...

...you hear a commercial on the radio about the "fancy suspenders" for sale at a men's wear shop.

"More fun than Chucky Cheese"

My littlest sister and I have all kinds of fun adventures. This time we made a world-class bubble bath.



You can't really tell from the picture, but the bubbles are almost to the ceiling.

Happy ending

Remember how I was talking about trying not to quit during my three-month review (which went fabulously, by the way)?

I lasted until the end of the day.

I gave my notice today for both my job and my apartment and have one more month left working for the paper before heading into a future full of wonderful uncertainty.

I'll be moving back in with my family and figure out a game plan later. For now I feel very happy and free.

(These squiggles are me being glad.)

Oh yes I did

Yesterday I did 15 pushups in a row! While they may have been nothing more than knee-pushups, that's quite an accomplishment for my wimpy arms.

Today I fixed a toilet! The chain fallen off the flusher thing, so I reached into the gross tank and did a little handymanning.

The dreaded review

I had my three-month evaluation this morning and it lasted for about an hour and a half.

I was getting a little ulcer-y waiting for it, but it went surprisingly well. Apparently the bosses like everything I'm doing, they just want more of it.

So we had a little brainstorming session about all kinds of profiles and stories we could do. It's about enough stuff to last an entire year. The only problem is that I'm not really interested in doing a lot of the stories.

I'm not so interested in my job anymore either and I really want to go home. I'm thinking about giving notice on my apartment and moving home at the end of October.

Poor scary baby

A dog that's the size of a pit bull just got sentenced to death.

I feel ridiculous for being upset about it but the poor dog was abused when it was younger and it's not its fault that he doesn't know how to behave.

His owner didn't even show up for the hearing.

Time for a book review

Down to This
by Shaughnessy Bishop-Stall

I love this brilliant book and have a little crush on the author. Shaugnessy went and lived as one of the homeless in Toronto for almost a year.

His book is basically a 474-page diary of what happened and how the experience changed him.

Here's a few parts I liked:

March 31

I do love this squalor—every day a little more. I love busting out of this shack in the cold sun, wearing just jeans and unmatching boots….

I love the rats. They live beneath my floor, still scurry back under when they see me coming—as if I don’t know they’re there, like we don’t lie awake at night (me and the rats) listening to each other breathe, scratching and scraping, and sharpening our teeth.

I love the ducks, pigeons, seagulls, geese and doves, all flying and fighting for bits of bread, singing and squawking—how it seems they’re copying our every move….

I love my little big brother, Calvin [no relation]. I love his smiling shiny eyes and that he asks me if I’m doing okay whenever he’s not. I love that he laughs if I hit him a bit too hard when we’re jousting with two-by-fours or fighting in the woodpile. I love that we can’t hurt each other, no matter how much we bruise and bleed….


April 3

The woman ahead of me in the soup line today was laughing in a Hollywood approximation of madness. She turned to me, still cackling, and we stared at each other for a long time, both a bit out of our heads—monsters meeting in a desert world.

She put a cigarette in each of our mouths, and I lit them. She stopped laughing and said, "You have nice eyes." She said it like you might say, "You’ve shot me."

"Thank you."

She took a drag of her cigarette, then punched me hard in the stomach.

Everything’s kind of like that these days.

Uber-fun Friday night

I went out to the bar for the first time since moving to my new town and it was even less exciting than I thought it would be.

For starters, there were maybe 12 people there, including the workers.

I went with my new friend who can't decide if she likes me or not and a few of her friends.

The one girl lost her licence for drinking and driving so she drove to the edge of town and hid her car behind an old building. Classy.

Then when we were at the bar, she and my new friend were talking about how they drink and drive and lie to the cops. Fun.

And the other girl told me that she hates people that drink and drive and that a guy she knew who was in the passenger seat when his friend was driving drunk deserved it when he was thrown into the windshield and almost died.

Other neat things I learned:

1. My friend who sometimes likes me lies to her boyfriend and he follows her to find out what she's doing.

2. I would rather spend an evening baking cookies.

3. I don't really like my sometimes friend.

A dilemma of epic proportions

Grey's Anatomy is on tonight after a summer-long hiatus. The finale made me cry and I can't wait to find out what happens next.

The only problem is that there's an aerobics class on tonight with real people in it that seem to like me.

I have no VCR and only two channels, so I couldn't catch up with my TV friends after the class. I think it would be smart to go to aerobics instead, but I don't really want to.

