30 March 2007


So, I was at the grocery store the other day waiting in line. I was so tired that day. The kind of tired in which you can get into a giggle about absolutely anything. The girl at the counter asked me, in French, if I wanted to donate two dollars for a heart and stroke charity. I was surprised at myself! I actually understood what she said! I was rather proud of myself.

Of course, I didn't know exactly how to respond to her question. I think I know how to say I don't have any money but I don't think that would have been the proper way to express the fact that I didn't have any change on me since I was paying with my debit card. I told her that I did not have two dollars on me.

She was French and didn't know much English. She called the teenaged bag boy over to repeat what she asked me even though I totally understood what she said. The kid comes over and calls me Madam, which kind of makes me sound like a drag queen and/or old but whatever. In his translation, he said:

"She wants to know if you want to give two dollars for someone to have a heart attack."

I didn't laugh out loud, that would have been rude. I'm sure my attempts at French would sound just as strange. I couldn't help but laugh inside though.

And yes, I ended up donating with my debit card because that was the best laugh of the day.

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24 March 2007

Angry Rant, directed at so-called groupies

Ack, I finally have another regular weekend off and I have a headache. Stupid head, it's sucking the life out of me today.

Soon, another tour will begin and soon I will be titled The Tour Widow one more time. I'm trying my best to behave and not leave snide comments due to my petty jealousies about the attention my partner will get from women. Yarg, wish me luck.

I have a beef. I try so hard to be cool and accepting. I know I am. I trust my partner and I believe in what he is doing. But I have such a hard time with the whole getting attention from girls who just like him because he has a musical instrument in his hands. I know, deep down, he likes the attention. Everyone likes attention, everyone likes to feel sexy.

A while back, I caught naked boobies on our computer. It's a band thing - the girls write the name of the band member on their cleavage and send it to the band. It ends up on OUR computer because he is the one that checks the mail, right. It fucking drives me nuts. But I have to accept this because it's not day-to-day real life. It's a band thing, a band image to uphold. I just want a little honesty though. I want a warning. I want to hear that some random girl sent pics of her boobs with my partner's name written across them - rather than accidentally finding them on my computer when I am alone and feeling like shit.

He doesn't understand. I have no reason NOT to trust him. I do trust him, a lot. It is just a little taxing on your heart when you see shit like this all of a sudden. These girls know sweet fuck all about who he is. They don't know it is ME that built a life with him, it was ME who moved halfway across the country to be with him. It is ME that is pretty much financially supporting HIS dream. They just see him as another slutty musician, whatever. It's hard for me to not take it personally.

I work really hard to live. I live in a city where I don't speak the language. I have a very, very limited amount of friends. Everyone I honestly love is back home. I probably expect too much of my partner. Or maybe I miss the attention I once had. You know, back home...I had a line up of guys finding me attractive. Here, I get called "ugly" in the subway, I have girls calling me down there too. My head is all messed up.

Bottom line. I don't want to see your naked boobs on my computer. I'm sure you wouldn't want to see women sending your boyfriend naked photos - women they talk to in a "friends only" way online. Why is it different when the man in question is a musician? They are still people....they still have girlfriends and wives. Respect their homelife.

Of course, you'll all be turning the table on me - my insecurities, my paranoia. Go ahead. I trust my partner. I just don't trust that bitch who'll pay $5 to see a band and expect to "party" with the band afterwards...just because her tits are big and she is shitfaced. Fuck her.

And why is it different - why do I have to be okay with these stupid women sending their naked photos to my boyfriend? I don't see him as a musician. I see him as a person I am spending my life with.

But no, I have to fucking suck it up and accept it. Put on a smiling face and play the role of supportive girlfriend who pays the fucking internet bill, among other bills, and puts up with this shit.

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19 March 2007

Slow Times

For the first time in a while, I've had an actual weekend off. I'm talking Saturday and Sunday off, plus Monday. I was looking forward to this. I wanted to go for a late morning breakfast. I wanted to do a little writing. Maybe even catch up on some email. Lord knows how lazy I am when it comes to emailing people back promptly. Err.

And of course, my entire body started to fall apart on Friday night. Great.

