Showing posts with label romantic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label romantic. Show all posts

Saturday, November 19, 2011

I'm gonna let you in on a little something.

It's probably thoroughly un-progressive of me to say this, but I have a confession.

I kind of want to be the Manic Pixie Dream Girl.

Go ahead.  Laugh.

I would.

It's true, though.

I want to be a muse.  I want to inspire someone to live life to their fullest.

I'd like to be that crazy, quirky, fascinating girl who breathes life into someone who has otherwise lost all interest.  Destroyer of the Cynical.

I'd like to be the object of undying affection, fascination, adoration.

I'd like to be the person who changes someone's whole outlook on life.

I'd like to choose who would be that person.  Which is where the fantasy falls apart, I guess.

Meh.

I've had a couple glasses of wine tonight.

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Sometimes the way into a girls heart is through her record collection.

Before I get into the topic at hand, I want to mention that this morning I opened my email to the following:


Vindication at last.

Some of you may remember last December I waged a brief campaign to have Joel Plaskett follow me on Twitter after being unceremoniously Twitted and dumped.  It was a spectacular failure of epic proportions, although I do thank all two of you who helped me try to get #comebackjoelplaskett trending.

Delayed gratification is still gratification in my books.

Anyway...

I came across the following article on Jezebel the other day and if I had been drinking any liquids at the time, I guarantee they would have been snarfed all over my computer screen.

Shockingly, Liking Nickelback Will Not Get You Laid

Chalk that down as my FAVORITE HEADLINE EVER.  I know, making fun of Nickelback is pretty cliche by now, but frankly I find it well-deserved for continually making a mockery of our home-grown music industry.

Oh, full Disclosure:  I have owned one album, and seen them in concert.  And it was okay for a while.  Then there was Photograph.  After that... well, I don't want to talk about it.  Let's just say, when the only local rock station  has a playlist of roughly 15 songs, and 8 of them are by Nickelback, and each song is starting to sound more like the one before it except that the lyrics get more douchey and mysogynistic than the one before, well it's enough to make you yearn for the day when they were just mildly annoyingly introspective.

But I'm not here to rag on them.  At least that's not my primary reason for being here.  I got to thinking about how music had affected my relationships.  As someone to whom music is a large part of life, the article made sense.  I could see myself judging someone if they told me Nickelback was, like, their favorite band EVER.

I don't think I have ever actually rejected a guy over music.. although I have judged guys I've dated over their enjoyment of the movie Hard Core Logo.  And their have been guys whose musical tastes have made me like them more.

I'm not sure if I could ever love someone who didn't at least have a passing enjoyment of the Tragically Hip, who couldn't appreciate them on even the smallest level.

I will however, judge you if you like Papa Roach.  True story, this band makes me violently angry.  The ex-hub used to play them and it got to the point where I begged him to NEVER EVER play them while I was within earshot, after one day I ended up in the back bedroom with a pillow over my head while I cried.  I'm still to this day not sure what it is about them that triggers me, but holy shit.  Remember the scene in BioDome where the National Guard came and tried to get Pauly Shore and Stephen Baldwin to come out of the dome by blaring The Safety Dance?  I'd probably react the same way, and just dance my ass off and enjoy the party (because, you know.. if your friends don't dance they're no friends of mine).
Tell me this shit wouldn't set you off as well.
But if I was in a hostage situation and the National Guard (or the RCMP, I guess) came and starting playing Papa Roach, I'd likely surrender, throw myself on their mercy and possibly beg them to shoot me.

I don't like them.

The ex-hub and I had similar tastes but they diverged after a while.  Once, as I was getting into a very mellow folkish phase, he was getting into Korn and the like, this being the late 90's and very early Oughts.  Sometimes when you hear a song you like enough times you will eventually start to hate it.  We all know this.  Thing is, it works the other way as well.  Despite absolutely loathing them (but without the same violent reaction as to Papa Roach) I had eventually heard them enough that I started to hum along to a few tunes.  One day the ex came home and went to put a CD on, and eyed me rather suspiciously as he pulled "Follow the Leader" out of the stereo.  His eyes had widened and he pointed an accusing finger at me and cried "YOU WERE LISTENING TO KORN!!"

I was caught.  I had no recourse but to shrug and grin sheepishly.

Nu-Metal.  Kind of like New Coke.  Look how well that turned out.
In the midst of our split (years later... we didn't split because I started liking Korn), during one of the many "What the hell happened to us?" conversations, he tried claiming that I had 'changed' and that he couldn't even handle the kind of music I listened to anymore.  This from a guy who had started playing in a fucking country band.

*sigh*  Such is life, amirite?

I find nowadays an eclectic taste in music intrigues me.  I dated a guy briefly whose musical tastes played like a game of "One of these things is not like the other."  His favorite artists had included Nirvana, Pearl Jam, The Doors, The Rolling Stones and...

Lady Gaga?

"Rly?"  "Ya Rly."
I kid you not.  He even had Pokerface as his ringtone.  For the longest time I associated that song with him.

