February 14, 2012 – Valentine’s Day
15 Feb 2012 Leave a Comment
in Food, Personal Tags: 1986, 4080, air care, asparagus, blueberry, charity, coconut, cold cup, congee, duck, lobster, mail, mailing labels, muffins, PLU, rockstar, slim fast, starbucks, tercel, tongue, toyota, water
A decidedly unmushy day:
Feb 14, 2012 - Bound and Gagged - Bonus points if you know what PLU #4080 is
Feb 14, 2012 - Care package from Mom sent with Dad who flew in to YVR today
Feb 14, 2012 - Lobster Congee at Kalok Restaurant in Richmond
Feb 14, 2012 - Guess what these are? Duck Tongues.
Feb 14, 2012 - Dad with the 86 Tercel. He bought this car a few months before I was born.
Feb 14, 2012 - Air Care Fail - Emissions were fine but the gas cap failed
Feb 14, 2012 - Important Drinks To Keep in One's Locker: Hydration, Fuel, Emergency Fuel
Feb 14, 2012 - dear charities, please stop fucking wasting the money we give you. 1 week. 200 mailing labels
Sensory Teleportation
04 Feb 2012 Leave a Comment
Some songs just burn a memory into your mind. Three seconds in, you’re back. Completely transported. Standing still. Eyes closed. The air, the smell, the lighting, the mood, your age, the breeze in the room. The people. The sound. The real world evaporates. Suddenly lucid.
My living room was glowing when I arrived home this afternoon.
These are the strongest, most visceral:
Lucille Has Messed My Mind Up – Frank Zappa, Joe’s Garage
Preparing This is Our Youth by Kenneth Lonergan. Once for scene study in 2007, once doing tech side for Havana Theatre production in 2008. Couldn’t find it on iTunes (still not on there!), had to buy it off some sketchy Russian music download site. This song in particular out of all the songs I have, is something special.
Painter Song – Norah Jones, Come Away with Me
Lights off, white icicle christmas lights on. My room. Just the coziest, glowiest situation ever. One of my last distinct bedroom memories before moving out of my parents’ house. Painting flowers on the wall. Betta named Opus in a little tank. Freshly plucked lavender on a sill. Green windowshade.
Hit ‘Em Up Style – Blu Cantrell, So Blu
High school. Volleyball trip to the island. A 15 passenger van and a chauffeur who swung the steering wheel to the beat whilst driving on the freeway. Scared the hell out of me but oh what fun.
Soft Light – David Darling, 8 String Religion
VFS days. Warm up. Movement. Freedom. Breath. Blackness. Warmth. Touch.
One of the Brightest Stars – James Blunt, All the Lost Souls
Broughton Street Apartment 2007, downtown vancouver, every detail of my little piece of cheap rent shithole independent paradise. The light of the late summer afternoon. The breeze, the birds. The cats. The sound of my mirrored closet doors. The dark. The drunkenness. The insomnia. The fire (yes, real fire). The taste of lychee. The sensitive plant on the windowsill. All my books.
Muddling Through Life.
15 Nov 2011 Leave a Comment
in Doing Good, Mental Diarrhea, Personal, Uncategorized
Really, what do we all do but muddle through life to the best of our abilities? Here and there we pick up something new – a pine cone, a new skill, a shiny bit of ribbon, a half-cobbled together something we can use, and we try to make that a part of us, so we can be a little bit better, and do more cool things.
How can I use this crumpled bit of tin? Oh hey! I can do _______ with it – that’s neat!
You need to do _________ ? Well, I can help you do ____ and _____ and ______ … not perfect, but sort of!
Yes I have a _________ … do you need it?
But it’s not perfect. There’s only so much I’ve acquired, only so much I can do with what I have. I try to do as much as I can, but the resources are asked to do more than they’re supposed to know how. Overclocked. Off-label. Which is pretty cool. But not perfect.
So when I make mistakes, forget, screw up, disappoint, forget…
Forgive me.
Like this:
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.
Laundry! Detergent! Gone! Oh No!
30 Jan 2011 Leave a Comment
in House and Home, Personal Tags: a pocket for corduroy, corduroy, detergent, don freeman, found, free, home, laundry, Lost, missing, tide
This is the story of my missing laundry detergent.
Yesterday, while taking up two loads of freshly dried laundry back to my apartment, I left my detergent downstairs in the laundry room, as I intended to come right back with another two loads to wash.
I got distracted. I never came back to do loads 3 and 4.
Poor laundry detergent got left behind, overnight, all by itself. Like Corduroy in “A Pocket for Corduroy” by Don Freeman, I am sure it had many exciting adventures overnight, looking for it’s owner, because when I went back to look for it today, it was gone! Nowhere to be found in the laundry room.
I realized this when it crossed my mind that it would be good to finish off loads 3 and 4 today. Detergent not in linen closet. Oh no. I left it downstairs – it’s probably still there. I mean, who steals laundry detergent, right?
So I brought down loads 3 and 4, and to my dismay, there was no Tide bottle in sight.
I went upstairs and wrote a note, explaining said dismay at someone’s thoughtless and inconsiderate kleptomaniacal actions. It included emotional and accusatory language such as: “Really? That desperate for detergent? Get a life.”
Then went back downstairs with a large, unwieldy Costco sized jug of backup detergent that the old owners of the apartment left for us when they moved out.
So mad that I forgot to add said backup detergent to the first load before starting it. Then madly scrambled to add detergent, eventually adding too little because the washer was already halfway through spraying the soap drawer, which turned out to be too much, because I realized very soon after that it was non-HE detergent. Stood there and watched, fuming, as the washer inevitably oversudsed.
Posted my note.
Then thought I’d look around one last time.
Washer area: nope.
Dryer area: nope.
Clothes folding area: nope.
Creepy lounge area with old national geographics and vinyl benches: nope.
Washroom: nope.
Room with big laundry sink: nope.
…wait…
Room with big laundry sink has cupboards.
***BINGO!!!***
Oh hello there Tide Free, I’ve missed you. I’m sorry for having abandoned you in the dark and creepy laundry room overnight. Did you have a grand adventure? I hope so. How did you end up in this cupboard? Some kind person must’ve dropped you off here.
So the last laugh’s on me. To think, I was absolutely LIVID at the person who took my detergent, livid enough to write one of those hilariously angry notes that are dead serious to the author, but hilarious to anyone else reading it in a reasonable state of mind.
Thank you, kind person. I hope you have a very good weekend, indeed.
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