23.2.10
22.2.10
a letter to winter
Dear Winter;
Okay dude, jokes over. Where are you? We invited you to visit, and you never showed. You just left us hanging and even you, as icy as you can be, have to admit that that's pretty rude. Now Spring has shown up all early and is pushing herself on us (you know how she can be, in like a lion) and you just know that she's going to overstay her welcome, forcing Summer to come late and leave early because it's well known that Summers a pushover and nobody wants to piss Autumn off. Man, you've thrown everything out of whack.
We prepared ourselves for you; laid the table if you will. Some changed their tires, others picked moth balls from wool sweaters, while others still (myself included) dusted off and waxed skis and boards in anticipation of the copious amounts of snow you were supposed to throw on the mountains.
There were signs. Whispers of your supposed arrival. You teased us with icy fingers in the mornings and even put frost on our breath for a few days. There was snow in autumn, forcing the mountains to open early. It was going to be a good one. But then we blinked, and winter was all but a dream and now girls are wearing skirts and the cherry blossoms are confused.
Winter, I know sometimes you don't always feel welcome. Some people complain about the cold shoulder and your more than often icy attitude. I will admit, you can be a bit hauty, but I've never had a problem with you.These complainers are the people who are hard to please; the ones who are never happy. Please don't let them discourage you.
I miss you, Winter. I miss icy mornings and the muffling effect of the snow, making everything so peaceful.I miss big sweaters and wool hats and mittens. I even miss cold fingers. Some people say I'm crazy, Winter. Some wonder how I could love someone like you. Sometimes I think even you wonder how anyone could love someone so apathetic. But, what can I say, Winter, you move me. You move me in a way that only you and Summer can and also maybe that special someone.
So, Winter, next time you decide that you're not going to show up, maybe give us the ol' heads up? I think a mandatory RSVP is in order from now on so we know what to expect. Because, my long lost friend, when you don't show up, it turns my whole world upside down. I've lived somewhere where you never go, and, it was no fun. I don't want to have to move again. I don't want to chase you. Who wants to be in a one sided relationship anyway?
Well, Winter, I hope you're safe and having fun wherever you are. Maybe you and summer are spending a much needed vacation together. I know you rarely get to visit. Have some laughs, a few drinks, but please, whatever you do, Winter, DO NOT hold her up because if Summer also does not show up for her annual visit, I will be FURIOUS.
Much love,
Always your's,
Mikhaila XO
Okay dude, jokes over. Where are you? We invited you to visit, and you never showed. You just left us hanging and even you, as icy as you can be, have to admit that that's pretty rude. Now Spring has shown up all early and is pushing herself on us (you know how she can be, in like a lion) and you just know that she's going to overstay her welcome, forcing Summer to come late and leave early because it's well known that Summers a pushover and nobody wants to piss Autumn off. Man, you've thrown everything out of whack.
We prepared ourselves for you; laid the table if you will. Some changed their tires, others picked moth balls from wool sweaters, while others still (myself included) dusted off and waxed skis and boards in anticipation of the copious amounts of snow you were supposed to throw on the mountains.
There were signs. Whispers of your supposed arrival. You teased us with icy fingers in the mornings and even put frost on our breath for a few days. There was snow in autumn, forcing the mountains to open early. It was going to be a good one. But then we blinked, and winter was all but a dream and now girls are wearing skirts and the cherry blossoms are confused.
(crocuses in February, Winter? Not funny!)
Winter, I know sometimes you don't always feel welcome. Some people complain about the cold shoulder and your more than often icy attitude. I will admit, you can be a bit hauty, but I've never had a problem with you.These complainers are the people who are hard to please; the ones who are never happy. Please don't let them discourage you.
I miss you, Winter. I miss icy mornings and the muffling effect of the snow, making everything so peaceful.I miss big sweaters and wool hats and mittens. I even miss cold fingers. Some people say I'm crazy, Winter. Some wonder how I could love someone like you. Sometimes I think even you wonder how anyone could love someone so apathetic. But, what can I say, Winter, you move me. You move me in a way that only you and Summer can and also maybe that special someone.