One of the things that really got me with the most recent ex was upon going to his house for dinner the first time, he went to put on some music and asked if I preferred "Radiohead, Neil Young or Sinatra?"  Now, I'm not a devoted fan of any of these performers, but the sheer juxtaposition of these three seemingly unrelated acts resulted in my heart going aflutter.

Neil Young=Sexytimes.
Although I'm fond of guys with an enthusiasm for music, I'm not sure I would date a serious musician.  Having spent time as a band-wife I can tell you it sucks, especially if you're someone who would rather be on the other side of the footlights.  It ends up being like a really unfunny episode of I Love Lucy.

My jealousy was never had this kind of awesome result.
I could still handle being sang to.  Call me hokey, but especially so if it was this:



I still think this is one of the sweetest songs ever.  Sounding like Brad Roberts isn't even necessary.

Photo Sources:
www.100XR.com
www.graphicshunt.com
unrealityshout.com
yvettecandraw.blogspot.com

Oh, and by the way.  I went and signed up for NaNoWriMo because I'm a masochist like that.  If anyone else is participating, please feel free to be my 'buddy'.

Thursday, October 20, 2011

"I think that ghosts like the cooler weather..."

I think this weekend, while my kids are out at an early halloween party, that I'm going to take some pictures of the local foliage. Central ontario is a great place to be in the fall (although Western Ontario is pretty breathtaking when you get into the heavy deciduous forests). I say this in spite of the nearly constant rain we've been having over the last week or two.

The constant damp, the cold, it gets into your system. I find myself wanting to eat heavy things, comfort foods with rich sauces, that kind of stick-to-your-ribs stuff that warms you to your depths. Stews, casseroles.

My house has a real haunted house feel to it, beyond the decorations that I've put outside. The stone exterior, the weathered wooden front porch littered with leaves that I have had neither the time nor the motivation to sweep away.

Mornings have gotten darker already, as have the evenings when I leave work. The unrelenting drizzle has left me feeling sweetly melancholy.

I wish for a fire place. A fire place, and clinking crystal glasses filled with lucius red wines served with expensive cheeses and green grapes.

It's a time of heavy cable-knit sweaters and quilted vests and the smell of burning leaves.

Glorious.

I'm looking forward to some sun this weekend to complement October's crisp breezes.

This song is one of my very favorite songs of all time and in my humble opinion, embodies everything I love about Fall, the strange mix of melancholy and contentment and the slow cocooning of oneself in preparation for the Winter. Of harvests and generations past.



You can tell by the wind
By fresh cut wood all stacked to dry
That autumn's here. It makes you sad
About the crummy summer we had
With pine trees creaking
The raven's screeching
Just like the story my grandma tells
About when a bird hits your window
Someone you know is about to die


Autumn's here, autumn's here
It's ok if you want to cry
'cause autumn's here, autumn's here, autumn's here


So find a sweater and you'll be better
Until the kindling is tinder dry
We can be quiet as we walk down
To see the graveyard where they are now
I wonder how they brought their piano
To Holdene Hill from old Berlin
Be hard to keep it well in tune
With winters like the one that's coming soon


Cause autumn's here, autumn's here
It's time to cry now
That autumn's here,autumn's here, autumn's
It's ok if you want to cry
Because autumn's here


I think that ghosts like the cooler weather
When leaves turn colour they get together
And walk along these, these old back roads
Where no one lives and no one goes
With all their hopes set on the railway
That never came and that no one stayed
I guess that autumn gets you remembering
And the smallest things just make you cry.


Autumn's here, autumn's here, autumn's here that autumn's here
Autumn's here, it's time to cry
Cause autumn's here
Autumn's here, autumn's here
It's ok now, cause autumn's here


Autumn's Here - Hawksley Workman 

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Isla de Encanta - Day Seven - Last night in Puerto Plata

Yup, so apparently the day I flew in did NOT count as one of my days, so my seven day trip actually had eight days.

Author's note:  I had two wisdom teeth extracted yesterday.  I apparently have the healing abilities of friggin' Deadpool because I was able to go to work today and have taken maybe three T3's in the last 36 hours for pain.  Or fun.  Whatever.

Photo Credit
"Hankering for a Spankering."  Heh.

So Thursday morning I got up and hopped on the hotel interwebs once again to try and get a hold of Karen, but with little luck.  After depositing some towels and bags on some beach chairs, I tried calling out, and got a hold of Ryan who informed me that she was on a bus on her way to Puerto Plata as we spoke.  Since we weren't sure where exactly the bus was going to drop her off, I sent out a series of text messages, and eventually figured out that the bus had dropped her off just outside of the Playa Dorada compound.   The three of us set out on foot to find her, which we eventually did, wandering around out near the shopping center. 

Not having seen each other for about 8 months, we did a comedic slow motion Chariots of Fire run at each other as a means of saying "Hi".  As we made our way back to the hotel we decided to hire a cab to take us into Puerto Plata proper for a few hours so we could shop for souvenirs for the kiddies and get some lunch.  Karen negotiated the cab for us.  It was quite a sight to see my very blonde, Irish/scandinavian looking friend speaking fluent Spanish with the cab driver, while negotiating as well as through most of the ride to town.

