Soooo.
Flight delayed in Vancouver.
Flight to Yellowknife missed in Calgary.
Rerouted from Calgary to Edmonton in a few hours.
Booked from Edmonton to Yellowknife to get in EIGHT HOURS LATE.
We arrive way late for the rehearsal dinner, and I will look like I’ve been traveling for 14 hours even when we get there.
See?
Cold doesn’t seem so bad anymore.
I’m up early to catch a flight to Yellowknife, NWT, where my brother will be married on Saturday.
Am I tired? Oh, yes.
Will it be cold? Oh, yes.
Are they getting married in a snow castle? I do believe this is the case.
Will I blog about it? Come on now.
Will there be pictures? If my camera holds out.
Should you keep checking back in? YES.
Off I go!
1. I talk about coffee fairly often at my blog. And when I say fairly often, I mean ALWAYS. In fact, I sound rather obsessive and possibly unhinged about the wonder beans. Or do I just sound like that about everything? Sigh.
But here’s the truth: I COULD QUIT ANYTIME. I could. Really. And not even in the junkie-in-the-gutter SERIOUSLY I COULD DROP IT LIKE THAT kind of addiction, but rather the I CHOOSE TO ENJOY IT THIS MUCH kind of fondness. Part of the appeal of coffee for me is that it’s helpful — caffeine is a great bronchiodilator, and I’m both allergy-prone and asthmatic. Studies have also shown some drop in risks for certain types of cancer, but I snuff out those benefits with my other risk factors… huzzah!
I could stop drinking it tomorrow. I might be a little drowsy without the caffeine at first (I wouldn’t sub in other forms), but it’s entirely possible. In fact, someone once bet me I couldn’t go ten days without a cup, and I went 40, no problem. AND I got $300 bucks. Silly people. The only things I’m REALLY addicted to are showering in the morning, and taking off my shoes. Make me wear shoes all the time and go three days without showering? Then I’m a quivering, gelatinous mess. Count on it.
2. I can’t make it all the way through an iPod playlist. I just can’t. I wear out the battery on my iPod bouncing around like a ninny between songs, albums, playlists, and making On-The-Go playlists that I don’t make it all the way through, either. I use the stuff on my iPod in so many ways in the course of a day: as a motivator; as a time machine; as a relaxer; as perfect background; as a momentary dance band; and as an enhancer of already good moments.
I love having access to something that touches me emotionally EVERY SECOND OF THE DAY. Who needs a husband? WAIT, NO! I WAS JUST KIDDING!
3. It’s officially flip flop season around here. And even if it isn’t, IT IS. I’ve been rocking them for two weeks, and it’s been a bit touch and go, but I’m a happier girl when my toes are free to breathe. Yes, I own boots and shoes. Yes, I could survive in a colder climate. BUT WHY? WHY DO IT? TOES!
Eventually I’ll end up in California, at my little cottage near the beach. And then my system will acclimatize, and I’ll end up wearing boots and a sweater when the temperature drops below 10 C.
4. Speaking of colder climates, I’ll be attending my brother’s wedding this weekend in… wait for it… Yellowknife. Will I freeze to death? Potentially. Especially since he’s marrying the lovely Carey in a SNOW CASTLE. OR ICE CASTLE. OR COLD CASTLE OF SOME VARIETY.
Yes, that’s right. I’ll lose blood to my extremities as my brother pledges his life to another. I don’t know how that’s ironic, but I’m sure Alanis can figure it out for me.
5. Speaking of Alanis, is there some sort of time limit on when long hair is a good idea? Hers is LONG. Not Crystal Gayle long, but long for someone in this era who doesn’t collect faceless dolls or smell of patchouli. Although she might smell of patchouli. Only her friends know for sure.
I don’t.
But I do have long hair. And I think it looks fine. I mean, many Hollywood actresses much older than me have flowing locks, and no one thinks twice. Then again, I’m not a Hollywood actress. I’m a writer. And not in Hollywood. I can’t decide. Is it time to give up length for bounce and a responsible, soccer-mom-esque look?
