im-mor-tal-i-ty: (noun) immortal condition or quality; unending life; enduring fame.
Luc Bourdon died today. This makes me sad. Not because he's a hockey player or because he would have done great things for the Canucks, but because he was only 21 and that is just far too young. It's just not supposed to happen.
Of course, this is not to take away from the many other deaths we hear about every day, young and not-as-young dying, all over the world. Whether the earthquake in China or the monsoon in Burma or the multiple murder in Calgary or the steady tally coming from the Middle East, they all suck. And they are all sad.
But what struck me most about Luc Bourdon's death is that it felt like he shouldn't have died because he's in the NHL and, well, he's a sports-lebrity and they just don't die. Heath Ledger's death was shocking much for the same reason. Also too young, but more so because he's famous and he's in The Dark Knight and he's just not supposed to die. From John Lennon and Kurt Cobain to River Phoenix and Brad Renfroe to John Ritter and John Belushi to Dale Earnhardt and Lou Gehrig - they just shouldn't have died. Or maybe not that they shouldn't have died; more like they're not supposed to. They're famous. Therefore they are immune to death.
This may seem rather superficial to some, but imagine how shocked you would be to read in the news tomorrow that Brad Pitt was killed in a car accident. Or that Halle Berry died in a plane crash. Or that Julia Roberts accidentally fatally mixed sleeping pills and a hot toddy. How shocked were you when you first heard about Owen Wilson's suicide attempt?
I realize that most of the examples I'm giving are Hollywood celebrities that we all know of and not quite the same league as an up-and-coming Canadian hockey player. But the fact that the headline read "Luc Bourdon killed" and not "Man, 21, killed" indicates that we know him well enough to put his name in the headline. And it still feels like those people just shouldn't die.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
And behind door #3....
tri-um-vi-rate: (noun) any group or set of three.
I really don't care if bad luck comes in threes, because bad things only happen to good people. And since I've had two good things happen to me today, I figure the third good thing must not be far behind. Because good things happen to bad people. I'm so wicked. Grr.
Good thing #1: I FINALLY found a doctor. Now I won't die. At least not for a bit yet.
Good thing #2: I won tickets to see Ubiquitous Synergy Seeker, Ruby Coast, The Mission District and Rebel Emergency, Friday night at the Sound Academy. It's about bloody time I won something through The Edge. I like winning things.
Good thing #3: (yet to happen but I've got my sights set on what it should be. I shall share when it comes to fruition. I like that word - fruition.)
I really don't care if bad luck comes in threes, because bad things only happen to good people. And since I've had two good things happen to me today, I figure the third good thing must not be far behind. Because good things happen to bad people. I'm so wicked. Grr.
Good thing #1: I FINALLY found a doctor. Now I won't die. At least not for a bit yet.
Good thing #2: I won tickets to see Ubiquitous Synergy Seeker, Ruby Coast, The Mission District and Rebel Emergency, Friday night at the Sound Academy. It's about bloody time I won something through The Edge. I like winning things.
Good thing #3: (yet to happen but I've got my sights set on what it should be. I shall share when it comes to fruition. I like that word - fruition.)
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos can sure be mean
fate: (noun) something that unavoidably befalls a person; fortune; lot.
I believe that things happen for a reason. For better or for worse. In good times and in bad times. For lesson learned or ... not learned. Deserved/undeserved, warranted/unwarranted, good person/bad person, I really truly believe everything happens for a reason.
But now that something's happened and I've learned my lesson from it and I'm totally ready to leave it behind, how do I go about getting it to unhappen?
(For those who are curious: Clothos, Lachesis and Atropos are here.)
I believe that things happen for a reason. For better or for worse. In good times and in bad times. For lesson learned or ... not learned. Deserved/undeserved, warranted/unwarranted, good person/bad person, I really truly believe everything happens for a reason.