Tongue-biting ahead

My three-month evaluation is coming up in two days.

Here's what they'll say:

1. "We want you to use bigger words and string them together to make longer sentences."

2. "We want you to be on time for work."

3. "We want you to stop telling us about your ideologies."

4. "We want you to focus on writing stories in a way that will convince more clients to advertise with us. That is, we want you to write nice things about the people you interview."

5. "We want you to work unlimited overtime for no compensation."

6. "We want you to stop compaining about the 1980's computer that keeps crashing. We don't care how much it costs in lost productivity because, as we already mentioned, we want you to work unlimited hours."

7. "We want you to stop saying bad things about us on the internet."

I'm going to do my best not to say anything during the review to keep from spontaneously quitting.

Red like blood and shiny paint

I wrote a cheque for my last car payment yesterday — remember it's a cheap 1980's car so this isn't really a monumental occasion — and hit a raccoon shortly afterwards.

I swerved to aviod hitting the poor creature, but it was too late. The thud was so loud I didn't stop to see if he'd be okay. It was so gross and so sad.

After having paid my car off, I was thinking that maybe I could keep it, just for fun. But the accident reminded me that I don't want to keep wrecking the world with my car as the weapon.

I'll keep my car as long as I keep my job. After that, it'll be back to carpooling, taking the bus or begging my mom to drive me places.

The sort-of invitation

(Warning: this post containes pompous blustering, which I will try to keep to a minimum in the future.)

I made it onto the Dean's List last year and went to a little ceremony yesterday to collect a pin, a certificate and a nice heaping of praise.

The speaker sat beside me and we talked for a bit. He had spent 10 years as dean and is still teaching. After I told him I had already graduated and was working at a paper, he asked if I had considered graduate studies. (!!!)

I'm considering that my official invitation.

There's an idea in sociology called the looking-glass self. It's a theory that people decide who they are based on what they think others think about them.

I think the theory works, at least when it comes to decoding myself. Now that I know the dean thinks I'm smart enough to handle graduate work, maybe I'll have to give it a try.

Tid bits

The good thing about working ridiculous amounts is being able to take Fridays off. I'm back home and loving it. I heard it might snow this weekend and if it does, I hope there's such a huge storm that I'll have to take even more time off.

I interviewed the mayor of my little town earlier today and we got off topic and started discussing the future of rural Saskatchewan. He said, half-jokingly and half-seriously, that by the year 3,000 Saskatchewan will be no more than one farm and two cities. I agree, but I think it will be an awful lot sooner than that.

I'm in a rehab program for my neck and have to exercise muscles that are so tiny I have no idea when I'm flexing them.

I'm thinking of stealing Faunty's dog and taking him with me to my lonely town. I'm not sure if I want him or not though since he can be annoying.

The Photographer just came home and took a piece of lettuce out of the fridge, poured salad dressing on it, rolled it up and ate it. Apparently she loves ceaser salad.

My car will be officially paid off tomorrow! Even though she only cost $2,300, it'll be nice to know that she's actually mine and not the bank's.

High and low

A public relations woman from the university I graduated from called to ask if I wanted a part-time job that sounded amazing. I was too excited about it to sleep and kept thinking about all the classes I would take and the profs I would discuss political and social ideologies with. I also thought about how nice it would be to get back into my favorite yoga class.

Then in between going to court — which was depressing — and discovering that the woman who wanted to hire me thought I was a student and probably can't hire a graduate, I had a long, sad tired day.

Bees and flowers

I got two compliments on my writing today.

The first person sent an e-mail saying the quality of the paper has gone up since I've been here, that my column is his/her favorite, and that my writing is "refeshing."

I was feeling very smug until the second compliment.

A elderly man I was interviewing said he really likes my writing and keeps looking for my stories in the paper. Fabulous. But then he said, "It seems like you don't really know much about anything." When I said I keep my writing simple so everyone can understand it, he said he meant his comment in a nice way and that he enjoys reading my work.

So I'm feeling a little less smug.

Intruige and scandal in the workplace

Someone in my office is trying to kill me.

My would-be assassin keeps using the washroom, for presumably smelly purposes, and spraying lethal amounts of vile peach air freshner.

As if that weren't bad enough, this person closes the door, leaving the fan off, and making sure whoever uses the facilities next inhales masses of toxic fumes.

A simple but diabolical plan.

