Just Different

So, I don't have Facebook, a fact that older people seem to accept quite easily, and younger people tend to be confused by.

The reasons I don't have Facebook are many, and I don't particularly see myself changing my mind any time in the future.

But I realized the other day that some people forget that some of us aren't on Facebook, and therefore aren't particularly sure what's going on in each other's lives.

I mean, I assume that were I Facebook friends with some people I went to high school with or used to work with, I'd know they were married/engaged/pregnant/divorced, etc. etc. But because I'm not, I don't.

I know that's partly my fault, I could look the people up and give them a call and catch up on things, but I think it's also partly a cultural shift. A lot of people are documenting their lives via Facebook (or perhaps another, similar social network) and those of us who aren't similarly plugged in are perhaps forgotten.

I'm not complaining per se, just... noticing.

I've had a few conversations where I'll be telling a friend something about someone I know, "Hey, remember my friend Suzie? Yeah, she's pregnant" and I'll get the response, "yeah, I saw that on her Facebook." And it's... different.

Maybe I miss word of mouth. Maybe I miss the sharing conversations. Maybe I even (gasp) miss the spreading of news (read: gossip?) I don't know.

I'm not saying I feel left out, either, I just think some people are forgetting, and some businesses are certainly forgetting, that not all of us are part of the Facebook masses. For better or worse. And I think a lot of people just assume you are and are therefore part of the information stream they're sending out.

I'm not, and that just is what it is.

I Just Had A Thought*

So Canada's phasing out the penny, right?

Well, what am I supposed to do with the pennies I have right now?

Will there come a day when I'm no longer able to take them to the bank and exchange them for... grown up money?

And, what are they going to do with all those pennies?

And is someone collecting them right now? Like, are businesses holding on to them and... giving them to the banks or something?

How does this all work, anyway?






*Ok. Maybe that was more than one thought. I really only had the one to begin with.

K 9

I realized a couple of things the other week.

I know I've talked about it before, more than once, but I have always wanted to have a dog.

I was talking with one of my best friends who is pregnant with her second child and she was saying how she's always wanted to have children. Not in a creepy obsessive way (you'd have to know her to know what I mean) but just in a "this is something I want as part of my life when the time is right." And she's a great mother. It suits her and she's calm and confident in it and, well, yeah.

And I know some girls grow up and they dream about their wedding. The dress they want, the cake they want, the venue they want, etc. etc. (not that I know anyone like this, but I've seen the tv shows... those ladies get cray-cray!)

Other than having Princess Diana's 25 foot long train and to marry a Prince in a spectacularly royal wedding, I didn't grow up dreaming about my wedding day, or about imagined children. (Although I did want a baby Ewok for a while.) (I figured he'd get along well with my imaginary pony, unicorn, dog and parrot.) (I never did quite understand where the imaginary parrot came from.)

But I did grow up wanting and imagining what it'd be like to have a dog. When I was around them I wanted to deal with them properly (there's a picture of me sternly pointing at a neighbourhood dog who got in our yard) and take care of them (I babysat for a couple who asked me to dog sit their german shepherd for a while. I loved it.) and give and receive affection from them.

I've always enjoyed being around dogs and when I'm at someone's house where there's a dog, I might just pay it more attention than the people, and I will certainly be loved by the dog, as I'm happy to pet and scratch and massage.

The other thing I realized, was that I actually know quite a lot about dogs.

I guess I just kind of figured everyone knew about dogs and breeds, but I was talking with a friend about what kind of dog I might get when I'm able to and as I was listing off names and characteristics, I realized that not everyone has the same dog based knowledge I do.

I can usually guess at a dog's breed, or at least the category it's in. And I know some of the pitfalls of various breeds and what people should watch out for when thinking of getting particular types of dogs.

I like to think I'm good with dogs, but I don't know a lot of the basics, especially if I were to get a puppy, so I've been doing some research and learning more.

I've been watching old episodes of The Dog Whisperer (that man is amazing, I'd love to meet him some day and see him in action, I can only imagine what his energy is like in person) and going online to look up resources.

I don't know how long it's going to be before I can get a dog, and I do wish I was able to have one in this apartment, but I can't, and so I'm going to take the time from now until I do get one to learn what else I can so I can be a smart, informed, prepared owner.

But, yeah. I've always known I wanted a dog, I grew up with visions of dog ownership in my head, and I'm happy to start seeing myself as someone who knows maybe a little bit more than the average Joe about dogs.

It's funny when you realize something positive about yourself you never really noticed before.

To My Resident Manager Who Vacuums The Hallways

Dear Cliff,

I just want you to know something.

When you're vacuuming and I walk by the extra long extension cord that you have plugged into the second floor outlet and that is running allllllll the way down the hall and allllll the way down the stairs to the first floor where I just saw you?

I don't pull the plug.

And I mean I really don't pull it.

It's not like I just think to myself "man, I bet it would annoy him but also be funny if I pulled out the cord!" I actually WANT to do it and stop myself.

Like, I get a naughty/trickster laugh in the back of my head and have to stop myself from just sauntering down the second floor hallway and yanking the cord out of the wall.

So... you're welcome.

Just thought you should know I think you're awesome and so I don't pull out the cord even though I keep thinking it would be pretty darn hilarious (for me) and really really want to.

The end,
Victoria

Musical Prodigy

I like sleeping in.

I used to think everyone liked to sleep in, and am still amazed by early risers, but, yeah, the truth is, I like to sleep in.

But the funny thing (maybe) about it, is that I enjoy sleeping in much more if I'm "ignoring" an alarm in some way.

Even on work days, I have a morning routine that involves setting my alarm extra extra early, and then re-setting it to go off an hour later, just so I can get that "oh good I get to sleep longer" feeling every morning.

(And even then, I still allow myself a certain number of hits on the snooze button.) (I really do like sleeping in.)

So this weekend, knowing I had no work to get to, I was in a haven of sleeping in.

I have my alarm tuned to a radio station and on long weekends they play "all requests" and I noticed something about myself.

I can, even while asleep, or being woken up from being asleep, pick out what song is playing, from a second's worth of melody.

On work mornings, I'm all business. I hear the music, roll over, hit snooze. Rarely do I like the song enough to listen to it because I know I have to get up soon for work and I just want those extra nine minutes.

But on weekends, I'll hear the music, listen for a bit, sometimes through a chorus or half a song before rolling over and hitting snooze.

I did this a few times this weekend because they played a lot of Canadian songs (it *was* the Canada Day long weekend after all) and I liked a lot of them.

But there was one moment that made me laugh. (Well, not laugh so much as think "hah, that was funny,zzzz.") I had already hit snooze a few (gazillion?) times and hadn't moved from the "hit snooze" spot and as soon as I heard a millisecond's worth of noise, I just hit the darn button again. Didn't wait for even a note, just smack.

But, yeah. I have kind of a cool skill.

I can, while asleep, figure out what song's playing in the few seconds it takes me to roll over, reach up and hit snooze.

I may, in fact, be some kind of un-discovered genius you know.

I should probably keep sleeping in just to make sure I don't lose this skill, eh?

For June

So it's July now (not sure how June went so quickly?) and I didn't even get to tell you my favourite June-related story. So, I'm just going to have to tell it a few days late is all.

My Mom and I (and possibly the rest of my family, I don't really know) have always had this thing around the weather in June.

At some point, who knows when, my Mom said "it's chilly for June!" and it just kind of caught on.

As the years went on we'd say it at any time it was strangely cold just for a giggle. Middle of December, massive snow storm? "Brrr, chilly for June."

But this June in particular was... really quite chilly.

As in, I've not worn flip flops. In fact, I've worn my winter boots and been just fine temperature wise.

So there was a lot of opportunity this month to say "chilly for June". Like, pretty much every day.

Which got me thinking.

Maybe June in the Pacific Northwest is always a bit on the cooler than expected side, and maybe that was unusual enough for my Mom (who didn't grow up in Canada) to notice that the weather was chillier than she was used to for "summer."

Maybe June just isn't the warm month we mentally expect it to be here?

Granted, this wasn't a usual June I don't think (would have to check the records and am currently not motivated enough for that) but yeah, maybe it's never a scorcher?

Nonetheless. It certainly was "Chilly for June" this month, that's for sure.

What about you? Are you in the mythical "roasting hot" zones I keep hearing about? Or are you still enjoying a blanket in the evenings like I am?

