Hilarity Ensues...

Enthralled in the shackles of Peril and other Pirate stories

2011-06-14T23:47:00.000-07:00

This would be the name of my children's series of Pirate Tales or alternately, the title for a semi-erotic novel (for adults, obviously! Geez guys!).

In any case, I wanted a more punchy title than what is really on my mind which is the perils of commitment in all shapes and forms. You see lately I have been entertaining the thought of joining a new gym. It's shinier and newer and intense-er. It's also more expensive, but let's not get into that. the fact of the matter is, the money is not the issue. It's the 'being locked down for a year or two' that is actually where the panic sets in. My excuse is that I've been holding onto the very cliched phrase, "Well, I can't. I'm kind of a commitment-phobe". Isn't that the mantra of all single ladies and gents in their late twenties who actually mean to say that they have no idea why they can't really connect to anybody or who find any sort of planning terrifying or alternately, the mantra of those singles who inexplicably hate most other humans and don't really know the non-psychotic way to tell sane people this fact (ding, ding, this is me!).

No, but seriously. I have been battling with this idea of commitment and my resentment for any sort of long-term goals. I guess there's a part of me (an overwhelming part, I guess) that has this fear of falling. Cliche#2: The fear of failure (and the subsequent fear of success). I think I need to get over this fear of failure and loss and disappointment. I get the psychology, but it still does NOTHING for me.

Alternate theory: I'm trapped in some sort of time warp where I'm like that deadbeat obnoxious kid in a late 80's, early 90's tv show who wears a handkerchief around my head, denim ripped up vest and neon high tops (bullies were so colourful back in the day) who loathes any sort of planning and constantly yells "Don't tell me what to do! I don't follow your bogus rules!" Yes. I think I'm in sort of teenage rebellion phase. Planning and passion are for squares, man. Yeah, yeah, totally.

What's the resolution? I hear in most scenarios recognizing the problem is the first step. I let it stew in this step for unnaturally long periods. I am hoping step#2 is quit thinking about it and blogging it to death into this massive abyss (more pirate-y vocab) and just fucking get yourself out there and do something. Fear of commitment is just an unwillingness to trust in your plans (Plans with a capital P, if you're religious, I guess). Henceforth, to borrow from Nike, just do it and don't be such a chicken shit (borrowed from someone's grandpa, probably).

Many question marks looming

2011-05-27T00:41:00.000-07:00

Right now I am blogging to rediscover myself. I've become kind of drone-like, which I guess it sort of the nature of growing up, yes? I mean, I know that there are these new-fangled jobs where there are foosball tables in the breakroom and where shoes are optional, but at the heart of it, there is a sort of grayness that follows 'growing up'. A grayness that I have yet to really understand.

I work at a standard 9-5 (or if we're being exact, 8:00-5:00) which I don't loathe, but I also don't feel entirely at peace with. It's because it's not my "calling". Not my "passion". All those things that were promised to me when I graduated university 2 years ago (wait, 3 years ago?). You know when things are temporary and so you just start to not give a shit? You kind of become disengaged, sneak in and sneak out, eat lunch in the bathrooms like some anti-social loser and tell people you have a million plans on the weekend so you'd rather not go to some after-work social party? Then you realize that that supposedly temporary job has lasted for three years and you become caught in this really strange and awkward limbo. Where people start to wonder. And ask questions. And you become accountable for shit you didn't want to be accountable for. And you start to decorate your desk and making it more 'home-y'. And you realize your boss is telling you about the plans for next year and the great pension plan for fifty years down the road when you retire and you nod, and say it sounds great and you'll start making plans for next year.

And then the panic sets in.

Because I don't want to be here. But then the obvious question is, well, where do you want to be? And the answer is not anywhere else, but somewhere else. Somewhere 'right'. But again, what is that? I have been to about five psychics in the past year or so in hopes that someone will just tell me what to do. Just tell me what to do to make me stop wondering and I'll do it. But darn them, they won't. Sometimes I forget that these are psychics and they don't cast spells or tell you what to do. They tell you what you're inclined to do and inclined to have and they don't always guarantee that those things will be spectacular. Bollocks.