My teeth started to hurt. You see, I have this one vindictive tooth. Every now and then, it misbehaves. I wait for the pain to pass, as it eventually does. I know that there will come a day when the pain won't go away and I'll have to take care of it once and for all. And that day will probably be when not much money is coming in because life is a jerk that way. Nothing spells fun like getting a $1400 root canal when you are unemployed. *grits teefs*

Just to torture myself...I went browsing around online to see if my tooth pain is related to any other aspect of my health. For once, I actually found good news and not morbid information. Apparently, when your sinuses are messed up it can affect your teeth. I'd rather deal with a sinus issue than a really expensive dental procedure.

Anyway, I felt like my head was a brick this weekend. Tooth pain (it was more like the roof of my mouth was severely bruised, to be exact) truly drains the life out of you. Top it off with the beginnings of a head cold, and you just don't want to do a single thing but curl up on the bed and sleep with the aid of painkillers. And that is what I did. I feel like the weekend just zipped past me and I accomplished little. Curses!

I managed to drag my weary body to the optometrist this weekend though. In my attempt at getting to the bottom of my lack of balance, I discovered that my prescription has changed. Seems like I have astigmatism in my right eyeball which could actually be the reason why I feel like a bit of a lush when I am walking. I hope that's the answer because I'm sick of seeing doctors and having to be aware of how I am walking. Thankfully, it is not as bad as it was back in December. You never really think when you walk down the street, other than to pay attention to cars or a mound of dog shit or a patch of ice on the sidewalk. Since December, I've had to be aware and stay focused while walking. Believe me, it cuts the fun and relaxation out of going for a walk.

When you are under the weather, it is natural to think of all the things that you could be doing if you were well. I have to remind myself that this is my body telling me to slow down and take time for yourself. It's okay to stay in bed with a good book. It's okay to take a long, hot bath. It's okay that you did not go-go-go - even though you have been on the move all week. Basically, it's okay to be lazy. That's what I keep telling myself, since I really do waste time. Sigh.

I guess I did accomplish some. I did some baking, which caused the aroma of cinnamon to swirl around the apartment. I finished reading a pretty darn good novel. I took care of my health. I wandered into an old antique shop to look at this strange instrument and visit the black street cat that lives there. I did all the grown-up things that needed to be done - including my taxes! I made a nice dinner on Saturday night. I watched a silly movie. I wrote to Felica, in one of many journals I have filled for her. I took a nap or two. Oh, and most importantly - I did some sewing. No, nothing fancy and creative. My winter coat's buttons were dangling by a thread and three fell off. My cardigan had a small hole at the seam, which ended up becoming a very large hole. I've been putting it off for such a long time. I've probably looking like a bit of a hobo these last few weeks.

Speaking of hobo, here's a Canadian flashback.

Anyway, I'm off to work tomorrow. This potentially could be my last week of work, as we normally take a bit of a hiatus for the summer. I don't mind being off in the summer but I'd be happy to work well into spring. I need the money, just like everyone else. I'm trying my best to get ahead but it never seems to work that way, even with my brand new nifty budgeting skills. Looks like I'll save a whole $21 this pay period (thanks to our ridiculous hydro bill and getting new glasses so I can see/not fall on my ass). I have this odd feeling that I will sent home early this week. It's a mainly French project we are working on. In the evenings, I'll be waiting patiently by the telephone to purr questions into your strictly Anglo ears...

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13 March 2007

Life, life, slow little life...

I think it is about time for an update. I know y'all missed me. Now, do you want the glamorous version or the truth?!

In all honesty, not much is going on and I think I like it that way. I could, however, be making much better use of my time. I keep telling myself that but by the end of the day or the work week, all I want to do is mellow out and kick back. Thankfully, I don't have a television set that works and gets a variety of English programming otherwise I would probably waste a lot of time. Really, is it wasting time if you choose to curl up on the couch or soak in a bubble bath to read? No, I don't think so.

My health has been alright. The dizziness/lightheadedness is coming back every now and then. It perplexes me. It only seems to hit me when I am walking outside and usually when I am alone. I'm beginning to think it is either completely psychological or it's my ear. I had a nasty ear infection last summer and who knows what kind of damage could be throwing my balance off. I'm also getting my eyes checked this weekend. To clarify, it's not really a dizziness now. It's more of a lack of balance which is a little frightening as I am already clumsy.