Ahhhhhhh

So, that was, by all accounts (or, ok, maybe just by my account, but that's the one that matters!) a pretty darn perfect weekend.

It's always an extra relief heading into a three day weekend because you know there's that bonus day that just stretches things out.

Saturday, I completely mellowed out on my couch and read and watched episodes of The Dog Whisperer and really did a whole lot of nothing, except for a "better get some fresh air and exercise" walk later in the day.

Sunday, I mellowed out for the morning, did some laundry and chores and then headed downtown with a friend to catch some of the Canada Day celebrations and fun. We found a cool place to sit and had a yummy drink and appy. Then we met up with another friend and sat on the Legislature lawns to listen to some music and people watch. Then I went home and finished my book while listening to the fireworks and happy crowd.

Yesterday, I woke up and, you guessed it! Mellowed out on the couch for a while. Then C-Dawg and I wandered downtown to buy some books (BOOKS, YAY!) and then to our favourite pizza place for our favourite pizza (mmmmmm) and then I headed home to relax and eat leftover pizza.

It was nice having the feeling of not needing to be anywhere, and even the plans I made were kind of made at the last minute so they didn't feel like plans. Sunday was gorgeous and sunny and it was a perfect day to be out and about with the crowds of face painted, red and white wearing, Canadian flag carrying people.

It was also nice to not know, particularly, what day it was or to worry about having to be anywhere or do anything.

So triple yay for long weekends and sunny days and good food, hurray!

Weirdly Enough

I give you the songs that have been alternating in my head this week.

The first, because I asked my Dad to come to some mortgage meetings with me and I said to him it's because he's "the brains".

Which lead to this...


Pet Shop Boys - Opportunities (Let's Make Lots of Money) 

which lead me to listening to a ton of Pet Shop Boys songs while cleaning my kitchen. (Don't ask. It just happened to work.)


And then this one came along when I was trying to stop thinking about he who shall not be named because if I name him I may just slide back into thinking about him and let's not go there, ok but I kept telling myself to shake it off...which lead to this:


Florence + The Machine - Shake It Out


So there are the songs that have been playing in my head. Weird combo, eh? I could throw in a few others, but they wouldn't make me look any more normal.

Happy weekend though. I do believe it's a long one!

*insert huge grin here*

What Is *With* Me?

Ugh.

Now it's Fen I'm stuck thinking and wishing about.

What is going on with me these days?

Sigh.

Clap, Clap!*

Ok, that's enough DD reminiscing/wallowing.

How about I tell you about the kind of crazy or maybe just creepy guy from the online dating site? Ok!

So, there's a feature on this particular site where you can look at someone's profile and say if you'd want to meet them or not.

The first time I used this feature, C-Dawg and I were a glass of wine and some bad tv into a late summer evening and I found it all very amusing.

Until I started getting emails the next day and was horrified to realize the people you said you'd "like to meet" were actually informed you'd like to meet them. EEEK!

But anyway, whenever I get a notification that someone would like to meet me, I check them out. You know, just in case they're awesome or something.

Well, the other day, I got a notification that someone called "CarpetMuncher" (I kid you not) wanted to meet me.

I clicked on his profile, and I'm honestly hoping it was a joke. Like, maybe his friends created the profile as a joke when they were drunk one night?

But... I kind of think the guy was serious.

I shall try to be delicate here, but his profile talked about how he wasn't interested in any crazy ladies, but then went on to talk about his skill in bed and how he would make said non-crazy ladies feel and act in bed. In quite...interesting language.

I guess, when I come across this kind of profile, I wonder what these guys are thinking. Because if it's not a joke/novelty account....who, exactly, is he planning on dating? (Because, I'm pretty sure there are sex only "dating" sites out there. And this isn't one of them! Plus, his profile said he was looking for dating. Yikes.)







*you know, when you do that thing, like clap, clap, chop, chop, let's move on, dust things off kind of thing*

Witness

I was there for this


Dave Matthews - Farm Aid 2004 - Number 41 

So was DD.

I don't think anyone else was, although the crowd in attendance would suggest otherwise.

I don't have many items on my things I'd wish to do list, but seeing this man live and acoustic again is one of them.


Dave Matthews - Butterfly - Farm Aid

Can't Shake It Off

Last weekend at the barbecue party thing, one of the couples that stayed later into the evening ended up knowing my ex, the one I call DD due to his ridiculous drunk dialing episode after he'd ended things.

Now, DD, for all his (many) downfalls and faults as a boyfriend, is also the ex that I shared the most intense and intimate moments of connection with. Moments so pure, I waited for him for nine months while he was overseas when I should have let things go. I wanted those moments to continue. I wanted us to build on them.

Why am I talking about DD now?

I don't really know.

I just know that when his name came up at the party last week, and the three of us talked for a bit about him, I felt sad.

And for whatever reason, this weekend, I missed him terribly.

I had to stop myself, on Saturday evening, from calling him (I don't have his number anymore, but his work number is available online) or emailing him or something, anything, I just wanted to contact him.

I wanted to contact him and to see if we could get back those moments even though I know all the reasons why we probably couldn't and why I shouldn't. But I wanted to. I missed him... no, I missed US, with every bit of my self.

I know we tend to glorify past relationships at times. To gloss over the bad in only remembering the polished gems of this story or that. And I know, deep down inside why DD and I should not be a couple, but I'm aching for those moments. . . those moments that are forever etched into my heart and soul.

And, no, before you ask, it wasn't the sex. The "best sex I've ever had with an ex award" goes to someone else, not to DD, and as one of my exes pointed out to me, the trust you have in your relationship shows in how easily you enjoy sex, and I guess I never really trusted that DD was going to take care of me, never trusted he was looking out for me.

DD was an addict, of this I'm sure, and we broke up not long after I called him on it.

"I listened, I've heard what you said. Now don't ever bring it up again."

And still I would have stayed with him.

Such was the pull.

And I know how dangerous that pull is, but there's a part of me that would throw myself into that void, with him, with one or two others who have crossed my path, Fen perhaps, or the only boy I loved at the end of high school.

I can not understand why I missed DD so intensely this weekend, or why I thought, with almost all of me, that getting back together with him "just to see" was a good idea. But I did.

I can't seem to shake him off, and yet I know better.



Neil Young - Four Strong Winds (Live at Farm Aid 1995)

Thank Goodness It Wasn't Today Yesterday

I had an odd waking up yesterday.

I pretty much always let myself sleep in on weekends, but I still usually set the alarm. It's my attempt to keep my sleep schedule moderately normal, even if, on weekends, I sometimes hit the snooze button for hours on end. (No, really. Hours.)

So yesterday, I woke up thinking how light it was for still being so early. (My alarm's set to go off around 7 on weekends, so I was surprised there was so much light when it was clearly not yet 7.)

I drifted off again and then rolled over and decided to check just what time it was and when I flipped the alarm clock towards me, I was rather shocked to read that it was nearly 10 am.

It took me a minute to make sure it wasn't a week day (should I be at work? am I really late for work? have they fired me already? is today Saturday?) and then I sat up and checked why my alarm hadn't gone off.

Turns out I'd set it for pm instead of am and all I could think about was what would have happened if I'd done that on a working day instead of a weekend. What if it had been *this* morning and I hadn't woken up until 10? Yikes.

Kind of freaked me out and I think I'll be triple-checking my alarm clock settings for the next week or so.

Is That A Thing?

Ladies, tell me this...

I don't think I get PMS, but I think I get DMS.

Like, I get grumpy during the whole shebang.

Or maybe it's just co-incidence that I'm noticing it this time round?

Or, like, is that a thing?

The Story, Part The Rest That Wasn't

So then the cake was cut and the families start heading home and D. disappears again, and my brain alternates between the snarky "man, he just doesn't leave [friend's wife]'s side does he" and "geez, is he helping tidy up too? I wonder if he's really that nice of a guy to help cook and clean?"

After a while we all gather around the fire pit and start a (somewhat illegal, shhhh) fire (ahhhh fire) and I don't even know what we're talking about but by then I'm getting along like gangbusters with some other guy (married and older, but still, totally fun) and when Dorkface comes to join us, there's no open space next to me, so he ends up two seats over, directly out of eyesight.

Shrug.

The music runs out and someone says we should sing and he says he has his guitar (of course he does, he's cute) but instead, he puts on his shuffle and all his music rocks.

So then I'm sitting there loving song after song and half wondering if he's noticing that I'm loving song after song and half wishing I was drunker and sitting next to him so that when the smoke started blowing in my eyes, I could lean away from it and into him and make some kind of comment and we'd just start talking.

