Of Flux and Dreams
08 May 2011 Leave a Comment
in Being a Woman, Dreams, House and Home, Love and Marriage, Peculiarly Awesome
“You know you’re in love when you can’t fall asleep, because reality is finally better than your dreams” – Dr. Seuss
Usually the best dreams come when my hormones are in a state of flux. Of course, sometimes this fluctuating hormone situation manifests itself as 1.) female hysteria, or 2.) really slow fuzzy minded incapacity to make even the smallest rational decisions or put together a decent sentence, both of which could be attributed, in most ways, to #1.
Well, hell. Bring on the flux.
I seem to intermittently blog about this every so often (yes, redundant wording, I know), but when one wakes up from something fucking amazing one can barely help typing it all out to get it all out and rejoice and bask in the sensory overload before it disappears forever. Dreams: Fucking Awesome Nonsense Extreme Realities. So yes, the dreams part of it is fucking amazing. Things happen in vivid technicolour, a singular old couch becomes the meeting place for every and all for an impromptu picnic, love happens, book characters manage to work themselves into the flux (yes, I do believe Arthur Dent and Fenchurch may have been there, flying through the night), the Canucks are amazing people and players, people come and go and are met with great fun, style, and curiosity, great pains are taken with small measurements, chicken breasts get cooked with a clothes iron (do try the steam shot function!), and all sort of ridiculous marvelous otherwise than perfectly usual nonsense.
Then I wake up.
Sometimes it’s a real letdown.
But today, I woke up to a plate of pancakes on the bed and James Blunt blaring on the living room stereo and a funny husband who made both happen, who then laughed and danced and loved with me.
So sometimes life happens in Technicolour too.
Dear Self, One Day of Sunny Weather Does Not a Spring Season Make
18 Feb 2011 Leave a Comment
in Being a Woman, Personal Tags: 2011, blanket, cold, optimism, spring, storm, sun, victoria's secret, winter
Caught myself mindlessly surfing Victoria’s Secret online for summer tops and sundresses, etc…today being crackingly sunny and gorgeous after a freak winter storm yesterday. Oh dear. Dear, dear self. What are you thinking?
Dear Self,
one day of sunny weather does not a spring season make. Now stop being so optimistic and sunny minded, with all what this shopping and breathing in the smell of springtime and whatnotelse and go close the window and put on a sweater or something.
Love xoxo,
Self.
Dear Self,
You are evil. I will smell the air if I bloody well want to.
Love xxoo,
Self.
Dear Self,
Consider yourself warned, then. Nothing good can come of this daydreaming business but a sore nose and empty wallet. Oh well if you must, you must. Don’t like sweaters? How about a blanket? You love blankets! Blankets are fun!
Love xoxo,
Self.
Dear Self,
Alright, I’ll accept your proposal of a blanket. But the porch window stays open! And if you don’t agree with my daydreaming practices then I will just have to go to sleep wrapped up in your fancyarse blanket and just dream about springtime, then, eh? How do you like that?! You’re just jealous that I can smell springtime and you can’t.
Love xxoo,
Self.
Dear Self,
I can smell springtime too…now that you’ve FINALLY gotten over your bloody two month long cold. What a commoner you are. Common colds for common people.
Love xoxo,
Self.
Dear Self,
I love you too. Goodnight.
Love xxoo,
Self.
All About Women’s Underwear!
29 Jan 2011 1 Comment
in Being a Woman Tags: bra, panties, underwear, wedgie, women
Dear designers of fashionable women’s underwear,
Thank you for padding and pushing us with wire, lace, patterns, bows, and gravity-defying foam, making use of impossibly bright retina frying wundercolours of the fabric dye world, thus relieving us of the beige-white visible nipple topography that was an inevitable part of the boxed polyester wonderbra experience of our mothers and grandmothers.
Oh, but that’s just my exuberance for the top half! What you have done for the bottom quarter of the human population is even more phenomenal – what with your fancy low cuts and stretchy lace waistbands in an equally blinding selection of colours and designs in support of the general oppression of the granny panty stylings of the past.
