The Conversation

It was a really good conversation.  Really.

Again, I felt freed by the fact that we did have history, that there was no reason to hide anything or be untruthful, or pussyfoot around.

"Let's just be straightforward and honest here.  As awkward as this whole conversation might be."

Did you ever cheat on me?
No.

Have you ever cheated on your wife?
No.

Are you considering the idea of sleeping with me?
Yes.

. . .

Are we going to?
No.

And that was the core of it.

Yes, we both wanted to throw everything out the window and find out what it would be like to sleep with each other again.  He was certain that it would still be great.  I told him I was worried it wouldn't be.

But as much as we both wanted to, and enjoyed playing around with the idea, we both agreed that we weren't going to.

It was a very mature conversation, one that I don't think I ever thought I'd have, but still.

It would be easy enough to say it wasn't really all that wrong.  We're not looking to be in a relationship, I'm not wanting him to leave his wife for me.  We both are just curious about how it would be, and are both looking for a little fun and distraction in our lives.

But we both are people of integrity, and know right from wrong and while some could argue that even him being at my place, having the conversation is cheating, I think it's a more honest way to deal with things than "I don't know, it just happened, and we accidentally discovered ourselves in bed together."

So, that's that.

Vince and I aren't going to be having sex.  I'm not going to sleep with my married ex.

I enjoy knowing, very much, that there's a part of him that wants to, or at least thought about it, that's flattering to me, and a happy, as many of you said, complimentary thought.

I know I would regret it had we decided to take the next step.  I would convince myself that it wasn't all that bad (he's an ex, we're not trying to end the marriage, it's just for fun, it almost doesn't count because we've done it already and it would probably be bad and we'd never want to do it again and, blah blah blah) but I would have felt guilty, and that's not worth it in the long run.

When I talked to a friend about it, he said, I won't judge you either way, but ask yourself this... are you going to, on your death bed, regret having slept with a married man?

And I thought about it a moment, knowing he thought my answer would be "Heck no!  I should just go for it!"  But my answer was yes. I think I would.

There's so much more that has come out of this for me, and specifically things from the rest of this two or three hour conversation we had, but I'll get to them.

I feel better know, having talked through it all, and knowing we're both on the same page.  I think I can sleep again.

Which is great.

Except

Except that wasn't quite the end of it.

The next couple of days, my mind wouldn't stop racing.

Did I want to do this?  Yes and no.  Should I just do it anyway?  No, but maybe.  Did he want to do this?  I don't know, but I think maybe.   Had he cheated on me in the past?  I suspect so.  Has he already cheated on his wife?  Maybe.  Do I care?  Yes.  Was I just justifying something I knew was wrong, and did I want to live with that?   Yes and no.   Was this fun and distracting?  Yes.  Mostly.

And there were texts that got more and more flirty, to the point where I would say "I'm heading to bed now, goodnight" and he'd say "Is that an invitation ;) "

Which, no.

But there was still that part of me that wanted to follow through, the idea of seeing what it would be like very enticing.

Somewhere around the second night of these "I can read into this if I want" texts from him, I got really uncomfortable.

As exciting as it all was, I didn't want to be the girl who helped my ex cheat on his wife.  I didn't like the idea that if he was my husband and I found out about these texts I'd be so mad and hurt, and who knows what else.

So the next night I told him I hadn't slept, that too much was going on in my mind and that we needed to clear the air.

He asked if I wanted to have a conversation, I said I did, and he headed over.

And here's where I have the benefit of knowing this man.  I knew if he came over, nothing would happen without me initiating it.  I felt safe with him being in my place, even though I'm sure my friends wouldn't have recommended we have the conversation there.

And we had a long conversation.

Putting The Lid Back On The Can Of Worms

I'm not an idiot, but I also try not to presume too much.

Maybe he just was coming over to drop off my stuff.

Maybe he just wanted to catch up, old friends style.

I mean, we haven't spoken, or caught up in, what, over a decade?  A long time, anyway.  Maybe he just wants to say hi.

Or not.

I texted a friend.  He's coming over.  I feel weird.  Wary.  Suspicious.  Cautious.

"How's his marriage?" she asked.

"I don't know. I don't want to know."

Because if he comes over and starts telling me how bad his marriage is, isn't that when I'm supposed to jump in about how awful she sounds and shouldn't we have sex now?

Suspicious.  But reminding myself that I'm maybe wrongly so.  Am maybe assuming too much.

The good thing about reuniting with a long ago ex is that you no longer particularly care how you look.

I mean, I was happy that when I saw him on Friday I was looking good, but now he was coming over to my space.  Jeans and a hoodie would do.  One layer of mascara.

"I'm putting on pants for you." I said.

"PJs would have been fine," he answered.

I was nervous, and when he chose to sit on the couch next to me as I went through my box of mementos he'd returned, I don't think my body language could have been any more closed off.  Had I been leaning any further away from him, I would have tipped right off the couch.  Eye contact?  Nope.  Smiles?  Polite ones.

I flipped through the cards and letters and photos, told him I was grateful he'd kept and returned them, and he talked to me about his life.

And, no, it's not going well.

Which is too bad.   But also too convenient, if you're cynical, like me.

There was no talk of what I'd said the day before, and I listened, and we chatted a bit about my life too.  He asked about my parents, I asked about his, we retold a couple of funny stories from when we'd been together and I relaxed as the time went on.

Eventually, I asked him if he needed to get going to his event, and he said yes, and I walked him to the door.

We hugged, was a friendly hug on my end.  Sure, he looked charming again in his less formal clothes,  he smelled the same, which always triggers memories, but I'd already made my decision, and I had no desire to do anything more than give this married ex boyfriend of mine a hug.

He went in for a kiss, most likely just intended to be a friendly peck, and I gave him my cheek.  Better safe than sorry, I figured.

It was awkward.  I kept wanting to ask him why he was there, why it felt like he was wanting to feel out what might be possible between us.  I wanted to ask him had he cheated on me?  Had our relationship started when he was still with his ex?  Was he trying to end another relationship by cheating, this time with his wife, or had I just imagined all of these things?

But I didn't.

Didn't feel like I quite trusted either of us enough to even bring up the topic of sex at all.

Because I know I wouldn't sleep with a married man.  But that doesn't mean I don't want to sleep with this man.

Not because he's married.  Not because I'm particularly attracted to him anymore.  Just because I want to know if it would be the way it used to be.

And if it was?  Well, that would be a problem.  But would be worth it for that moment.

And if it wasn't?  Well, maybe that would be both better and worse.  Better because then I could move on, knowing that how things were back then would only ever be a memory.  And worse, because I'd be disappointed it wasn't better.

So, yes, there's a part of me that wants to sleep with him just to see.

Almost experimentally.  Scientifically.

And I wish he wasn't married.

I almost wish I didn't have morality.  Wish I could just give in to the hedonism of it all and stop thinking about things so damn much.

But I won't.

And I'll just keep telling myself that.

So now I think I shut him down enough that I won't hear from him again.

Or, perhaps he had no intentions of going down that road anyway and I'm obnoxious for thinking otherwise.

But here's the thing.  I believe I know this man.  I lived with him.  I nearly married him.  Sure, people change, but do they change that much?  Do I think I know how he would react, if, right now, I sent him a text?  "hey"  Do I think I know how he would react if I asked him to come over, told him we needed to talk?  If, then, I switched up my body language?  Do I think I know how I could, easily enough, make this happen, if I wanted to?  I believe so.  Call it a hunch.

Call it the instinct I've always had for reading him.  (Right up until the day he said he didn't want to be with me anymore.)

And man, that idea, that thought is ... powerful.

The idea that I am the one who's stopping anything from happening.  That I suspect he's waiting for an in.