One psychic told me now is the time to act. Is there anything more ambiguous than that sort of phrase? "Now is the time to be passionate." What the heck am I supposed to do with that? So I said, "The problem is I've lost a bit of passion" to which she replied, "Maybe you never had passion. You're not a passionate person. You're not excited about life. Find something to be excited about." Well, why didn't I think of that? This whole time I've been looking for things to make me depressed and angry!

Okay, but seriously, I get it. No one can tell you what you'll be passionate about and it is true that sometimes you have to look for it and not wait for inspiration to hit you on the head. However, I suppose all this time I've thought about everything I hate and dislike. I've only been eliminating everything I hate, because that's easier, but maybe I should be going about this more optimistically.

I don't know. Work, career, direction. Can't I pay someone to find all this stuff for me?

Tales from a 25-year-old nothing

2011-05-16T23:57:00.000-07:00

I feel inspired to blog. Blogging is wonderful isn't it? It's like it's 1999 all over again (You: "But Shaena, did you even have the internet in 1999?" Me: "Shut up, and don't ever EVER bring up my pseudo-Amish upbringing EVER AGAIN!" ). No I don't think I had the internet in 1999. I was never part of ICQ or had a geocities/asian avenue page full of swirly, glittery banners and pix of THA HOTTEST GUYZ EVA from the BSB and NSync (You: "But Shaena, your notebooks will reveal that you actually liked Hanson!" Me: "Shut up and don't ever EVER bring up my pseudo-lesbian stage EVER AGAIN!" ).

Anyway, this is my announcement that I shall start blogging again. I recently watched 'eat, pray, love' which inspired me to start writing, because if that adulterous nut-job could get a book deal... No, no, that punchline could be better. I recently watched 'eat, pray, love' which inspired me to write ::beat:: anything to get my mind off of that horrendous novel. Nailed it. That's a keeper for my fictitious stand-up routine.

This is a new stage in my life and henceforth, I shall begin blogging again (I initially wanted to start journaling again, but the fingers just cannot take extended periods of writing anymore). I have many, many, many interesting thoughts, so stay tuned (this is probably an overstatement. Most likely my thoughts will revolve around being annoyed by our transit system and early mornings). I am awakened and starting anew! It's puberty number 2! I shall become a new woman! I hopefully will grow better breasts this time around! yippee!*

*I am not crazy. Perhaps slightly delirious from a lack of sleep, but still sane.

So, yes. That's that. I will start blogging again. Why not.

Hm

2011-02-12T02:48:00.001-08:00

Well, I feel as though I have nothing to do and those who are bored post on the internet, yes? Yes. So it was either blogging or spamming on some poor Youtuber's video about his cat ("Ur catz totally LAMMMMEEEE!" I quite like cats, so I kept it fairly 'G'). In any case, here we go...

What I've been doing lately is working... then going to the gym... then coming home and undoing the work done at said gym by gorging on massive, massive amounts of potato chips (I kept a bag in my room for a bit, which is probably the first stage of morbid obesity. Even though Claudia Kishi from the Babysitter's Club did it, it doesn't make it right. Alas, but she remained so skinny! And alas, she was also fictitious).

So yeah. That's the routine. In an attempt to continue this weight loss charade, I've also downloaded an iPhone app to count calories, which is pure ridiculousness because first of all I set my goal way too high, so this stupid app is telling me I can only eat about 1000 calories a day (not going to happen. EVER) and secondly, I do not weigh/measure my food. I guesstimated I only had one serving of cereal, when in fact I think I had three. I also could not find "Pho" in the calorie counter lexicon, so instead I wrote I had 4 bowls of instant noodles (which I assume is different...).