Last time I cut my hair drastically, my response was so annoying my roommate officially bans me from doing it again. Not that this ban would REALLY stop me if I was REALLY committed, but if I came home whining, it could be the end of days for Meg.
6. M&Ms with nuts in them always taste stale. Why would I want chocolate and candy-coated stale and boring? That’s like putting Lou Dobbs in an Elvis jumpsuit and inviting people to buy it by the bagful.
7. I’m still dealing with the mental image from no. 6.
8. I’m losing my desire to eat. Isn’t that weird? I mean, I still love food, I just think about it about 75% less and have no idea what I want to eat until ten minutes before I eat it. It might be a hormonal thing, it might be an I’VE EATEN ALL OF THIS. SOMETHING NEW PLEASE? kind of thing, or it might just be that I’m growing more fickle by the moment and hate to be pinned down to a menu.
Or I’m just weird. Should I just default to that explanation?
9. My head is so full of things to write about that I’m almost unable to write these days. A lot of them are things I don’t normally write about here that might engender different reactions and discussions than I’ve ever had here. Some of them probably surprising. I’m not totally sure I’m ready for that step, though I know it’s an eventual reality.
And it’s not the fear of being disliked that stops me — in fact, the people I know would disagree are people who a) love me; b) aren’t going anywhere; c) can handle it. Funny thing, though… that’s exactly what stops me. I don’t mind sparring with people when my truest heart isn’t involved, but I find it difficult to risk offending the people I love. Even though I know they’re really not going anywhere.
Maybe it’s the lack of rejection that makes me so conscious of being worthy of that kind of devotion.
There, Alanis. There’s some irony for you.
Or maybe I have insecurities that I haven’t quite dealt with. Maybe I don’t trust unconditional love as much as I claim to.
At the end of the day (and other points in the day, but everyone starts sentences like this), I guess the evolution of my life/character/ideas over the past few years has created conundrums I never really faced before. I know what it’s like to lose things you took for granted.
So I’m trying not to do that anymore. Loss is not something I want to run headlong into at this point, since there’s enough of it that comes to me without prompting already.
And it hurts.
Wait, am I lying on a couch right now? Is someone taking notes?
Good thing I said I would stop at nine, huh?
I wasn’t going to write a Friday Love List today.
Then my old friend Jen (Jen is not old… well, she’s old if I am, since we’re the same age) emailed me and said she could use one.
Sigh.
Jen, in all honesty, I’m not feeling the most loving today. In fact, I have a hate on for my sinuses and a few other things I won’t really get into at this point (though none of them are people, and any one of them could change on a dime.)
This makes me struggle a little more than usual with the List.
But I guess I should smarten up, mmm?
Or go kick someone’s ass. That’s kind of cathartic. Illegal, but cathartic.
*cough*
Without further ado:
THINGS I LOVE MORE THAN I WOULD LOVE KICKING SOMEONE’S ASS RIGHT NOW
Bits and Bites (Meli Melo!)
My lemon cuticle salve (also? the word “cuticle”, but definitely not “salve”)
Reassurance
Yoga balls
A good dream you remember
Haiku
Clapping in glee
Emails that encourage
Men who appreciate curves. And I mean real ones, not supermodel ones (know the difference between a coverlet and a duvet, people)
Laughing until I feel kind of queasy but awesome
Men who can fix things
STET
Perfect hair days
Big watches on men
Private jokes with your favourite people
Big leather bags, perfectly broken in
Black tank tops
Getting the copier to staple it FOR you
My iPod Touch
Salmon sashimi
White teapots
Clementines
Straight-up regulation-time hockey victories
Cashmere
Shea butter soap
Garlic naan
Ira Glass (still)
Sunshine on the way to work
Sunshine on the way home from work
Black coffee
Goat cheese
The Irish
Soft pants
Babies so cute you just want to EAT them!