(And how I also really hope he's not.  That I want him to not be that guy.)

So as you can imagine, my weekend was a mind-messing one.

And, honestly?  I think I'm still processing it.

A good friend of mine told me I obviously hadn't thought through what would happen when I told him that.  And I had.  I just hadn't thought through all the possibilities.  But the same friend is proud of me for saying it.  For doing what I wanted to do, and not talking myself out of yet another thing.

I didn't mean to open the can of worms that I did this weekend, (well, last weekend, really, since it took me this long to type out three days worth of mind-mess) but I think I did a pretty good job of closing the can back up again.

And I know I want to open the damn thing back up, but I'm not going to.

Even though I want to.

You know?

I Know

I know, this story should be over right?

Should be.

I emailed him the next day, a simple, neutral email.  "Hey, just checking in like you asked.  Have a good weekend."

He got back to me, asked for my number, said he had some things he wanted to talk about.

I gave him my cell number and he sent me a text.

I didn't know what to expect, but it was work related.  (He knows I'm a spy, obviously, had some questions for me, no big deal.)

Sometime after dinner Saturday night, he texted again.

"Would it be ok if I stopped by quickly on my way out?"

"Um... vaguely?"




See, I'd already thought my way through everything.  I won't sleep with a married man.  I won't be "the other woman" but this was the first time I've understood just how easy it could be to become that person.

I don't know his wife.  I've never met her, I don't know her name, what she looks like, she's a non person to me.  And if I wanted to, I could just keep on with that thought, never ask about her, never want to know.

Because it wouldn't be that I wanted to date him or marry him, just that I wanted to see what it was like to sleep with him again.  It would be that I was so caught up in the memories of what was and the idea of what might be that I would sleep with him, and no one would ever have to know.




Except I'm not that person.  Maybe there's a part of me that is, and even a part of me that wants to be, but I'm not.  So when he asked if he could stop by quickly, I knew that if he even hinted at anything, I'd be telling him I needed to see signed divorce papers first.

So I said, sure. 

Because, I was curious too.  And suspicious.  I don't think it's ok for married men to be dropping by their exes houses.  Especially not when said ex has just told them they were great in bed.

But maybe I was just assuming too much.  Maybe he just wanted to drop off my stuff.

Maybe.

Flustered

I felt like I'd been bad.  But it hadn't been my intention.  I'd honestly, never expected him to say that.

I'd thought I'd fluster him, that he'd be thrown and not know what to say and that I would probably never see him again, but that he'd go back to his wife and kids feeling a little bit better about himself.

So I went and voted.  Early voting, actually.  Somehow realigning my karma or something, but the song was playing over and over in my head.

Baby did a bad, bad thing.

And it's a sexy song, there's no denying that, because his response had made me feel sexy.  Something I haven't felt in quite a while.  A powerful feeling.

I felt aroused in the very dictionary definition way:  stirred up, excited.  And (time to stop reading random, anonymous family members or squeamish friends) to be honest, aroused in the less dictionary definition way.

Everything seemed to be about sex.

I tried to watch a tv show Friday night.

Everyone was having sex.

All the songs that came up on my playlist?

Sex.

I talked to a few friends, figuring if I talked about it, it would keep me honest, and then I went to bed.

I figured I'd sleep it off and feel more normal in the morning, and I did.  Pretty much.

Ditto

"Ditto," he said, and I glanced at his face, and saw a very familiar twinkle in his eyes.

"Shit," I thought . . . eloquently.

And trying to back my way out of things, I laughed, smiled again, and said "Well, thanks!" and shook his hand, "I just figured, who wouldn't want the compliment, right?"  And I smiled, and turned to walk away again.

"Wait.  I've been meaning to call you.  Actually, I tried calling you a while back.  You're not in the book anymore?"

The conversation wasn't supposed to continue.  I'd planned on dropping the bomb and running away. 

"I have a box of your stuff.  It seems sentimental.  Old letters, photos, the like.  I'd like to give it back to you."

"Oh, just drop it off at my work," I said, now feeling really awkward, not having ever imagined I'd have to talk to this man again after telling him that sleeping with him was the best I've ever had.

"No, here's my card, email me," and he handed me his card as I walked down the aisle towards the door, him at my side, a bottle of milk in his free hand.

And I got in my car and drove away, hardly believing what I'd done, but really not believing his answer.

"Ditto."

Meaning, either he was being polite in an awkward situation. . . or I am the best sex he's ever had too.

And that's when that song started playing in my head.

Unexpected

I was in a good mood too.

I'd had a good day at work, had come to some personal realizations (that I was going to blog about on the weekend, so the thoughts were running through my head) that made me feel confident and happy, and I was standing outside the grocery store, checking my shopping list to see if I wanted to do grocery shopping then, or to just head home and enjoy the rest of Friday.

So I was standing there, staring at my phone when I felt someone in my space.  I glanced up, and there he was, Vince, my ex.

He's older, of course.  We both are, but it's still him and my first thought was just that it was nice to see him, and that he looked silly in a suit.

I gave him a hug, we made small talk, and I let him wander off into the grocery store.

And then my brain yelled at me.

"VICTORIA!  You promised yourself!   You wanted to tell him last time you saw him and you didn't, and you were disappointed that you didn't, and it might be another three years before you see him again and you DO NOT want to spend another three years wishing you'd just done it.  So do it already!  Go after him!  Tell him!"

So I laughed, and went into the grocery store to find him.

(Now, those of you who've been around here long enough, know that this was a big deal for me, and should be proud along with me that I followed through and didn't wimp out, I wanted to do something and I did it, without talking myself out of it.  So... there's that.)

I found him right away and, still laughing, pulled him to a spot where there weren't many people.  

"Listen, I have to tell you something.  I promised myself if I ever saw you again, I'd tell you, and it's totally inappropriate and I really shouldn't say it, so we'll just pretend this conversation never happened, and will never leave this store, ok?"

I half realized he might be wondering if there was some long lost love child or something he really didn't want to hear, so I laughed again, finding myself very amusing (to myself.)

"Really, this is completely inappropriate, but I just wanted to tell you... you're still the best sex I've ever had."

And he smiled, and I smiled, relieved, and then he said "Thanks."  And I turned to walk away.

"Ditto," he said.

And I stopped.

"That wasn't supposed to happen." said my brain.

No shit Sherlock.        

Hence, Yesterday's Theme Song...

So, I kind of did a bad, bad thing.

I mean, it wasn't meant to be bad.

I guess I knew it was a little bit naughty, a little bit inappropriate, but I never intended it to be anything more than something close to innocently inappropriate.

If that's a thing?

I don't know if anyone besides myself remembers this, but there is one particular ex of mine (who also happens to live in this town) that was really good in bed.  Or, I suppose, we were really good in bed together?  I don't know.  He was, and still is, the best sex I've ever had.

And so for whatever reason, it came into my head a few years ago, after randomly running into him, that I wish I'd told him this, that I wish he knew, because I feel like people should know these kinds of things.  And I feel like he was a a good guy, and deserved that compliment.  And so I told myself after I ran into him that last time that if I ever saw him again, I'd tell him.

Do you see where this story is going?

Yeah.

I ran into my ex on Friday.

I Need To Talk About It

Chris Isaak - Baby Did a Bad Bad Thing

But I guess you could say I'm scared to.  Not that anything really awful has happened, but still. . .

It's been slightly overwhelming (although I suppose that's an oxymoron "slightly overwhelming"?) so I don't think I can talk about it all in one sitting.

This might take a few days.

Huh

It's always at this point in November where I realize I don't really want to post every day (ala NaBloPoMo) but I have done so so far and really, should I just keep going?  You know, not break the streak or whatever?