But now that something's happened and I've learned my lesson from it and I'm totally ready to leave it behind, how do I go about getting it to unhappen?
(For those who are curious: Clothos, Lachesis and Atropos are here.)
Monday, May 26, 2008
Sunday, May 25, 2008
All that legal mumbo-jumbo
law: (noun) the principles and regulations established in a community by some authority and applicable to its people, whether in the form of legislation or of custom and policies recognized and enforced by judicial decision.
Today, on the home page for The Toronto Star, there is a survey question, asking if polygamy laws in Canada should be enforced.
Um, yes...isn't that obvious?
I mean, laws are meant to be broken, if you want to be cliche, but, if you want to be realistic, aren't laws also meant to be enforced?
I wonder if the next survey will ask if murder laws should be enforced.
Today, on the home page for The Toronto Star, there is a survey question, asking if polygamy laws in Canada should be enforced.
Um, yes...isn't that obvious?
I mean, laws are meant to be broken, if you want to be cliche, but, if you want to be realistic, aren't laws also meant to be enforced?
I wonder if the next survey will ask if murder laws should be enforced.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
We now return to our regularly scheduled summer
cliff-hang-er: (noun) A suspenseful situation occurring at the end of a chapter, scene, or episode.
My TV shows are done.
This does come as a bit of a relief, as I now have no excuse not to read and knit and write and do all those bazillion of things I keep say I'm going to do...after I watch CSI or CSI:NY or Criminal Minds or House or Dexter or Law and Order: SVU or Shark. But they are all done now, their respective seasons wrapped up for another summer (or, in the case of Shark, forever, which is something I will never forgive CBS for doing).
I must say, though, all my shows went out with style. WARNING: what will follow could be considered "spoilers" by some and "uninteresting, superficial drivel" by others. Proceed at your own risk.
On CSI, Warrick was shot and presumably left for dead, as Gary Dourdan will not be returning next season. On CSI:NY, Mac was being driven away by some psycho who faked out the cops by pretending some bad guys had his family. Someone blew up at the end of Criminal Minds!!! A significant character died on House, throwing everyone else into turmoil. Detective Lake went to jail and Tutuola put in for a transfer on Law & Order:SVU. Dexter wrapped up nicely, as I knew it would, having read the book. And Shark ended with class.
The roundabout point I am trying to make here is that all the returning shows ended with some pretty good cliffhangers. I find that all too often, many shows take the safe route and no one dies (at least no one important) and no one is really in THAT much trouble and even when bad things happen, the ending is fairly predictable. Which is why I'm rather pleased that those shows I do enjoy are going to keep me wondering all summer. (Yes, I am that much of a nerd that I will dwell on who might've died on Criminal Minds. Stop judging me.) While I am able to understand that they are just television shows and I've gotten much better at not planning my life around them, I like that I'm kinda pumped about them and that stuff is happening to make it interesting. And nothing keeps 'em coming back for more like a good old-fashioned, will-he-or-won't-he, whodunnt? cliffhanger.
P.S. I still have hockey, but that's only for a little bit longer and only a couple nights a week, so it's okay.
My TV shows are done.
This does come as a bit of a relief, as I now have no excuse not to read and knit and write and do all those bazillion of things I keep say I'm going to do...after I watch CSI or CSI:NY or Criminal Minds or House or Dexter or Law and Order: SVU or Shark. But they are all done now, their respective seasons wrapped up for another summer (or, in the case of Shark, forever, which is something I will never forgive CBS for doing).
I must say, though, all my shows went out with style. WARNING: what will follow could be considered "spoilers" by some and "uninteresting, superficial drivel" by others. Proceed at your own risk.
On CSI, Warrick was shot and presumably left for dead, as Gary Dourdan will not be returning next season. On CSI:NY, Mac was being driven away by some psycho who faked out the cops by pretending some bad guys had his family. Someone blew up at the end of Criminal Minds!!! A significant character died on House, throwing everyone else into turmoil. Detective Lake went to jail and Tutuola put in for a transfer on Law & Order:SVU. Dexter wrapped up nicely, as I knew it would, having read the book. And Shark ended with class.
