fuzzy edges

The feeling when you've been napping too much. You wake, and look around; spots and fuzzy edges. My brain has been napping for so long, the world has taken on this look, and I'm scared it's permanent. Moments that may be exciting or joyful are tempered by this lens and I start to feel numb. Out of body. Looking at myself and others and life as if an observer, calmy noting the markers of the day.

7:00 am - Get up, excited for coffee, blast some music and dance around to get myself 'pumped' for the day.
7:30 am- Get dressed. Wear new shoes today. Yay.
8:00 am- Decide wheather it will be a Starbucks day today or not.
8:30 am- Get to work, check Facebook, Google blogger, and various other sites for a couple of hours.
10:30 am- Coffee break, a chance for my new shoes to go for a walk.
12:00pm- Lunch time- read my magazine and decide wheather I should ditch work for the afternoon or not.
12:00 - 4:00 pm- Either work from home (ie. watch a movie and keep email open) or go shopping/errands and hope that I don't get any emails- usually I don't.

And they pay me a ridiculous amount to do this. I just asked my boss for more work, and she kind of laughed. What kind of alternative universe is this? Fuzzy edges and all.

Also had a FML moment last night. Blind date, arrived early - where a very hot, very my type bartender served me a drink. We probably would have struck up a conversation, had my yucky, eventually obnoxious date not shown up.

Three things since my last post that have, surprisingly, made me happy:
1. Army & Navy Annual Shoe sale. THE premier sports event for shoe aficionados like myself. Momma got herself 6 new pairs of shoes. Yay!
2. Reuniting with friend I hooked up with who made it awkward for three months after. We had beers, talked philosophy, Ayn Rand- it was lovely.
3. Rediscovering how sticky green gets me motivated to clean house, and feel really good about it.

the unstable myth

When I was younger, I wanted to be a Saint. Anyone who knows me now might think that out of character for a girl, who at 16, got gussied up to sneak out of Christian camp in an attempt to buy booze. But for me, it was a life that was rebellious and different. I devoured tales of lives of the Saints, admiring their dedication to one thing, a dedication that often superceeded their physical or personal needs. Their lives were mythical and their stories have survived for that reason. They said 'fuck you' to what society required at the time, weather that be marriage or paganism or materialism and did their own thing. I know that's what drew me to their stories- the courage to be different, no matter the consequences.

Being on the fringe of society fascinated me at different times in my life, the willingness to be above or below the 'normal' and say fuck the consequences. But now, It just seems more challenging to balance the expectations of society with my own quiet rebellions. It results in a kind of schitzophrenic identity that doesn't reconcile. In high school, the girl on the honor roll, A+ choir student was hitting up strip clubs at lunch with her pot head girlfriends and drinking vodka in church. I seem to be able to emulate the correct side for those people who need it most, the ones who don't want to think that reality is a stability that doesn't exist. It just doesn't always add up. And that's okay. Because, even if I don't know exactly what I want, I know I don't want to be 'normal' or 'average'. What the definite definitions of these words are are obviously negotiable, but, from my understanding of what that might be (something like a suburban horror story)- terrifies me.

So I will continue on, as a Valentine's day card a friend got from his dad said; to 'Be Bold'. Hopefully it's the myth I aspire it to be- minus the stoning/burning at the stake/whipping oneself type of story.

pink cadillac

So shiny on the lot. You can see yourself riding down the highway with the sartorially correct long hair so it can blow through the wind. The envious looks all the guys give you when you pull up in front of the corner store to pick up (again sartorially correct) a pack of smokes. But do they know that you have to stick your hand out of the window to signal left? Or that you have to let your passenger in first so they can let you in, or crawl across the passenger side to get to the drivers seat?

Do you really know what you're getting into?

It could be criminal to compare humans to cars, some type of cruel guy-speak cliché, but I'm going on a blind date on Saturday, and I'm worried. He just seems, well, so nice. I'm worried if he really knows what he's getting into. I mean my shock seemed to be accurately concealed when he told me he'd never really passed out drunk. And he's not boring-nice (from what I gathered in our lengthy conversation last night), which is good.

Because boring-nice is the worst of the worst- usually ending up as the other half of a suburban couple, who's big thrill of the month is going out to a movie (probably a Will Smith tearjerker) and maybe a drink after, but most likely before, so they can lightly pet each other during the show and pretend they're still teenagers and that was, of course, one of the most rebellious things they've done. They still live in the same town they grew up in and have no intention of leaving. "A vacation to Mexico? That's dangerous. We might get killed or, even worse, contract Hepatitis C from an ice cube."

