Thursday, August 3, 2006

This Restless Heart

I've been listening to Metric and reading Chuck Klosterman again. I've discovered that this is a bad combination as I'm finding myself restless and yearning for the open road. 

I'm possibly at another crossroads, and I feel that the next year is going to involve a lot of changes, as old friends move away and new friends are made (hopefully).

I find myself randomly entering addresses into Google Maps and (which has replaced my beloved, if tattered road map of Ontario). I find myself wanting to write and write and write, and converse with strangers in strange places and sleep in my car and swim in lakes off the side of the road.

I think of my favourite book The Watch That Ends the Night and Montreal calls to me for reasons unknown, although I'm sure Montreal of 2006 differs greatly from the Depression era montreal that MacLennan wrote of. But the idea of being in a place where I will only be able to communicate coherently with a certain portion of the population appeals to me. 

I want to document my trip and decide what to do with the finished product. Sell the rights? Destroy it? Lock it up in a safe deposit box, to be opened on the event of my eventual death?

My mother suggests I take my grandmother with me. My grandma is super fun, but I'm not sure how enthusiastic she would be with the neo-bohemian approach that I am considering. That's the problem with being a normally play-it-safe kind of girl... When I want to be spontaneous, I kind of go all out. 

Up until this week I was in a great place for hitting hotels and casinos and playing cards and shopping (which is the kind of vacation I would like to do with my grandma) but this roaming instinct has hit me with all the force of a Mac Truck, and I am feeling the need for isolation and being one with the road and all that rot... meeting interesting characters... having Hunter S Thompson type misadventures (minus the drugs though, but thats just me).

I want to visit places I have heard about in songs by Stompin' Tom or the Tragically hip.

I think I want to write a book.

But that is something for another time, as my children are hungry, and I am soon to find myself awash in dirty dishes and hot dogs and Kraft Dinner.

My domestic reality beckons. As my friend just put it... I should get back to doing the 'Mom' thing.

This Restless Heart, Part Two.

Firstly I gotta say...

TV!! SWEET MOTHER OF GOD HOW I HAVE MISSED YOU! 

OK, so I have mulled over the vacation thing and I'm gonna do the Montreal road trip thing (with stops in Ottawa and Kingston me thinks) on my own (or with any friend who might like to come along and be all hippie beatnick with me), and then when my OSAP comes in September, I'll take Grandma Ruth down to Niagara Falls for some touristy good fun.

Again, have I mentioned how much I miss TV?

NORM!!

Goodbye Norman, you useless waste of flesh.


I'll always have the scar to remember you by.

The Not-So-Italian Job

Just woke up from bizarre dream that was some bizarre cross between the Italian Job and I dunno.. Mean Girls or something. 

I can't describe too much of it, because for some reason my memory of the dream is being neurologically disrupted by random lines from Metric's Police and the Private (or whatever it's called. Thanks Sammi and Lori lol)

I remember something about money and someone putting a stop to 'your precious waterfront project'. Then a lot of stoned teenagers embarking on a high speed chase through downtown toronto, and crashing. Then some chick standing up saying we're gonna do things differently, and starts talking about people she knew in highschool that she made fun of who really just had weird emotional disorders. One was a woman who she had said "had 'Male ______ (Flattery? Fixation?), and wasn't just a 'dyke bitch whore'" Oh yeah, and the Metric playing really loud over the dream.

Back to bed I go.

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Oh yeah, power went out here for about 2 hours. Was having August 2003 flashbacks, if you know what I mean.

The Not-So-Italian Job

Just woke up from bizarre dream that was some bizarre cross between the Italian Job and I dunno.. Mean Girls or something. 

I can't describe too much of it, because for some reason my memory of the dream is being neurologically disrupted by random lines from Metric's The Police and The Private (or whatever it's called. Thanks Sammi and Lori.)

I remember something about money and someone putting a stop to 'your precious waterfront project'. Then a lot of stoned teenagers embarking on a high speed chase through downtown Toronto, and crashing. Then some chick standing up saying "We're gonna do things differently!" and starts talking about people she knew in high school that she made fun of who really just had weird emotional disorders. One was a woman who she had said "had 'Male ______ (Flattery? Fixation?), and wasn't just a 'dyke bitch whore'" Oh yeah, and the Metric playing really loud over the dream.

Back to bed I go.

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Oh yeah, power went out here for about 2 hours. Was having August 2003 flashbacks, if you know what I mean.

Monday, July 31, 2006

Brain Boogers

If there is any smell in the world that makes me want to yak my breakfast up, it's fresh watermelon.