The roundabout point I am trying to make here is that all the returning shows ended with some pretty good cliffhangers. I find that all too often, many shows take the safe route and no one dies (at least no one important) and no one is really in THAT much trouble and even when bad things happen, the ending is fairly predictable. Which is why I'm rather pleased that those shows I do enjoy are going to keep me wondering all summer. (Yes, I am that much of a nerd that I will dwell on who might've died on Criminal Minds. Stop judging me.) While I am able to understand that they are just television shows and I've gotten much better at not planning my life around them, I like that I'm kinda pumped about them and that stuff is happening to make it interesting. And nothing keeps 'em coming back for more like a good old-fashioned, will-he-or-won't-he, whodunnt? cliffhanger.
P.S. I still have hockey, but that's only for a little bit longer and only a couple nights a week, so it's okay.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
I need to get something off my chest
nat-u-ral: (adjective) existing in or formed by nature.
I was shopping recently, looking for items of the spring persuasion to
add to my already overflowing wardrobe, particularly items that are
work-appropriate. While I did have some success, I failed in one
important area: no button-down shirts for me. Which annoyed me. I
have been on the hunt for button-downs for work FOREVER and have
little to no success. Mind you, I do have a couple in my closet but
they're getting old and need to be replaced. They remain simply
because I cannot find anything to replace them with.
Now, here is my beef: I cannot find button-downs to fit me because of
my, well, rather ample bosom. However, my bosom is 100% natural,
grown the way nature intended. Yet by the time I find a size big
enough to button over my girls, the torso of the shirt is big enough
to hold another me. But…BUT…I have seen plenty o' burly boys with
button-down dress shirts that fit quite nicely (no gaping or
stretching or anything!) over their beer-and-wings-and-nacho bellies.
So some guy can cram his face with any matter of food and expand that
gut to gargantuan proportions and STILL be able to find nice,
professional dress shirts but my boobies and I are left with –
nothing. (Well, not really nothing as I am able to find other styles
of shirts, but you know what I mean.)
So why am I so fixated on finding button-down dress shirts? Well,
partly because I can't find them and I tend to want what I don't have.
But also because it makes for effortless yet appropriate work
dressing. Men have it so easy. Regardless of size, they just wake up
and grab a pair of non-denim pants and some button-down and – BAM! –
just right for work. So easy. So simple. So proper. THIS is why
the button-down has become the Holy Grail of clothing for me. And,
you know, I don't ask for much. Plain is fine. Well, I'd rather not
have pockets or cap-sleeves, though…but I don't need smocking or
embroidery or frilly this or lacey that. Just a simple shirt with
buttons down the front which close over my boobs. That's all I ask.
Alas, it seems to be asking far, far too much.
But I will not give up. I am determined that in this society, with
big fake boobies popping up (out?) all over the place, clothiers will
have no choice but to expand the pectoral region to accommodate this.
If clothing can expand for waistlines padded with McDonald's and beer,
surely it can also expand for silicone and maybe even – wait for it –
good ol' natural mammarian goodness.
add to my already overflowing wardrobe, particularly items that are
work-appropriate. While I did have some success, I failed in one
important area: no button-down shirts for me. Which annoyed me. I
have been on the hunt for button-downs for work FOREVER and have
little to no success. Mind you, I do have a couple in my closet but
they're getting old and need to be replaced. They remain simply
because I cannot find anything to replace them with.
Now, here is my beef: I cannot find button-downs to fit me because of
my, well, rather ample bosom. However, my bosom is 100% natural,
grown the way nature intended. Yet by the time I find a size big
enough to button over my girls, the torso of the shirt is big enough
to hold another me. But…BUT…I have seen plenty o' burly boys with
button-down dress shirts that fit quite nicely (no gaping or
stretching or anything!) over their beer-and-wings-and-nacho bellies.