I have had an incredibly odd couple of days, and at the moment my brain is a little too spinny to sit and figure them out enough to write about it.

But, yeah. 

Happy Sunday, eh?

Writing Prompt: Do Advertisements Influence Who You Vote For?

I know this prompt was probably intended for US bloggers last month (psst, in case you missed it, they had an election, it was kind of a big deal) but in this little part of my country, we are having an odd sort of election too.

In a nutshell, our federal representative for this area stepped down so we have to pick a new person to represent us instead.

So I'm hijacking this question because it relates to me right now, and the answer is no.

So totally no.

In fact, if anything, the more a candidate pushes, the less I would consider voting for them.

This is most likely because I generally am already pretty certain of how I'm going to vote, or who I'm going to vote for, and I find pushy signage and phone calls and mailouts annoying.

I don't have cable, so I don't see any television ads, but I'm sure they would annoy me too.

So, no.  Advertisements do not influence who I vote for and the bigger the sign you put up, the less I want to vote for you.

The only thing that maybe influences me at all?  Is when I see candidates out in the freezing cold morning, holding a sign with some of their supporters and waving at the cars at a major intersection.  For some reason that makes me go "awwwww" and as long as they're not part of a party/group I strongly disagree with, I always wave back at them.

Might not vote for them, but I figure their waving deserves a wave back.

But I'm guessing the advertisements must work or they wouldn't keep using them, yeah?

Writing Prompt: What’s The One Thing You Hope Other People Never Say About You?

You know, it's funny, because you'd think that the answer would be something deep and profound:  "she never made a difference in the world", "her life never amounted to anything." 

I certainly expected that to be the response I'd come up with,  but strangely enough,  the answer that kept popping into my head when I thought about this question was that I hope other people never say that they hate me.

"Oh, Victoria?  I hate her."

The thought makes me cringe.

Which is really too bad.  Because I'm pretty sure people hate me.  Or at least someone hates me.  Or has hated me.  Or will hate me.  Or have said they hate me.

I think it's an unrealistic thing to hope.  That no one will ever hate me?  Or dislike me even?  I don't think that's realistic.  And it kind of bums me out to know that this is top of my brain.

I think it's probably a really immature thought.  Probably something still stuck in my psyche from being a teenager, or a kid even.  And I think I should probably figure out a way to grow out of it, because I can only imagine it's holding me back.

I wonder what things I'm doing or not doing, in order to avoid causing people to dislike me?

Or maybe there's a difference between dislike and hate.  I don't know.

But what about you?  What's something that you hope other people never say about you?

Saved By The Bell!

Rescued! 

I was sitting there last night not knowing how to say anything, feeling like whatever I did say at least one someone, possibly more, would be sitting there shaking their head in disappointment at my blah blah blah drivel yet again.

And then, out of the recesses of my brain, came a memory of seeing "daily writing prompts" (loosely based off a NaBloPoMo search I did a week or two ago) and thanks to the interwebs, I found them again.

So now I feel like I have some prompts for things I can write about until I no longer feel like I'm being watched and judged, and therefore stymied.

(It's funny, the last time I remember feeling like I couldn't freely write was when Smith and I broke up.  I knew he knew about the blog and didn't know if he was reading it, but in case he was, I didn't want to talk too freely about the breakup... I think I also felt a little stuck when I realized my brother was reading, but I've managed to forget that a little bit, if not completely.)  (Oh nuts, I just reminded myself didn't I?)

Ironically, this post is not prompted by a prompt.  Just by my "oh yay!" feeling of finding a way around the "I don't know what to say" feeling.

Ta da and woo hooo!

Um

So now I kind of feel like I don't know what to say.  Or like I know what I want to say but I don't want to say it.

Which is a really uncomfortable feeling.

I hope I get over it soon.

Edited to add: Your comments on yesterday's posts helped a lot lot lot.  Thank you.  (As always)

Clomp, Clomp, Clomp

I had a comment left for me this weekend, that, in a nutshell, pointed out that this blog is not what it used to be.

That noise you hear?  That's the sound of the elephant that's in the room, that apparently needs to be talked about.   Clomp, clomp, clomp.

I know this blog isn't the same as it used to be.  I know it's not the same as when I started.

I also know that of the blogs I've followed for years, there are times when I'm less interested in what they have to say, or often, times where I stop reading them because what they have to say feels wrong to me in whatever way.  (Too sad, too angry, too whiny, whatever.)

I also know that people have stopped reading here.  Or at least, they've stopped commenting... but I'd say it's safe to say I've lost readers over the years. (Not that popularity was ever my intention in starting this blog.) Gained some too, that's for sure, but I know things around here don't feel the same as they did in 2006.

I wish they did.  I do.  I wish I was still happy go lucky at the idea that my boyfriend, my husband was just right around the corner.

(But on the flip side, I'm also happy I'm not quite as terribly shy as I was back when I started writing here.)

But here's the truth of it all.  I haven't had anything close to a relationship in nearly six years.   Since Smith.

Sure, there was Bird, and there's been a few other crushes or short term "hmmm, what about him?" over the years, but I'm not sure anyone who hasn't been through it can imagine what six years of wishing for something feels like.  Six years of not being in a relationship.  Nothing.  Not even anything more than a few dates.  If you haven't been through it, you don't know how hard it gets to be, how it erodes away at you.

Having that constant "it'd be really nice if" in the back of your head.

Being told you just have to "not want it" and it will "come when you least expect it."

Watching everyone around you find someone, fall in love, get married, start a family when you have not had anything more than a date for years.

Years, you guys.

It drags you down.

As much as you try to live without it, live around it, live despite it, the not having someone is a constant thing.

So yes, I'm not as light and silly and free about being single as I was when I first wrote here; back then I was coming out of a relationship and heading into another and then getting over that heartbreak and trying to enter the dating world.  Now I'm half a decade without a relationship, and as much as I want to stay hopeful and positive, I have, in a lot of ways, had to stop thinking/wishing it will happen. 

And then, to be honest, these last two years have been very difficult.

I've had to face the mortality of my parents. I've had to go through some really tough personal challenges.  I've had to grow up in every way you can imagine, and it has been wonderful to grow, but really really tough.

For a while now, I've been struggling with writing.  Sitting staring at the screen with nothing to say, no happy stories to tell.  But that's part of the creative process.  Sometimes it flows, sometimes you just have to push through.

And because writing here is part of my creative outlet, and often, part of my figuring out the growing I'm going through, I don't want to just shut it down, so I make myself write out posts, even when I know I have nothing to say, even when I know what I have to say is not sassy/funny/enlightening posts about dating.  (See above, not dating, hence, difficult to write about something that's not happening.)

I'm not trying to gather our pitchforks and burning brands to hound the commenter, and I'm not trying to start a pity party, I'm just saying, yes, I know.  I know, and I've known for a while that the feel of this place is neither what it used to be or, more importantly, what I'd like it to be.

But it's either write, or don't write, and since this is ultimately my space, and my outlet, and my creative writing arena,  I keep writing.  (I keep taking photos too, for what it's worth, even if I don't think they're any good, just to keep pushing myself, it's far too easy to give up and stop creating.)

I can't tell you how much I appreciate those of you who do still read here, and especially those of you who feel compelled to comment.  It means the world to me, really, that you share in my journey, even (perhaps especially) when it's in a low point.  Even if it's a long low point.

So, yes.  I know, I know.  I've been feeding the damn elephant after all, I know it's there more than anyone.  And because I don't know how to fix the "holy %*&# I'm still single and the most single I've ever been in my entire adult life (because kissing Owen M in Kindergarten doesn't really count) situation" I just keep writing anyway.