Things have been steadily trucking along. I could use a little more razzle-dazzle, but I guess razzly-dazzly things happen more often to people who seek it, and quite frankly, I am too lazy to do so. I also have been a bit more short-tempered lately, which may be the effect of seeking said razzle-dazzle (because if you can't get wild adventures and excitement, create some angry dramatics out of nothing right? Tis what I learned from reality tv).

All in all, things are at a B- level (story of my life), so we can go either way. If things get awesomer, that's great, if they get worse, hey, there's another blog post.

Byeee

Hello/Goodbye

2010-08-23T21:46:00.001-07:00

Oh, hey there. I didn't see you come in. I know I usually come here to complain and it's whiny and annoying so I thought I would come here and be different and NOT complain. I ain't just a one trick pony.

Although, I will complain just a little. I have been cell-phone-less for the past month because I dropped my iPhone onto the road (fun) and it was unceremoniously run over by a bus and a car (funner!) and dealing with Rogers has been a gigantic pain in the ass. I have spent many hours complaining but alas, I am all complained out and am satisfied in knowing that I CAN go a month without my phone (though, not preferentially).

What's new since last time I wrote? I did ending up scoring a new job which is not my passion, but I could definitely get used to the pay raise and fantastic benefits (Imma get my eyes done and ma teeth did), so this is comfortable for the time being. For the next year or so I can sit here and think for a while and hopefully things will happen when they happen. I have time to start workin on that novel (cough).

I also came back from the happiest place on earth. Normally I would make a corny joke here and say something like "...and by happiest place on earth, of course I mean... the coal mines!" See, not a good joke. I'm tired and did just come back from a few days in magical Disneyland. Despite the fact that my undergrad was spent ripping into corporations and consumerism, I still love Disney and still spent way too many hours in their gift shops.

Did the usual Disney stuff and had a ball and now I count down to the next exciting holiday. Thanksgiving/Halloween, here we come!

2010-04-26T02:38:00.000-07:00

I'm starting to get on my own nerves.

I've become very indolent (a word I learned from someone else's blog who is much smarter than I) these past few weeks and it's unsettling. My mother, dear mother, throughout my life, has chronically asked me the question, "What's your plan?" and I always had an answer, no matter how vague and no matter how short-term. I have no plan! And I'm scared to commit to plans, I think. For fear that better plans may arise. I pencil in everything in life, but would like to Sharpie in some concrete, good plans. I think the longer I lack a plan, the more grandiose it has to be.

Hence why I haven't made my big move yet. It's frustrating that I haven't made strides to seek better employment opportunities due to a lack of confidence. What's the harm in trying, right? I'm like that annoying girl in highschool who had low self-esteem and always told you she decided to "stop eating" to be skinny. And you would have to reassure her that no, she was not fat and yes, she should eat. I'm like that girl, only it's much harder to run and hide from myself during lunch.

I know for about 7 years I've been really unsure about plans, but this is like the peak. Well, maybe in two years I'll spiral further (one can dream!). Honestly. I'm waiting for something. Something big. Something big is coming. I put that on a sticky note. "You will find employment," "Something big and great is coming!" but so far nothing. So, "The Secret" my ass, I say. I've actually never read it, so I'm probably doing something wrong.

I'm a bit embarrassed to be me, at the moment. How awkward.

Okay, no, seriously. This too shall pass. This is merely temporary. My horoscope said something good will come in about two weeks (though, that's what it said last month too).

Imma a genie in a bottle... an irritating Robin Williams-ish genie

2010-04-10T19:18:00.000-07:00

I wish it weren't so cold in here. I mean we're indoors, why is it so cold in here?

I wish this man sitting next to me wasn't sitting so close next to me.

I wish that I was a little more gallant and was more quick to hold open doors for pregnant ladies and didn't feel pissed off when I have to give up my seat on the bus for old people.

I wish I exercised yesterday.

I wish I didn't eat a cupcake in lieu of exercising today.

I wish it was sometime in the future where I have everything together and teleportation was fully functional and my prospective novel was written.

I wish I had magical powers, but not ones where people in teen movies would call "A big freaker!!!!"