So some guy can cram his face with any matter of food and expand that
gut to gargantuan proportions and STILL be able to find nice,
professional dress shirts but my boobies and I are left with –
nothing. (Well, not really nothing as I am able to find other styles
of shirts, but you know what I mean.)
So why am I so fixated on finding button-down dress shirts? Well,
partly because I can't find them and I tend to want what I don't have.
But also because it makes for effortless yet appropriate work
dressing. Men have it so easy. Regardless of size, they just wake up
and grab a pair of non-denim pants and some button-down and – BAM! –
just right for work. So easy. So simple. So proper. THIS is why
the button-down has become the Holy Grail of clothing for me. And,
you know, I don't ask for much. Plain is fine. Well, I'd rather not
have pockets or cap-sleeves, though…but I don't need smocking or
embroidery or frilly this or lacey that. Just a simple shirt with
buttons down the front which close over my boobs. That's all I ask.
Alas, it seems to be asking far, far too much.
But I will not give up. I am determined that in this society, with
big fake boobies popping up (out?) all over the place, clothiers will
have no choice but to expand the pectoral region to accommodate this.
If clothing can expand for waistlines padded with McDonald's and beer,
surely it can also expand for silicone and maybe even – wait for it –
good ol' natural mammarian goodness.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
All-request Tuesday May 20
a-loof: (adverb) at a distance, esp. in feeling or interest; apart.
a-loof: (adjective) reserved or reticent; indifferent; disinterested.
For the record, I do take requests. Whether I do them justice remains to be seen...
Fellow blogger/Torontonian/ex-pat P.Dotter Meghan presented me with that ever-ponderable, chicken-or-egg question: which comes first, word overuse or definition oversaturation?
(Or perhaps said question was rhetorical and my small-town naivety is rearing her pretty little golden-curled head and batting those long lashes at life and smiling and saying, "Wha...?")
Regardless, it got me to thinking (oh thought, you will be the death of me! Glorious, thinky death!) and of course I came up with some long-winded, well-worded, hyphen-filled response...but when it came time to put it down here, it just felt wrong. Really, what I think is that our vocabulary is shaped by our surroundings. (I guess I'm going with "definition oversaturation" here.) For better or worse, we start to say and think and feel whatever it is we're surrounded by. Put yourself in a negative situation, with grumbly people, and before long you'll be bitching to anyone who will listen. Just ask anyone who served with me. Of course, each situation is unique to each person involved; some people loved serving tables. It just happened to bring out my inner pessimist.
And it's not really a surprise that "aloof" is an overused word for someone living in Toronto. Cause really, there's oodles of distance and indifference and feeling-apartness in this city. But one can only start to overuse a word when it is omnipresent (okay, I borrowed this from Meghan...what does that say?) in one's life. So, yeah...the egg comes first. For sure.
Right now I'm using "stupid" and "idiot" quite a bit - how's that for a brief snapshot into my life?
a-loof: (adjective) reserved or reticent; indifferent; disinterested.
For the record, I do take requests. Whether I do them justice remains to be seen...
Fellow blogger/Torontonian/ex-pat P.Dotter Meghan presented me with that ever-ponderable, chicken-or-egg question: which comes first, word overuse or definition oversaturation?
(Or perhaps said question was rhetorical and my small-town naivety is rearing her pretty little golden-curled head and batting those long lashes at life and smiling and saying, "Wha...?")
Regardless, it got me to thinking (oh thought, you will be the death of me! Glorious, thinky death!) and of course I came up with some long-winded, well-worded, hyphen-filled response...but when it came time to put it down here, it just felt wrong. Really, what I think is that our vocabulary is shaped by our surroundings. (I guess I'm going with "definition oversaturation" here.) For better or worse, we start to say and think and feel whatever it is we're surrounded by. Put yourself in a negative situation, with grumbly people, and before long you'll be bitching to anyone who will listen. Just ask anyone who served with me. Of course, each situation is unique to each person involved; some people loved serving tables. It just happened to bring out my inner pessimist.