Note on Dominican traffic.. holy hell am I glad I never followed through with my plan to rent a car to go to Santo Domingo, because drivers there are friggin' NUTS.  I'm pretty sure there's no posted speed limit, and people actually honk to communicate to other drivers, rather than as a mere expression of road rage.  Oh and we saw a couple carrying a barbecue.  On a frickin' MOTORBIKE.  Yeah.

The driver took us to a flea market type place, where we explored the various stalls that mostly had a lot of the same stuff that we had seen in the other flea market, and in the mall and being sold by the wandering beach vendors.  There was one stall that had a lot of potions and powders and voodoo-ish type stuff, including baby dolls hanging from the ceiling with blood-stains (fake or real, I don't know).  It looked kind of like my house at halloween, and I finally understood what some people meant when they said that dead baby dolls were disturbing.

We had lunch at a local restaurant, but still tourist-board approved so as to avoid all that pesky cholera and whatnot.  I attempted to order off the menu in Spanish but probably came off like kind of a dink.  The restaurant had a neat atmosphere.. it appears run down, but when you look closely, the chipped plaster and exposed brick is all painted on.  I had some fried chicken, but the meat portion was huge and I couldn't finish it all.  Over lunch we all got caught up on what had been going on in our lives and Kiki told of her varying adventures in academia abroad.


After lunch we went to a large department store which was basically the Dominican equivalent to Zellers or Wal-Mart.  They had shirts on for super cheap and I thought about adding to the collection, but instead bought a lovely tramp-top to wear out for my last night on the island.  Oddly, the large box store was the only place we went where they would NOT accept U.S. dollars, which I found odd.

We came back to the hotel afterwards but were informed that without paying upwards of 60 bucks for a day pass we wouldn't be able to bring Karen into the hotel.  Fortunately Reynaldo, a friend we made at the hotel informed us of a public access to the beach that we could get to by crossing this huge empty field.  while we were making our way across I kept getting struck with the idea that snipers were going to start shooting at us from nearby buildings.  Weird, I know.

After chilling out on the beach for an hour or two, we walked Karen back to the bus so she could head over to another resort to visit her cousin who was also in the country that week.  We got caught in a rainstorm on the way out, only the second instance of rain we had the whole week (the first being a light mist the day we went on the Runners excursion). 

I may have napped.  I am not sure.  Maybe that was the day before.  We may have gone straight to dinner.  No, no, that's not right.  We ran into our "Family" and insisted on having a family portrait taken, then ran into some of our H-town buddies who would be leaving on the same flight the next day, then we got dressed for dinner one last time at Michaelangelos, and one last awesome canneloni.

After dinner we sat out by the pool bar and attempted to play some cards until the disco opened but we discovered the card pack had two Jacks of spades so our three-handed Euchre game was thwarted and we were left with crazy eights, which gets old fast.  We watched one of the live shows which was pretty cool, and we danced with a couple of the animators, one of which took a shine to K, but would prove to be a giant ass-hat later in the evening.  While at the disco I met up with Alain from Quebec again who invited us to come to Coco Bongo, but at the time it didn't look like we were going to go.  After we started chatting with one of the couples who had been on our excursion, Paul and Katherine, a lovely couple from Quebec as well, said they were going to go check it out, we all changed our minds and decided to go.

At Coco Bongo's K's wee admirer started being a douchehat and had her really upset, to the point where when our Hamilton friends showed up, they were called into do damage control, as this guy had her freaked right out.   They were good guys and helped her out.  Later we told our friend Reynaldo about it, and asked if this was just a cultural thing we didn't pick up on and he pretty much confirmed, "No, that guy's just a dick."  While at the bar I had run into my friend the Quebecker, who after some conversation asked if he could come by my room to say hi.  For reasons unknown I said sure (and no, it actually had little to do with alchohol).  After the awkward situtation with the sketchy douchehat Kaylee and I had gone back to the hotel and talked for quite sometime, so I was surprised when Mindy showed up (she had left the bar earlier due to back issues) and told me that he had been looking for me.  More surprised I was when about half an hour after I got back to my room there was a knock at my door.  So I let him in and we visited (okay, shit, made out) for a bit, before I sent him back to his room.  Hey, the deal was just to say hi.  Amiright?  Yeah, thought so.  Hey, it was my last night there.  Sue me.

Monday, February 14, 2011

Quick post then I'll finish the vacay blog.

My children are cute.  Reagan wrote this story last night.  It's based on true events.
Two Cats Eyes on Valentines Eve.
Once Two cats went out on Valentines eve.  The Two Kittens eyes met and they're names were Spartakuss and an unknown name.  They almost kissed.  One cat went in and the other left and he went back out and she was gone.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Poetic Interlude

An Arms Length

An arm's length is where you keep me
An arm's length could be a mile
Unyielding you hold me, with elbows locked
The space between us constant
Still you hold on without letting go
An arm's length is where you keep me
An arm's length could be a mile
Try to get close but those elbows stay locked
But hold me close, as close as you desire
I broke free from your grip
But what I wouldn't give
to fall into your trap again
floating free I can't feel
the ground below me
Hold tightly but don't hold me
at arm's length.

Copyright Andrea Lyn Cole 2011

Isla De Encanta Day Two. FYI, Canada is cold.