I wish that we didn't have to grow up and be responsible and give up things that seem to be a waste of time.

I wish I didn't desire money and power and love so heavily.

I wish that the video store has "Sherlock Holmes" because they didn't have it last week and I watched "Hurt Locker" instead and though a good enough movie, I wanted to see some ass-kicking crime-solving.

I wish that I find a magic lamp, but I bet you I'll try to be righteous and eventually wish that "everything went back to normal and that the genie should be set free," before wishing for money or anything exciting.

I wish that I didn't make so many wishes.

2009-10-15T03:22:00.000-07:00

And... we're back.

A little update: I completed my required six week internship. It followed a standard pattern of nerves, eager to please and of course, the sudden settling of indifference and boredom. My days were nothing close to reality TV show dramatics, but I got to read up on many, many movies and TV shows and wrote a very special newsletter on flooring (Cork, linoleum and marble, oh my!). Of course, I am grateful for the experience, had fun but the practical side of my brain is insistent on thinking, well, that was nice... now what?

I also got to interview a lady from a Vancouver-based show, which was exciting. I got to transcribe it myself, only to realize my voice is nasal and irritating... who knew? Apparently everyone, since when I posed the question, "Do you know what I discovered when I was listening to a recording of myself?" The resounding reply was either that I sound nasal or that my laugh is horrendous.

I thought it just had character.

Anyway, so that's over and done with. I'm back to my old job, which is fine, but I kind of feel like a ticking bomb that kind of fizzled. Where is my fun kaboom? I went to a Craft Fair this past week and felt this burning desire to be creative, but I don't know in what way. I guess that's sort of an oxymoron, since, you can't really be told how to be creative. It's like the end of my undergraduate all over again. I am so accustomed to finishing and getting a prize, finishing a getting a prize. What happens when you reach the finish line and a person waiting there says, "Alright, now keep on running because there may or may not be a prize hidden somewhere out there"?

Sigh. Lost. Is there a psychological term for the anxiety that comes from graduates? We really ought to create a support group. We can meet outside an employment office.

Currently, I am reading Tuesdays with Morrie, in hopes of being inspired or at least weepy?

Another update which has no relevance to my career: I joined the cult of the iPhone. I have become one of them. You know... I call them the scalp-friends. So busy texting and checking email that you end up talking to their scalps. With only the obligatory peering up, bleary eyed to show you are paying attention. I don't want to be one of those people, but I think I am.

Gained some more weight. Heavy-bridget-jonesy-sigh. Am attempting to get back in the exercise routine. Installed Lose It! app for iPhone to track calories, but realized I have no perception of what an ounce of food means. Also, have been substituting to the point of ridiculousness. I wasnt sure what a big bowl of Pho was so I instead said I ate 5 cartons of cup o' noodles. Def. not the same.

anyway.

the end

2009-07-25T19:36:00.000-07:00

I'm a Vancouverite and as a Vancouverite you must love two things: outdoors & outdoor activity & the rain whilst doing said activities (that's three things, but stay with me on this one). Today I walked to the mall. Same mall made popular by Zac Ephron of HSM fame ("High School Musical" for those of you not in the know... ie. above the age of 12). Apparently he was in my 'hood and I didn't know. But guys (and girls) with brown side-swept bangs are pretty common so I don't think I would even notice. He should start singing on tables and THEN I would know it was him. I digress. Far too much thought put into that.

Where was I?

Ah yes. Vancouver. Anyway, I walk to this mall which takes about half an hour-ish. It's a lovely walk, actually. I dropped $100 over at Future Shop buying random dvds and cds because I felt it necessary and I felt moral guilt from over-downloading these days. I will always support awesome tv and music though. ALWAYS.

I walk out and it's sprinkling and I see how no one is using an umbrella and I take pride in that. We are Vancouverites and we don't give a shit. Now as I think this in my head, it starts to pick up and I'm all, yeah, I'm just wearing a t-shirt, this is how we roll in Vancouver! I walk further and am about 4 minutes from home and I think, "Whatever, I'm from Vancouver, we like to walk and we like the rain." So I take the long way home...