And it's not really a surprise that "aloof" is an overused word for someone living in Toronto. Cause really, there's oodles of distance and indifference and feeling-apartness in this city. But one can only start to overuse a word when it is omnipresent (okay, I borrowed this from Meghan...what does that say?) in one's life. So, yeah...the egg comes first. For sure.
Right now I'm using "stupid" and "idiot" quite a bit - how's that for a brief snapshot into my life?
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Two more reasons...
...I don't feel guilty for doing nothing today: Philadelphia @ Pittsburgh, Game 5 and World Championship Gold Medal Game - Canada vs. Russia.
Rainy Sundays are the greatest.
Rainy Sundays are the greatest.
Lazing in the rain
holi-i-day: (noun) a day fixed by law or custom on which ordinary business is suspended in commemoration of some event or in honor of some person.
So here we are on the Sunday of the Victoria Day long weekend (or as we Canucks call it, May 2-4) and it's raining. I honestly cannot remember the last May 2-4 that was nice for the entire weekend. Last year wasn't bad, but it was cold. I remember wearing a sweater under my jacket before going out one night. But this is what I have come to expect from the May 2-4 weekend and if the weather was good for all three days, it would feel almost twilight-zone-ish.
One good thing about the rain is that it helps me feel less guilty for hanging out inside doing nothing all day. I did manage to go grocery shopping, so now I'm doubly allowed to be lazy for the rest of the day. I don't know what it is, but most weekends I feel guilty when I don't do...things. I feel that I should be reorganizing my closet or cleaning out my fridge or finishing the plethora of knitting project I have laying around or...well, anything really, other than sitting at the computer looking up random facts on various minor celebrities and checking Facebook far too much.
The one benefit to this weekend is I'm having friends over ce soir for an evening of Balderdash and other silliness, so this impelled me to clean up. So at least the apartment is clean. I guess I have done enough this weekend to justify laziness for the rest of it. And it will be glorious.
So here we are on the Sunday of the Victoria Day long weekend (or as we Canucks call it, May 2-4) and it's raining. I honestly cannot remember the last May 2-4 that was nice for the entire weekend. Last year wasn't bad, but it was cold. I remember wearing a sweater under my jacket before going out one night. But this is what I have come to expect from the May 2-4 weekend and if the weather was good for all three days, it would feel almost twilight-zone-ish.
One good thing about the rain is that it helps me feel less guilty for hanging out inside doing nothing all day. I did manage to go grocery shopping, so now I'm doubly allowed to be lazy for the rest of the day. I don't know what it is, but most weekends I feel guilty when I don't do...things. I feel that I should be reorganizing my closet or cleaning out my fridge or finishing the plethora of knitting project I have laying around or...well, anything really, other than sitting at the computer looking up random facts on various minor celebrities and checking Facebook far too much.
The one benefit to this weekend is I'm having friends over ce soir for an evening of Balderdash and other silliness, so this impelled me to clean up. So at least the apartment is clean. I guess I have done enough this weekend to justify laziness for the rest of it. And it will be glorious.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Think they know "stiletto" means "dagger"?
jump the shark: See Wikipedia entry here. The term has also evolved to describe other areas of pop culture including movie series, musicians, actors or authors for whom a drastic change was seen as the beginning of the end or marking the moment the subject is "past its peak."
OMG! The Sex and the City movie is coming! OMG! It will be here this summer! OMG! I can't wait for it to be in theatres! OMG! Because the sooner it is in theatres, the sooner it will be out of theatres and everyone will be forced to accept that it's over and it wasn't that good anyways and we can all move on to happier, more productive things.