And I know that alienates, or has alienated some people, and I just accept that that's how blogging works.

But I'm sorry, I wish things were different. 

And all I can do on my end is to keep on keeping on, for better or worse, and keep on writing.

But thanks for being here with me anyway.  Anyone want to pet the elephant?

Any Entomologists Around?

So I've just removed the fourth ladybug in as many weeks from my apartment.

(Either that or there's one really determined ladybug hanging around outside my place.)

I'm guessing they're randomly finding their way in due to the warm/dry/light?

But I'm not sure what they're doing around and about these here parts anyway.

Anyone have any idea?

(No, fifth, another one just showed up, seriously)

In Remembrance

This is the time we pause to remember.

This is the time we take to think of the sacrifices made, and to honour those who have passed in wars gone by.

This is the time we bow our heads and stand in silence, holding the hope for peace in our hearts, and giving thanks that we live in the way we do.

This is the time we acknowledge those who choose to serve, and the risks they take.

This is the time we speak of Flanders Fields and upholding the torch of Remembrance.

This is the time we remember.

They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

I Know I Haven't Asked In A While

But, how are you?

Ugh

I know I beat this dead horse every single year but seriously, I so very much hate the time change.

I am SO tired but I can't even go to bed because it's, like, 7 pm.

And it's not making my days any longer, they're now just starting at early o'clock and ending at half past dark o'clock!

And I don't know about you, but I'm still waiting for that promised "extra hour of sleep" to kick in.  I think mine got lost in the mail or something.

Can we not just be done with this stupid time change brain frying stuff and all get along just fine on one time for ever and ever amen?

Ugh.

Whoops!

You know how I sometimes type dyslexically?

Either because I type so fast my fingers get ahead of myself or because my fingers are thinking the right word but type it out backwards or sideways or something?

Yeah, well... guess what happens if you type THIS a little bit wrong?

You guessed it!

Whoopsies.

Good thing I caught the typo before I sent the email, eh?

For Sure

This past month has been a gong show in ways I won't talk about here, and has resulted in me needing to really step up and out of my comfort zone in a big way.

I've had to be really strong and, to quote C-Dawg (who is very proud of me) put on my "big girl panties" to deal with all this.

Those big girl panties have gotten a lot of wear this last while and I'm proud of myself too for taking on the scary things I have and standing up to people and standing up for what's right.

It's been incredibly stressful, mind you, but I've done it nonetheless.

And this weekend, as I was recovering from what I hope is the biggest portion of what I had to do to end this awfulness please dear Lord please, I decided that my big girl panties are pink polka dotted.

Because they may be what I put on to be tough and grown up and serious, but that doesn't mean they're not cute and girly and fun too!

To The Guy Who Gets Home From Wherever And Sits In His Truck With It Running For Ten Minutes

Dear "Sir",
PLEASE STOP IT.  THE TRUCK NOISE IS ANNOYING ENOUGH BEING RIGHT UNDER MY DAMN OPEN WINDOW BUT THE FUMES ALSO GO UP INTO SAID WINDOW AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING THIS FOR ANYWAY SERIOUSLY?
Thanks,
Victoria
(Who knows where you live)

Not Talking About It But Talking About It

I discovered this weekend what "at wit's end" feels like.

Or, at least, that's what I realized I was feeling when it was pointed out to me.

"This situation has driven her to wit's end", read the email, and just hearing it, I relaxed.

See (don't talk about work Victoria) and (no, seriously, don't do it) because (la, la, la, la, stop it, Victoria!) and that was just too much.

And so I was sitting there, at home, collapsed on the couch,   (Seriously.  I just wanted to sleep, didn't even have the energy to get up off the couch and make dinner.) when I got a phone call that broke my heart completely (my friend's Dad has been given just a couple of months to live) so I spent the rest of the weekend in some sort of combined horror of sorrow, shock, exhaustion, I don't even know what.

See, when I was under all the stress around Dad's surgery, I took time off work.  I took care of myself as best I could, and I used whatever means necessary to force my body to sleep.

But I haven't done that with this stress.  I haven't been sleeping well.  Sure, I've taken care of myself fairly well, or eaten well, at least, but not much else, and the stress done wore me out.

"I feel really weird" was all I could say when C-Dawg called to check up on me Friday after work.

I had a nap Saturday afternoon, and that seemed to help a bit, and I drank a lot of water, and I think that helped too.

But my poor, poor body, and mind are at their wit's end  and I need a break from (not talking about it), no, not a break from, an end to... and I hope it comes soon.

Very soon.

Because this is not worth getting sick about.  There's more to life than this.

I Forgot

About NaBloPoMo.

You doing it?

Bwoooop! Bwoooop! Bwoooop!

That's the warning siren noise.

(In case you couldn't figure that out.)

(Although, I'm not sure why you wouldn't have figured that out, it seems pretty clear to me!)

(But then again, I'm currently the only one living in my head, so sometimes things make more sense to me than they do outside of my head.)

(And I really hope I'm only ever the only one living in my head.  There's enough going on in there without anyone else joining in than you very much.)

(But anywayyyyyy....)

It's the time change this weekend.

Like, tonight.  Even though it's technically tomorrow morning, it's still tonight in my books, but yeah.

Time change.

Unless you don't live here, in which case just ignore me because you probably had it already or aren't having it at all and it's just silly all round and you know how much I hate the short dark days so boooooooooo!  In general.

I'll turn the sirens off now, sorry if they woke you up.

So What Does That Say About Me?

I had one of those "Aha!" moments the other day.

It was playing video games, mind you, but still.

I realized that I do much better, and prefer to use a character that has a ranged attack.  So that generally means an archer or a magic user, depending on the game.

I tried, with this particular addiction game to use the "I'm big and strong and beat people up" character, but it just got killed and I realized that it feels better (less stressful maybe?) to be the guy who's shooting down the bad guys from far away while someone else is up in there doing the heavy, hand to hand fighting.

When I'm playing with a group type game (my friends and I used to play COH and I loved it) I, again, tended to be a ranged attacker, and often liked to be a healer as well.

I'm not sure why this is an easier and less stressful and, in the long run, better way for me to play these games, but figure it must say something about me.

What do you figure that is?

I like to keep myself safe while making surprise ... damage?

Fault Lines

There have been a couple of fairly large earthquakes around about these parts this last week.

We've been lucky in that there does not appear to be any injuries or damage due to where they were located.  But it's always a sobering reminder that here, we do live in an earthquake zone and are due for a frighteningly large and devastating earthquake at some point.  (A thought I do my best not to dwell on, beyond being prepared.)

This weekend, when the earthquake happened, I may or may not have felt it. 

I say this because the building I live in is an old wooden framed building and large trucks driving past rattle it.

I've certainly felt small earthquakes here, but I've also felt the building shake for other reasons, non-earthquake ones.  I mean, if the guy upstairs stomps around too heavily, things can feel a little bit shaky.

So I'm not sure I felt this weekend's 7.7, but I did trip over my own feet around the time it happened, so maybe I was clumsy as usual, or maybe there was a bit of a bigger shake than usual.

Boo Humbug?

I wonder if people have children so that they have a renewed reason to enjoy holidays.

Well, no, of course they don't, but I have to say I'm feeling a little lacking in the Halloween spirit.

My friends are mainly small-child-laiden so there are no house parties to go to like there once were.

And I'm not a costume person, so I won't be dressing up today.

And I'm really trying to watch what I eat and so I won't be going massively crazy over candy either.  (Although, I may go a tiny bit crazy over it.)

So it's kind of like.... oh.  It's Halloween.

Ok.

So, Happy Halloween you guys.  Sorry I'm a little bit of a poopy McPoopersons about it.

Boo?