Then, once again I'm minutes from home in the pouring rain when i decide to detour and go to the grocery store to buy milk and as I do so, I hear massive thunder and realize, that this isn't Vancouver everyday rain.... so I pick up the pace

I'm mad that I wore my new Converse. shit.

I go pick up said products and thunder roars again and as I step out, I see it's POURING. Like, piss-pouring-bucket-loads-is-this-something-to-do-with-el-nino-or-al-gore pouring. It's wetter out there than a 90's pop music video. i contemplate doin' a little "Quit playing games with my heart" dance. I freeze. As if that'll stop it. I tread home soaking wet (don't sexualize that) and am happy I wore a scarf over my otherwise see-through t-shirt (ibid).

Thunder.

I am worrying about my underwire bra and am wondering if it'll be the death of me.

Thunder.

Or maybe the little metal rivets on my purse.

Thunder.

I'm hungry.

Thunder.

And still like the rain.

Thunder.

Shit. My milk is still in my purse.

feature, future, feets-hurt

2009-07-14T19:59:00.000-07:00

My Publishing program has ended and I feel older, wiser and certifiedier. Now when I see ripped magazines, I know in my heart that I am certified to fix it. I mean, I now have the documentation to publish anything. AND I MEAN ANYTHING! including... oh yeah.... community newsletters (reow!)

Well, I'm not quite certified yet. I have a dreaded 2,000 word feature article to write by Friday and have barely touched it. I've been either far too busy or far too lazy (more the latter, honestly). I feel my brain is slowly melting away. My mother is right in saying being out of school kills your brain, I guess. I was recently enamored by the fact that this chick wrote "qualms" in her blog. It's not a particularly good word or even that interesting, but for whatever reason it made me feel self-conscious. Would I have used qualms? COULD I have used qualms? It's a qualm, really.

Anyway, so after Friday, my Summer will officially begin, I guess. well, I mean, technically it began a month ago, but now I won't have the guilt of that dreaded feature article looming about. I'm back to the same ol' job until Fall which is bothersome. I guess there's this unreal expectation that once you go through school that life will miraculously change thereafter. YOU TRICKED ME ASIAN ELDERS! YOU SAID CONTINUED STUDIES WOULD FULFILL ALL MY LIFE'S HAPPINESSES! However, I am going to be doing an internship at a publishing company in the Fall for nearly 2 months. That's kind of exciting.

Okay, resolution to keep blogging to keep the mind active. I am officially mid-twenties-ish, so while the hips are creaking and the fat is settling, my mind shall remain active.

Harry Potter night tonight. I'm a movie-fan, but not book-fan. Horrible, I know

Post for the sake of posting....

2009-05-24T03:11:00.000-07:00

I realized my last blog was ridiculously long and to create balance, maybe this one will be short. Maybe, but likely not. It doesn't really matter, anyway. I don't think there are too many avid fans of this blog (and I say this with no emo-intent), so I'll do whatever I wanna do! yeah! anarchy! I'm so punk rock.

It is a beautiful Saturday and I skipped attending a charity event I said I would attend. And might I include a charity event for sick children. I'm a horrible human being and will be going to hell. In a hand-basket. Perhaps with a bow. However, I got to sleep-in, so, you know. Take that sick kids.

Also, I am running low on clean underwear and am dropping into the emergency red-zone area of seasonal underwear. It's a Christmas party in my pants. Is it economical or horrifying for me to wear underwear that was actually a part of a skanky Hallowe'en costume?

Anyway, I've started to make to-do lists. First on to-do list: Make more organized to-do lists.

2009-05-20T01:48:00.000-07:00

Ode to a Long Weekend

Long Weekend, I hardly knew ye. Honestly, it passed in a huge swoosh and what do I have to show for it? Undone schoolwork and a sore neck (from attempting to dance. Don't ask). I have a love-hate relationship with Long Weekend. I mean, love, for the obvious reasons of sleep, eat, repeat; Hate, because I end up sleeping at the time when I should be waking up which brings me to now. I have class tomorrow and should be asleep but I didn't finished my assignments and now I'm just wasting time (is hadn't a word? I guess not. Thanks spell-check!).