A not-nice dream

Last night I dreamt that I opened a dusty thing — maybe an art folder or a glass light cover — and all these tiny dead bugs and animals fell out.

There were moths and flies and a horse that would have been about two inches long and one inch high. They were all dead and dried out and covered in dust.

When I opened the container to clean it, they all fell on my bed and were too gross to even think about cleaning the mess. So I left.

I've thought about quitting about 100 times today.

Most jobs I've had have lasted three days to three months. I'm getting closer to the three-month mark and the suffocation is starting.

I had a disagreement with one of my old friends a while back. I said I've gone through probably 20 jobs so far in my relatively short years of being an employee. She didn't think the total could be anywhere near as high, so I'm going to make a list to see who'se right.

1. working at a park in new Brunswick, riding my bike up and down the trails all summer

2. working as a file clerk/secretary at an insurance company (fired)

3. working at tim hortons (fired)

4. working as a Santa photographer in the mall

5. packaging nuts and candies for a snack company (fired)

6. selling magazines door-to-door

7. working at a call centre doing surveys

8. picking berries at a little berry farm

9. working at a coffee shop

10. doing home care for a parapalegic (I lasted 3 days)

11. working in a department store

12. working in housekeeping

13. working in housekeeping at another hotel (fired)

14. working at a cell phone call centre

15. working in cosmetics at Shoppers' drug Mart

16. working as a painter

17. packing for people who were moving

18. big internship at a real paper

19. my current job

20. demonstrating products like Swiffer Mops in malls and handing out chocolate samples

****this list is only partly in order****

I wonder if it's a record to go through 20 jobs in 6 years, while also going to school. If not, maybe being fired three times in a row can be my claim to fame.

My parachute is not this colour.

Poor potential bird-to-be

My car got egged last night. There's dried yolk, egg white and a few pieces of the shell on top of the driver's door and the roof. Cute.

A bird once pooped on my face at Seaworld or Disneyland a few years ago, and nothing, not even an entire carton of eggs, could be worse than that warm sticky white mess.

Well I have no idea how to get the egg off my car, I'm rather pleased to have joined the elite company of one of my favorite court reporters (from a real paper, in a real city) who also fell victim to flying eggs.

Of fruit snacks and bus rides

Happy first day of school, Faunty.

This monumental occassion reminds of your grade-school picture with your huge glasses, she-mullet and your pink and white flowered shirt.

Good thing you now have a personal shopper and half of my clothes :)

Yipee

My new friend that doesn't like me likes me again :)

Good, because hanging out at the grocery store and library is starting to get old.

My Monday

In between doing an interview and waiting for an event to start at a camp, I had an hour to spend splashing in the water and laying on a gorgeous beach.

I was enjoying the sun and having a little nap on the sand when a huge dog ran up, jumped on my stomache and shook himself off, spraying smelly droplets all over me. What great fun.

"Murderer arrested"

Anyone see a problem with this headline?

I know of a paper (not mine of course) that ran this headline on the front page. I smell a lawsuit coming with huge, huge damages.

The criminal/ reporter (part 2)

Yesterday was terrible.

It turns out that information I got from a police officer about a person's court case was incorrect. I wrote what he told me, and the person's family came in to complain.

It's a crime to print wrongful accusations. Defamation.

So I defamed a kid and it doesn't matter who my source was because as a reporter it's my job to make sure I only write true things.

I checked my legal guide and found out that I couldn't go to jail for this particular case, but the paper could be sued. (Because I'm acting under the paper's direction, they're ultimately responsible if I make a mistake.)

Obviously my bosses weren't happy and they took me to the police station to meet with the officer. He apologized and took full responsibility, so I think they forgive me. It sounds like the bosses had been talking about not covering court anymore, which would have devestated me because that's what I like most about living here, but the officer told them he's really glad that we're reporting on court.

I did some checking and I think the worst that could happen if we get sued is that we'll have to pay $1. That's what happened in another court case where a criminal was defamed. In that case the judge ruled that if someone has no reputation to begin with, they don't deserve compensation for harm to their repuatation.

So it seems like after printing a correction everything will be okay. I'm exhausted though. Even my bones feel weary.

The criminal/ reporter

I was booking an interview earlier today and was having a hard time finding a time when the woman I need to talk to (about her farm) and I will both be free.

After several times didn't work, she asked about another day.

"I can't do it then because I have to be in court all day," I told her.