I have really grown to be bored by Sex and the City. I was bored when it was on TV, I was bored when it ended without Carrie and Big marrying and I'm bored with all the hype over the movie. And I find it interesting that, when the series ended, they all said there wouldn't be a movie. Then all the stars discovered that they weren't that in-demand or popular or talented and needed a paycheque, so the movie was born. (A Sopranos movie should be along in another couple of years. Mark my words.)
There were rumours of a death in the movie, but I'm not that lucky. While those rumours have been quashed, I still have fantasies of a bus creaming them all in one glorious hit-and-run-and-run-over-again. Oooh, or maybe they all get syphilis and the sequel will be them all in an instituion, slowing going crazy, as the disease eats their brains. THAT would be awesome. I'd totally go see that.
Regardless, it will bring in huge crowds and make lots of money and people will pretend it's not as bad as it really is and then Britney Spears will run over Lindsay Lohan who is holding one of Brit's kids because Linds is now dating K-Fed and, suddenly, no one will remember Carrie whats-her-name.
OMG! The Sex and the City movie is coming! OMG! It will be here this summer! OMG! I can't wait for it to be in theatres! OMG! Because the sooner it is in theatres, the sooner it will be out of theatres and everyone will be forced to accept that it's over and it wasn't that good anyways and we can all move on to happier, more productive things.
I have really grown to be bored by Sex and the City. I was bored when it was on TV, I was bored when it ended without Carrie and Big marrying and I'm bored with all the hype over the movie. And I find it interesting that, when the series ended, they all said there wouldn't be a movie. Then all the stars discovered that they weren't that in-demand or popular or talented and needed a paycheque, so the movie was born. (A Sopranos movie should be along in another couple of years. Mark my words.)
There were rumours of a death in the movie, but I'm not that lucky. While those rumours have been quashed, I still have fantasies of a bus creaming them all in one glorious hit-and-run-and-run-over-again. Oooh, or maybe they all get syphilis and the sequel will be them all in an instituion, slowing going crazy, as the disease eats their brains. THAT would be awesome. I'd totally go see that.
Regardless, it will bring in huge crowds and make lots of money and people will pretend it's not as bad as it really is and then Britney Spears will run over Lindsay Lohan who is holding one of Brit's kids because Linds is now dating K-Fed and, suddenly, no one will remember Carrie whats-her-name.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
What's in a word?
com-pound word: (noun) a word composed of two or more words; specifically, two or more words joined together by a hyphen.
Joined by a hyphen, you say? I must admit, this is news to me on the compound word front. But I'm off-track (compound word already?). While walking home tonight, I passed one of the many pizza places along Queen St. and noticed the word delivery and began pondering its compoundness. In school, compound words were always the likes of somewhere and sweetheart and everything. You know the type, as I'm sure you've spent much time with them in your elementary education years. But what about delivery? It is one word composed of two words: deli and very. And how about pillage: pill and age. Or parent: pa and rent. What else can I come up with?
cart + ridge = cartridge
heat + her = heather
ear + nest = earnest
per + son = person
I think these are excellent examples of compound words, even if no one else does. So there.
Joined by a hyphen, you say? I must admit, this is news to me on the compound word front. But I'm off-track (compound word already?). While walking home tonight, I passed one of the many pizza places along Queen St. and noticed the word delivery and began pondering its compoundness. In school, compound words were always the likes of somewhere and sweetheart and everything. You know the type, as I'm sure you've spent much time with them in your elementary education years. But what about delivery? It is one word composed of two words: deli and very. And how about pillage: pill and age. Or parent: pa and rent. What else can I come up with?
cart + ridge = cartridge
heat + her = heather
ear + nest = earnest
per + son = person
I think these are excellent examples of compound words, even if no one else does. So there.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
I'm Number One!!! I'm Number One!!!
num-ber one: (noun) oneself, esp. one's own well-being or interests: to look out for number one.