Disappointed

Maybe some day I'll understand myself.

But, until that day, I'll just sit and try to figure out what the heck is going on all up in here.

See, normally when someone I've been talking to from the online dating site says they'd like to meet in person I avoid the message until I can psych myself up enough to say sure.

But this time, a guy I'd been chatting with messaged me that he'd like to continue our conversation in person this weekend and I just took a deep breath and said that sounded good.

These messages were sent vaguely mid-week, so I had supposed I'd hear from him by Friday to figure out a when and where.

But I still hadn't heard from him by Saturday and instead of being relieved, (which, according to past practice my brain should have been) I was disappointed.

And I'm not sure why.

Is it because I hadn't psyched myself up?  Or because I had psyched myself up but in a mellow way?  Is it because I got over my initial fear and was bummed there was no follow through?  Is it because this is the first weekend in a while I've had the mental capacity/physical energy to meet a stranger and I don't know when that will happen again, or what?

All of the above?

Who knows.

I'm guessing he'll message back soon enough and we'll figure something out from there (probably) (unless, of course, he's already met someone else and we will never meet as so often seems to happen to me) or not.

Just... my brain is weird and it weirded me out this weekend by being differently weird from the usual.

If that makes sense.

Memory

When Dad was in having his heart surgery there was what now seems like an enormous amount of time where we just had to wait.

Mom and I went for a walk around Granville Island (we'd decided to stay in a hotel there) while my brother tried to nap in the room.

While we both tried to distract ourselves (game of Scrabble? talk about... something?) I took the occasional photo or two, one of a park bench next to the one we were sitting on, and one of two crows that landed on that same bench a bit later.  Another of a heron standing in the silver water at dusk.

I remember thinking to myself at the time that even when things were awful, there was still beauty in the world, that life was still good.

What I didn't expect, however, is that now, a year and a half later, whenever those photos pop up on my screensaver or background, I'm taken right back to that moment; the waiting, the wondering, the fear.

I often look at photos from when I was a child and wonder if I'm remembering the moment or remembering the photo and making up the moment around it.

Part of me thinks I may have to take these photos out of rotation, to stop bringing it all up again, but maybe not.  Maybe it's just a matter of tricking my memory into remembering that everything's ok now and that I managed to find beauty in a difficult time.

I suppose you could say I "found love in a hopeless place"


2 Irish Boys Sing We Found Love!

Anxiety

I don't really know what the difference is between anxiety and worry or if they're just different sides of the same coin or what, but I know I'm predisposed to them both.  Or to it.

And once the anxiety/worry -ness is triggered, it sometimes just seems to hover.

And right now it's hovering.

Mainly in the evenings, I notice, probably because I'm home, and there's a bit less to think about.  But even at work right now, I'm wandering around feeling like I'm forgetting something.  That elusive something that must be what I'm feeling worried about, because why else would I be feeling this way.

I've learned how to cope with this feeling, strategies and things that help me feel calmer or point out that it's really just one thing that I'm worried about and all the other things are just freeloading on that one thing.

But still.  Just like when I'm sad about something, when this anxiety/worry feeling kicks in, it's hard to remember that I won't always feel like this.  That I haven't always felt like this.  Because when I'm in this kind of a difficult feeling, it feels permanent.

Which makes me worry.

Add, rinse and repeat.

So it's been hard, this past little while (is it days or is it weeks, it's hard to know.)  But I'm trying to sort through and remind myself that, yes, there is one big thing that's triggering all this, but it doesn't mean I have to live in this state until that thing is done.

I hope.

So, Just Me Then?

Do you ever watch those totally awesome, family and friend filled lip dub proposals of pure joy and love and happiness and then bawl your eyes out?

Hypothetically speaking.

Autumnal

Fall around here is all about the leaves.

For those of us who don't own a yard, it's not about the raking and cleaning up of them, but it's still about the watching of them changing colour.

Which can be utterly beautiful.

Which led me to wonder.

What's fall about in other parts of the world, and what about in the parts of the world that don't have the same kinds of trees that we do? 

What makes Fall "Fall"...elsewhere?

Argh!

Do you know what's even worse than having a song stuck in your head?

Having had a song stuck in your head all day and then when you get home to google it you can't remember enough of it to find out what it was and all you can think of is "well, the guy was cute"

Argh brain, why are you being like this????

'Spection

This is going to sound weird (maybe) but I wish I could be the perfect person I always think I should be.

But then as I type that out I realize that maybe that's not a good thought, or not a helpful one.

It's just...I spend a lot of time in my mind going over what I should have done, or, often, what I shouldn't have done.  What I shouldn't have thought, what I should have said.  And if I was better, perfect-er, I wouldn't have those thoughts.  I'd just sit and think "yes, I did all that I could/should have."

Or, at least, that's the theory.

So when I don't get to the end of a day thinking "yes, I did all that I could/should have", I instead have the thoughts of "good lord I'm a bad person, let's sit and think through all of the things I didn't say/do correctly, and how lazy I have to be to not have done/said them."

And that's exhausting.

But when I think about it logically (as sometimes typing out a blog post forces me to do) it seems that my berating myself for being less than what I think I should be isn't entirely helpful.  Or helpful at all maybe.

I think about Mother Theresa and all the wonderful work she did and how it stunned people when they published her private journals that she was not perfect in her thoughts.  Even the most amazing of us, the holiest, so to say, is not without frustration and anger.

So what do I do instead of beating myself up?  Because some of the things I don't like are things worthy of change.

So maybe instead, I just remind myself of the direction I want to be facing, or the path I want to be on, or whatever the metaphor might be.  I don't know.

I just both wish I was perfect and easier on myself and I never know which one's going to win out.

Last night it was the Perfectionist.

She's a bit of a cow, but the Gentler me forgives her for even that.

On The Day To Day

Yep, this is the stuff that sometimes occupies the mind of a single girl... the weather.

(Which I may be slightly more obsessed by than the ordinary single girl but whatevs!)

Remember that extra long, extended gorgeously sunny and warm summer?  And how it went all through September and even snuck into October a bit?

Yeah, it's gone bye bye.

Last week brought all the rain we haven't had up til now and this weekend has brought the cold.

It's always chilly by Hallowe'en here.  Usually first frost is right about now, and this year seems to be no different.

This weekend was lovely though.  Made extra lovely, I think, by the rain of last week.  Sunny and cold.

Cold enough to get out a scarf and gloves for a mid-morning walk yesterday.

Cold enough to dust off the hot water bottle and wonder why I'd waited so long to dust it off.

So Fall is here, most definitely and the leaves are changing and when the sun is out it's the most beautiful season of all.

Except I feel like I say that almost every season.

And I mean it every time.

So, yes.  The weather has changed, the leaves are changing, and I feel like this needs to be a song lyric, the end.

This Should Make Your Saturday

You're welcome.


Kid History: "Babysitting" Episode 9 (True Stories)

Everybody Was Kung-Fu Fighting*

Sometimes out of nowhere a song will just pop into my head, I'm sure you know that feeling.

But, this time it wasn't the song I just put into your head via the title of this post, it was a song from a tv show I used to watch forever ago and I have absolutely no idea why it suddenly jumped into my head randomly yesterday afternoon.

But... here it is, via the magic that is the internet!


Reading Rainbow - Theme

*That was just to throw my brain off track

I Would Love My Life To Groove Like This

Lake Street Dive Plays "I Want You Back" On a Boston Sidewalk

Shhh, Don't Tell

Somehow I feel like putting strawberries in a salad is like cheating and putting dessert into your dinner!

But I love it so I'm going to keep doing it, and I'm going to feel like I'm cheating / being naughty every time!

Dude.