Because I think I'd smile if we did.

But I try not to get hung up on that and I just enjoy the evening and at some point I decide it's time to take myself home, as the only sober one left and the only one who's not either staying the night or walking home from there, I head out, and by the time I'm pulling down the street I'm grumpy.

I'm grumpy that Dorkface (which is a milder version of the name I gave him on the drive home that night) didn't make an effort to talk to me. Grumpy that this didn't go the way house parties used to go for me - with me ending up with this guy and that guy wanting to talk and me only wanting to talk to the one. With someone getting my number or someone and I sitting somewhere with just the two of us talking until I realized my friends were desperate to go home but not wanting to interrupt us.

As much as I love the campfire circle thing and yes, my jacket still smells like smoke all these days later, it wasn't conducive to talking or seeing anyone other than the person directly next to you.

I was pretty quiet, Dorkface was pretty quiet, the other hilarious guy was so quiet I actually forgot he was there, and despite the quieter ones of us, the conversation was lively and entertaining.

There were good people there, and I'm glad I got to meet more of my friend's friends.

And even the moment when I realized one couple was good friends with my ex DD only dampened my spirits so much.

So, there you go.

I met another cute, single guy.

I don't think he was interested. (In fact, I'm pretty sure he wasn't.)

It's a bummer. Such is life.

The end.

The Story, Part 2

It was drizzling out and cold, and the front room was full of kids and their parents, and Dorkface and my friend's wife were in the kitchen and in the corner of the kitchen was a table with food and chairs around it and I safely deposited myself over in the corner where I could seem social, but still have some space and distance from all the strangers.

I sat there and chatted with a great guy who, it turns out, is the husband of a gal I worked with years ago and I occasionally threw a line or two at Dorkface, who was helping my friend's wife with the cooking.

"Are you in charge of the oven there D?" I'd say, always the paragon of wit.

And he'd make some comment back, and I'd smile and go back to my beer and my new-found hilarious buddy.

It's not like back in the house party days of my mis-spent youth where everyone just mingled and jibed and you ended up in one space with the people you wanted to be with.

Here, people were watching their kids, or if you were Dorkface, helping with the cooking. Or if you were me, sitting at a table, chatting with some people.

The day eventually cleared up and we headed outside to eat and push children on swings.

Dorkface, who really did nothing wrong to be called "Dorkface", still didn't come and join the general flow of things, but continued to watch over the salmon.

There's a part of me that wonders if he was in a similar situation to me and didn't know very many people and so found something to do that he was comfortable with - helping cook the food with his co-worker.

I wandered by him a couple of times while he was tending the barbeque and made some stupid remark or other but I just couldn't make myself stop and engage him in a conversation.

I don't even know why. It should have been simple.

"So, you work with [friend's wife], eh?"

Easy, yeah?

Except here's what my brain said...

"Well, geez, Victoria, you don't even know what friend's wife does, so what are you going to do, start up a conversation with 'so, you work together, eh?' and then segue into 'what exactly is it that you guys do?' because that'll make you sound stupid. And you can't just go ask some other random, out of the blue question like 'so, where do you live' because that just sounds creepy and weird and he'll probably be like, 'dude, why is this chick hitting on me so obviously?' so it's better to just avoid eye contact when you head back inside."

So that's what I did. Just kind of say some odd thing here or there and smile, so I at least didn't look like the freak my brain was making me feel like.

The Story

So yeah, I was at a social gathering this weekend.

I suppose this is the new reality: going to events where there are kids for the first few hours, and then they clear out and the child-less adults are left. Can you call that a party? I guess so.

There was even cake.

My friend had invited me a long while ago... well, actually, he'd had my friend invite me. I guess I've chickened out of going to barbeque's at his place before (I really am pretty shy) and I think he knew that if I knew my co-worker was going, I'd feel safer going. Which I totally did.

"And [my wife's] cute co-worker Dorkface (names changed to protect the innocent) will be there!"

Which half made me not want to go. So I tried to ignore the fact.

It helped to not talk or think about it, as I was nervous enough about going in the first place, so by the time I showed up at my friend's place, I'd convinced myself that Dorkface wouldn't be cute anyway, he'd be the kind of "cute" your friends tell you about when they're trying to be nice. As in, "he has a nice personality" kind of cute.

But when I walked in, there was a cute guy in the kitchen and my first thought was "oh geez, please let that not be him because if it turns out he's someone's husband I'll be disappointed" but that didn't make sense because my brain immediately after said "I wonder if that is him" and then I went and hid in a corner.

Almost literally.

Let Me Ask You Something...

What's the strangest animal you've ever seen someone take for a walk?

I'm torn, but I think even though seeing someone out with a ferret on a leash was pretty bizarre, for me, seeing someone walk their cat is probably the strangest thing I've seen.

To The Dorkhead From The Barbeque

Dear Sir,
I don't know if you noticed, but you were cute and I am cute and we were the only two single people there and so really it would have been a nifty idea for you to come talk to me at some point.

And if you weren't able to do that, which, somehow it seems you weren't, you could have used the few times I got up the guts/nerve to say something to you to continue the conversation.

I know, in general, I'm to take your behaviour as a sign that you're not interested, and yes, I did get that, thank you very much, but it was frustrating to have my friends telling me to "talk to him!" when I was doing the best I could and that's saying a lot for my dorky self.

Because while I was able to talk to the other people, you were cute and so I couldn't just saunter up and chat with you.

Plus, we both seemed a little wall-flowerish and so it was hard for me to come out of my corner to go talk to you in your space.

But, yeah. I was kind of annoyed for no particularly good reason except that your eyes were smiley and I thought you were cute and god-damnit why isn't anything easy anymore because I feel like if we were both nineteen we'd have been making out by the end of the night or something.

Yours,
Victoria (you know, the one you didn't talk to all night?)

Just Me?

I know I'm a few days behind here (cut me some slack, that was a busy/rough/long week) but I just watched the first few minutes of the latest True Blood episode (first of the season) and even with the "here's what happened last season" catch up? I'm totally lost.

Like seriously, I have no idea what's going on and/or, more importantly, what went on.

Not sure if it was too long since the last season ended or if I've just forgotten everything or the fact that I'm reading the books and they're nowhere near where the show is or what, but I'm so seriously lost.

More Stuff From My Brain

I feel, perhaps, that this has turned into the "all weather and all sleep all the time" blog, but seriously, I woke up yesterday morning and my first thought when my alarm went off was "YAY! IT'S SATURDAY! I CAN SLEEP IN!"

And then, of course, my second thought was "oh no."

Le sigh.

And I've only worn sandals for one week so far this Spring. (That's your weather update, you're welcome.)

I wish I had dating and romance stories for you, but all I can really report on is that I changed the settings on my online dating site so that you can't message me if you're over a certain age. Because while I may not be twenty, I'm also not fifty, and I'm not currently interested in dating men who are fifty. No offense. Ask me again in a few decades.

Speaking of decades, can I tell you how much it weirds me out to think that if I do buy a place and therefore have a mortgage, I'll have it until I'm really very old? And I mean, I suppose it's no different than what I'm currently doing - paying rent every month until I am no longer on this mortal coil, but somehow it weirds me out to think that I'll never actually own the place I "buy."

Like, with my car loan (and yes I still love my car to pieces and am so very glad I bought it), I knew it would take a while, but eventually I'd pay back the loan and the car would be mine for reals.

But I guess it won't be like that with a house/condo/whatever. Which is weird.

Which somehow brings me back to dating and how this looking into the buying of a place has distracted me quite handily from caring about finding a husband/mate/boyfriend/whatever and it's quite nice to not have that thought at the forefront of my mind, even if that means I'm kind of still freaking out whenever I see a listing or consider going to an open house.

I suppose it will all play out in the end.

I haven't been to the gym in a few weeks, and now that I'm out of the habit it feels like a massive undertaking to go. Which I know is on the crazy side, but hey, when did I ever say I was normal?

I've still been exercising (if you happened to glance in my window the other night, you'd have seen me doing made up aerobic moves while watching the Bachelorette) but I do want to get myself back into the routine.

Oh, and have I mentioned the lovely long days and evenings lately? Because yeah. In love with them. I'll take a slightly chillier Spring/Summer for an extra month or two of days this long.