So begins Week 3 of Magazine Publishing. It's been okay so far. I'm not excelling which irks me. It's funny because all of us are focused on one very similar goal and we all write the same assignments and take the same classes. So it's really easy to judge each other. So everyone is super nice but underlying that is this competitiveness. I recently asked this girl what internships she was applying for and she replied "I don't understand your question." OH SNAP. She totally dissed me! You totally understood my question and you totally think I am going to steal your internship... which I totally wanted to do. Oh yeah, it's totally like Devil Wears Prada! hiss!

And you know when you're in a competitive class when people don't tell you their grades. I made the mistake of saying I only got a B and now I will be known as the class dunce. Honestly, I can't break free from the B mold. I'm a perpetual B student. No matter what school I'm in, I always am a B student. Sometimes better, sometimes worse, but to put it more plainly, I'm average. I get by. I am skilled at being okay at lots of things, but never put in that extra mile to be great at anything (Don't say Jack of All Trades. I loathe that phrase). I don't really fret about such matters, but we always seem to be sensationalize those people who excel at one thing. He may be stupid, he may be socially retarded, he may be ugly as heck, but damnit, he can juggle like it's nobody's business. We like our one trick ponies.

But in general, I'm learning a lot. Contemplating places to intern, feeling stressed about applying for internships, feeling anxious about pitching story ideas (due Wednesday. Ahhhh!). I feel like I'm trying to always be on the ball, so every time I pick up a newspaper or magazine lately, I've been thinking "What story ideas can I branch off from here? How did they formulate their hook sentence? What design ideas can I steal?" It's annoying and bothersome, but it's what I have to be doing.

what else, what else, what else. As per usual, I rented movies for Friday:

-The Wrestler: Interesting. I felt it flowed perfectly and that the story went to logical places and was really "full" in terms of content and gave you exactly everything you would want. Unfortunately, I kind of didn't want that much. I mean, it was good. Would I watch it again? No. Interesting story, but not for me. Secondly, please stop using "Vampire Weekend" references in movies. Gawd, they're getting less cool the more you talk about them. And please stop using Evan Rachel Wood for that matter.

-Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon: I want to go back to 2003 and be like "What's the thrill? I don't get it!" I think it was more revolutionary back then. However, a movie has to be really awesome to force me to read subtitles throughout. I think I was just in a cranky, old man type of mood this weekend. There was sort of a parallel to the movies though, which I won't say because it'll ruin one or the other for you. Well, not really. Let's just say, the final scenes are similar. Sort of. Kind of. Okay, okay, it was a well enough movie, but I just had no patience to watch things over an hour this weekend. ADHD, you down wit me.....

Another fun fact is I learned I can run a little farther than i thought. I doubled the length of my run this weekend which was kind of thrilling. I am trying to lean up for an upcoming family reunion (loathe, loathe, loathe) but am thinking of going as a fat arse, but singing a really beautiful song and pull a Susan Boyle (topical humor! lolz!).

Sometimes I run through Central Park and feel like a Disney princess because all the animal follow me. Only I realize they are disease infested with a wild hunger in their eyes. Creepy.

And for that matter, I am surprised to see any species of bird besides a crow anywhere. I have no idea where birds should reside. I saw ducks walking around this schoolyard and though "woah, that's weird". But is it? They fly, so logically, they can be anywhere. And I saw another bird in the woods by my house and was like "woah, coloured!" then realized it was probably like a robin or something. And I saw a goose at a park and once again woah and once again, they fly. Where do you birds belong or do you all just come and go as you please?

