happy halloweenie

hansel und gretel oder irische lesbier?

Hansel and Gretel or Irish Lesbians?

watch this

Bring it back

Although this particular blog is relatively new, I am not new to the blogging world.
I first started blogging when I was 18 and living in Whistler in 2003 under an alias I won't mention because if you typed it into a search engine, my old blog may come up, and we wouldn't want that. I blogged my way through at least half of my Whistler stay and all of my nine months of European adventures, and although I no longer remember my log in information, my electronic journal is still out there in the world of cyber, circling around (is that what things on the internet do? circle around?), probably never to be read again. While I am a little ashamed of some of the things I chose to share with complete strangers, there are a few gems on said blog and so, I've decided to give y'all an occasional taste of who I was when I was 18-20. In no particular order.

Tuesday, March 15, 2005 (after recently having returned home to the Sunshine Coast after being in the UK for the better part of a year)

Planet Earth, Milky Way, Universe...etc.etc....
Today I started my new job. I am now officially an employee in the garden centre at Canadian Tire, Wilson Creek, Sechelt, British Columbia, Canada, North America, Northern Hemisphere, Planet Earth, Milky Way, The Universe...and whatever else goes beyond that, because that can't really be it can it?

This is my first step to saving money to go to another part of this 'one and only' Planet Earth, Milky Way, Universe...etcetera, etcetera... Although with my wage starting at only $8.10/hr and them 'never hiring full time' I'm not sure how realistic my goal is for September of this year.

I got to Wilson Creek early due to the fact that the local buses do not cater to my needs and found myself sitting in the plaza of the Inernational Grocers Association (more commonly known as IGA) outside the local coffee shop. I sat there, non fat, large latte in hand, listening to Bob Dylan sing about...I don't remember what he was singing about, and let my mind wander, as I often do. I was thinking about...I don't remember what I was thinking about, when I noticed the bees. Or Bee, singular, rather.
Next to my right foot sat a pot of flowers. I should probably be able to tell you what kind of flowers they were see as I work in the garden center and should now be an expert, but, my mind was not geared the same way that it is now, 10 hours later. I watched this bee frantically going from flower to flower, transferring pollen as if it's life depended on it. Did it know that my life depended on it, I wondered?
Do bees know that the whole world depends on them?
Do they know that they are serving a purpose?
Do they realise that if they did not pollinate then there would be no world as we know it?
Or are they only doing it for one purpose, to make honey?
(Which, ultimately seems to be for us anyway).
Do they actually eat the honey?
Or is it for the bears?
Do these little creatures do anything for themselves?
Or are they completely selfless?
Does everything serve a greater purpose other than living for themselves?
Even humans?
Maybe everything we do, the fact that I just put my coffee mug down, the way I just shuffled to the right to make myself more comfortable, serves some greater purpose in the universe. Maybe everything we do is driven by something other than instinct and intuition, some greater power and I don't mean God, because if we didn't take that extra step to the right, the world would end.
The survival of the Universe and the etcetera etcetera may depend on this little planet and me, and the bees, and the honey. The thought that so much could possibly be riding on my shoulders is kind of scary. What if I do something wrong? But maybe I'm supposed to make a mistake. Maybe I'm supposed to fuck up because if I did everything perfectly, then maybe we wouldn't exist. So, maybe what I do wrong, I'm actually doing right?

I looked at the book that I had in my hand in mock-peruse, How To Be Good by Nick Hornby, and thought, "Do I really need to learn how to be good, or is it already in me. Natural instinct?"
I placed it down on the cold metal table and looked around. People brushed passed me like worker bees, doing their job, because something other than their brains were telling them to. Then I crossed my legs, uncrossed them, crossed them again, because it felt natural. Then I picked up my coffee, turned up my music to who knows what, and drank like the survival of the universe and what lay beyond depended on it, because who knows, maybe it does.

Who's got talent?

Who knew there even was an 'Ukraine's got talent'?
This girl won the most recent contest by preforming live, a sand animation of the invasion of The Ukraine in WWII.
Ukraine HAS got talent.