And, one more thing. One of my neighbours had three handsome men visiting her. She's from Austria (or Switzerland, I should know, whoops) and I don't know where they were from but my oh my, that was a nice treat for a few days.

Dreamy smile.

Dream On*

I had another "woke myself up to do something" dream last night.

My face was itchy. Specifically, the side of my nose, and I guess it was itchy enough to wake me up, because I came half awake and reached for the tube of special anti-itch cream the doctor had given me and that I keep next to my bed.

And as I lay there, my hand scrabbling around on the bedside table, my eyes still closed, I became more annoyed that I couldn't find it, it should have been right there where my fingers were reaching, how come I couldn't find it, it's always right there.

And that's when I woke up enough to realize that the doctor hadn't actually given me any special anti-itch cream and that the tube I was so sure was there didn't actually exist. Whoops.

So, there you go. My brain's just trying to help me out really. It's a helpful brain. Just... not right.

*And now it will help by making you sing this all day. Toodles!

Random

So, hey, it's Wednesday, how about that.

And this has been the oddest month of weather, with everything from really cold to fog and then some warm days and rain and it's not been very June like, but then again, I can't really remember the last time weather was well suited to the season it was in and hello is this global warming or just a cycle.

And I don't usually re-read books, at least not within the same year, but I re-read Divergent before reading Insurgent because I started it and couldn't quite remember what had happened (I've read a few similar books since I finished Divergent) and I didn't want to lose the story or be confused. And if you haven't read Divergent, maybe check it out. I saw it on someone's blog and decided to check it out and loved it.

Walking into a bookstore for me is kind of like walking into a crack house or something. I love books.

Speaking of . . . did I ever tell you that post-apocalyptic is the new vampires? Well it is.

And I think stripes are the new black. But not really.

But I'm right about the vampires.

Three more days til the weekend!!!!!

Time, And The Healing Of Wounds

This weekend marks a year since my Dad's open heart surgery.

I'm taking my parents out on Saturday to celebrate, both how much healthier he is but also what we all went through in the hours, days and months after his surgery.

But let me tell you, the closer I get to the actual day. . . well, I think the easiest way to put what I'm going through is to say I'm having "flashbacks", even though I'm sure that's not the proper term.

I keep seeing the images in my head from that day and the next, and keep remembering how he looked and what we thought and how just him making it through the surgery wasn't a guarantee of anything, didn't mean he'd make it through the next days and man oh man it was awful.

I'm surprised at the intensity of feelings I still have, thinking about it, one year later, but I suppose that's what anniversaries do; remind you, bring it all back for a while, for better or worse.

I want to be happy, I want to celebrate all the joy and wonder at how much healthier Dad is since last year but I also just want to sit and cry over how awful it was and how we kind of only barely made it through.

I looked over a couple of posts from last year and I said in one of them that I was a different person, and I am. I am, a year later, stronger, and somehow more collected, if that even makes sense.

I've grown a lot this year, and perhaps that's the positive side of trauma. . . that if you choose to grow from it, you'll have at least gotten something out of the situation, as difficult as it may have been.

I'm endlessly grateful that I was able to go to a wonderful psychologist before, during, and for a good while after, and I would recommend that to anyone; get help. Good help. It won't be easy, but it will work, it will help you through.

I think the portion I try to ignore is that the repair that was done on my Dad's heart seems to have a limited functional life-span, and I suppose this is the choice that's made with an older heart patient. He may out live the repair, and I don't know what that would mean, or he may not, and I suppose I know what that would mean.

And perhaps that's what I've dealt with the most since last year; my parents are mortal, and are not going to be here for ever, and while that's not ok, I will find a way to be ok, and I know their love for me and my love for them will be with me forever.

Life's a funny thing, and a year ago this weekend, my Dad kept hold of his, and I'm so very thankful for that.

Here's to many happy returns of this anniversary.

Many.

A Non-Review

So I don't usually review things here, because what does my opinion matter and for everything I love/dislike, someone will feel the exact opposite and who's to say I'm right anyway?

But then I got my hands on the newest John Mayer album and I had a lot to say, and I wanted to say it a lot.

I've always liked John Mayer, and I've absolutely adored his last few albums. I've even babbled here or there about how in his last couple of albums some of the songs perfectly aligned with who I am and where I was at the time. Oh, and not to mention the highly magnificent dreams I had about him for a while there...

So of course I was excited about his new album, and I listened to the early release clips and went ahead and pre-ordered the album, and you can be sure I listened to it as soon as it was released, on repeat in my house and my car.

And I didn't love it.

I knew it was a departure from his usual style, and I knew he was feeling a little country, but it wasn't that that annoyed me, it was what felt like forced rhymes in a couple of the songs. They grated on me and I felt like I was listening to a fifth grader who was proud of all the words they'd figured out could rhyme with each other.

I missed his soulful guitar too, and felt like I could hear the soreness in his voice (he's battling some kind of throat "injury" and isn't able to tour to support this album).

And man oh man did I want to rant about how disappointed I was in the album. But it felt rude to put it out there, so I searched to see what the critics were saying; surely someone else had noticed the things I was struggling with.

But no. Positive review after positive review which then annoyed me even more because I started to wonder if anyone actually gives an honest review anymore or if they're all just part of the industry of selling.

So instead, I took a break from listening to it over and over and just let it sit. And then I went back to it and found that with the exception of the two heavily rhymed songs (which I can skip over, even though they have catchy melodies) I quite liked the rest and really liked a couple.

And to be fair, there are probably a couple of songs on each of his albums that I could take or leave and the more I listened to the songs the more I liked them.

Is it my favourite of his? No, but I can't expect an artist to stay static their entire career and I can't expect our lives to be in similar places of angst or joy at the same time.

So, yeah. I don't love John Mayer's new album Born and Raised as much as I loved his last, Battle Studies, but he's got some good songs on it and I really like a couple of them.

But what will always bring me back to his stuff isn't this, which I like (in all its Great Big Sea-ness):


John Mayer - The Age of Worry (Born and Raised)


But this...which I *love*. Love, love, love, love, love.:


John Mayer - Gravity  
(Please tell me that wasn't just sex via the guitar/voice)

So, there's my review of Born and Raised.... I was frustrated by it, then let it go and came back to it and realized that all in all, I liked it and there were a couple of songs to love. The end.

What Are You Up To?

I think I'm going to collapse into this weekend and never want to come out.

I had planned to look at Open Houses every day this weekend, but after looking at four places after work yesterday I'm feeling kind of done with it. Like, super exhausted and actually dizzy, like, literally.

Thank goodness I don't have a time limit or need to sell my place or anything because, man, this process is a doozie.

But who knows, I'll see how today goes and maybe if it's sunny (crossed fingers!) I'll wander around the neighbourhood and pop in a few places.

Or not.

Maybe I'll just lie here and recover instead.

Let's See. . . What Went Well?

I decided it was time for another "What Went Well?" post so, here's what's gone well over the past couple of days.

- I didn't break down in tears. Yay!

- I had "dessert shooters" at a restaurant. So cute and so yummy!

- I survived the process of going and looking at places, so that was good.

- I ordered some books from Amazon and then realized one of them I had already bought elsewhere and just forgot about but when I went online to return it they said I was such a good customer I could keep it and they'd refund the money anyway! What a nice surprise! (Now I'm going to see if I can donate the extra book to the library.)

- I felt nice and cozy wrapped up in my blanket in the chilly weather.

How about you? What's something that's gone well in the last week or so?

And Jupiter Aligns With Mars

My Mom called me at the end of the work day Tuesday and told me that she and my Dad had just been to a local viewing point and because the day had become clearer-skied, they'd been able to see Venus begin its transit across the sun.

I managed to get myself to the spot and was happy to see a fairly large group, young and old, waiting to use the differing telescopes that had been set up for viewing.

And, yes, I did in fact get a chance to see Venus, this tiny tiny little dot of a thing, hanging out in front of the sun; this massive burning globe of a thing.

And I got to see sunspots too, and I'm really glad I went up to take a look because the whole thing was pretty cool.

It felt important; portentous somehow. A sign of great, positive things to come.

And of course, me being me, I couldn't help singing this for the rest of the day and fell in love with it all over again...


Hair- Aquarius

Unexpected

I would never have expected it, but I felt really left out of the Queen's Diamond Jubilee celebrations this weekend (and the last couple of days too.)

I don't have cable, so I couldn't catch it on tv, so I followed what I could online and through photos and blogs. And I felt sad that I wasn't there.