Memories of rollerskating
Giant knuckle-sized rings
Men who wear pink shirts
Rick Astley
Cherry-chili chocolate (Ch-Ch-Ch-Chia!)
Beaker
Bunnies
Bacon
Jeans and heels
Nerd glasses on nerd boys (no pretenders!)
Bunnies wrapped in bacon (KIDDING!)
Perfect hooks in pop songs
Consistency
Gold hoops
Learning about new people
Learning something new about someone you already know
White v-neck shirts
Lemon Meringue Pie
As always, feel free to leave a list of your own in the comments, or pop one up on your own blog!
I think I was born with opinions.
Seems like baby opinions would be pretty basic.
Food is good.
Gas is bad.
Dry diapers are good.
Loud noises are bad.
Warm is good.
Being picked up is good.
Sleep is good.
I like that stupid face you make.
No, the other one. The blue fuzzy one. Yes.
And I’m sure I had all that going on. But I honestly can’t remember a time when I didn’t have a set of giant, passionate convictions ruling my mind and my heart… and my mouth.
Even in my crib. Even when I could barely walk. Even when I was standing in a sandbox in muddy shorts and rainbow flip flops. Even when I was just three feet high and rising.
Even if it was just CLOWNS ARE BAD or BEDTIME SHOULD NOT BE A LAW, I was green-eyed willful and vocal from the beginning. No crib could hold me down.
My convictions are a little different at 33 (though I still struggle with bedtime and clowns), but instead of just frustrating my mother or bewildering my teachers or making people laugh with their sheer force, now they take on the world.
They come out in rushes. They demand a response. They start and win (or lose) arguments. They push buttons. They get my heart pounding. And they make my life complicated.
Things I feel spiritually.
Things I feel politically.
Things I feel socially.
Things I just FEEL that defy characterization, but generate no less passion than the rest.
Sometimes I think pure idealism fuels that fire, but I know that certain things come from a cynical place inside me, too. From being disappointed. From watching other people struggle. From keeping my eyes open to the world around me.
Still, at the very core, I want things to be better. Not perfect, mind you, because perfect is both impossible in most cases (and often undesirable to me.)
But good. Healthy. Right. True.
But the more time I spend talking with people about their convictions, the more I realize that I really haven’t completely thought through what defines good, healthy, right, and true for me.
I mean, I obviously believe the things I say, but why? I’ll defend them with fire and fury, but how much do I really know about what I’m saying? How much consideration comes before I open my mouth? How much digging did I do before I laid a foundation?
And do I even think what I’ve always thought anymore?
I’ve still been sharing my opinions, but I’ve been doing more listening, too. And it’s humbling to learn that passion isn’t always my best friend, my best attribute. Sometimes it’s just a set of earplugs or a blindfold that allows me to see the world the way I want to see it, not how it really is.
That’s kind of scary for a former debate champion.
I was taught that facts should underlie arguments, that evidence should provide conclusions, that your response had to anticipate the rebuttal.
You should know, because bluffing only gets you so far.
But in some ways, I’ve been bluffing for a long time with shaky definitions of “fact” and “reason”.
And I don’t want to anymore.
I want to learn what I don’t know, rather than assuming I’m on track enough to keep the train from crashing.
I want to ask if I don’t know, rather than assuming I can generate the answers on my own.
Now the main conviction I have left is that none of us can afford to talk without listening anymore.
None of us can afford to be unaware of what other people believe.
None of us can afford to fear “the other side” so deeply that we shout into the divide.
None of us can know until we ask the questions, and wait for the answers.
I’m still as passionate as I ever was, and I still hand talk like I’m trying to whip up a hurricane. I still can’t back up everything I say with anything other than my gut. And I do trust my gut, don’t get me wrong.
But I’m learning to be as passionate about learning your story as I am about sharing my own.
And that results in silence sometimes.
And that? Is the kind of conviction I can live with.
Okay, okay, so I had some love left.