I digress. Already, i'm foreshadowing way too far into what might be exactly like my last blind date: A 40 minute snooze fest, where not even booze could distract me from the 'Jaws'- like soundtrack racing through my mind, and the sense of impending doom that if I stuck around any longer I might be inadvertantly lead down the path to suburban hell.

So, I shall tune up the pink caddie for Saturday and be on my best behavior.
And now, three things I'm grateful for in the last 24 hours:
1. "Blame it on the scotch?" "Yeah that nectar d'or sure leads you astray." Aaaaand closure.
2. Coconut Records is making me happy today. Thanks tips.
3. That 'family friend' is such a broad and ambiguous word.

thanks for the memory

"So, what happened with you and that guy after I left?"
"What guy?"
"The guy you were making out with."
"Making out with? Where?"
"At the Drum, after I left."
"With who?"
"That guy of those two guys we met at the Hop 'n Brew."
And so on.

Seriously, not sure about you, but this happens to me every so often. Okay....alot. Sometimes it's; 'remember that guy you threw a beer at'. Or; 'remember that bar we got kicked out of because you decided to dance on a table'. Or; ' remember how i bought you a shot of tequila and then you fell on the floor?'.

Those nights blur in to a manic slide show of live bands, lucky beer, dirty shoes and end when I wake up magically in my own bed, by myself. Either I have a horseshoe up my ass, or I have one of the most amazing autopilots known to woman kind. I believe it's the latter, I've seriously ditched out on a group when i know I'm too drunk to be in public. I mean, you would think I would be too drunk to know, but amazingly, I know when I'm on the verge of making a regrettably forgetful mistake.

Unfortunatley, as many of my girlfriends have commented, I go from 'no' to 'yo' in about half a pint. One minute I'm as sober as your local mechanic, who was forced into rehab 3 years ago and hates every minute that he has to sit around with his buddies sipping on a coke; and the next I'm that girl who you wonder how she got so drunk at 9pm and who's swaying, not dancing or standing, and speaking what is not even disernable english anymore. I'm convinced it's some kind of blood disorder.

But, you think. Who, in their right mind would write as if they're proud of this behavior and flippant about the consequences? I would say, I've learned to learn. Perhaps it hasn't surfaced yet, but I'm sure eventually I will be sick of the guilt spiral and learning nothing new anymore. But for the time being, I'm trying to learn. I've learned lots so far. For example, If I drink the same drink option all night- ie. Gin- I can make it through. So, my education continues.

Thanks for the memory from Saturday night. Here are three things I'm grateful for in the last 24 hours:
1. My middle finger is still attached and fully functional. It serves me well when several ass holes don't know how to use a signal light. (And the 'several' characterization just serves to exemplify the state of affairs of drivers in this city).
2. My sister gave me major kudos on the thing I like to do the most. Thanks boobie!
3. My boss was totally cool when I basically told her I want to get the fuck out and have applied for school. Very supportive.

the guilt spiral

Usually on sunday, after a long weekend of sinning, the guilt spiral comes calling. Visual snatchets of bad behavior while intoxicated, or messy hookups are rampant in my thoughts, and I can't stop feeling bad about it. This weekend however, the guilt spiral has moved to today. Because I woke up drunk this morning, and now I can relive what I did last night. Basically there was cards, scotch, a good friend and a surprise ending. And the surprise ending wasn't actually a surprise, because I could see it coming, like a raging freight train, and naively thought I could stop it. No matter, the eventuality has happened, and now, I'm sure the guilt spiral will slowly subside as my body slowly reverts to sobriety.

There is one guilt sprial that has been weighing on me for over a year. 'Ronnie' was my manager at a previous job, and our connection was undeniable. He was several decades older than me and was blessed with premature balding and a short stature, but was punctuated by lively green eyes and a seriously cheerful disposition. Like a happy little elf. His bad days never really showed, but I knew they were becoming more of a habit. We could talk forever, about everything, and most important, about those things you think about but never say. I loved him and he loved me and we told each other. Then one night, I went over to his place after being out with some friends. I was quite tipsy, but I thought I knew what kind of situation I was walking in to. I mean I was aware that he wanted to be with me, but he knew that I didn't ever want to be with him in that way. There was drugs and music and dancing and things happened that shocked me, and I don't ever speak about it (until I wrote about it today). Ronnie has since gone to AA and has been sober for a while. But it was a dark night for both of us, and I lost a friend that I loved. I have a hard time even speaking to him on the phone. I know it's not his fault- it's both of ours- but I just don't want to think about what happened, and speaking to him brings back a lot of memories.