I wanted to be in a suburb of London, having a giant block party, or watching the Queen's flotilla rowing down the Thames.

I'm sure there was some kind of celebration here in town, but I didn't hear about it and I'm not sure I would have gone.

I maybe should have gone over to my parents' and watched some of it with them, but I didn't know I'd want to, and I didn't know I'd feel so strangely bereft.

For those of you wondering why on earth I'd feel this way at all... my parents immigrated from the UK, making me a first generation Canadian. So while I grew up here, my roots are elsewhere; as is my extended family, and the culture my parents grew up in.

I'm proud to be a Canadian, and I'm proud to live in the Commonwealth. And on top of all that, I love it when people get together to celebrate and be joyous and happy and I would have liked to have been a part of this particular celebration.

I just didn't know it.

A Lightening

There really is no such thing as "normal." There's just a general understanding of how someone should be and that understanding changes from family to family and from culture to culture from society to society.

So while it might be normal to feel and discuss and share and cry and laugh somewhere like, I don't know, maybe the stereotypical Italy we see in movies, I wasn't raised in a family/time/place/society where that was particularly accepted.

I've spent a lot of my life trying to be more like how I thought I was supposed to be. Or trying to change myself to fit what others were comfortable with or happy with or even trying to be who they were. And it's been hard.

I wandered around downtown this weekend with a good friend of mine who I don't get to see often as I'd like. We sat and caught up for a while, people watching, and ended up talking about the similar struggles we were going through, and in particular, the stress surrounding certain aspects of our personalities that we both find aren't understood by most people.

I told her about a rough time I'd gone through last week and she mentioned how she will often feel similarly and how she sometimes just says to people "look, I'm a highly sensitive person and I need some time to process this," and removes herself from the situation.

And you know how sometimes someone says just the right thing to tip the scale of your mind fully into understanding? Well, that did it.

What she said clicked with things I've been reading and wondering and know about myself and trying to figure out about myself and I realized that instead of trying to meet some random "normal" that I feel everyone but me must understand and be part of, there are actually a lot of people feeling and thinking and reacting the same way as I do. And somehow that makes me feel more normal, knowing that my difference is a common one.

So I have some reading to do, and so far a lot of what's been written seems to fit and make sense and it's a relief. Because while I may not fit in to what's normal with the people and even the society around me? It sounds like there are a lot of other people out there who think and feel and react the same way that I do, and that makes me feel like I'm not insane or wrong or weird.

It actually makes me feel normal.

A Lot

I've been wound extra tight over the last week or two and while I'm proud of my decision to start moving forward with the process of buying a place, there's been a lot of stress involved.

I've gone to bed almost every night clenching my teeth, trying to wish away a headache after looking at listings online. And then I've woken up almost ever morning and thought "forget this, I'm not buying a place, I'll just stay here."

I've said over and over again how I don't understand how people can find this fun or enjoyable, when all it seems to be is a ton of stress, worry, anxiety, and nerves. (They're probably all the same thing, but they don't feel like it.)

It was near the end of last week when my co-worker said "you know, you've done a lot in the past ten days." And I guess I hadn't thought of that.

I kind of went from zero to sixty all at once and met with a realtor and a mortgage specialist and made calls and sent emails and tried to get all my financial ducks in a row and then tried to start weeding through places because what if I missed the perfect one but what if I found something and bought it and then hated it and there really was too much all at once.

I don't know if I felt the need to rush, or just to get going, to get started, but yes, I did take on a lot, very suddenly, in a short amount of time. And it didn't feel good.

I do hope, however, that now that the initial work has been done, I can just sort of relax into it a bit. I don't know that I'll ever be mellow zen about this whole thing, but it must in some way be better than the last week or two, right?

I guess that I might not enjoy going out to look at places and I'm pretty sure I'll feel really freaked out if/when I get to the actual buying/signing/massive loan that they just call a mortgage part but it can't always be this intense, can it?

So, yeah. I've done a lot in the last ten days and I would like a break from that, a mellowing slow down from all that.

Because this feels very much like a head on road to burnout crashville and I don't want or need that. It's been crazy around here and I hope it mellows out now.

What's The Physics Invovled?

I woke up this morning to a gigantic bird poop on the bottom of my big, main window.

And since I'm not on the top floor, and there's no overhang above my window, all I can think is, how on earth did a bird manage to get that there?

Like, seriously.

Back When It Was Easier To Know

When they asked me, when I was little, what I wanted to be when I grew up, I'd say one of a few things.

A princess. (I was sure I was adopted from royalty and would one day be re-discovered.)

A horse trainer.

A ballerina.

A ballerina/horse trainer. (Part time at each I suppose)

And when I was in elementary school: a lawyer.

At some point I remember wanting to be famous, like a rock star or actor or something, but I'm none of these things, and I'm, apparently "grown up."

I don't know what I want to be anymore. I don't want to be a laywer, I got bucked off a horse when I was twelve and that scared me enough that I shied away from them a bit.

My body won't let me be a ballerina anymore, and I'm pretty darn sure there isn't a royal house searching for their long lost heiress.

A famous actor? I think I've passed that age. Famous rock star? Ditto. Plus I'm not madly talented in that way.

I would love to make a strong living being paid for something creative. Writing, photography, some other art form or expression, but everyone wishes that and that's not enough; just to wish it.

So I'm trying to re-find the passion I used to have as a little kid.

I'm trying to figure out what I would jump to answer if you sat me down, gave me a crayon and a piece of paper and asked me to draw you what I wanted to be when I grew up.

Or, you know, from now on.

Durrrr

So yes there's a lot on my mind and there already was but now there's more and so it shouldn't be surprising that I got lost on my way to the physio the other day.

My knee got a little funky a couple of weeks ago. I was pretty sure it had something to do with the transition from shoes to sandals when the hot weather came, but wanted to check in with a physiotherapist to see about exercises and whatnot.

I haven't been to this place in a while, but know where it is, and let's say for today's lesson that it's on Jones Street.

So I got held a little late at work and didn't have the usual amount of extra time to walk from my place as I normally would have so I drove. And I drove to Jones Street and parked. I was bummed to see the city had turned the area into pay parking, but whatever, I plugged the meter thing and turned around to head into the building.

Except it kind of wasn't there.

I mean, there was a building there, but it wasn't the one it should have been.

So I walked down a few buildings and then back up a few buildings just to make sure I wasn't, you know, missing something obvious and then I realized I wasn't where I should be and didn't know where I needed to go. Up? Down? I knew I was on the right street, just not at the correct block.

And thank goodness for smart phones and the fact that even when I'm running "late" I'm still not late in real time, because I was a block down from where I should have been and I managed to get myself there in time, only feeling slightly silly for driving to the wrong block of the right street.

That is, until I got to the place and realized what it was called.

"Jones and Fifth Physiotherapy"

As in... the name of the two streets it sits on the corner of.

D'oh.

Got Proactive. Now Freaking Out.

I talked with (to?) a lot of people in the last week or two about how awful I was feeling about everything and how I felt lost and confused and like I didn't know what to do.

And everyone I talked to, my parents, my brother, my friends, my friends I wish were closer friends, all did a great job of listening and empa/sympathizing.

And while it didn't fix anything to talk about it all, it did help. It helped to say whatever it was, and just get it off my chest, even if just for a few minutes.

But even so, my last few weekends have still involved a whole lot of crying (who knew Glee could make me cry so much?) and a whole lot of still feeling really rough.

One of the themes that came out of the talking I did was how I was so sad I'd put my life on hold in some ways while waiting for a partner.

Buy a house? Wait until I have a husband and therefore a second income.

Go do adventurous things? Wait until I have a boyfriend and therefore someone to come with me.

Go do something I've always wanted to do? Um, like what? I don't know anymore what that passion might be. I bet if I had a husband, he'd help me find my passions again.

And that made me sad. To think that I've been waiting for something, someone else to come along so I could live *more*.

And so I started thinking about that and how, while I wasn't really ready to say I never wanted someone in my life (of course I do), I can at least admit that it might not happen and so I should stop putting my life on hold for it.

And do you know something I know I've always wanted in my life? Always, since I was a little girl?

A dog.

It's one thing I want to have in my life at some point, and, well, why not start thinking about that as a goal, as something to work towards.

I can't have a dog where I live. No pets at all. And I'd always told myself that the next time I moved, it would be into a place where I could get a dog.

But I also told myself that I wouldn't move until I could buy.