"I swam in the ocean and once again had that lost-in-time feeling.  The ocean water was so calm that for a moment I could have been at home on Georgian Bay, perhaps on the beach at Wasaga.  I ventured into the water that was green under the tropical sun.  When I tasted the salt of the Atlantic, I knew where I was." - Vacation Journal 01-29-11
Saturday morning I woke up to the sunlight streaming into my room and promptly made myself a pot of coffee with the coffee maker provided.  No milk.  Dammit.  No matter, I thought as I wandered towards the breakfast buffet.  I have time to get a coffee and something to eat before the 10am orientation, I thought to myself not realizing that Dominican time is an hour ahead of Eastern Standard time, so rather than an hour, I had roughly two minutes.  No breakfast for me.  We were given a lot of information about various amenities of the resort, some warnings, ie. don't drink the tap water, don't convert your money to Pesos unless you plan to spend all of it, because the banks won't take those back, no way.

By the time orientation was over, I had missed breakfast.  No breakfast, no coffee.  I was not off to a good start.  I went to guest services to book one of our a la carte meals for the next night, as it was Kaylee's birthday. The guest services woman was an unholy bitch who instructed me to go to the front desk if I wanted to order a cake.  Front Desk told me I had to go to Guest Services who told me to go to the front desk.  No food, no coffee and I am dealing with the most unfriendly woman on the planet.  I lost my shit and was like "Seriously, can I not just get a frickin' cake for my friend?  For the love of God and all that is holy!."  We got it all sorted out but not without some tears of frustration on my end.

Starving, I bought some three dollar Pringles in the gift shop (yeah, I'm talking the single-serving can, not the full-stack) and headed to the pool with my book to kill some time and read.  This past summer marked the first time since I was roughly 16 that I have dared to don a bikini.  I was kind of nervous heading out (as I mentioned in my previous post, I was unable to find a decent one-piece) but all told, the trip did a lot of good in the name of my own personal body acceptance.  Were there a lot of people who looked a hell of a lot better than I did?  Yeah, I suppose so.  People whose stomachs haven't been ravaged by carrying two children.  At any rate, I was surprised at my own comfort level.  I didn't feel like people were staring at me going 'What is she thinking??'

Okay, I felt like ONE person did that, but she looked like kind of a bitch anyway.

"I've met some people.  Hoorah! I'm not completely socially retarded!" - Vacation Journal 01-29-11

There should be more bars that you can swim to.  For real.  The Swim-Up bar allowed me my first opportunity for meeting and talking to people.  It was there that I met Joe and Bruce from Long Island, who broke the ice with "Don't worry, I'm buying." Incredibly witty in the context of an all-inclusive, don't you think?  Nah, they were all right.  They played a guessing game at my age, and then commented on the vast number of Canadians in the Dominican.  I explained to them "It's frickin' cold.  We don't want to be there."

Here I also made the acquaintance of a number of the young gentlemen that had boarded the plane the previous day.  One of them called me out on my little piece of home, the Tim Hortons traveller I was using to carry my drinks in.  The plastic cups they pour your drinks in at the bar are little better than glorified shot glasses, so bringing a traveller means less waste and less trips to the bar.  And if you have a nice one, your drink stays cold.  I ran out of conversation quickly though, so after a quick water aerobics class I went and changed for dinner, hit the buffet and then killed some time until Kaylee and Mindy's bus from the airport was due to arrive.

About this time I started missing my guitar and really wished I had packed as my carry-on, since the thought of sitting on the beach and playing some tunes was sounding not only like a great way to relax, but I have always found it to be quite the icebreaker.  There was a beach party after dark and I got up the guts to volunteer for a competition for best reggaeton dancer.  It was fun and embarrassing.  I came in third and got a lot of compliments over the next day or two.

Finally Kaylee and Mindy got there.  Our rooms were messed up but we couldn't really do anything about it until the next day.  We were supposed to have adjoining, ocean-view rooms, theirs a double occupancy, mine a single.  I got a single occupancy, with the slightest view of the ocean and they got a room with a double bed.  On the opposite side of the hotel.  Anyway they got there, unpacked their bags and our game faces were ON!

Coco Bongo in the daytime
We hit the hotel discotheque and met up with our buddies from the plane, who were a fun bunch of guys.  We heard of another dance club just outside of the hotel by the name of Coco Bongo so after the hotel disco closed we headed out that way.  I ended up sharing a drink on the patio with one of the Ontario boys until we decided to walk back to the hotel.  This confused the hell out of the girls, as this guy had a twin who showed up after.. so they're all "Um.. where's Andie?" and he's all "Who?"  Yeah.  Awkward but funny. 

During the walk back to the hotel, J. and I got horrendously lost and ended up going full circle, right back to where we started.  It ended up being a long walk back to the hotel.  The second trip around afforded me the chance during a bathroom run to check out a pretty cool looking rock club I hadn't noticed before.  Sadly I never got to check out more than the bathroom at this particular establishment, and they never had any live music during the week.

I got woken up at roughly 5am by drunken silly giggles and banging at my door.

"What are you dooooing???"
"Hellooooooo!!??"
"Who's there???"
"Hoooussssekeeeeepinggggg!!!"