I took on a spy project at spy work that had to get done and no one else wanted to do and the whole thing turned out to be about four hundred times more work than it should have been so long story kind of short last week was exhausting.

And, I still don't talk about work here, but let's just say I can only hope it gets less exhausting, but I'm not sure it's going to be and we'll leave it at that before I get brain wiped for speaking too much about top secret spy stuff.

Anyhow, all this to say that this weekend felt like a long weekend to me as well.

Partly because I'm still staying off my feet to try to heal the (yes, still ongoing) toe injury issue, and partly because the gorgeously sunny late Summer weather we had has turned into grey rainy, I should just stay inside under a blanket weather, and partly because I have a new neighbour moving in beneath me and she decided to paint her new place after work....late into the night, and I didn't get much sleep last week either.

So a zonked out (she was away this weekend, amen!) Friday sleep (even though I was so wound up after my 12 hour day I couldn't mellow out enough to sleep for a while) and a bit of a sleep in, combined with a lazy Saturday and Sunday made me feel like I had another long weekend, which was pretty nice.

Here's hoping this week is a little less "kapow" to the old noggin.

How's you?

Tap, Tap, Tap, Hello?

I was just testing to see if maybe this thing wrote itself.

Like, I was hoping I'd show up here this morning and there'd be an awesome blog post that had popped up all by itself since last night.

But, apparently not.
Nuts.

Best get back at it then, eh?

I Don't Know What Made Me Think Of This

Everything is biased.

Or, I suppose, I mean every form of media / conversation / statement / thought / you get what I'm saying, right?

Even the thoughts I have are biased by how I was raised, or by the negative voices that live inside me.

Even things/people/organizations that claim to be bias free are biased.

It's maybe impossible to be otherwise, just possible to be aware and try to... adjust?   I don't know.

I don't even know what made me think of this, maybe it was all the stuff about blasphemy and the upcoming US election or I don't know, an argument I had with someone?  Who knows.

And I don't know if this thought is a frustrated one or just a neutral one or something in between, maybe a sad one?

But yeah.  Everything is biased.

Let's talk about fluffy things.  How's your weekend going?  Can you believe it's already halfway through October?  Crazy!

OH!

I can't believe I forgot to tell you!!!!

Or, at least, I *think* I forgot to tell you.  New Blogger's search function doesn't seem to think I told you but maybe I did and just can't remember/find it because it was, like a month ago, so sorry if I'm repeating myself but still!

Last, month, maybe even exactly a month ago, I was headed downtown after work one day to sign up for a dance class (that I haven't told you about yet either I don't think.)  I was feeling pretty good, lots of energy and happy to be outside in such glorious weather (we really did have an amazingly beautiful September and so far October's been great too!)

As I bounced down the street, singing along in my head to the music from my iPod, a gentleman said something to me.

(And by "gentleman", I mean someone who was possibly crazy, but not in a scary way, just in a oh, dear, do you live on the street or are you just not quite, you know, entirely all there?)

I didn't hear him, so I stopped, and popped out an ear bud.  "Pardon me?"

"You are so beautiful!"  he exlaimed.

"Oh, thank you." I said, feeling a little shy, but who doesn't like a compliment, right?  And as I was putting my ear bud back in he went on, much to my chagrin.

"Would you like to go get coffee?!"

"Oh, um, no.  No, but thank you."  I said, feeling suddenly awkward and embarrassed that a possibly transient older man had been the first person to ask me out in ages.

I walked on, somewhat bemused when another street person stepped out in front of me.

I didn't think he was a street person at first, he was a handsome enough be-dredded dark skinned man and he wanted to show me his art.

So I figured I'd take a look, I wasn't in any rush, and then he pulled out a stack of crumpled photocopies and started to explain them to me one by one.

I've luckily had a little bit of experience with people who have a mental illness or disorder, so I let him talk for a bit and then told him to show me his best two.  I managed to extricate myself from there without too much difficulty, but it did make me wonder what it was about me that was making me seem especially approchable, but possibly only to men who were not really playing with a full deck of cards.

I'm sure it's ironic, or amusing, or something like, that, but the next day, back in my apartment, the sweet, but overweight neighbour I'd accidentally seen in his underpants a few weeks ago, and had always assumed was gay,  also asked me out for coffee and all I could think to say was "man, I just got asked out by a crazy person yesterday too!" which probably wasn't the best response.

But, there you go.

I got asked out twice for coffee last month.

By a street/crazy person, and an apparently not gay man who I've already seen in his briefs.

Being single rocks, y'all! (ahem)

Sigh.

For A While

Every once in a while I get a message from someone on the online dating site I still haven't completely abandoned, and we end up carrying on a good conversation for a while.

But even that no longer gets me excited.

I mean, don't get me wrong, I enjoy the conversation and the attention, even if it's virtual, and it's something to look forward to during the day;  will he have messaged me?  What will he have said?  Will it make me smile?  Etc.

But the reason I no longer get excited, or perhaps hopeful is the better word here, is that I know it won't last very long.

Either the conversation will dwindle off or stop completely, or we'll meet and then won't message any more or something, and so I just try to enjoy it for that week or so, or for those few days.

I certainly don't have the energy to meet a stranger right now, and there don't seem to be that many opportunities off line to meet people, so it's still the shrug-worthy status quo of nothing new in the romance world.

I mean, other than the cute, new married guy at work.  I suppose additional eye candy doesn't hurt.  Sigh.

Make It Stop!

I don't understand what is happening!

I hugged someone, and they had perfume on.

I don't like perfume, I don't wear it, and I don't like to smell it.

But after I got home, I realized I still smelled like that person's perfume, so I had a shower.

And it was still there.

So I had another shower and washed my hair.

AND IT IS STILL THERE!

I've changed the pillows on my couch in case I sat down and transferred it, I've thrown the pjs I was wearing after the first shower into the wash, but I can still smell it!

I do not understand how I haven't managed to wash off this perfume after TWO SHOWERS!!!

Please make it stop, it's making me feel like I want to throw up!

Granted

I was woken up early Saturday morning by a power outage.  Which, really is a strange thing to be woken up by, but my new, fancy dancy fire detection thing beeped a couple of times and that half woke me up and then one of the buildings near us started beeping what I'm guessing is its emergency "the power is out" beep and, well, once I glanced over and looked at the clock and realized it wasn't on, I was pretty excited to have a power outage.

I know, I'm weird that way, but I love power outages.

Except I'd never had one first thing in the morning before, and I lay in bed trying to figure out what I would do for breakfast.

I couldn't have an egg, so maybe I'd just have toast, no, no toaster, needs power.

Ok, well then I'd just have tea and wait, no, wait, the kettle won't have power either.  Well, I'll just use the stove to boil water then, uh, nope, no power.

Hmmm....

I didn't want to open the fridge to get out milk or anything in case the power was out for a long time (we used to have wind storm power outages growing up and we learned not to open fridges or freezers if you could to help the food stay cold) so I ended up having an apple with peanut butter, which I thought was a pretty good compromise.

I was glad I'd charged my phone the night before so I used it to check the BC Hydro (our electric company) website and then I sat down with my book and read.  It was pretty nice, actually.

Apparently a bird "made contact with the wire" and knocked out power for a few thousand of us, but they had it back by 9ish that morning and all was well.

My fire alarm beeped again when the power came back on and my fridge and whatever else whirred back to life and the building next to us stopped the beeping that had driven me a little bit mad.  I was able to pee with the light on, which was a nice upgrade from earlier that morning, and I ended up being quite grateful for all the little things I use electricity for in the morning that I hadn't thought of before.

Shan't take it for granted any more, it's good stuff, that electricity!

Yay!

Happy Canadian Thanksgiving Long Weekend!