>

riley was here

cheats at puzzles

I knew I was running the risk of ruining our friendship when I got Allie a job at my work. People warned me but I heeded none and proceeded to tell my boss she was the best candidate for the position.
What a mistake that was.
I now fucking hate the bitch.
Best friends no more.

Top ten reasons why I hate Allison Ainslie:

1). Smells
2). Lazy
3). Mouth breather
4). Bad taste in food, music, and life.
5). Ugly
6). Girthy
7). Wench
8). Slut
9). Self centered
10). Cheats at puzzles

Basically she all round sucks at life.
I can't surround myself with people who are going to hold me back any longer.
I need to soar.
As Chanel once said "Yeah man, you gotta cut the fat."
So Allie-san, this is it.
It's over.
I will cut up our photos, light them on fire, and flush them down the toilet along with our memories.

Oh yeah, and she steals.

Okay. I was lying. Except number 10. She definitely cheats at puzzles. So does Tara.

She did steal a pen she liked from work once. Then I stole it from her. Who's the bigger criminal? The one who steals office supplies, or the one who steals from her best friend?

Allie-san is top notch, best friend material. We work and play together and I have not yet gotten sick of my fine feathered friend. (I can't speak for her. I annoy myself most of the time so I can only imagine how she feels being stuck with me for 8 hrs plus a day) In fact, I haven't gotten sick of any of my friends.

A while back, I decided I needed to tighten up my social circle. "Cut the fat" as previously mentioned. I did this by not calling people, and only keeping my real close friends around. I now currently have about half a dozen people I hang out with, and I like it that way. It's easier to spend quality time with people when you're not spreading yourself thin.

Remember when you were in grade school and you ranked your best friends?
"Well, Sally is my first best friend, and Julie is my second best friend, and you're my third best friend."
What a way to make an eight year old feel like shit. Nobody wanted to be the third best friend. I remember I was once told I was someone's eleventh best friend. That stung. We are still friends to this day, but I doubt she remembers that specific conversation. I don't hold it against her.

And so, this is yet another thing I'm thankful for this beautiful fall day we call Thanksgiving. My friends. You know who you are.Particularly the besties. You make my life worth living. Sap fest. But for real. You make me complete. I love you all so much. And I know you love me too.

It's a really good feeling, to be loved.

Thanks for that.

waack you

So, I just can't get enough of these people.
Tara Hare wants to take classes.
Ya she does!

stuff i like. i like stuff.

My friend Kate Swaney is friends with these people.
They are really cool.
I wish I was this cool.
The second one is stopmotion. All photographs.
Again,
how cool?!?

help wanted

There is nothing worse than dreaming about work. Last night, maybe due to all the cheese I ate at a party, I could not stop dreaming about binding books. I was binding, and binding, and binding, and then it turned out I had bound a bunch of books together, and I had to unbind, separate, and bind again.
I think I need a new job.

LOVE

Today is Canadian Thanksgiving. For those of you who know how much I love fall, you'll also know how much I love Thanksgiving.

Growing up, Thanksgiving in our house was mostly a huge family jam. We usually wound up going to Galiano to my grandparent's house with the rest of the family. The cousins would spend the day playing croquet in my grandparents mushy back yard (the backyard of their (then) restaurant was always super swampy) and then we'd come in for a huge feast cooked by my cuisinely apt mother, uncles and or grandmother, usually opting for ham instead of the traditional turkey. In later years, as a teenager, we would end up in Oliver at my uncle's orchard. My two uncles had made some sort of deal in that one of them bought industrial apple juice making equipment which he traded unlimited use for unlimited apples and so it was a festival indeed. The most amazing apple juice is the apple juice you get when placing your glass beneath the spout of an industrial apple press. There was drinking, there was eating, there was laughing and lots of arguing (my family is never short on something to say to get someone going). Needless to say, our thanksgivings had everything a thanksgiving would require short of a cornucopia.

This year, my parents and I were going to Oliver and Tara was coming with us. It was going to be great. But then, one of Tara's staff contracted what could possibly be swine flu and so Tara had to cover and our plans were thwarted.

So she and I are on the coast.

It's beautiful.

We've been invited to Johanna's house for Turkey dinner. Friends were concerned I wouldn't be with family for the big day, but they don't understand the extent of my family.