So, Winter, next time you decide that you're not going to show up, maybe give us the ol' heads up? I think a mandatory RSVP is in order from now on so we know what to expect. Because, my long lost friend, when you don't show up, it turns my whole world upside down. I've lived somewhere where you never go, and, it was no fun. I don't want to have to move again. I don't want to chase you. Who wants to be in a one sided relationship anyway?
Well, Winter, I hope you're safe and having fun wherever you are. Maybe you and summer are spending a much needed vacation together. I know you rarely get to visit. Have some laughs, a few drinks, but please, whatever you do, Winter, DO NOT hold her up because if Summer also does not show up for her annual visit, I will be FURIOUS.
Much love,
Always your's,
Mikhaila XO
my "beef" or "what grinds my gears"
So I've been emersed in the Olympic stuff for the last week (naturally...who hasn't been?) and I've come across something that I need to get off my chest. It's something that gets to me every Olympics but I get too wrapped up in watching hockey and half pipe that I forget to express myself once the excitement dies down. This time round, however, I'm pretty deep into this blogging business and therefore have an outlet for which to get my ever important opinion in the open (which, if you know me well, you know I'll find a way to do anyway).
I've always thought that the point of the Olympics was to represent your country. And by your country, I mean, the country you were born in or at least the one in which you were raised from an early age. I personally believe (and have discussed this with others who feel the same way) that the athletes along with their coaches, choreographers (for skating) AND training grounds should be of the country from which they hail. It's only right is it not?
For example, the figure skating Reed siblings, Cathy, Chris and Allison. The Reeds' mother is Japanese, and their father is American. They were raised in the USA. Chris and Cathy (ages 20 and 22 respectively) skate for Japan. Their younger sister, Allison (age 15), skates for Georgia. All three train in New Jersey, Chris and Allison skating as a pair with a Russian coach (Nikolai Morozov) and Allison with a Ukrainian coach (Evgeny Platov) and a Georgian partner (Otar Japaridze). How does that even work? They are American, they live in America, they should have American coaches and American partners. This is just how it should be. Otherwise, I don't feel they're competing for the right reasons. They're not trying to make their country proud, it becomes a selfish medal race. Or how about Dale Begg-Smith? The Canadian skier skiing for Australia under an American coach? Even Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir (who I absolutley love and have become recently obsessed with), the Canadian ice dance gold medal hopefuls, train in Michigan with a Russian coach along side a competing American team. To me, this is just not how it should be. For the rest of the regular season, compete for whomever, wherever your heart desires but come Olympics, make your country proud! Our imported NHL hockey players all go home to Europe and so should our figure skaters and skiers come home to us (or wherever they're from) and be trained by home grown coaches.
Phew!
Glad I got that off my chest.
Now I'm going to go watch Moir and Virtue get the first Canadian gold ever in ice dancing.
GO CANADA
I've always thought that the point of the Olympics was to represent your country. And by your country, I mean, the country you were born in or at least the one in which you were raised from an early age. I personally believe (and have discussed this with others who feel the same way) that the athletes along with their coaches, choreographers (for skating) AND training grounds should be of the country from which they hail. It's only right is it not?
For example, the figure skating Reed siblings, Cathy, Chris and Allison. The Reeds' mother is Japanese, and their father is American. They were raised in the USA. Chris and Cathy (ages 20 and 22 respectively) skate for Japan. Their younger sister, Allison (age 15), skates for Georgia. All three train in New Jersey, Chris and Allison skating as a pair with a Russian coach (Nikolai Morozov) and Allison with a Ukrainian coach (Evgeny Platov) and a Georgian partner (Otar Japaridze). How does that even work? They are American, they live in America, they should have American coaches and American partners. This is just how it should be. Otherwise, I don't feel they're competing for the right reasons. They're not trying to make their country proud, it becomes a selfish medal race. Or how about Dale Begg-Smith? The Canadian skier skiing for Australia under an American coach? Even Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir (who I absolutley love and have become recently obsessed with), the Canadian ice dance gold medal hopefuls, train in Michigan with a Russian coach along side a competing American team. To me, this is just not how it should be. For the rest of the regular season, compete for whomever, wherever your heart desires but come Olympics, make your country proud! Our imported NHL hockey players all go home to Europe and so should our figure skaters and skiers come home to us (or wherever they're from) and be trained by home grown coaches.