Speaking of clumsy, I fell down some stairs the other day. Sadly, I wasn't carrying twelve cream pies. Actually, I was laughing at the neighbor across the street as he was wearing his neon green toque and a bright striped t-shirt. I couldn't help but laugh at his outfit, I wasn't laughing at him. Honest! He is a bit slow and always asks my partner specifically for old coins from other countries. I never saw him in such a bright outfit before and a laugh slipped past my painted red lips - and then I fell down about five stairs to the bottom. The neighbor looked thoroughly disturbed, like I ruined the routine of his entire day. He stood there, looking disturbed at the sight of me falling down the stairs and then laughing to myself at how clumsy I am. A few hours later and my body started to ache. It wasn't as funny as before.

Work has been fine. There's always something to complain about but I'll just keep a pleasant smile on this face of mine. Actually, I enjoy work these days even when it feels long and repetitive. We joke around a lot and we talk girl talk. I like it. And I miss that. There's a lack of girl talk and giggling over ridiculous things in my Montreal life. I have it with my fellow co-workers. I appreciate it. As far as the work itself goes, it's work. Sometimes I'm tired of repeating the same things over and over again. Sometimes I'm sick of smelling them all day long. Sometimes I'm amazed that people take work so lightly, and this is coming from someone who is pretty lazy. I never slept in for work, I'm always on time. Even when I hate the job I am doing, I'm always there and reasonably ready to work. As well, work makes me want to smack people with cell phones. One day I am going to flip out and I look forward to that day. Maybe I'll even stamp my foot as I bark, "we pay you to work, not to text message your - tabernac!"

What else, what else...

I haven't written in a while, or at least not this weekend. Sometimes my mind is distracted. I can't be creative because of this or because of that. I know they are just excuses. But one thing is for sure, I can't be creative if the entire house is a bloody mess. I cleaned this weekend. I started a little writing project a few weeks ago. I don't want to talk about because I'm secretive that way. It's something that takes a lot of thought and I find that I am mentally exhausted after a handful of pages. The way I see it, if I am not in a mental rush in regards to it - there's nothing wrong with taking my time. Who knows if it's any good. Right now, it's just something for me.

Which brings me back to the idea of making better use of my time. I know I should. I know I have to, if I want to continue to be happy after work ends. I find that when I am not working, I fall into some sort of tragic slump. I feel worthless when I am not working. Yet, I start working again and I feel like I am just another working dummy going over the same motions day after day. I have some friends that truly inspire me to create and hone my apparent talents. It's a matter of getting off my ass, quite honestly. It's a matter of believing what you are doing and can do. I lack this. I see myself as a number. Someone who is ordinary and plain, who will never lead a spectacular life and time is running out. I have to shake off that feeling. There is nothing wrong with leading a life that isn't seen as spectacular to others. As long as it's spectacular to you...that is what counts. The problem is, I don't think I am that satisfied and I am often disappointed in myself and what I do. I know there is talent and drive kicking around here somewhere. It's just a matter of doing it. Soon, I will have time. Work will end and my partner will go on the road. I will have time to be creative. I just have to promise myself that I WILL accomplish something that makes me happy whether it's a knitting project or that so-called book I playfully challenged myself to write last year when the band went on tour.

Sometimes I wish I could go back in time. I wish I could go back to certain places and just inhale all the old scents of my past. When I was housesitting years ago, there was the smell of lumber and spring-time that reminded me of going to the lumber store with my father (he used to go to a store called Beaver Lumber, heh) and yet reminded me of the pain of a broken heart. When I worked at the Bay, there was the stockroom full of pillows and comforters (trust me, a roomful of pillows will give off a distinct aroma). That room was my escape from my boss, who liked my Ukrainian cleavage a little too much. The smell of lemon peppered fried eggs and hashbrowns - I could never recreate that breakfast meal or the aroma. The smell of old pencil boxes full of crayons reminds me of being a kid - if I stick my nose close to one of my partner's old parlor guitars, it smells like that.

I'm babbling.

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