Perhaps I should've tried to sound more like a reporter and less like a felon. I wonder if she'll bring some pepper spray to the interview.

The backstory

I decided to become a journalist because I couldn't pick from the millions of career options and the hundreds of courses offered at the university. I chose the only job that was all the jobs all wrapped up into one.

The premier told me his job was the best, adding "what other job lets you travel around and talk to all the people you meet?" I said my job was good for that.

It seems like everytime I ask people what they like about their jobs, they say something that I have in my job too.

I've interviewed a forensic scientist and kids working on a proposal for the United Nations. I've tried aquacizing with seniors and played a little wheelchair basketball with some elementary students. I get to do and be everything here. (At least in theory.)

Another reason I picked journalism was because the program at my school is one of the top in the country and only 26 students are accepted each year. Those that are accepted have to hand in an application package, write an exam and pass a panel interview and the entire process takes half a year of anxiety. The department has these snobby glass doors to keep everyone else out. I wanted to be the snob on the inside and that played a shamefully-large part in how I chose my major.

Now that I'm working at this small-town paper with my big-city ideas, I feel like everything is backwards from how it should be. I feel like people here think I'm dumb and it makes me feel like I need to prove myself to them.

I miss being behind those glass doors because while I was back there, everyone knew I was smart and one of the Chosen.

So?

An ambulance pulled in at a store across the street earlier today. My boss stood at our window and took some pictures through the glass. I asked what was going on and why he wasn't over there asking what happened and he said he didn't want to.

So I grabbed my notebook and walked over. There was a girl (maybe 12-16) on a stretcher getting oxygen. The store workers weren't very happy to see me and refused to answer any of my questions, so I talked to the girl's mom.

Turns out that she fainted and most likely is already up and feeling fine by now.

I didn't get in the way or interupt the EMS workers or do anything wrong, but I think I've scandalized this town.

Carrot topped

I've heard that I look like Uma Thurman, which is a good thing if I resemble her when she's in top form, but a terrible terrible thing if I look like her in Kill Bill when she's all beaten up and dying.

To make sure I look more like the first than the second, I decided to try being blond. It turned out more orange than blond, but I like it anyway. It's my first time ever being blond and so far all is well.

When I get tired of it, I'm sure it will be much easier to fix than the time I dyed it black.

P.S. I watched My Super Ex-girlfriend the other day and it was much better than I had expected. Funniness abounds. A few times when she was in her brunette-with-glasses disguise, I was startled to see how much she looks like me.

Flying with Icarus and Daedalus

For $5 it would be a terrible shame not to go up in a hot air balloon. The balloon will be teathered, which is kind of lame, but at least it won't take all day to get back down and at least the chances of hitting a power pole are minimal.

If I see you from up in the clouds, I'll make sure to wave.

*Unfortunatley we got nowhere near close enough to the sun to melt any homemade sets of wings.

Forest Gump sat across from me on the bus today.

A feeble old man got on the bus today and didn't stop talking until he reached his destination. As he was talking in my general direction and as no one else was paying any attention, I gave him a few Mona-Lisa smiles in between listening to him and turning to look out the window, hoping he would stop talking. But he sure wouldn't.

He told me about his shed that has a lawnmower in it, stray cats that he looks after and how he likes fishing. Then he said that he had been engaged a few years before but his fiance died in her sleep seven months before they were going to be married. She died of epilepsy, a condition he has too, and I bet if he had been with her she'd have had a much better chance at surviving.

Poor little sweet man.

Justice at work

I just witnessed a woman being cleared of an assault charge, after testifying that she didn't do it.

That would be fine if I hadn't had an encounter with this woman a month ago where she told me she did it.

Neat.

"We want your stories to be more verbose"

"Verbosity is the product of making a text verbose, a process which is the exact opposite of being concise. A verbose text is one that has a larger than necessary amount of words, usually the inflation being due to a higher number of adjectives. Verbose texts tend to be more descriptive, but at the cost of blurring the information, to the point where excessively verbose texts have only description, and are often unreadable."
— Wikipedia

Who thinks a journalist should try to be verbose? Certainly not I.

I believe anyone reading the paper deserves to understand what's going on and not think, "Wow, I must be stupid because I don't understand a word of that."

It is for you, dear readers, and for newspaper browsers everywhere, that I risked my job today and refused to throw bonus long words into my stories.

I do have to admit I was tempted to clutter up my writing and make it incomprehensible and see how they liked that.

But the thought makes me ill.