I'm so so in need of some resting and some not working and some sleeping in and some lazy days and I'm very thankful for the health and happiness of my family and this beautiful weather we've had for all of September and life in general and all the things!

Happy weekend, y'all, and happy Thanksgiving fellow Canucks!

Sorry Spammers

I've been getting some really nice Spam comments lately.

No, really, they've been very nice.

These people (person?) finds a random post, and makes a comment that's very positive about how wonderful the post is and how informative the blog is and how they can't wait to read more and here's their blog and .... it's advertising.

But I feel guilty every time I delete the comment!  They're so nice!  And positive!  Even though it appears that English is not their first language, they're trying, and well, I just don't like the idea of someone commenting just to advertise something.  But still.

So I'm sorry to the people who keep spamming me with these nice, friendly, supportive, positive comments, but I just can't keep your comment here.

But good luck with what I'm assuming is your job!


Updated to add:

Oh the irony....

"Howdy, i read your blog from time to time and i own a similar one and i was just
wondering if you get a lot of spam responses?
If so how do you reduce it, any plugin or anything
you can suggest? I get so much lately it's driving me mad so any help is very much appreciated.
Also see my web page >     "

Sigh.

From Fear

I think sometimes, maybe more than sometimes, when we're scared, it comes across as anger.

I say this because last night, I was woken up by an angry conversation outside my window.

Or at least, I was woken up by half of it.

The gentleman in question was angry.  Angry with his girl friend (girlfriend?) that she had called him, feeling suicidal and then turned off her phone saying she was going to "take care of herself."

It's not something you joke about, he said.  You said you were feeling suicidal and then you turned off your phone, what else was I supposed to think?

He said it over and over.  Angrily.

What was I supposed to think?  I drove all the way over here, what else was I supposed to do?

I couldn't hear what she was saying, but part of me wanted to shout at him to just hug her, and part of me wanted to shout at her for turning off her phone after saying something like that.

They moved away after a few minutes and I could hear crying.  Her, I suppose, and I truly hope there was some release in that and that she's feeling better.

It's hard when you're feeling low, it really is.  And it's hard when you care for someone and they tell you they're feeling that low.  Because what else do you do, but worry, and try to help?

And you don't want to be wrong.  You don't want to tell them not to cry wolf, because if they're not?

I hope that no one ever uses the idea of being suicidal as a way to manipulate someone else, and I hope that friends and loved ones know that if someone you care about tells you they're feeling that way, it's not up to you to fix them or help them, there are professionals who can help you and support you in helping your friend.

I hope the two of them are ok, and I hope that the girl reached out and got the love and support she needs.  And I hope, in time, she'll hear the anger in his voice as the fear he must have had at the situation, and that she'll realize he went to her when she needed it.

When I woke up this morning, this was in my head.


Rick Astley - Cry For Help 

I think I need a hug.

Subtle

I wear a jacket on the drive in to work, but don't need on the drive home.

I'm back to wearing pyjamas around the house rather than just a sarong.

The heating pad is back in rotation to soothe sore muscles.

Trees aren't just dropping dried leaves, they're turning orange shades of yellow bit by bit.

We're having a lovely extended summer, and the sun is gloriously welcome to stick around as long as it wants.  I can feel Fall, and know what's coming, but am enjoying the sun very very much.

I Don't Think Your Week Should Go On Without This In It

Aloe Blacc -- I Need A Dollar (Live)

Two Point Oh

The first change came from Reddit.

Well, the idea came from there anyway.

See, I have a friend who poops.  (Seeing as I don't do things like that myself, of course, being a pretty pretty lady who is all roses and butterflies and the like.)

And this friend read about how our bodies aren't really meant to sit to go Number Two, and that really seemed to make a lot of sense so she went ahead and got herself a "Squatty Potty" and then she started to find she was feeling a lot healthier in a number of ways, but certainly ways that had to do with things from the belly button area and on down.

And because my friend was feeling better and healthier because of this really very simple change, I was too, and that was really somehow the first of all the other changes to come, and can you see why I've been putting off talking about all this a little bit?

Yeah.

But that was the start, really.

Smile

I know it's the weekend here, so maybe this is a little bit unfair to bring up, but tell me... what do you like best about your job?

For me, I'd have to say it's probably the fact that I seem to laugh every day.

(Even if it's at myself)

What about you?  What's the best thing about your job?





With bonus, unrelated current musical obssession:


Fun.: Carry On (ACOUSTIC)

Nooooooooooo!

Waaaaaaaah!

I was just having the sweetest moment in a dream and then my alarm went off and I couldn't finish the dream! Waaaaah!

It's the second time this month that I've had a sweet dream about making out with a guy. Like not "oooh, sexy sexy" making out, but "aww, we have that connection and it's sweet and I think we're going to kiss now! eeee!"

Both dreams I've been at a party, or at least a social gathering at someone's house. The last one, we were sitting around a table playing a board game or something (I don't know, it was a dream, details don't matter!) and I started speaking French because the good looking guy sitting behind me/next to me was a French speaker and was struggling with the conversation and he thought it was so amazing that I spoke French, he sat down next to me and started stroking my cheek and I was getting all giddy/happy and then I woke up.

This morning, it was another house party and I had a crush on one guy (I think I'd already met him or something) but as the evening (of the party) went on, I came to realize that he wasn't interested in me and was appearing to be interested with this other (much prettier) girl. So I pretended to like his friend so I'd stop feeling crappy about things but then his friend started making out with this other girl and I was crushed. And embarrassed, because the guy I liked kind of gave me a raised eyebrow look when it happened.

So (for whatever reason, again, see "details" above) I went into the kitchen of the house, which was empty (it must have been the end of the party or something) and opened the fridge and sat in front of it looking for something to eat or drink or something.

And as I was sitting there in the empty kitchen, just staring at the fridge, my guy came into the kitchen, sat down with me and held me. We then (in magical dream fashion) talked about how we actually did really like each other and just as we were about to make out in the sweetest, most romantic, awesomest, I'm tingling all over kind of way ?

My alarm went off.

Noooooooooooooooo!

And I snoozed it and desperately tried to get back to the sweetness, but no. It was gone.

So I didn't get to make out with either of those lovely guys who really liked me.

No sweet kisses for me.

Stupid alarm.

Ruins everything.

My Bed

This is where I want to be right now.

All comfortable and warm and drowsy in my bed.

Not awake and "alert" and interacting with people, places and things, just nice and asleep in my bed.

Resting. 

Know what I mean? 

I so very much just want to be in bed.  Just for a few days.  Is that oh so much to ask?

And then to get up after those few days and feel rested and have perfectly normal sleeps from then on.

Why is it you can nearly fall asleep all day and then get home and turn off the lights for bed and not be able to sleep?  What's the deal with that?

Le sigh.

I'm tired this week.  In case you couldn't tell.

It's Been A While

The first CD I ever listened to was my brother's.  Pink Floyd, The Dark Side of the Moon.

That, and Peter Gabriel's So were the two CDs I remember him having at the time in his room.  He was in boarding school at the time, so we only saw him on weekends, and I missed him and used to go into his room and just hang out.  Guess, at some point I got bored and put on a CD.

Technically, the first CD I ever bought was Led Zeppelin's Houses of the Holy, but that was a used copy, I bought it from a friend, out of his locker.  I seem to remember it was his brother's too.

The first CD I ever bought from a store was Nirvana's Nevermind.  I bought it at A&B sound, which anyone who grew up in these here parts knows as the best music store around.  I don't think it exists anymore, but that's a whole other story really.

I remember how cool it was, but weird at the same time, to be going past the tape sections of the store and to the very small CD section and picking up the CD.  It felt...different.