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Apparently I've posted 6 blogs today. Oh those wacky MySpace techies.

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Need to decide where to go for my vacation. Sam's not going to Halifax now, so if he's not going, Nova Scotia really doesn't hold anything for me. I may still go, I don't know.

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Big scary incineration assignment I thought was due tomorrow, is actually due NEXT Tuesday. Andie gets to sleep tonight.

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It is hot as balls today. But it could be worse. Could be snowing. I'll take this over -30 January temperatures any day.

Sunday, July 30, 2006

Kittens, and jello. But not in the same bowl.

A slight miscommunication between the boy, his GF and I led resulted in my being unable to locate my children (or their father) this evening when it came time to pick them up. So, naturally the darkest recesses of my mommy brain kicked into overdrive, conjuring up images of MISSING posters featuring my ex and my girls, or bloody car wreckage on the highway after having gone to visit relatives, or my precious girls lying victims (along with the boy and his new fam) of carbon monoxide poisoning in their apartment.

Yeah, turns out they had to work this weekend, but didn't inform me, so after going through many channels I found the number of the new place where the boy is working and then found out where the girls were staying and went to pick them up, safe and sound. Phew.

One bright spot that came out of this particular ordeal is that early in my searching I decided to check the park (at this point I was merely a little peeved, not yet thoroughly freaked out) because Sundays they now have music in the park, and I figured the boy, being the musical sort, might find that a fun excursion to take the girls on.

ANYWAY...

While I was in the park I ran into a former customer from the convenience store, whom I've had a minor crush on for a while but who I only run into maybe once a year now, who was in the park with his daughter so I got to chat for a minute and in that time we got caught up a bit. I really wanted to ask him out for a coffee sometime, but seeing as I had already mentioned my concern at being unable to locate my kids, I thought that would be inappropriate.

"I can't locate my kids, I'm a little concerned. You wanna go out sometime?"

Yeah. That doesn't fly with me.

I'm feeling all romantic lately, I don't know what it is. Idealistic or something. Yearning to connect with someone on a deeply intimate - both emotionally and physically -- level. It's very pre-occupying. I had the opportunity for some dirty fun time with a former FWB, but I had to be honest and tell him I just wasn't into that anymore. Looking for more than just sex. Not that that isn't fun. It's the waking the next day and still not feeling any better in the larger frame of things that is Not so fun.

I think the events that took place over Pride weekend are still messing with me a bit. That was definitely a case where I fell very hard, very fast, and I am still feeling the reverberations. Top it off, there is a party in two weeks that he is more than likely going to be attending, and I'm not sure how to face him. It's been somewhat easy, with him being in the city and not having to come face to face with him.


*sigh*

Saturday, July 29, 2006

No More Fucking Around

Fuck this "putting back on all the weight I lost last year" thing.

FUCK THAT.

Cruelest irony of all -- As I stood in the change room at Giant Tiger, vainly attempting to struggle into a pair of size 16 dress pants (as I couldn't find an 18), my frustration with my inability to find a simple pair of affordable pinstriped or plaid pants mounting by the second, what song should happen to be playing over the P.A. system?

BIG GIRLS DON'T CRY.

Almost poetic in it's sadistic humour, isn't it? 

*Shakes fist at heavens CURSE YOU, POETIC JUSTICE!


*sigh*.

Wednesday, July 26, 2006

I think I need help -or- socio-babble part one.

Sometimes getting woken up suddenly is a good thing, because otherwise I'd probably forget fucked up dreams like this:

I'm at a large pier, swimming with my children. This pier is about 100 feet wide. It's huge. There is an above water rock formation not too far away, similar to the one near Robin's Point where I used to swim. They are at about a 45 degree angle from each other.

The girls are able to swim for some reason, which is good because I'm not paying a whole lot of attention to them, although I am aware enough of their presence to look around every so often to pull one out from under the water (they can swim, but not well, in my dream). Instead I am more fascinated with the fact that the pier and the rock formation are growing ever closer to each other (a concrete pier and a pile of rocks). I look up at one point to realize that we are in a large water filled room, with red walls, still containing the rocks and the pier but now they are significantly smaller.

I notice Tierney just under the water struggling to emerge, so I yank her out of the water, coughing and sputtering. Then the water, pier, and rocks are gone and have been replaced by a large dome tent, although we are still in the red room. The tent takes up most of the room. I am sitting on one side, the children are playing, running in and out of the tent, and I can see on the other side of the tent, K (the ex-hubby's ex) and her kids are sitting against the wall, watching the girls play. I am very uncomfortable with this. Trying to be nonchalant, I say 'Okay girls, we're going to clean up now' and they disappear. As I start dismantling the tent, K and her kids get up to leave, she says something to her middle child as they leave, but I don't remember because I am noticing her hair is curlier than usual, almost like black hair.