And that I wouldn't buy until I had a husband to help with the costs, and do you see where I'm going with this?

I met with a realtor last week.

And talked with the bank, and am meeting with a mortgage broker this week.

I'm looking into buying a place that will allow me to own a dog.

And being proactive? Taking the step to move forward with my life? Made me feel a lot better.

Not perfect, not over everything, not fixed, just... better.

But the whole thing is scary. Read: Freaky.

I'm not someone who enjoys looking at listings. I HATED looking for apartments when I moved here. I mean, look at me. I hate looking at places so much, I moved right back into my old apartment instead of looking for a new one. My life was in storage, it would have been a perfect time to look around and find a new place.

But no. It's not something I like doing in the slightest.

But I've got a ballpark idea of the price I could aim for and I've spent a bit of time on the mls listings.

And I'm freaking out.

It's just so overwhelming and I don't want to do it because my head starts hurting within minutes and how can anyone find this fun are they crazy?

(It's funny, the friends that I've told are so excited for me. I'm really really not. "THIS IS SO EXCITING" they shout, clapping their hands and jumping up and down. Um, no?)

But, we'll see. I survived the process of buying a new car, I can learn to survive this process too.

It'll be an experience, that's for sure.

So yeah, I'm freaking out and trying not to freak out, because really I don't have to do this, but, yeah. It's a different kind of stress than the stress that has me crying at everything and feeling broken, but maybe a while from now, both stresses will be less. Or gone.

That'd be nice.

Sunrise - Five Something, Sunset - Nine Something

Ahhhhhhhhh.....

This length of day light time is perfect, just perfect.

It's light out before I wake up, which makes waking up SO much easier, and much nicer.

It's light all day (even on the cloudy/rainy days it's still light/bright).

It's light when I get home from work.

It's light when I get home from doing something after work.

And, sometimes, it's even still light in the sky a little when I go to bed.

I love it, it's perfect.

I know we're heading towards the time when things start to head towards shorter days, so I'm going to keep enjoying these long days while they're here.

They're perfect

To Sleep, Perchance To Dream

One of the cute things my brain does when I'm worried is give me dreams where someone is trying to steal my teddy bear.

Seriously.

When I'm really worried or stressed, I have dreams where someone sneaks into my room during the night to try to steal away my teddy bear and I often sort of half wake up in the middle of these dreams and grab my teddy bear to make sure he's still there.

I guess I was really stressed this weekend, because the dream went one step further.

Not only was someone trying to steal my teddy bear, they snuck in, stole him and managed to exchange him for a copy, a fake.

And I was so upset about a fake teddy being implanted that I woke up in the middle of the morning, heart racing, in a panic, reached over, turned on the light and inspected Teddy to make sure he was the right one.

And even doing that, barely awake, lights on, rubbing his tummy and staring at him, I was still only half sure he was the right one, but I managed to calm myself down enough to go back to sleep.

In some ways it's cute, but in some ways it worried me a little that my brain did something while I was asleep that woke me up. But I guess we have to get rid of our worries, stress and anxiety somehow, and as nightmares go, one that I can wake up and reassure myself about by hugging my teddy bear is probably better than many.

Awwww Man!

So there I am, innocently asleep, and feeling just a little bit chilly.

So I do what any chilly, sleepy person would do and I reach and pull up my sheet so it's covering me right up under my chin when RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIPPPPPPPP!

The darn thing rips.

And because it's the middle of the night/morning, all I can do is think "well, that's too bad" and go back to sleep.

But you guys, I'm SO sheet picky! Like, my sheets have to be so so soft or else I can't handle it! And now I have to go sheet shopping again and I haven't found good sheets in so long and why'd these have to rip?

Or maybe I just turned a little Hulk strong in the night and didn't know it.

Could be, you never know!

Not Sure

This may sound weird, but I think I've maybe developed an allergy to.... of all things, alcohol.

Now, I'm not quite willing to say for sure, but I'm getting more and more convinced.

I'm not really a drinker anymore, but every once in a while I don't mind heading out for a couple of drinks after work, or the odd girl's night out.

But the last three or four times I've had a drink or two, I've woken up the next morning feeling sick.

Like, not hungover nauseated sick, but like, I have a cold/flu all stuffed up and sore throat and miserable and tired kind of sick.

First time it happened I thought I was just getting a cold. The second time it happened I figured I was run down, but by the third time I started to wonder.

It's not that I *need* to drink, but I do like having the option of being in a social situation and enjoying a drink.

I've been sticking to cosmos lately, so maybe before I give up entirely, I'll try like a gin and tonic, or something without any added flavours or sugary things.

But I think I might just end up not drinking at all anymore and that's a little bit of a bummer.

But not really.

But kind of.

Know what I mean?

Change of Tack

Back in February, I started taking a few minutes at the end of the day to write down what went well.

I liked doing it and even now, when I've had a bad day but don't feel like harping about it in my diary, I take a breath and think about what went well for the day. And it helps. The day may still have been crappy and tough, but I like acknowledging the good moments in there too.

So I woke up this morning and realized I could do that here for a second; talk about what went well in the last week or so.

So, in no particular order...here are some things that have gone well this past week.

- my co-worker friend and I went shopping and she helped me get some really nice new tops. After she had to go, I stayed and found a pair of pants that should work for the warmer weather.

- we had a "staff appreciation lunch" at work last week and someone made this ice cream cake concoction that was to die for. So simple but so so good. It was delicious.

- at the same lunch, I had the most perfect strawberry ever. I love it when that happens.

- I've lost five pounds since I started using that calorie tracker app

- I had a laugh until you can't breathe, tears coming out of your eyes moment the other day

- we had delicious chocolate birthday cake this weekend for my Dad's birthday. This time last year we didn't know if there would ever be another birthday. He's doing really really well. This is awesome.

- the trees and plants and flowers are all awesomely colourful and happily in bloom and some people's yards look so amazingly fantastic right now.

So there you go.

Sigh

I feel like everything I have to say right now is complainy, and I'm sorry about that.

I know it's way more fun to read when things are more ooh cute guy and fluffy happy silly things, but I'm struggling and I can't openly talk about the why's of that here, which means I can't really just lay things out.

So instead, I'm kind of stuck talking around what's going on and how I feel about it and that ends up being bluegrey complaining sort of blah blah blah yuck.

But there's not much else going on for me and I'm trying not to be too consumed by the rain cloud thats hovering over me, but it's hard.

And honestly, often by the time I sit down to write, I've kind of used up my energy and good humour for the day/week/hour and so, yeah. Sorry.

From the few of your blogs I've read, a few of you seem to also be in a slump or not so great a space right now and maybe there's some kind of planetary alignment or bad juju riding around the Universe right now or something. Would we feel better if there was?

Maybe.

So I'm sorry things aren't much fun 'round here right now, I wish I could guarantee they would lighten/cheer up soon. Until then, thanks for your support and good vibes and such. They help.

And Happy Wednesday. That means two more work days til the weekend, right?

Oh Boy

OK, so, that long weekend wasn't quite what I'd hoped, but that's ok.

I got some rest, sure, but there were also a few things I chose to do that ran me into a brick wall of exhaustion. It was weird, I'd be there in the middle of whatever it was and suddenly I was done. Like, done, done, need to go home now done.

But, the upside of even a tiring, non-restful long weekend is that there's a four day week now, and I'm already one day closer to Friday.

Weather's changed too, for what it's worth, and knock on wood, it's not chilly cold again, but the sun's disappeared and we're getting our rainfall in.

I'm not entirely sure how to get myself through and out of whatever it is I'm going through right now, and I'm not entirely sure how to best take care of myself right now, but I'll just keep on keeping on and will keep on being hopeful that this tunnel will end soon enough.

So, yeah. Long weekend was had, but I somehow came out of it not much more rested than I went into it.

But, hey, at least Monday's done, right?

To My Fellow British Colombians

Happy happy happy happy happy happy happy long weekend.

I hope this Victoria Day is coming at as perfect a time for you as it is for me and that you enjoy whatever fun/relaxing/entertaining plans you have.

I can not begin to tell you just how much I am looking forward to doing nothing for three days. Absolutely nothing.

Unless I want to.

See you on the flip side!

Realist

This isn't a sad thing at all, but I think I'm getting better and knowing when a guy's not interested in me.

Like, when Steve and our friends and I were sitting around after dinner chatting and he said he had to get going, I knew right away he wasn't interested.