I made myself a deal at the time, that I would only buy a CD if I knew I liked at least two songs from the album, that would make it worth the sixteen or so dollars I seem to remember them being.

Most of the time if I already liked two songs, the rest of the CD would be good, sometimes better than good, sometimes a bit hit or miss.

After a good long while, eventually... I stopped buying full CDs and started buying tracks, electronically.

And when I realized my CD collection was just gathering dust, literally, in my living room now that I'd transferred everything over to digital format, I packed them up into a box and put them in storage.

Since then, I've bought a few "albums." Entire CDs that I will, strangely enough, never touch.  They're digital figments and it's a very strange thing to have the music, but not the.. container, if you know what I mean.

This weekend was the first time in a long time I, once again, had that feeling of cool and weird all mixed together.

For the first time since Nevermind, I bought an entire album knowing only that I liked two songs on it, and just guessing at the rest.

I was never one of those people who'd go into a record store and sit in the listening booth sampling the songs.  But iTunes does kind of let you do that, and so I listened to the samples of the album, figured I liked it enough and bought the entire thing.

And I like it.  It's good.  And it takes me back to the day when I used to buy a CD and consume it for a few weeks and learn to love the songs and the stories.

It's been neat to do that again, even though I find myself wishing I had something physical to look over and read and file away.

Pre-ordered the new Mumford and Sons too.  Figured I'll love whatever it is they're going to put out enough to give them my money, sight unheard.

Or whatever the equivalent aural saying might be.

Again

I promised myself I'd stop buying books.

If I'm going to try to own a place some day, I need to start being more thoughtful of my budget, and the amount I spend on lovely lovely books could certainly go towards the feeding and care of my future dog, so I told myself I would stop buying books, as much as I love to.

So over the last few months, I've gone through my stockpile of new books and before I head to the library (renewed my card and everything!) I thought I'd maybe re-read some of my favourites that I've kept on my bookshelf.

Which lead me to Watership Down again.  Hence the bunny photo.

It's not quite the same, reading a great book for the second or third or xth time, but it's still good and I'm enjoying spending time with Hazel and his companions again.

Even if I'm aware of where things are going and have a memory of how the book left me feeling the first time I read it, it's still a good story and is still entertaining.  Made me think differently about animals, and humans, for that matter.

I'm not sure what I'll re-read next, something that has a fair chance of surprising me, or at least letting me dive back in to the characters and world all over again.

The More You Know

Sometimes my elbow unlocks my iPhone and opens an app when I have it on the couch next to me.

Sometimes I pick up my iPhone and by the time I've taken a few steps, I've unlocked it and opened an app.

Once I nearly called someone.

Who knew?

Scratching My Head

Ok, so let's say you're really bored in the movie your husband dragged you to and so you decide to send a few texts to your friend.

Or maybe the babysitter texted to let you know little Billy threw up twice but is asleep now and everything's ok.

I understand, I suppose...if I stretch my understandingness, that sometimes people may need to use their phones to communicate during a movie (even though I remember, back in the day, you young whippersnappers, when we would not be in contact with people when we were out of the house and LIFE WENT ON! but anyway.)

But see, I don't understand why you wouldn't at least silence your phone.

C-Dawg and I were at a movie a while ago and it was this very intense scene. The bad guys had kidnapped the good guys' girl and they were waiting, tensely, to hear from them.

In the movie, the bad guys had just sent an email and then I heard them get a text message too.

Except no one in the movie went to check their phone and I was all, you guys! You're missing a text! What if it's from her?

But then I heard the "someone sent a text sound" and it started to become clear that it wasn't from the movie soundtrack.

No.

It was the woman in the row behind me texting.

Which, as I say, perhaps it was an emergency, but why hadn't she put her phone on silent? It's really easy to do, especially with an iPhone like she had.

Could she not hear the text noises? Could her date/husband/partner?

It just seemed so....un-cool.

I guess I should be grateful no one called her during a sad scene?

Um

I came across a used (?) (certainly not in its package....) condom on the sidewalk yesterday.

My first thought was "EWWWWWW!"

And my immediate second thought was "well, at least they used protection."

I'm trying not to think about it too much.

I'm Curious

Here's something I've been wondering.

You know those times when you're asleep, but it's a fairly light sleep? And you're half dreaming and in the dream you stumble on a crack or miss a step and you fall in the dream, and at the same time your leg jumps and you wake up and you're scared because it really did feel like you were falling there?

Well, what happens first? In your brain-like, I mean? Do you have the dream and your brain forgets to tell your leg it's just kidding so it responds as if the situation were real? Or, does your brain listen in on your leg plotting, and finds out that it's going to to a jerk/jump and decides it should make up a story to go along with it so you're not confused and so the brain makes the dream happen to coincide with the leg jump because it's just that awesome?

So.... which is it? The dream causes the leg to twitch or the leg twitch causes the dream?

But You Just Haven't Heard It From The Horse's Mouth

Is something still a rumour if it's true?

Like, if my friend tells me our other friend is making her famous ice cream cake for a potluck, but I haven't heard it from the first friend, is it a rumour?

And if the friend who told me is just assuming rather than having heard it for sure for sure, how am I supposed to know? And if it is happening, does that still make it a rumour because now I'm all confused.

But I'd like to know.

Because if it turns out there's no ice cream cake I'm going to cry.

Which takes me back to the initial question that was sparked by this whole ice cream cake fiasco.

Is something still a rumour if it's true?

Scientists Would Be Mad At Me

The last couple of months, I've made a lot of positive changes in my life, health wise, and I'm feeling really good for it.

I keep balking at how to talk about it here, but am slowly getting around to it.

What I keep thinking about, though, is the fact that as a scientific experiment, I failed.

I changed too many variables at once, and so have no way of knowing which made the most impact, or if it's all of them combined or what.

Bad scientist, bad.

But yeah.

Good changes, several of them, I feel gooder.

Much.

More to come.

Eventually.

Blog-wise, I mean.

I'm Learning

That when you try to ice your foot? The ice is really really cold.

Like, really.

I think I have the foot equivalent of brain-freeze.

Whimper

It's getting to be Dark O'Clock much earlier than it used to, and I have to say, this is my least favourite thing about this time of year.

I don't know why, but it always seems like the short, dark days last a far longer time than the long, light days, like, I'm sure it's about half a year each in this part of the world, but it seems like more.

And, I realize, as I type this, that I should/could probably look it up and find out my latitide sort of thing and maybe I would discover that in fact it is that way but then again, maybe it's not and hey, I'm a spy, not a light-scientist-knower-person.

But, yeah. I think I'm not looking forward to the coming days of it being dark when I wake up and dark when I get home.

I'm making a pouty face.

And sad puppy dog eyes.

Just in case they work.

Play Along At Home!

(Seriously, sometimes I don't know where my mind comes up with these things!)

Close your eyes.

Reach out your left hand and touch something, and wave your right arm around in the air and point to something.

Open your eyes.

Whatever your left hand is touching, put that colour with the name of the thing you're pointing to and it's the title of your first novel, which will, of course, be a bestseller!

Mine?

"Blue Fan."

It's about a girl who follows a group of extreme surfers around the world, documenting their lives, secretly in love with one of them, who, of course, doesn't notice her, and then she ends up murdering him and being in a relationship with the guy's grieving girlfriend.

I have no idea what I'm talking about and it's awesome!

What's your book called?

Out Of Nowhere

This popped into my head totally, completely out of nowhere, so I figured it was a sign that I had to share it with you.

Ta da!


Aaron Neville And Linda Rondstadt- I Don't Know Much

But I Don't Know How

I think I sprained my toe muscle.

Or like a toe tendon.

Is that a thing?

Now what am I supposed to to?