With one of the other ontario boys in tow, the girls decided to pay me a visit and wake my ass up.  I'm sure my neighboring guests LOVED that.  The whole scene was pretty funny though, once i got my friggin' pajamas on.

Saturday, January 1, 2011

07-01-2010 4am.

We edged along the shallow lake
Bubbled softly in the wake
Nothing here is yours to take
Nothing here is yours to take

We stumbled down between the rocks
Further than we'd ever walked
We may never get close again
So we sat and breathed it in

To belong to a moment
Is better than to want it
People I've met and places I've been
I miss everything I've seen
I miss everything I've seen

All the weight that we've carried
Everyone that we've buried
People I've met and places I've been
I miss everything I've ever seen

Well we hoped that we could stay
We breathed in smoke and drank all day
Smoke ran out and the booze did too
So we left to find something new

Our spirits were high but our feet were sore
Built a fire and we drank some more
but Out with the flames and in with the dew
Woke up with both my arms around you

Oh I hope that we can make it through
Coast along together after our youth
If every dream comes back to you
I'll miss everything you used to do

Well I pray my dreams find me first
Not having you around me's so much worse.

"Fever Days" - Great Bloomers, from the album Speak of Trouble.

Monday, December 27, 2010

Has it come to this?

I hate this time of year. 

Way too many bad memories associated with it, and I find it one of the loneliest times of year.. the Christmas letdown, New Years Eve, which is a big fuck-off ball of wrist-slitting fun, hell right up until Valentines day.  In the past, I've been subject to fits of depression around this time of year, and rightly so, when you consider what some of my past New Years' have been like.   The last two years haven't been too bad, last year because around that time period I had met the most recent ex, and the year before that I was embroiled in a bit of drama which although mildly stressful, kept things interesting.  My dark moods tend to come with boredom and loneliness.

In an act of desperation/morbid curiosity/boredom/blind optimism I reopened my Plenty of Fish profile.  Jesus H. Christ.  What a sad place that is.  Honestly, I'm not sure how long I'll be able to leave it up.  First, it took all of a half an hour to discover-most-recent ex on there, and that was fairly traumatizing, and second, I also discovered a dude that I had been talking about a year and a bit ago who turned out to be a bit of a whackjob is lurking around too.. and POF's security settings don't allow you to block someone until they've messaged you.  LOVELY.

So many damaged, jaded people.  So many 'nice guys' (find out more about my issue with 'nice guys' here).  So many people with laundry lists of what specifically they are looking for in a woman.  One guy even referred to 'Attributes'.  Fellow co-workers will understand why this terminology makes me laugh.  Compare these brands and models.  Oi.  So many cheesy topless pics.  Seriously guys?  So much about what they want, and what they desire, and what they REQUIRE, but so little about who they are.

SO many people desperate to reach out and be a half of a whole.  There but for the grace of God go I and other such blather.  Oh, wait...

I give it a week.

In the meantime, a well-suited musical interlude (have I sunk to a brand new low?):

Saturday, November 27, 2010

Like a loan shark transaction gone awry

*originally posted August 4, 2008 at http://www.myspace.com/goddessralph/blog/421141121
I'm reposting this because I just found it, and I likes it.

In my dream I spilled cookies
On your mothers front porch
She thought I was stealing
I was passing the torch
Only trying to clean up
the mess that I left
You told me you loved me
then charged me with theft
"I thought love was a gift.
This seems more like a loan."
You said "Dear, love, I fear
is not something you own."


Copyright Andrea Lyn Cole 2008

Saturday, September 25, 2010

Some things I wrote while getting my oil changed...

Lighthouse

Your silence acts as a beacon
Throwing blinding light upon me
Squeeze my eyes tight against the glare
I don't want to see
Refuse to see, refuse to say

This endless trail of maybe
Led deeper into oblivion
away from the safety of home
Drawn by my infinite naive hope
Shelter from the storm

This roof leaks, it's no shelter
Rains doubt and suspicion
down on my jaded head
My foundation lies swollen
in damp, dirty lies

These useless metaphors dance jigs
in my head, laughing and reeling
My own self-mockery drives me
and up go my hands as I say
to me, "So Fucking What?"

copyright @andrea lyn cole 2010

*****************************

Pre-Dawn

Four A.M.
Here we are alone again
When everyone has already gone
Somehow finds us all alone
Those wee hours offer solitude
The air breathes honesty, whispers
Secrets between me and you

copyright @andrea lyn cole 2010

Friday, September 10, 2010

Quick dream recap

lots of weird dreams last night, can only remember dribs and drabs

- Making plans to bathing suit shop at the beer store with my mom
- ending up on some kind of lunch date with a mid-aged bookish gentleman who played a number of musical instruments, and kissed me passionately before leaving to play a show somewhere
- Standing in a tourist-type gift shop (I know this, because there are racks of t-shirts that have wolves and eagle designs on them) in a white teddy/negligee, ransacking my overnight bag wondering where my street clothes are
- Finding myself outside on a small residential street. Everyone is outside on their lawn enjoying the day when one neighbor decides to come out and start lobbing grenades that look like giant lead fishing weights into the street. They don't explode so much as break into a lot of pieces but I am distinctly aware of their potential to hurt the bystanders. After one nearly hits a baby in a stroller in the head, I walk over to the grenade thrower and berate him. I think I punch him too.