Phew!
Glad I got that off my chest.
Now I'm going to go watch Moir and Virtue get the first Canadian gold ever in ice dancing.
GO CANADA
21.2.10
an anecdote from allison (in a little wordier fashion)
dance machine
And last night was one for the drunken dancing. Tara and I decided it would be a good idea to start drinking beer at 3. Drunk by 5, we had a dance party in her living room just the two of us, ate some soup, went for a walk downtown on which I fell and tore my knee (and ego) to shreds (go me) and braved the masses. Tara left and I wound up staying out until 6am dancing at the Chromeo after party. I was the last (wo)man standing at the end of the night (or beginning of the morning) and took a thirty dollar, ten dollar solo cab ride home (should have been ten, wound up being thirty due to broken bank machines). How's that for olympic spirit?
Now I'm up and on the little sleep I did manage to catch, Allie (and possible Tara Hare) and I are going to go break in my new picnic basket (birthday present from mum) somewhere by the seashore. I think it's going to be a photo shoot day. I just wish we had bocce and big floppy hats.
Sunday funday!
Now I'm up and on the little sleep I did manage to catch, Allie (and possible Tara Hare) and I are going to go break in my new picnic basket (birthday present from mum) somewhere by the seashore. I think it's going to be a photo shoot day. I just wish we had bocce and big floppy hats.
Sunday funday!
18.2.10
sober partying
There's something to be said for sober dancing. A few things actually; you don't look like a fool, fending off predators is a more achievable feat, people are astounded at your "drunken dexterity" (that is, if you choose not to let on that you are the straightest person in the bar), there are no drinks to be spilled (at least by you), and your longevity in the spotlight is not interrupted by frequent trips to the can or the bar. All that being said though, the same can apply to drunken dancing; you don't care what you look like, you generally don't mind the predators, you don't notice spilled beverages, and going to the washroom is the greatest feeling in the world.
Last night, there were no exceptions to the pros of sober dancing. I danced the dye right off my new blue jeans. Meghan and I turned up at Fortune Sound Bar at 11 to see Rico Uno and U-tern representing the Freshest Kids and opening up for Toronto's Keys n Krates, and we danced right through to 2:30 in the morning when we decided to peace. No hanging around. We just walked right off the dance floor and out the door (after a quick stop at coat check). We were getting props left right and centre for having started the dance party and being the only ones to stick it through.
After the bar, I came home, peeled off my sticky clothes, checked out my dyed blue legs, slinked into bed, watched some 'Weeds' and passed right out. A well deserved rest. The last two thoughts I remember having before it was lights out were, "I definitely worked off that cream puff I had for lunch." and finally, "Why do I even bother drinking?" Valid!
This morning, I woke up to birds chirping and the sun streaming in through my blinds. It's my DDO (designated day off, of which I have one a month) and the fact that I do not have a hangover (another pro to sober dancing is that you don't wake up feeling like a bag of smashed assholes...gross, I know) and also that I have a break from the early morning starts I've been forced to come accustomed to over the last week (Olympic mornings mean my alarm goes off at 4:45 am) will allow me to take full advantage of this beautiful spring day (in February??). I think laundry, and then a long walk with my brother in this uncharacteristically tepid weather. Mum will cry when she discovers that Quinn and I are bonding.
Life is pretty dope.
Last night, there were no exceptions to the pros of sober dancing. I danced the dye right off my new blue jeans. Meghan and I turned up at Fortune Sound Bar at 11 to see Rico Uno and U-tern representing the Freshest Kids and opening up for Toronto's Keys n Krates, and we danced right through to 2:30 in the morning when we decided to peace. No hanging around. We just walked right off the dance floor and out the door (after a quick stop at coat check). We were getting props left right and centre for having started the dance party and being the only ones to stick it through.
After the bar, I came home, peeled off my sticky clothes, checked out my dyed blue legs, slinked into bed, watched some 'Weeds' and passed right out. A well deserved rest. The last two thoughts I remember having before it was lights out were, "I definitely worked off that cream puff I had for lunch." and finally, "Why do I even bother drinking?" Valid!