I'm currently reading Late Nights on Air by Elizabeth Hay; it's set in a radio station in Yellowknife and recounts the lives of those working there. Kinda standard CanLit, but I'm enjoying it thus far, even if it is a bit slow. In reading this, I started to think about the radio play I co-wrote back in grade 5 (and was not able to actually read on the radio due to illness).
I can remember taking charge on this project, saying what I wanted - and usually getting it - but still getting along with the people I was working with. I remember being able to tell people when what they wrote didn't make sense, I remember taking the lead in selecting who would read which parts, I remember being this confident, capable being ... who now seems to have vanished. Sigh.
I don't know when I became so withdrawn and introverted and afraid to speak up lest I offend or insult or anger someone around me. And this kind of attitude, I am now learning, has led me into a few less-than-stellar situations. The hardest thing I have ever had to learn is how to put myself first and this is something I am just finally starting to get the hang of. It kind of goes hand-in-hand with my desire to be a happier person. To be happy, I must be in happy situations and to be in happy situations I must put my wants and needs and likes and desires first. See how it all works? Thankfully, I FINALLY do.
Of course, saying I'm putting myself first is just a nicer way of saying I'm going to be more selfish, but that's neither here nor there. Thing is, I think I'm going to have an upcoming situation where I will have to put myself first at the risk of upsetting others. But here's the kicker - I don't care (all that much). I mean, I care a little about upsetting my friends, but deep down I don't care enough to not go through with it because I COME FIRST, DAMMIT!
Feels so good to say that. I'm Number One! I'm Number One! Cause if I don't say it and think it and live it, who will?
I'm currently reading Late Nights on Air by Elizabeth Hay; it's set in a radio station in Yellowknife and recounts the lives of those working there. Kinda standard CanLit, but I'm enjoying it thus far, even if it is a bit slow. In reading this, I started to think about the radio play I co-wrote back in grade 5 (and was not able to actually read on the radio due to illness).
I can remember taking charge on this project, saying what I wanted - and usually getting it - but still getting along with the people I was working with. I remember being able to tell people when what they wrote didn't make sense, I remember taking the lead in selecting who would read which parts, I remember being this confident, capable being ... who now seems to have vanished. Sigh.
I don't know when I became so withdrawn and introverted and afraid to speak up lest I offend or insult or anger someone around me. And this kind of attitude, I am now learning, has led me into a few less-than-stellar situations. The hardest thing I have ever had to learn is how to put myself first and this is something I am just finally starting to get the hang of. It kind of goes hand-in-hand with my desire to be a happier person. To be happy, I must be in happy situations and to be in happy situations I must put my wants and needs and likes and desires first. See how it all works? Thankfully, I FINALLY do.
Of course, saying I'm putting myself first is just a nicer way of saying I'm going to be more selfish, but that's neither here nor there. Thing is, I think I'm going to have an upcoming situation where I will have to put myself first at the risk of upsetting others. But here's the kicker - I don't care (all that much). I mean, I care a little about upsetting my friends, but deep down I don't care enough to not go through with it because I COME FIRST, DAMMIT!
Feels so good to say that. I'm Number One! I'm Number One! Cause if I don't say it and think it and live it, who will?
Saturday, May 10, 2008
10...9...8...
list: (noun) a series of names or other items written or printed together in a meaningful grouping or sequence so as to constitute a record.
Generally the only place I make lists is at work, but I'm in a list-making kind of mood right now. So here is my list of 10 words that make me happy:
10. hypotenuse
9. redundant
8. cusp
7. plethora
6. oxymoron
5. alpaca
4. marauder
3. onomatopoeia
2. iridescent
1. FLAVA-FLAV!
(Don't judge me.)
Generally the only place I make lists is at work, but I'm in a list-making kind of mood right now. So here is my list of 10 words that make me happy:
10. hypotenuse
9. redundant
8. cusp
7. plethora
6. oxymoron
5. alpaca
4. marauder
3. onomatopoeia
2. iridescent
1. FLAVA-FLAV!
(Don't judge me.)