But this sinus infection stuff is enough to make you kick at fluffy bunnies and take candy from children and ask Starbucks employees for a “double double.”
I figured I’d wait until Sunday rolled around and check out my love levels then… and lo, miracle of miracles, here I am to pour out my reserves for you.
(Perhaps — as with a sinking canoe — the more love I bail, the more will come to replace it.)
If you’re here checking out a Love List for the first time, here’s how it works: I tell you things I love based on a theme (or not), and then you share your loves on that same theme (or not) in the comments or at your own blog (or not.)
Clearly there’s a ton of freedom within the system.
Also, beware: my sinus medication tends to make me think I’m funny when I’m not, much like a microphone.
But without further ado:
THINGS I LOVE WHEN I FEEL LIKE CRAP
(And if you don’t feel like crap right now, try and remember a time when you did. Because heaven knows, that’s a great mental exercise…)
My chair-and-a-half of love
Not cooking
Showers that leave me the colour of a sunburned beet
Old-school crappy sitcoms
Lemon and honey water
The ever-comforting sight and sound of Bill Kurtis
True crime shows on A & E (see above)
Cheerleader ponytails
Soul music
House-flipping and real estate shows (Waaaaay better with Benadryl)
Candles that smell citrusy and clean
Cadbury Creme Eggs (I KNOW they’re gross. I do. But I accept that about them.)
Deep, meaningful sighs
Text and IM, since they don’t involve actually using my voice
Soft pants
Origins Peace of Mind On-The-Spot relief
Looking at the time around 10 pm and thinking WHOA, IT’S LATE
Not hearing the words “neti pot”
Foot massages (not that I get any of these, dammit)
Anything truly, achingly spicy
Hooded sweatshirts
Sitting just slightly propped up with a blank expression
Kleenex with lotion
My personal space X 2
The “failing, yet flushed” complexion
The moment after a really fabulous sneeze
Garlic mashed potatoes
Ira Glass (I think I’m just going to put him in all my lists from now on)
Girl magazines (Allure, InStyle, Real Simple)
The entertaining way my sinuses creak like an old house in the sunshine
And you?
This morning, when I got on the bus, I was the only person standing.
Which is cool… I don’t mind standing, because I sit most of the day, and also?
Squishing up to people is kind of meh on the best of days.
But my standalone moment was not to last, because another woman got on and walked the length of the bus to STAND DIRECTLY NEXT TO ME.
Not, you know, a couple feet away.
Or even a couple INCHES.
In fact, her bag was digging into my side from the second she arrived.
So I stepped away from her to occupy ALL THE ROOM THAT WAS LEFT to avoid the bag-poke, and do you know what she did?
She moved with me. And came in even MORE closely. Now there was something extra-pointy protruding from her bag into my side, and I had nowhere to go to avoid it.
Every bump we hit? POKE!
Every corner? STAB!
The whole trip? OW!
Even when I would try and angle my body a different way to reduce the poke, she would follow me and YIKES!
Eventually, I turned to her (with a kind smile, assuming the best) and said, “Oooh, I think there’s a little something that might be about to poke out of your bag, there.” and pointed at this THING that was leaving dents in my flesh.
She turned to me, smiled (with eerily unwavering eye contact), and said, “Oh, yes. Those are my shears.”
No moving the bag.
No apology.
No breaking her gaze.
“Oh, okay — just didn’t want you to lose them if they poked right out of your bag.”
At this point she shuffles in CLOSER. OW.
“I think they’re safe.”
“Great.”
At that point, I finally just went to stand at the front of the bus, so she and her poky bits could have their space.
She continued to stare at me until another man got on the bus, and her face lit up. He headed down the aisle past me, and within moments, I saw him jump and touch his side.
Yes.
Public transit IS awesome.
Remember: the point is not to waffle, my Belgian friends. The point is to CHOOSE your preference. And no, it doesn’t have to reflect the reality of your life right now.
(See “either or” to your right for more Choose Ye fun…)
***
Car or truck?