And then yesterday, at work, there was a visiting spy at lunch, and we made polite conversation and then he too, got up and left and I knew he wasn't interested.

It's a combination of instinct and having a memory of what it was like when a guy was interested. How they'd want to keep talking, or would make an excuse to linger. And how they'd always ask for my number, or I'd find out the next day that they'd asked a friend for it.

I guess with Steve I was mentally trying to give him the benefit of the doubt when really, gut-wise, I knew he wasn't going to follow up and I should have just shrugged it off that night instead of continuing to hope what I already know what hopeless.

Like, I totally knew he wasn't that into me.

Same with the guy yesterday. My co-workers were all excited, asking me if I was going to ask for his number or something and I just kind of smiled at them, knowing he wasn't interested. (And then did some cyber sleuthing and discovered pictures of him and his girlfriend/possibly wife. Which, yes, I was right again of course.)

I think that's part of what's thrown me off in on-line dating. Because it's not a natural situation and I don't get to see or feel out the cues I usually get.

Or maybe I've always kind of known, and have just recently started to trust that knowing more. (Cuz it's way more interesting to ignore the knowing and cross your fingers and hope for something and then get crushed in the end. Except the getting crushed part hurts. Ouchily.)

I Go Night Night

Do you ever have one of those days when you get home and although you can't seem to remember doing anything particularly challenging or difficult, you sit down for a second and realize you're completely, utterly exhausted?

Yeah.

I had one of those yesterday.

Had you asked, I would have said the day was easy enough, nothing spectacularly stressful or difficult, and I was debating on the way home if I should go to the gym or wait an hour and go to a yoga class at the gym. I got home and sat down on my couch and all of a sudden I was exhausted.

Like, did I run a marathon or go three days without eating or something? kind of exhausted.

And ordinarily I'd get mad at myself for not going to the gym, or tell myself that I was just being wimpy, but instead, I lay down on my couch and curled up in my blankie and noodled around on the internet.

Can't tell you why I was so tired. Not enough protein....not enough water...too much heat this week...stress and anxiety let down, I don't know. It was just crazy to be home on a bright, gorgeous sunny day and wanting nothing more than to curl up and have a nap.

It's a weird balance between the days I should push myself to get to the gym because I'm just feeling a little bit lazy and the days like yesterday when my body apparently just needed to rest. And I know some people believe you push through no matter what, but I'm starting to believe that's not always the best thing to do.

So how was your Wednesday afternoon?

Better

I had a bit of a better day yesterday, which was quite a relief really.

I think talking about things with my parents and a good night's sleep and an hour in the glorious sunshine all really helped.

Talked with my brother yesterday too and said that it felt like I was having some kind of mid-life crises but that wasn't possible because I'm not old enough for that and after I told him all the things that were going on (or not going on as the case may be) he said it sounded like "the perfect storm of crappy things and timing" happening.

Yes. Exactly.

I'm in the middle of a perfect storm.

Fan. Tastic.

But, anyway, here's hoping tomorrow's a better day too.

Rinse and repeat.

Around

I'm a little bit dizzy, trying to remember to breathe, stuck, as I am, in the middle of the latest of a series of shitty lessons life has thrown at me this year.

(Or maybe it's just a repeating of the same lesson over and over with slight variations just to make sure I get it.)

So much has been hard learned this year, and by year, I'm counting from the time they took my Dad into the O.R. and cracked open his chest...






The best moments I had this weekend were walking home from the gym. I remember feeling strong and powerful and wondering how anyone could possibly resist my awesomeness, and I'm glad I had those moments to counteract the crying and the times of sitting there trying to figure out what, exactly, I'm supposed to do now.

I know this post doesn't entirely make sense, or maybe doesn't make sense even in the slightest, but I wanted to write something, didn't want to leave a blank page.

Things aren't good right now. Things are tough. I'm struggling, but I'm coping. If that makes sense.

It got warm this weekend too. Which was weird. Going from frost overnight to getting out the fans and throwing open all the windows in less than a week.

And I'm not enjoying "Childhood's End", which is disappointing, since it came so highly recommended.

Hang on, forgot to breathe again.

Bummed

I'm genuinely bummed that Steve isn't interested in getting to know me.

I'd really hoped that we would get along (we did) and that we would then see each other again and that we'd eventually end up in a relationship.

But it's been a couple of weeks and he's had ample opportunity to ask about me or to ask for my number or contact information and he hasn't.

Which speaks loud and clear.

He's not interested.

Which is a bummer and disappointing and leaves me a little sad and more than a little bit lost as to what I'm supposed to do now.

Excuse My French

I wrote out this post and then erased it and then wrote it out again and then erased it and now I'm just going to put this....

C-Dawg and I are dealing with legal stuff from the accident we were in.

And it is absolutely breaking me.

To put it mildly... it is fucking awful.

On the days where I've had to deal with one thing or another, I'm barely holding my head above water emotionally and stress-wise.

It's awful.

Not Even An "Uh Huh"

The last few nights, someone in my building has come home (from work?) and been on the phone.

I know they've been on the phone, because their phone is on speaker and continues to be on speaker as they walk from their vehicle, slowly across the parking area and into the building.

I sleep with my windows open (even though last week was SO DAMN COLD for May that I got woken up by the chill and had to find an extra blanket go figure) and am usually up reading, so I can hear this person's phone calls.

And for the last few nights, whoever he's been talking to (a wife/girlfriend/sister/mother?) has been on a not quite angry but definitely annoyed sort of one sided conversation that goes pretty much non stop from the time this guy gets out of his vehicle and gets to the door to inside.

And I don't know if maybe he's said something before he got out of his car, but the whole (minute or so?) time I can hear the conversation? He says nothing. It's just talktalktalktalktalktalktalk from this woman, and nothing from him.

And yes, I'm assuming it's a him from the giant sounding truck noise and from the lack of verbal communication on his end.

I mean, I know when I'm listening to someone talk on and on about something, I still throw in a neutral comment or two so they at least know I'm paying attention.

This guy?

Nothing.

He may slowly be becoming my new hero somehow because the whole one-sidedness of it makes me wonder how long his drive home is and if she just talks non stop the whole way.

A Whole Other Species

Speaking of Steve, last Monday was a reminder lesson in the fact that boys are not girls and girls are not boys.

I walked in to work Monday and my closest friend at worked dragged me aside to ask how my dinner and meeting Steve had gone.

I told her the same as I told you guys... it was fun, it went well, he was interesting.

Butwhatifhedoesn'tlikeme? I blurted out, not five seconds later.

And my co-worker, who knows me so well, smiled and pulled her rolly chair closer to me.

"Victoria? Guys are not like girls."

She paused.

"I mean, here we are, first thing, talking about it; I even wanted to call you last night to ask how it went and what you wore and what you thought, but I didn't, I tried to be patient and wait til this morning."

"You have to understand that Steve and his co-workers are not currently doing the same thing. They are not all piled into his room asking how the dinner went and what he thought of you, and you know they're both busy at their job and they might not get around to talking about it for a few days."

"Oh." I said, eloquently.

"WELLTHENHOWAMISUPPOSEDTOKNOWIFHELIKESME?"

Rinse and repeat this pattern for a couple of minutes until I calmed down somewhat and understood what she was saying.

Doesn't mean I like it, but I at least understood that my co-worker might not hear back from her husband about how Steve felt the dinner went for a while.

It's in moments of understanding how different we can be that I start to wonder if men and women are really the same species at all?

These Two Thoughts Are Not Related

1. I enjoyed meeting Steve.




2. I'm ready to fall in love.










These two thoughts happened into my brain around the same time. But they're not, particularly, related. Necessarily.

We're All Canada

I've been crying at a lot of things this past week or so.

Doesn't take much to tip me over into a sobbing mess, there was even a moment at work last week where I got mad at an interaction and ended up in (private, unseen) tears.

I suppose it's inevitable that when stress is high, tears are near for me. It's in these moments, though, that I feel like there's a never-ending well of extraordinarily deep sadness in me and while I used to think that meant I was broken in some way, now I just think it means I feel more than some people do. (Or maybe not, what do I know.)

One thing I do know, is that within my family, I'm different; feelings wise.

I used to think this meant I was wrong, and then for a while I thought it meant *they* were wrong and then I just kind of shrugged and figured it didn't matter who was right or wrong, they just didn't get me...or something.

A few months ago, when I spoke to the Heart Health counsellor at the hospital where my Dad completed his physical rehab program (yay Dad, well done!) she said something to me that was one of those Oprah trademarked "A Ha" moments; a true lightbulb moment I guess.