I have issues, I'm sure.

Thursday, September 2, 2010

Because with chicks.. it's cool, ya know?

Read an interesting article in the Toronto Star today regarding a study on Late-Blooming Lesbians - that is to say, women who for most of their lives identified as either straight or mostly-straight, who later in life, enter into relationships with other women, sometimes leaving family behind. The study suggests that women's sexuality may be fluid rather than a static state of being. It suggest that women who 'come out' late in life may not have been repressing their sexual tendencies as many might assume, but that a woman's sexual preference can actually change over time.

This is not to say that it's a choice, but to put it simplistically - like, utterly, ridiculously simply - have you ever had a food that for years you had an aversion to, then one day you decide to try it and you like it? Tastes change.

This idea doesn't surprise me in the least. My own sporadic research into the subject, along with human anectdote has left me open to the idea of fluid sexuality for some time.

What surprised me about the article and the study is the seeming assumption that it is women that have this fluid sexuality and that men remain static.

Richard Lippa, a professor of psychology at California State University who has done a series of studies on sexual orientation, says most men are strongly attracted to one sex or the other —they have a preferred sex and an unpreferred sex.

But “there are more shades of grey to women’s attraction,” he says. Women, he says, tend to have a preferred sex and less preferred sex. Women are much more likely than men to report some degree of same-sex attraction.

I'd have to wonder how much of this binary is related to societal perception and acceptance of homoerotic behaviour in men as opposed to that in women. It seems a common occurence that over the last decade or two a women can engage in homosexual behaviour, call it 'experimentation' and still identify as straight.

However, on the flipside of that coin, the opinion expressed that any homosexual behaviour in men and societially speaking, they're gay, gay, ever so gay. Even in some cases of unconsensual (ie. jailhouse) sex, this is considered to be true. Men who 'come out' late in life are generally assumed to have been repressing their 'true' sexuality.

Taking a social constructionist view on things, I'd be interested to know if these researchers have considered prevailing social roles and conditioning as a factor in the perceived difference between the 'fluid' female spectrum of sexuality and the 'static' binary of male sexuality. Could it be that males report a distinct 'preferred' and 'unpreferred' gender because from the youngest of age, society discourages any sort of admission of homoerotic leanings, unless of course one is ready to 'go big or go home' and fully live up to the typical all-out gay stereo type? That, where women for the last couple decades at least have been allowed to express to certain extent at least a passing fascination with our sisters? Women have been allowed a middle-ground, where in males, this possibility of a middle-ground has all but been stomped to shit.

Something to ponder, anyway. Thoughts?

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

the start of something...

i saw you silhouetted 'neath the mighty maple tree
your shadow like some politician hanging there in effigy


you held my hand and turned your head
you looked at me and sighed

"if there's a heaven, this where i hope to be after i die"


Source

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Sometimes a song says it all...

Although I'm looking forward to camping this weekend, I'm feeling a little blah today. I guess it's weirdness about the coming long weekend and the events therein. Let's face it, no matter how 'okay' you may be with life circumstances, having a the most recent ex-boyfriend move away the same weekend as the a not-so-recent ex-husband gets married is a little bit of emotional tag-teaming, right there. In total honesty it's the former rather than the latter that is on my mind more. The second bit is just well.. weird. It's been a long time coming, and I guess my fear is possibly discovering I'm not as okay with it as I thought.

Hrm. Anyway. I've had this song running through my head today and it's oddly fitting. It's a duet but I'm thinking of adapting it to a solo for the museum show, even though it'd be wicked cool to have someone learn it and sing it with me.

The pink is the female part and the blue is the male part. Red, they sing together. click on the Title if you wanna hear it. It's a good tune.

Duet for Emmylou and the Grievous Angel:
by Rah Rah

I don’t miss you now but I will when you’re gone
And this is the reason I keep holding on
Because you are lovely and because you are old
And these are the most desirable traits to be found in a woman I am told

It is fashionable
To be single
In big cities
But not in small towns
In Regina
Saskatchewan
I fell in love
With her frown

I won’t miss you now but I will once we’re done
Sometimes I strain myself trying to recall the last time we had fun
‘Cause you’re soft as smoke and you got no fear
And these are the most desirable traits to be found in a man I hear

It is fashionable
To be single
In big cities
But not in small towns
In Regina
Saskatchewan
I fell in love
With her frown

I won’t kiss you now but I will once you’re gone
I won’t miss you now I won’t miss you at all
I won’t kiss you now too afraid that you’ll cry
I won’t miss you now and I won’t give a shit if you die



Apart from the Regina part, having never been there, I'm totally feeling this song right now. The girl's part really conveys that 'I care but I'm not showing it' type emotion. Being strong, and unemotional and hell even a little spiteful.

Ehhh.. I think I'm going to make it a point to go somewhere for the long weekend, far from home. It could be rough, otherwise. Then again, it could be okay. *shrug* One never knows.