I finish taking the tent down and I walk into another room, this one empty and beige. The Boy (read: ex-hubby) is in the room with Reagan (I don't seem bothered by the fact that I don't know where Tierney is) We small talk chit chat, apparently he is teaching Reagan to play guitar. There is again no furniture in the room, so he is seated, leaning against the wall, and Reegs is standing. I mention, hesistantly, that K had been there, and saw the girls. He nods and says that he saw her when they came through. I then notice a guitar on the ground and pick it up to notice that the neck has been broken right off. I show this to him and he laughs.

Next I am what looks like my nanny's house in Bancroft, in the living room. My mother is placing Knicknacks and lamps and candles around the room. As she busies around, she is advising me that if I get a Sears catalogue (she has to say 'Sears catalogue' about 6 times before I understand her, there are a few other people in the room, chatting loudly) that I can order some light. Confused I look around at all the lamps and candles in the room, and I can't for the life of me figure out what she is talking about but I nod and wink conspiratorially to her.

I am looking around the room for improvements that can be made, or things that can be taken away and my mother has embarked on making little place card type things with inspirational messages on them from the computer, and is placing them carefully on the windowsill. In the dream, this all seems like normal, if slightly irritating, behavior for my mom.

Next I am downtown midland, there is some kind of festival going on, I'm walking down the street with Aditya (new friend I just made). He sees a girl inside of one of the stores who is wearing a large rainbow flag. He mentions that he likes her and I say "So what are you waiting for?? Go talk to her" and with superhuman strength I literally throw him at her. 

Meanwhile I browse the magazine section of the store, and there are all these underground comics, tattoo magazines and a lot of occult-themed publications. I leave the store I walk up the street towards the library, where there is some kind of ritual or something taking place. There are many people around wearing purple shawls and covered in glittery stuff. There is a large pyre burning, about four feet tall with billowing black smoke. My dad handed me a purple shawl, and I put it on, and I swear the thing weighed 50 pounds. I am told by another guy that I have to get oiled up (which I am assuming is what the glittery stuff). I am aware that this other guy is my stepfather, which is odd because I have no recollection of my parents being divorced.

He guides me over to a booth where there are tubes of glitter laid out on a table, and proceeds to start rubbing the stuff on me, in some rather personal areas. I'm thinking OMG WTF. but strangely a little aroused too (BTW this guy has no resemblance to anyone I know IRL). He leaves and as I am putting the stuff on my arms, I telepathically contact Melissa (I told you this was a weird dream) and say "Dude, I totally have to tell you something." My 'stepfather' comes back and then phone rings and I wake up.

Yeah, I'm pretty fucked up I think.

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So I went to see Clerks 2 last night with Jay, John, John's GF Camilla (?) and Jay's friend Adi. Good times. Not Kevin Smiths best work, but still worth seeing. Thought it was a better wrap-up to the Jersey Saga of movies than Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back was. Some parts were funny as hell, some parts were over the top gross (Kinky Kelly for example), some parts were really over the top emotional, which is a departure for KS.

It got me thinking though about how you rarely see movies portray really deep, emotionally intimate friendships between men though. Although there are tons of buddy movies, the relationships, although lasting, seem really shallow. I give Kevin Smith credit for showing that in his films (even if he does use the homoerotic slant for cheap laughs). Come to think of it, he did it with Holden and Banky in Chasing Amy, and even with Ollie and his Dad in Jersey Girl. I haven't seen many movies show deep friendships between men since the Odd Couple.

When we watched the movie "Tough Guise" in Women and Pop culture -- which by the way, if you can get your hands on this movie watch it, it's fascinating -- There is an overlaying theme of men being isolated loners, with little emotional connection to anyone. Which is not real life, but could become so, since we learn from TV, movies and music more than anything now. But in real life, guys do have lasting emotional friendships, I've seen it on more than one occasion. Movies tend to portray male relationships as based on getting drunk/high having adventures and chasing pussy. Or as a dominant/submissive superhero/sidekick type thing. (Although the Tick and Arthur had an interesting relationship)

So yeah, I'm done my socio-babble for now. This is an interesting topic I think though. I'm thinking now I may start researching. If they bring the fourth year to Barrie maybe I could do my thesis on Male relationships in movies and television. I could go back to the old Crosby/Sinatra 'road to...." movies through to today.


NOBODY STEAL MY IDEA, K??