Milky rice

No matter how much Rice Dream I drink, I don't think I'll ever get used to the idea of drinking rice. It tastes good, but it seems like chewing ought to be required.

Top-quality medicare

I went to a walk-in clinic to get x-rays done on my neck. I was in two car accidents and the provincial insurance comany that's been dealing with my case recommended I get x-rays before starting up my physiotherapy program.

So when the doctor came into the examination room, I told him all I needed was for him to write me a note telling the x-ray technician to take a few pictures of my neck bones. Simple and easy, enough for the doctor, wouldn't you think?

He got really angry and was not-quite-but-almost yelling, refusing to take my case. "If I get involved," he said, "the government will keep sending me paperwork about you and I don't want to do it." (He only gets paid for the number of clients he sees, so he wouldn't make any extra money by filling out any forms the insurance agency wanted him to.)

Then he insisted I go back to the first doctor I saw after the accidents, but I can't remeber even going to the doctor back then. If I had, it was to a rude walk-in clinic doctor who didn't think anything was wrong. I explained this to the doctor and he kept telling me he wouldn't do anything for me.

Well in Canada, medicare is free and provided by the government, so I asked how he could refuse to help me. He, continuing in his scary angry voice, said he already told me and it seemed like he was going to walk out.

I was getting mad by then and said, "Do you usually refuse to help your patients?"

He didn't like that too much.

By the end, I was getting so frustrated that my voice cracked. Soon after, he gave in and authorized my x-rays.

My x-rays showed that I really do have a bonus vertebrae in my neck. Doctors should know better than to mess with mutants.

Yes

I saw this when I looked out of the bus window today.

After staring at it for a minute or two, we drove past some trees and I couldn't see it anymore. When we were passed the trees it was like it had never been there in the first place.

My answer is yes. Yes, I do believe. I may not know the name of the mystical thing in the sky that keeps calling me, and I may not know the way towards it, but I know I believe and that it loves me.

When I had given my answer, the sun pulled out of the clouds and shone down on me in that warm white-gold way.

What would you say to the question in the sky?

Saturday night fun

It's 6:30 Saturday evening and what am I doing?

Why I'm in my office, working like a frantic beast. Isn't that what weekends are for?

I've been working since 7:30 this morning and have an event to go to right away and a story I have to write about it before I can leave tonight.

It's not so bad though. I got paid to go for a boat ride and I get Sunday and Monday off.

Happy weekend.

* It's 8:50 and almost my bed time. Still tired and still working away.

** It's 9:43 and I'm done. Finally.

Mystery solved

My coffee mug (which is actually reserved for tea, hot chocolate or cereal) has finally been spotted after disappearing earlier this week.

It isn't with the other mugs, as one might expect, nor is it on someone's desk. It's sitting on the counter right next to the hot chocolate, impatiently waiting to be filled up again.

I may have to oblige.

Getting closer to zero

My revised budget shows that it will be possible to reach the illusive goal of $0 by mid-February.

I can't wait to be rid of all my minus money and it feels good to have a plan.

Weird story from the archives

I lived in a snowboarding mountain town the year I was 19. I moved into a house with a girl I didn't know and she went on holidays a day or two after I moved in.

She had a cousin who needed a place to stay because he was visiting for a week and before I moved in she told him he could stay at her place. Before she left, she keep apologizing that she was leaving me with her creepy older cousin, but I didn't really care. I was just glad for a place to live.

Her cousin seemed a little strange, but not too bad. He liked me, but I wasn't interested.

The day he was leaving, I showered and went to work. When I got home he was gone.

Also gone were my delicious-smelling pink Herbal Essences shampoo and conditioner.

My roommate thought I had just misplaced the bottles or used them up without noticing. It wasn't until about two years later, on his next visit, that she believed me.

When he left, he left my half-empty shampoo and conditioner bottles on the edge of her bathtub.

My lovely hair pins

I look crazy today. Somedays I wake up with an irresistable compulsion to wear something most people would be confused by.

For example, last year I had this inexplicable fascination with leg warmers and wore them to work (I was on an internship with a big-city paper) with a little skirt. Faunty and the Photographer tried to persuade me not to leave the house like that, but that only confirmed to me the genius behind the outfit.

Back to today: I'm dressed like a haunted widow whose husband died in a tragic accident at sea. I'm wearing a long crinkly billowy off-white skirt and a cream shirt with thin gold sandals.