Guilt spirals can be short lived or enduring, but what would life be without them. Boring.
So, to slightly alieve some spiral action today, three things I am grateful for this weekend:
1. Good talks with good friends.
2. A really good sweat session Saturday- probably needed.
3. Beating the pants off of my friend last night in crib.

fleeting family togetherness

My family left me this morning. It was 5 am, and they were off to drop my sister off and the airport and continue on to drive to Saskatchewan. It happened so quickly, and i was so fuzzy from the early hour and too many beers the night before, that I still think I'll go home tonight and they'll be there. Drinking wine and having appies by the fire. Heartbreaking that I won't see my sister until April if I make it out to meet her in Montreal.

It was, however, a memorable and fun Christmas. Christmas Eve, after church and stopping by a few family gatherings, we made it back home to start our annual margarita party. We popped in a tourtière, a family tradition for Christmas eve, anticipating being hungry into the late hours after noshing on mostly appies and sweets all evening. The first pitcher was gone quite quickly after our introductory game of Things.... and turning it into a drinking game didn't make the bottle last longer. (I did however, discover that the answer 'hookers and blow' worked for every question). By time we ate the tourtière, I'm really not sure anyone really was sober enough to remember the taste or anything. Running out of tequlia, we decided to start making the margaritas with vodka. UGH.

Minus a small fight that night and the next morning (induced by the mass amounts of alcohol consumed), my sister had a hungover hankering for the leftover tourtière. There was only one problem. We couldn't find it anywhere. Someone was lucid enough to remember that we didn't eat it all, and even if we did, there was no sign of the foil pan. We looked under couches, in fridges, garbages and bathrooms. Finally, I spotted a a bon ton meat market bag out the back door in the snow. Sure enough, the remainder of the tourtière was in there face down. My sister ate it anyways, as the cold preserved the meat, and well, we were all just too hungover to care about the consequences of e coli.

The remainder of Christmas was a blur of family time, boxing day shopping (a sporting event for the women in my family) and drinking.

I am grateful for way more than three things this season, but i'll try to pare it down.
1. My immediate family is awesome. They like to have fun and party and are never chintzy in that area. Plus, we all love each other A LOT.
2. My extended family has intricate family drama that makes Y&R look tame. Always entertaining.
3. Realizing what's most important in my life as I get older and appreciating the fleeting family togetherness much more than I did before.

the whore farm

Sooooooo...this weekend was as exciting and as awesome as I thought it would be. My sister and I took off for banff with some baileys and gin in tow and checked in to our cute little hotel. Immediately the prospect of room service was extremely appealing. "Ummm yeah, I'll have a jug of tonic water and some cut limes." At least the guy was cool about it, his only response to ask "Would you like ice with that?". After some scary visions in the hot tub, we set off to the Rose and Crown for dinner. My sis was just sloshed enough to dance with the 'lone wolf' on the dance floor. Quite entertaining. The rest is r-rated and a little bit fuzzy, needless to say, we woke up quite worse for wear.

Looking around the room, you would think a rock band had inhabited it for several weeks. A little embarassed when room service guy #2 came in, as the room also smelled like a bar-or bottle -for that matter. Anyways the excitement for riding suddenly sunk in, but was quickly quashed when the snow report told us that both mountains were closed due to extreme cold weather. That was probably warning number one. Warning number two was when the car almost didn't start. But nooooo we trucked on, and now I have facial frostbite. It's quite attractive, the white blisters look like some exotic form of herpes.

We did have a fun day nonetheless, with some interesting characters riding the gondola with us. Our favorite was the guy convinced that strippers (and the like) came from a whore farm. "They pluck them when they're really little, then they send them to the farm where they learn to be good whores." Seriously.

Sunday we had a photo shoot with my sis, taken by my bestie. It was really cool, and we're giving out the photos for xmas. It has to be a little vain, I mean, "Merry Christmas, here's a photo of me looking ridiculously hot." Sounds like a great gift for my ex. But it was fun, and we continued on to participate in the 12 bars of Christmas. A pub crawl in Kensignton designed to visit almost every drinking establishment in the vicinity. Monday morning was accordingly fun.

Tomorrow is xmas eve, and I have one wish from Santa. All I want for Christmas is my technology back. I now have lost my cell phone as well, thus leaving me alone in the cold with no music (as my ipod is broken too). Sounds like someone needs an iphone. Seriously every year around this time, I lose my phone in a snowbank. Must be a Canadian thing.

This holiday season I am glad for lots of things. The last three that come to mind are:
1. Facebook, because then how else would you get all of your phone numbers back.
2. My family, as even though they are crazy, my mom is out right now buying margarita mix for christmas eve.
3. Yoga. Keeping me sane and limber.

Happy Holidays, I hope you look forward to the party as much as I do!