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

I saw a picture today...

Oh, Facebook.

You bringer of unexpected memories of the past, both sweet and bittersweet.

It amazes me that I can sit here, completely unsuspectingly and a single photo posted by someone I have never met in my life can transport me to a time I hadn't thought of in years. A picture of three long-haired high school boys, giving an unknown camera-person the finger outside of a run-down cabin.

When I was about 15 years old, my family was visited my aunt and uncle, who were not really my aunt and uncle but rather two of my parents' closest friends (although incidentally it turned out that we were somehow related by marriage a few generations back). They had three children, the youngest one a year older than I. Running with the extended-family dynamic, I grew up thinking of these kids as my cousins. In childhood, I was closer with them than most of my blood-cousins anyway.

As we grew older, it became less cool to be shipped around while our parents got together and I'm pretty sure that this was one of the last times any of the kids decided to come up to our place with Auntie Lyn and Uncle Steve. This time, I believe it was sometime in late April, my youngest cousin Jamie came along and brought a friend...

Ohh boy, was my awkward little 15-yr-old self smitten.

For two days I experienced what was, to date, one of the most intense if short-lived crushes on the slightly older friend that had invaded my home. Tall, slim and long-haired, and musically inclined which was green-light-go for my adolescent fantasies. Whereas my cousin, in typical-16-year-old guy fashion (no hard feelings Jamie!) was not particularly interested in hanging out with his vaguely odd, dweeby little cousin, but his friend took an interest in talking to me about my musical interests and aspirations, and although in retrospect this was likely more-or-less a bone-throwing act of patronization, at the time I was enthralled with the attention.

Being the socially awkward teen I was I wanted to embark on some kind of whirlwind romance but my flirting skills were stunted and the most I could muster at the best of times was a giggle or a shy upturned glance a la Lauren Bacall. When the weekend drew to an end I withdrew into typical teen 'emo' behaviour - the moodiness, the candles and bad poetry, all that.

Through the years the memories faded, but it's surprising how a picture can take you back to that tumultuous age where your emotions rose and fell with the abandon of a discarded plastic bag (credit to American Beauty for that imagery lol)

Monday, July 19, 2010

Nothing to write home about..

Holy hannah. Busy. What's been new?

Had planned to write a blog concerning my opinions regarding provincial coverage of up to three rounds of IVF, since I have decidedly mixed emotions on the subject. However, as sometimes happens, after doing a little research I came to the conclusion that there's quite an abundance of information to take into consideration and decided that my opinions aren't exactly what you may call, informed. Maybe down the road, but at this point in time, I'd simply be blowing smoke out the hindquarters.

The emotional issues of the past week or two are being worked, but I'm in a good place with how things have turned out. Occasionally we are presented with challenges that are beyond any one person's control. At any rate, the situation remains amicable and this pleases me.

On the creative end of things, I have a little over a month before the Centennial Museum show on the 29th and I working together a setlist, although I've come to the conclusion that it may be in my best interests to learn and include some more audience-familiar tunes to my repertoire. Finding the time to practice has been interesting to say the least.

I got the scanner from Lori working (finally! this, my friends, was a triumph and a half) and the most recent ex-boy with whom things are going so amicably gave me a bunch of old CD covers whose artwork I've scanned in and have some fun ideas in the works. I spoke to a local store that showcases stuff from local artisans and whatnot on a 70/30 commission. However I'm not sure how I feel about that. *shrug* When I get some more stuff made I might samples in. They may not want it anyway.

Have my first official kick-boxing class tonight, having joined after a freebie session last week. One hell of a workout I tell you. I've been struggling to lose the last 20 lbs for months now and I'm hoping some higher-energy activity might help that. Mind you, I'm not completely unaware that I've been displaying a distinct lack of discipline. Okay, I've been staying disciplined enough that I haven't gained anything back. So that's something. But I had set the goal to hit 150 by my birthday and sadly, there's no healthy way I'm going to lose 22-24 lbs in the next four weeks. So I've kind of re-framed my goal for February of 2011.

You see, I've decided that being as awesome as I am that I deserve nothing less than to gather a few girlfriends and go somewhere hot and drink for a week. So this February I plan on either having some money saved or taking a hit to my credit card and hitting the Dominican in the name of all that is fabulous. I've heard many good things about Punta Cana. I have a good friend that is currently living there doing graduate work and I look forward to visiting her and her little family.

In the meantime I'm getting ready this week to take my little ones camping at one of our many beautiful provincial parks. There will be much to pack. We've been a few years now, and it's generally a lot of fun.

Til next time...

Sunday, July 4, 2010

Nautical Disaster - Terrible metaphors in the face of heartbreak.

My best friend asked me today how I was doing in light of everything that happened in the last 24 hours. I've been dealing surprisingly well.. relatively speaking of course. By well, I mean, I'm at the very least functioning.

The last time this happened I was a blubbering mass of emotion and tears. I'm feeling fairly numb this time around and though I have wept in sorrow, apart from the initial post-break-up breakdown, I've wept but have not experience the face-swelling, shoulder-shaking, wracking sobs, the uncontrollable torrent.