This morning, I woke up to birds chirping and the sun streaming in through my blinds. It's my DDO (designated day off, of which I have one a month) and the fact that I do not have a hangover (another pro to sober dancing is that you don't wake up feeling like a bag of smashed assholes...gross, I know) and also that I have a break from the early morning starts I've been forced to come accustomed to over the last week (Olympic mornings mean my alarm goes off at 4:45 am) will allow me to take full advantage of this beautiful spring day (in February??). I think laundry, and then a long walk with my brother in this uncharacteristically tepid weather. Mum will cry when she discovers that Quinn and I are bonding.
Life is pretty dope.
15.2.10
pretty nice
I think I'd like to marry Jason Schwartzman.
Seeing as he's already hitched, I would also settle for being his pal.
Seeing as he's already hitched, I would also settle for being his pal.
Oh-ed to a hoofdkussen
Your companionship is never wavering,
My buxom consort.
Anxiously anticipating my return at day's end,
Ardently, you wait,
More faithful than man's best friend.
You prop, you cushion, you comfort.
You listen.
You muffle screams of joy, sorrow, and passion.
You offer an immortal, ethereal shoulder to carry my burdens and my fortunes alike.
You defend me, sometimes violently -exposing your downy interior and draping yourself ubiquitously.
You've given me shelter in times of make believe,
Your malleable nature softening the blow when my roof caved in;
So forgiving.
You've given me shelter in times of make believe,
Your malleable nature softening the blow when my roof caved in;
So forgiving.
You catch my tears.
You tend to me while I slumber, assuring my repose.
You care.
My perfect pal.
My confidante.
My soulmate.
My pillow.
fugg you alberta, we have families too
Today is "family day" in Alberta. It's a bank holiday. I don't live in Alberta, therefor, this is not fair.
11.2.10
8.2.10
5.2.10
firecracker
Said by my now 98-year-old grandfather in reference to our family's extreme efforts to arrange a birthday dinner for he and all the other Aquarians/Capricorns in the Searle clan at a time and place that suits all, "I'll be like a banana and stick with the bunch!"
If I live to be 98 and still manage to be this hilarious, I will die a content woman.
Happy friday!
Anvil! The story of Anvil
Canada is pretty awesome. We invented basketball, lacrosse and hockey; we gave the world Leonard Cohen, Joni Mitchell and Neil Young (not to mention the newly famed Justin Beber, there are, after all, a lot of lonely girls…); not many are aware of it, but Led Zeppelin did indeed get their start in a cabin in Tofino and we also invented heavy metal.
We’re pretty dope.
"Anvil", for those who have been living under a rock (no pun intended) with the rest of the world, is a heavy metal band from Toronto. They got their start in 1973 when some high school friends started playing music together. Initially, they were called “Lips” (after lead singer/guitarist Steve “Lips” Kudlow) but after signing a deal with Attic Records in 1983, they changed their name to Anvil. These guys are the real deal. They have been credited as being the actual founders of heavy metal and Metalica, Slayer and Anthrax, among others, have all cited them as being their biggest influence.
Anvil toured the world in 1983 with one of the most epic rock lineups, and while all other bands on the tour (including Whitesnake and Bon Jovi) reaped fame and glory and sold millions of records, Anvil came out with nothing. Maybe it was bad luck, who knows, but Anvil has never received the credit they deserved; that is until 2008 when film maker and former Anvil roadie Sacha Gervasi (who has credits like The Big Tease and The Terminal under his belt) directed a documentary on the rockers and a recent flop of a European tour. The movie follows them through Europe where they get lost, miss trains and play to nearly empty stadiums. These guys have hit rock bottom more times than Amy Winehouse, only to get back up and try again. The fact that, after nearly fourty years of playing together, they have not sold out is astounding, and more shocking still is the fact that they are still trying. They are the exact definition of persistence and finally, since the release of the documentary titled Anvil! The Story of Anvil, in April 2009, said persistence has paid off. With their so-called second coming, they’ve embarked on a new tour dubbed The Anvil Experience, in which they are showing the movie and then the 50-something year old rockers will grace the stage to prove they’ve still got it.