In talking about how I felt within my family and how we were all coping with my Dad's illness and ongoing recovery, she pointed out to me that we were all different.

"We're all Canada," she said.

And suddenly, I knew what she meant.

I see the world the way I see it and that includes being in touch with my emotions and wanting to hug and touch and talk and be close. And the other members of my family see the world the way they see it and they have their comfort zones with emotions and closeness and talking and sharing and we are all different. And that's ok.

I'd never seen it that way before, and even now I'm not able to clearly explain what it was she said; it just made sense.

See, Canada is known as a cultural mosiac...where people from all different cultures and countries come together and make a beautiful image. We're not a cultural melting pot - which is where people from all over might be expected to come together and change into the culture of that country. So for this counsellor to say that "we're all Canada", she meant that we're all different and aren't meant to be like each other and that as a family member, I have to accept that and value it.

So maybe I do feel things differently than, certainly the members of my family. That doesn't make me better or worse than anyone, it just makes me different.

Maybe I cried a lot last week, and maybe I'm going to keep on crying all this week too. It doesn't make me wrong, it just makes me me, getting through this tough time.

And because "we're all Canada", I can't expect my family to understand or to know how to help me, I can just expect them to be who they are and appreciate them for that. And maybe most of all, I have to make sure I take care of myself, because I'm the only one who understands what it is I need, and within my family, (and kind of within my friends) I'm the only one who has the touchy-feely-talk-about-it-let-me-hug-you-ness that I need.

That Damn Book

I first heard about it on the internet. One of the blogs I read blushed guiltily at having devoured Fifty Shades of Grey. And needing a distraction and a little fun, I figured I'd jump on the bandwagon too, and enjoy me a little "adult romance", (for mature audiences only.)

Now the last thing I thought I'd feel after reading this internet sensation of a sexy romance book was sad. I figured I'd be giggly or, well, whatever else one feels after reading some good raunchy sex scenes if you know what I'm saying, but I didn't expect to cry.

But cry I did.

And as I kept reading, I got more and more sad.

If you take out the sex part of the book, the male lead is everything I would dream about in a guy. He's gorgeous. He's a billionaire. He's self possessed and confident.

He's completely enamored of the lead female and can't keep away from her. He lavishes her with gifts and wants to protect her and take care of her and do what's best for her.

She misses him and he flies to be with her.

She challenges him and he adores her for it.

I know this is how romance novels go, I've read my share of them. There's a feisty, independent, flawed woman (many of them are clumsy and don't see their own beauty) and there's a wildly handsome and unattainable man who falls for her and they struggle through all these insurmountable problems and she leaves for a while because she can't put up with his issue but he changes for her and bing bang boom they end up together because it's meant to be and who can ignore that electric pull anyway and she's so worth him becoming a better man for.

And I'm usually just fine with this plot line and get all happy and giggly at the end and enjoy the naughty bits all the way through, but this time this book just hit me sideways.

Maybe it's because I met Steve last week and he wasn't "drawn to me like a moth to flame" and he hasn't "been unable to keep away" from me and seeing that stark contrast just made me sad. Where is my perfect guy who is utterly drawn to me?

By the time I'd finished the book on Saturday I was miserable.

And when I'm sad and miserable, my brain shouts all the nastiest things at me (fat, ugly, useless, no one loves you, no one even likes you) and that just makes everything all the worse.

But after eating a ridiculous amount of chocolate and popcorn and wanting to sit and wallow in how awful that damn book had made me feel, I took myself to the gym and felt better by the time I got home.

Maybe someone should go around putting a warning label on these books. Not "mature audience", but "do not read if feeling low about your current romantic situation".

Cuz then I would have waited a while to read that damn book. And my weekend might not have been so damn sad.

The Latest Thing To Make Me Cry

RIP MCA - Coldplay Tribute to Adam Yauch

Um

Someone here has a guest(?) who brings a cat on a leash.

I have thoughts about this.

They go a little like this: " ... "











(P.S. May the 4th be with you... Heh...)

Under Pressure*

I'm dealing with some stress right now, unrelated to work or health, but far far more stressful than it should be or maybe could be.

And so that, unfortunately, is making things in general tougher than they would usually be.

Stress and anxiety making me more stressed and anxious and yes, mindfulness and meditation are genuinely what's helping the most. But I'm still grumpy at work and little things are bothering me and they all seem to pile up and while I know logically it's just this one big worry making everything else seem big, it still feels big, regardless of whatever logic puzzle my brain gnaws away at.

Case in point? I was SUPER annoyed this week when I forgot to "post" the broken posts in the morning because I'd remembered to do it last week (post mega stress bomb) but hadn't remembered Mon/Tues/Wed and it seemed curse-worthy.

Which it wasn't.

But, nonetheless, I'm still hoping this post posts on its own, as scheduled, because even taking little worries/thoughts/troubles off my plate helps me feel a bit mellower.

I know, know, know this too shall pass, and I've been through much worse, but this has been one of those weeks where every day I've wondered why it wasn't Friday and every day I've wished I could just stay home and sleep.

I'm not cracking under pressure, I'm just feeling strained at having to carry the added weight of it.

And I'll be happy when it lessens, and at some point, disappears entirely.





*(And now you're going to be singing Queen all day too, aren't you? You're welcome.)

Test

Testing the "fixed" scheduled posts not posting issue....

Cycle

(Yup, forgot to "force post" again this morning. Sigh)

I don't want to say it's a "vicious" cycle because that's perhaps too much of an exaggeration even for me, but I'm a little bit stuck in a not so great cycle right now.

I'm under a lot of stress and it's wearing on me which runs me down and also makes me tired but unable to sleep well which also runs me down, and because I'm tired I don't want to exercise as much even though I know that might reduce the impact of the stress, but I'm too tired to exercise so I don't and then I don't sleep well which makes me feel not good so I don't feel like exercising and, well, you can see the loop, yes?

I'm not at my 100% health wise and so I've been kind of taking it easy with the gym since my cold, but now this stress and anxiety and worry about the stress is wearing me down and I feel too tired to go to the gym and then I get mad at myself for being "lazy" when really the lazy is only part of it and, well, I just need to go to the gym, don't I?

Except, I did walk a 10 K three days ago, so it's not as if I'm being completely sedentary and so maybe it's not so much the cycle as holy smokes woman would you ease up on yourself already? But I think if I did go to the gym I might feel a little less stressed but I also don't have the energy to go but maybe I should and now this is the post that never ends, it just goes on and on my friends. . . .

Edited to add: Self? I think you forgot that you did yoga on Monday too. So maybe it's ok if you didn't do much cardio Monday/Tuesday. My goodness, self, take it easy on myself already.

Sleepy

So, yes, C-Dawg and I did walk the 10K on Sunday and, yes, I enjoyed walking it much much more than running it! (Seems like a kind of a "duh" statement, really.)

But I'm also super pooped, yet again from my weekend's adventures and feel like, I think for the third week in a row, I would really quite like a weekend to recover from my weekend.

I didn't mention it beforehand, but I (finally) got to meet Steve this weekend. (The co-worker's husband's co-worker?)

I didn't mention it because I didn't want to curse our meeting yet again, so I figured I wouldn't write about it til I'd seen the whites of his eyes. And I also didn't mention it because I was trying to keep my nerves to a minimum, and the not talking about it to anyone helped. (I did tell two girlfriends a day or two before it happened but I told them "I'm going to tell you something and you can't say anything and you can't talk about it after I tell you ok?")

And I also didn't mention it because blogging's become a little on the complicated/frustrating/confusing/annoying side with Blogger's still-to-be-fixed scheduled posting issue, so I figured I wouldn't mess with it at all.

But, yeah, please imagine me Saturday night, nervous about the race in the morning and nervous about dinner in the evening.

I'm so proud of myself for managing to sleep!

The race was fun and I stretched and had a good bath after and felt pretty good, and then I just distracted myself until it was time to get ready and go.

The dinner was fun and nice and enjoyable and that's all I'm going to say, because what else is there to say?

Yes he was interesting and attractive and yes I'd be happy to see him again but, well, yeah.

No point in starting to think about anything other than what is and so I met Steve, the end.

Plus, I'm super sleepy and this was a lot of typing and I don't even know if I'll be awake enough to remember to "post" it in the morning so....yeah.

I'm sleepy. My 18 hour day on Sunday probably has something to do with that.