I feel like I should be standing on a dock staring out at sea on a stormy day with sea foam swirling around my ankles.

I feel like I'm becoming the old woman Margaret Laurence wrote about who was sitting in a cave near the beach putting beetles into her hair, believing the bugs were beautiful tortoise-shell hair pins.

I'm getting tired of being alone in my new town. I only hang out with myself here and I'm afraid I'm going to get lost forever in a space deep inside my imagination.

* I just remembered the book was called A Jest of God.
**I changed into normal clothes on my lunch break. I feel repressed here.

8:30 (ish)

I suffer from Chronic Lateness Disease, a terible malady, which makes me late for work each and every day. I've been late for a meeting with one of the biggest provincial politicians and in school I used to miss the bus regularly.

My Grade 8 teacher was concerned about my lateness and wanted to cure me of it. He warned me that if I was late for class one more time before the volleyball semi finals, I wouldn't be allowed to play. I loved volleyball, but I just couldn't get to school on time. I had to sit on the sidelines while my team lost. It was torture.

(I'm not and never have been especially good at volleyball, but playing it made me happy. It wouldn't have made a difference to our final standing if I had played, but at least then I would have died trying, which is always better than sitting on the sidelines grieving inside.)

A few months later I was so late for the year-end party that I missed the bus to the waterslides or wherever it was that we were going. I'm sure my teacher was confused as to why his plan didn't work.

Back to why I'm telling you this: it doesn't matter that I'm late for work every day because my boss sometimes comes in an hour late and the other reporter hasn't shown up yet today.

It almost makes me look punctual.

Millions of peaches

The grocery store had a sale on 10-pound boxes of peaches.

Being a single person living on my own, it would seem more rational to buy say five or six peaches, not 30. But I think it's already been established that I am not, in fact, a rational creature.

My boss and I are splitting the case of peaches, but I'm still consuming them in mass quanities. My tummy doesn't feel so good, but that's completely besides the point. There are peaches galore waiting to be gobbled up.

Sometimes I am dumb

I saw one of my skirts laying flat over the back of one of my chairs and was alarmed by how big it was.

"Am I really that fat?" I asked myself, thinking that my mirror must be more than a little deceptive. Agast, I continued to stare at the skirt.

Then I realized that I, like most people, am three dimensional.

If I'm only half as big as I worried I was, I think it must be time to indulge in a few treats.

Q: You know what's really sexy?

A: when you're dressed all cute and summery for work and you find out you have to drive out to a regional park in a car with no air conditiong.

The best part is when a droplet of sweat runs down your knee pit.

Somehow my outfit doesn't seem so cute anymore. But at least the paper-towel bath I took when I got back to the office was refreshing.

Because Faunty never updates her blog, here's what's new with her

Faunty got 92.5% on her midterm exam in her summer class. That disgustingly-high mark was the highest in the class. Even so, when I was home she kept saying, "I can't hang out with you because I have to study." Right.

Faunty is still dating the magician and he is quite proficient with balloon creations. I'm trying to convince her to be his "lovely assistant," but she doesn't want to wear a glittery silver gown.

Faunty still doesn't take proper care of her dog. For example, we went for a walk on my most recent visit where I invited her to bring him and she left him behind. In her defence, he is dumb and annoying and has a strange habit of running straight into oncoming traffic.

Faunty is thinking about getting her masters degree in sociology. I'm afraid she'll eventually be my boss.

Of bathrooms and busses

I got myself into a little crisis last night.

I was on the bus and it was getting late at night. We stopped at a town about an hour away from mine and I went into the depot/hotel to use the washroom.

The washroom was in the basement and it was kind of dark in the hallway. Making things even creepier, a greasy-haired older man was hanging out downstairs.

I went into the washroom, which was quite small, and turned to push the door closed behind me. The door was too big for the frame, but I wasn't going to take any chances with the creepy man, so I slammed myself into the door to get it to close.

Any guesses as to what happened?

I couldn't get the door open again.

And I'm a little clausterphobic.

And there weren't many people around in the hotel basement, besides the one whose help I didn't want.

After an awful lot of pulling, sweating, and bad words yelled silently, I finally managed to get out. And the bus was still waiting. Phew.

Perhaps in the future I won't be so skeptical about those tiny stinky washrooms at the back of the bus.

Namaste

I just discovered that one of my favorite bloggers no longer exists. Jesus loves me, this, I know doesn't have a blog any more and it makes me sad.