Get advice or go it alone?
House or apartment?
Bath or shower?
To be or not to be?
Swim or no swim?
City or suburb or rural?
Mac or PC?
Black and white or colour photos?
Email or snail mail?
Married or common-law?
Drive fast, or speed limit?
Build a career or have a job?
Lego or Barbie?
Warm bedroom or cool bedroom?
Kids or no kids?
Dance or sit it out?
Speak now, or forever hold your peace?
Fight or flight?
Hunt or gather?
Sing or not?
Use the manual or hope for the best?
Climb the tree or stay on the ground?
Push or pull?
CAKE OR DEATH?
I love those little “Under Construction” images people put on unfinished websites.
And when I say love, what I really mean is loathe.
Not because I don’t support construction workers — heaven knows, someone needs to face the ever-present threat of rebar impalement and IT’S NOT GOING TO BE ME — but because people tend to leave those images up FOREVER.
MONTHS.
YEARS.
As though some tiny cartoon crew continues to dig holes endlessly behind the scenes and take tiny cartoon breaks where they eat from tiny cartoon lunchboxes and ogle tiny cartoon women walking by.
Wait. That’s awesome. I’m putting up a GIF right now.
BUT.
I’ve been so inconsistent about posting lately that I considered putting up a tiny cartoon dude today just to be ironic (or annoying, which is what people become when they consciously try for irony.) But I didn’t, since I can’t really afford cartoon labour insurance.
What AM I talking about?
Oh, yeah. I haven’t been posting much lately.
Which is the OTHER MOST ANNOYING THING SOMEONE CAN POST ON A WEBSITE.
“Sorry! I’ve been super busy lately!”
“Oops, just catching up! Will post soon!”
“I’ve got some posts in the pipeline I’m working on… please come back soon!”
I mean, true, true…. some people are so popular in terms of readership that no one can go longer than a day without hearing from them.
But, save for my dad and his love of “Refresh”, I think everyone is okay if I take a wee break now and then to do what I do when I’m not doing this.
Which is:
1. Sleep, kind of. Sometimes.
2. Eat, kind of. Sometimes.
3. Work. Definitely.
4. Write. See 3 and 5.
5. Laugh. Frequently.
And cookingsingingdancingrunningaroundlikeachickenwithmyheadcutoff.
You know?
I’m kind of up to my neck in life, but that’s no excuse not to tread water like a good girl and tell you how everything is going down.
So!
Here are my four goals and obsessions as of late:
1. California! April! YES! Still working out a schedule with the lovely Eric but I MUST GET TO THE PALM TREES. And L.A. And penguins. All of which are unrelated (but also related.) I. cannot. wait. I need to renew my freckle count and see waves.
2. MacBook Pro! I have to upgrade. I use my computer too often not to. And as a friend was saying to me the other day, “I feel like you’re lacking the technology you need to do the big things.” And to you, my friend, I say YES. But as with Lawrence’s Rocking Horse Winner, “there must be more money!” Which I am also working on. Because that’s how you make money, unless you inherit it or steal it, neither of which really seems an option at this point.
3. Wedding! My brother is getting married in Yellowknife (yes, you read that right) at the mid-end of this month, and… wait for it… the ceremony is in a SNOW CASTLE. So I have to figure out how to pack for both a nice dinner reception and FREEZING TO DEATH LIKE THE TASTIEST MORSEL IN THE DONNER PARTY.
4. Self-marketing. I’m still working on this. I suck at it. Truly. (AND IF YOU ARE LOOKING TO HIRE ME, HELLO! I WRITE. CAN I WRITE FOR YOU? FOR MONEY? HI! I HAVE MANY WORDS TO CHOOSE FROM!) But I think I could get better at it if I just started operating more professionally and effectively, rather than exceedingly casually. And Other Words That End in “LY”.
(Irony: The first time I published this, I forgot to bold the words “Self Marketing”.)
But enough about me.
How are you?