However, I am wondering whose clever idea it was to create cute panties that have the unsavoury side effect of riding up into the darkest and most uncomfortable regions of one’s nethers at the slightest mention of extended movement or exercise? Yes, they look flirty and fantastic and cute and slightly provocative, but really, a fit yet miserable woman is truly an unattractive sight.
*pick, pick* 
<– No. I object.
I would like to propose an appropriate punishment for this torture device designer: a proper traditional tarring and feathering, to be promptly followed by the walking of a fairly long distance in said ridey-uppy panties, doing lunges at every kilometer marker, without the luxury of allowing him/herself to gingerly pick at the somewhat painfully wedged sweaty fabric of their unfortunate design. Yes. I think that should do.
Very well, I suppose I should end this letter cordially,
Cordially,
xoxo beverly
Old Blog Posts are Rather Depressing.
13 Jan 2011 Leave a Comment
in Being a Woman, Mental Diarrhea, Personal
Blogging’s so great for remembering just how you felt during those times that you’ve since tried very very hard to erase, delete from memory. So incredibly fucking depressing. Such a great way to bring back all the incredibly vivid memories, in dated detail of chaos and pain, the where/when/why and more than anything, the I DON’T KNOW WHY what the hell is going on times, or the blessed instances of divine inspiration, only to look back and read the mad ramblings of a _______________ .
Delete.
Delete. Delete.
Delete. Delete. Delete.
But no, I am not going to delete.
I am going to see how I’ve changed. I’ve grown.
I sound different. I am different. I am not who I used to be.
And then there are the silver lining moments in the darkness.
And then there are days of great learning.
And then there are records of great personal accomplishments.
There is no past, because I choose not to remember it.
There may not be a future, because I don’t know if I will live to see tomorrow.
There is only today. I will live today in a way that, should I see tomorrow, will make it all that much better.
More obstacles?
More challenges?
More opportunity to practice challenging those obstacles.
Perfect takes practice.
And today, I will practice.
NYE 2010: A Night of Sobriety and Excess Happiness
01 Jan 2011 Leave a Comment
in Being a Woman, Health and Healthy Living, Personal
I did it! Happy New Year! Happy 2011!
No drinking tonight, and am immensely happy about that. I think I’m settling into that age where I think about things like whether I really actually want to drink alcohol.
Maybe I’m getting to the age where I hedge my rollercoaster of emotions and experiences to the safe and happy upper bounds above zero/equilibrium… or maybe I’m just getting to that age where I have much less tolerance for bullshit.
And it’s bullshit that I most likely will drink alcohol when I go out or party.
Not that I can’t hold my liquor at a party. I can.
I just pay for it dearly the next two days.
Three glasses of champagne and I feel seasick for the next two days. Not particularly hungover, just seasick.
Being seasick sucks.
Some people quit drinking because they realize that they’re unable to moderate their drinking.
I don’t like drinking because it makes me feel sick.
Will I quit drinking? That’s like asking me if I will quit going to the park for the sole purpose of sitting on the grass. I don’t do it often, but I like that I can if I want to, but really need to be in the mood, especially if it’s even mildly wet out, which is often the case around these parts, possibly causing laundry. I don’t need to stop drinking altogether, but I really have to be in the mood for it and the two days of torture afterwards.
Also, I really enjoy having my wits about me as a night wanders on.
I had a really good time socializing tonight. I was with friends that didn’t cause social anxiety requiring social lubrication in the form of good ol’ liquid courage.
When I drink, I turn into a mildly paranoid OCD control freak – double checking my conversation because my words don’t come out right, trying really hard to walk straight, trying not to go to the bathroom every 5 minutes because I feel like I have to pee, having that awful feeling of walking away from a party knowing that the fun has ended and it’s just going to be a sobering up ride home on the train sitting next to people who look a little green as if they’re just barely holding it together…
skytrain puke. ooh. nahgood.
I’m still up, going to read some more HitchHiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, then going to go to bed, then going to wake up sometime later this morning as cheery as a chipmunk from its winter hibernation as it realizes that it still has a bloody well stocked pantry of acorns from the autumn before.
A night of Sobriety and Excess Happiness. Win. 
Recent Comments