I put it to her this way.. if the last time I was a Titanic-scale emotional wreck, this time I'm more of an Edmund Fitzgerald scale wreck. Less carnage, but no survivors.

It struck me funny that this binary has me viewing the situation in a series of nautical metaphors...

Our first go round seemed to me as something like the Titanic.. New, Huge, All-encompassing and indestructible. My confidence was such that I felt nothing could sink or destroy what I felt we had. With naive abandon I screamed "full speed ahead!" and pushed on into the night. When faced with icy reality, I was all but destroyed.

And the band played on...

We tried again.

This time, setting off with far more cargo than I, nay, we were capable of carrying into uncertain waters and a forecast that said "turn back, turn back". When things got rough and uncertain, the storm brewed and as the night wore on, it became apparent that things had gone from bad to worse and there'd be no survivors come morning. That ship has sailed and shall not be returning to shore.

~sigh~

Allow me a moment to stretch this already absurd analogy, as my various creative outlets will act as my life-raft as I navigate the wreckage and eventually find myself on solid ground once again.

Day one. Just keep swimming.

In keeping with our theme, and because Gord always makes me feel a little bit better:

Nautical Disaster



And yes, Ninja man, you should TOTALLY click on that. In the name of being a good friend lol.

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

A Full Week of Wednesdays.

A co-worker once shared his opinion that of all the days of the week, Wednesday is the worst. Then, this week has been full of them.

Does nursing a broken heart ever get easier?

I walked into the Wine rack on monday evening, in what was probably a misguided effort to indulge in one evening of numbing the pain of heartbreak, as I was honestly a bit of a wreck. At the counter, I began giggling as I was struck by the question: How many times a week are the employees at establishments such as the Wine Rack, the LCBO, the Beer Store faced with patrons rushing in with tear-stained faces, looking a mess and grabbing the first thing off the shelf? I imagine this is probably most common in the former, and least the in latter. Beer Stores (or, getting all retro here - "Brewer's Retail") always strike me as being bastions of masculinity, where wanton displays of emotion would be wholly unwelcome.

Get in, get yer beer and get the heck out. No crybabies here, thanks.

The LCBO simply provides too much choice for someone who is truly on edge, emotionally. It's just confusing and overwhelming. Gin or Tequila? Sweet jesus christ, I can't make these kinds of decisions now. Waaaaaah.

Wine Racks seem to be the binary opposite of Beer Stores. Soft lighting and glass and subdued labels add a certain elegance to desperation. We're not here to judge you. Go home and drown your sorrows. We won't tell.

At any rate, I must have been a sight to behold.

In the movie 'Someone Like You' Ashley Judd goes to her doctor and asks him to remove the part of her olfactory gland that associates smell with memory. I hear that, sister.

Getting out of bed yesterday morning, I nearly stepped in cat vomit. This reminded me of an incident from around the time we had met, where my state of mind was such that even stepping cat vomit couldn't break my spirits. Gazing upon the little gift left by Chloe the kitten, I noted the irony. It starts with cat vomit, and ends with cat vomit. I also noted that perhaps a visit to the vet is in order.

Fuck, I hate being a victim of circumstances beyond my control.

I'm not particularly pleased to know that this likely not the LAST time I'll go through this, either. It takes a lot of effort not to become one of the bitter. I'm trying really hard to keep believing in the general goodness of people. We're basically flawed beings, all of us. I'm trying, hard as it may be, to believe that beneath the flaws we all possess, are the best of intentions.

I'll move on. I'll regain hope. I'll probably get my heart handed to me on a platter. AGAIN. and the cycle will continue until I get it right.

The only other option is to give up, become one of the bitter and die alone. I'm not prepared to do that.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

it's what you might call content, this feeling...

I was told long ago that I had what is called a 'reverse aura'. For most people, their aura expands when experiencing positive emotions, and contracts with the negative. To put it simply, when sad, we withdraw, emotionally, sometimes physically even, taking into consideration the hunched posture of someone who is 'down in the dumps'. Happiness causes one to stretch, to reach out and make our presence known to others.

Well, let it not go unsaid that I've always been a bit of an odd duck.

Anyway, it seems I have what is considered a reverse aura. If I'm angry, upset, whathaveyou.. people are gonna know. It's palpable. However, I tend to withdraw when I'm happy. Not necessarily excited, but content. This is probably the reason I haven't had much to say. Life is good, there's not much to complain about, and the stuff that I could complain about seems, well, kind of incidental.

I'm just kind of riding the wave, trying not to jinx anything. Trying not to get 'how I get' and waiting for the other shoe to drop. Can the other shoe drop if both feet are on the ground? I'm just trying to enjoy the good I've been experiencing. Life is, both figuratively, and somewhat literally, full of music and color.

Being appreciated as a woman is nice. Feeling attractive, feeling as though I'm worth spending time with, all great. Enjoying all this, enjoying the company of someone who shares in my interests and makes me want to know more about his, talking for hours. The comfortable silences. Being able to run with it all and just ENJOY, without overanalyzing (too much) or worrying - well, for me, it ain't easy. I'm a worrier, and a bit of pessimist. But I'm trying. and it's good. (don't wanna jinx it though.)

knock wood, y'all.