Anvil toured the world in 1983 with one of the most epic rock lineups, and while all other bands on the tour (including Whitesnake and Bon Jovi) reaped fame and glory and sold millions of records, Anvil came out with nothing. Maybe it was bad luck, who knows, but Anvil has never received the credit they deserved; that is until 2008 when film maker and former Anvil roadie Sacha Gervasi (who has credits like The Big Tease and The Terminal under his belt) directed a documentary on the rockers and a recent flop of a European tour. The movie follows them through Europe where they get lost, miss trains and play to nearly empty stadiums. These guys have hit rock bottom more times than Amy Winehouse, only to get back up and try again. The fact that, after nearly fourty years of playing together, they have not sold out is astounding, and more shocking still is the fact that they are still trying. They are the exact definition of persistence and finally, since the release of the documentary titled Anvil! The Story of Anvil, in April 2009, said persistence has paid off. With their so-called second coming, they’ve embarked on a new tour dubbed The Anvil Experience, in which they are showing the movie and then the 50-something year old rockers will grace the stage to prove they’ve still got it.
Anvil will be playing in Vancouver at Venue on Saturday, February 13th. Tickets are somewhere around the twenty five bone mark, and I recommend that everyone should go be you a metal fan or not. Their movie has won critical acclaim nationwide being cited as "better than Spinal Tap" and these guys, more than anyone, deserve your support. I know I will be there in top form with my leather pants and jean vest (just kidding, I don’t have a jean vest) rocking out with Tara and Dill Hare and I’m curious to see what kind of crowd these guys will bring in. Hopefully the kind of crowd that has you in it.
ROCK ON!
3.2.10
setting the mood
I'm in good form today.
Here's a taste of what was on rotation at my desk this afternoon.
Here's a taste of what was on rotation at my desk this afternoon.
1.2.10
dope: a noun (me), an adjective (you) and a drug i don't smoke
so this weekend was reveiling. i took crazy to a whole other level. i'm not a crazy person. ask anyone who knows me, and they'll tell you this.
i 'm not someone who gets angry easily. you really have to wrong me to piss me off and this weekend, someone i considered a friend did just that. i had one of, if not the, shittiest thing(s) done to me on friday night and it brought out a whole other side of me i was unfamiliar with; the crazy bitch.
i always said i wasn't like other girls. that i wasn't like that. and i'm pretty sure he always said he wasn't a douche like all the other guys. i guess we just brought that out in each other. i suppose it just takes the right (wrong) person because both of these characteristics reared their ugly heads this weekend. in the end though, i got the last word in and now i wish i had just kept my mouth shut. what can i say? i was angry.
anyway, if you still read my blog, cause i know you did once upon a time, it's my turn to eat crow. that was it. i'm done. i have other things to worry about now. so, i'm sorry for what was said. it was uncalled for, catty, and uncharacteristic of me. not that you'll believe that now. i hope that one day in the not too distant future, we can both be forgiven and refriend each other, not just online, but also in life because i do, truly, still think you're dope.
i 'm not someone who gets angry easily. you really have to wrong me to piss me off and this weekend, someone i considered a friend did just that. i had one of, if not the, shittiest thing(s) done to me on friday night and it brought out a whole other side of me i was unfamiliar with; the crazy bitch.
i always said i wasn't like other girls. that i wasn't like that. and i'm pretty sure he always said he wasn't a douche like all the other guys. i guess we just brought that out in each other. i suppose it just takes the right (wrong) person because both of these characteristics reared their ugly heads this weekend. in the end though, i got the last word in and now i wish i had just kept my mouth shut. what can i say? i was angry.
anyway, if you still read my blog, cause i know you did once upon a time, it's my turn to eat crow. that was it. i'm done. i have other things to worry about now. so, i'm sorry for what was said. it was uncalled for, catty, and uncharacteristic of me. not that you'll believe that now. i hope that one day in the not too distant future, we can both be forgiven and refriend each other, not just online, but also in life because i do, truly, still think you're dope.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