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
One of these things is just like the other
in-di-vid-u-al-i-ty: (noun) state or quality of being individual; existence as a distinct individual
Saturday, while ambling along Queen Street, three high-school-aged girls past me. And all three of them were dressed the same. Now, I don't mean just wearing jeans and t-shirts. I mean wearing medium-blue denim short-shorts, school-logo sweatshirts and brown Uggs. All had long blonde-to-medium-brown hair. Why why WHY would you want to look exactly like the people you're with?
Being a girl and having been a teenage girl for what felt like far too long, I get the concept behind wanting to fit in and wanting to be trendy and sharing fashion sense with your friends. What I don't get is why people want to look SO MUCH like one another. Show a little individuality, please. I will readily admit that I am not the most fashion-forward person, but I am aware that pretty much anything goes in clothes these days. You like high-waisted, wide-legged pants? Wear 'em; they're in! Prefer boot-cut denim? Also in style! Pencil skirt? A-line skirt? Long skirt? Mini skirt? Why not all of the above? Whether you want to look like Kate Moss circa yesterday or Cyndi Lauper circa 1986, it pretty much all goes. Flats, wedges, stilettos, platforms, peep-toes, strappy, slip-on, lace-up...put anything on your foot and you'll be just fine.
Put on a necklace or scarf, wear dangly earrings or studs, stack on bangles or wear one silver bracelet...JUST PLEASE DO SOMETHING. But maybe this is just the small-town girl in me coming out, the girl who grew up so afraid that not wearing a Roots sweater and Gap jeans would lose her all her friends that she conformed in every way possible, the girl who can't understand that when you are free of this kind of mentality why you wouldn't want to run with it. I don't know why these three girls are bothering me so much. I mean, I see women out in groups who are all dressed very similarly and I don't care all that much. And as a teenager, the pressure to fit in is that much greater...but when it's so easy to be just a bit different, I don't understand why there isn't more individuality.
Sigh.
Saturday, while ambling along Queen Street, three high-school-aged girls past me. And all three of them were dressed the same. Now, I don't mean just wearing jeans and t-shirts. I mean wearing medium-blue denim short-shorts, school-logo sweatshirts and brown Uggs. All had long blonde-to-medium-brown hair. Why why WHY would you want to look exactly like the people you're with?
Being a girl and having been a teenage girl for what felt like far too long, I get the concept behind wanting to fit in and wanting to be trendy and sharing fashion sense with your friends. What I don't get is why people want to look SO MUCH like one another. Show a little individuality, please. I will readily admit that I am not the most fashion-forward person, but I am aware that pretty much anything goes in clothes these days. You like high-waisted, wide-legged pants? Wear 'em; they're in! Prefer boot-cut denim? Also in style! Pencil skirt? A-line skirt? Long skirt? Mini skirt? Why not all of the above? Whether you want to look like Kate Moss circa yesterday or Cyndi Lauper circa 1986, it pretty much all goes. Flats, wedges, stilettos, platforms, peep-toes, strappy, slip-on, lace-up...put anything on your foot and you'll be just fine.
Put on a necklace or scarf, wear dangly earrings or studs, stack on bangles or wear one silver bracelet...JUST PLEASE DO SOMETHING. But maybe this is just the small-town girl in me coming out, the girl who grew up so afraid that not wearing a Roots sweater and Gap jeans would lose her all her friends that she conformed in every way possible, the girl who can't understand that when you are free of this kind of mentality why you wouldn't want to run with it. I don't know why these three girls are bothering me so much. I mean, I see women out in groups who are all dressed very similarly and I don't care all that much. And as a teenager, the pressure to fit in is that much greater...but when it's so easy to be just a bit different, I don't understand why there isn't more individuality.
Sigh.
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