I grew up in a very small very tight knit community and I've only just begun to realise how unique and unusual my upbringing was. Not just in the way my parents raised me (which in itself was something to write home about), but also in the "it takes a community to raise a child" attitude in my small seaside town.
My parents friends were not just "my parents friends", nor were their children "my parents friends kids".

They are my brothers, my sisters, my cousins, aunts and uncles.
They are my family.
We are old school creek (none of this new age trust fun hippy shit that seems to be happening in my beloved home town).

We stick together.

And it was because of this that I knew there would be no problem getting invited for turkey dinner tonight because there was no way any of them would let me be alone for Thanksgiving.
And this is what I'm thankful for this year. My family. They say blood is thicker than water, and although there is no blood here, there is something just as thick. My heart swells for all of you.

I love you all.

Thank you.

just so

When I was a kid, my family (mainly my mum) was really into books on tape. We had everything from Mozart's "The Magic Flute" to a story about a boy who could talk to whales (who's title has escaped me). When I was 17, we went on another (as always) "Searle family road trip" ('destination vacation' was a regular activity in my family, my mother choosing a different remote location for us to trip up a mountain and either rent a cabin, or camp for every holiday you can think of) across this great nation of ours, and we listened to the entire 4th book in the Harry Potter Series (The Goblet of Fire), read by Jim Dale. My dad got so into the tapes (of which there were 11, double sided), that when we reached a camp ground, nobody was allowed to get out of the car, and he would not turn off the engine, until a chapter break.

Another book on tape that my mum found somewhere was "The Elephant's Child" by Rudyard Kippling, narrarated by Jack Nicholson with music and sounds effects by Bobby McFerrin. Last year sometime, I conjured up the memory of this story and decided to look for it. It took me ages to find, and none of my friends had ever heard of it (same goes for most things I had or did when I was a child). I finally located the torrent and downloaded it, but I also found this video on youtube in three parts.
If this doesn't make you smile, I don't know what will.
Narrarated by Jack Nicholson, Music and sound effects my Bobby McFerrin and illustrations by Tim Raglin.

lipo?

This morning, Allie said to me, "Woah! Gastric bypass?"
Apparently my shirt is slimming
Thank you Allie-san for boosting my confidence?

sometimes i'd like to watch myself explode

This is my horoscope according to Ion Magazine.

You are like a floating Esso gas station located on a lake. Boats use you to refill their tanks before heading back out for more non-stop water sports action. You're charming. People without boats look at you from the shore and daydream about what it would be like to be onboard, but they can't help thinking how awesome it would look if you were to explode.

Woah. What does that even MEAN?

Did Tara sing 'Soul Man'?
I wouldn't know.
I wasn't there.
BAAAAIIILLL OOOUUUT

writing for children episode 2

A timed exercises with prompts.
Write about a disastrous family picnic.
Prompts:
1). Uncle Billy's toupee flew off.
2). The ants got into the mayonnaise
3). (someone/thing) ended up in the lake.

__________________________________________________________

Drake threw the checkered table cloth on the lush green grass and on top of that, the potato and pasta salads and condiments for the hot dogs that were soon to be cooked on the grill. Then the napkins were placed smack dab in the centre of the makeshift table.
Drake turned his back to grab the cutlery, when a huge gust of wind came along and picked up the corner of the table cloth, upturned the salads and condiments and blew the napkins in every direction. Everyone ran to help clean the mess when another gust came out of nowhere, and uncle Billy's toupee flew off. It glided through the air and into a nearby willow tree. Billy stood frozen to the spot. Nobody knew he was bald. Not even Aunt Nancy and they'd been married fifteen years.
while everyone stood in shock, the ants came. They scurried so quietly that nobody noticed until cousin Mikey shouted, "Quick! The ants are in the mayonnaise!"
Uncle Billy used the momentary distraction caused by the insects to make a dash for his toupee, hoping he could go unnoticed. He grabbed at the branch which was holding his hair captive. He held on tight and reached. Just then, the branch slipped out of his hand, whipping upwards and launching his treasured possession into the air. His toupee landed in the lake and Billy dove in after it.
And I sat in my car seat and observed the whole event wondering if, when I grew up, I would be just like them.