Sure he was mean sometimes and didn't always use the most ladylike words, but he was brilliant and interesting and I think I've become a better person from listening to what he had to say.

I miss you -- like I told you I would -- and I hope you're in a better place. I'll be here if you decide to come back.

Besitos carino.

Welcome home

I've always loved the instant when you're driving at night and all of a sudden in the distance you see the lights of the city you can't wait to get to. My family spent a year being nomads and so I got quite used to getting in the car, eating wafer cookies, falling asleep and waking up hours later to watch the orange lights getting closer across the horizon.

Tonight as the bus got closer to town, I imagined the lights were talking to me. They were so excited to see me they didn't let me get a word in.

"Welcome home," they said. "We've missed you. How was your trip? Not too long, I hope. Would you like some pie or iced tea or shortbread cookies? If you're too tired out from your trip, your room is ready for you down the hallway. I've turned down the sheets and laid out fresh towels for you. Good night dear. We'll have to get caught up on everything in the morning. Shall I tuck you in?"

Those lights, I love them. They seem like home to me -- like family, like my grandma standing on the front steps inviting us into the house or like my parents waiting for the bus pull in.

Sometimes work is fun

I just got paid to flirt with a cute stranger.

I also kind-of-sort-of got asked on a date while out doing my regular job.

He's just visiting town and I'm going back to see my family again this weekend. Too bad, because I definately would have agreed to a date.

I was doing streeters when I met him. For streeters I go out once a week to ask people what they think about something that's going on in town or in the news. Then I write down their comments and take their pictures. I'm starting to think Friday afternoons are a very good time for that kind of work :)

Curly

Faunty, lucky Faunty, is taking a summer class with this guy I really really like.

I don't know him and can't explain why I'm so drawn to him.

I sat next to him in a summer class last year, spoke to him maybe two or three times and spent the rest of the time staring at his fantastically curly hair.

He's really smart and he seems kind. Faunty stalks him and found out that he only has two pairs of shoes and refuses to buy more as a social choice.

I imagine that he would love hitch hiking, would be desperate to go kayaking in Peru and would volunteer at a refugee camp, hauling water and handing out rations of food.

I think I like him because, in my mind at least, our ideals match.

Sometimes I'm afraid of criminals

What kind of person:
- bites someone else's leg?
- punches and kicks someone in the face?
- runs out of a store, setting of the alarm and shows the manager who chases him out a knife hidden up his sleeve?
- punches his sister so hard in the forehead that her face swells?

Probably not the kind of person I'd want to have follow me home.

I've decided it's best for me to stop by my office every time I leave court before going home, just in case someone gets mad that I'm writing about them in the paper and wants to find out where I live.

I'm starting to wonder if I'm in danger.

I've heard two people complaining about there being a reporter in court and since these people aren't the most reputable characters, I wonder what they might do.

Oh, the curse of an overactive imagination.

A new day

In case you were wondering, I'm in a much better mood today. And it's court today, so I get to leave the office and get paid to watch democracy in progress. Yipee.

Aggrivating

I don't want the paper I work for to be crappy and I don't think anyone else in the office wants that either.

But so far today I've "discussed" two things we're doing that seem completely ridiculous.

First, we're printing a four page list of names of people participating in an event. Just their names. That's big news, I hear, and everyone in town wants to see a big ol' list in the paper.

And we have about five letters to the editor this week, and all except one are about the same thing. Wouldn't it seem logical to put the one off-topic letter at the beginning or the end, to seperate it from everything else and to keep the readers from getting annoyed and confused? Apparently not.

Why is common sense not working today?

I wrote that 10 minutes ago. Now I'm annoyed about two more things. A cheesy pun I made has been edited out. Instead of calling the court briefs "Court briefs," I had them under the heading "Court, briefly." But it's been changed back to the boring unfunny way now.

Also, I didn't write about the man who was charged with drinking and driving because I don't want to write trash. If something had happened other than him getting caught, like if he had hurt someone or gotten into a big accident, then it would be news. But just naming him and saying that he pled guilty seems low to me. So I didn't do it and I'm not going to.

One last complaint for the day — I hate editing mistakes out of other people's work and having them edit mistakes into mine. Dates, semi-colons, possessives, singular/plural agreement, and it's versus its seem to be the biggest problems here.

I can't wait to leave the office. (And I bet the rest of the people in the office also can't wait for me to leave today.)