Cross-posted from my other blog (I'm a polygamous blogger). Sorry for repeated info (kinda, not really)

Perpetual B-student

2009-05-17T14:06:00.000-07:00

My second week of Publishing Program has ended (I should think of a more riveting sentence... think of a good hook to hook in your reader... start with a funny anecdote... but keep it simple...). Lots of info in a short amount of time.... my head is buzzing... how do they cram all that gram? How did that question ever make any sense.

Anyway, I've had some assignments back. I've had pretty "Class Average" marks. I want to excel, damnit. But then, I don't "put in that extra mile" to get the good grades. Sigh. Why can't I just stand out based on my good looks... Honestly, sometimes I feel kind of stuck which sucks. I can't leap over that wall of averageness. I feel like I'm good at a lot of things, but not really great at that many things. I can get by, but that's not really good enough.

In other news, I've decided to re-route myself and take a different bus route. I take this one bus which goes down "the Poor People" street (it's not judgmental if it's true) and a shitload (literally!) of smelly people get on that bus. And now twice I've had to sit beside people who smell like sweat and garbage. Argh! And you know, I know that this happens. I am not trying to be mean, but being trapped in a stink cell, trapped between a wall and a stink lump of a person, really, really, sucks. But I try to be nice. I try to stick it out. I don't want to get up and move.

BUT! Here's a fun tale: So this guy (let's say he's large. Let's say he's massively overweight. Let's say, the bus seats are not equipped for his size) gets on the bus and yeah he's big and that's fine. I can deal with large people sitting next to me. it's fine, it's fine. but! You cannot come in and try to get square footage in my bus seat! Who are, fat Christopher Columbus? Honestly, we should be able to put up mini bus-fences so people DO NOT CROSS THE SEAT LINE. Annoying. It's like really... Do I really want to ride with your big ol' arm jabbing my gut? no. No I do not. Personal space, people! I like mine a whole lot. So he falls asleep, halfway into my bus-seat property and I'm pissed. Do not touch me with your cigarette-smelling jacket. So, I create a "Purse barrier". What to do when you want to keep people out? You build fences. I learned from my Chinese peeps that building a great wall is where it's at. So I put my purse between us (apologizing to my purse for the smell it has to endure) and slowly push him OUT OF MY PROPERTY. This becomes thrilling. It's like sweeping... I push... and push. and.... go to far. He nearly falls out of his seat! Embarrassing (for both of us).

He gets off a few stops earlier (I don't think because of me). And even though I feel bad, the thing is, I don't really. I don't go on the bus to be sat on.

I'm a good person, really.

I'm a Whitney lookin' for a Lauren

2009-05-09T03:12:00.001-07:00

Today my first week of Magazine Publishing ended. When people ask me how it's going, it's kind of hard to say because 1/4 of it was a lot of "team building ice breaker games" (ie. "what quirky thing do you have in common?", "what would be your exotic dancer name?"); 1/4 has been review of my BA stuff (if only I had any longterm memory, 50% would probably be review); 1/4 is exciting, 1/4 is unknown, which is the scariest part. Did that even add up right? It's fine, I'm not in a math program... yeahhh...

I'm not sure where I stand, since we haven't been graded yet and I still have that nervousness where I want to do well so badly that I might end up choking. I have no idea where these other students are coming from. WHAT ARE YOUR AGENDAS, FELLOW PUBLISHING STUDENTS? Put a bunch of like-minded students together and it's all well and good until you figure out what the hierarchies are. I just want to be the awesomest. Is that too much to ask?

At a more basic level, everyone seems relatively nice and the campus smells like Cedar (and sometimes garbage)? I've been getting around okay (mostly because my colleages lead me around) however I got lost once attempting to follow someone to the bus loop, only to realize I was following them to their car. AWKWARD.

It's tiring though. Even though my hours are shorter, I'm not used to waking up at 630am regularly. I've never had to, so, yeah. But it's been okay so far. You'll see, in a couple of weeks I'll be swearing and cursing transit because I keep waking up too late and they don't pick me up.

I think that's all for now... must sleep. oooh. I've been up for 21 hours. sweet. Shall I attempt to go for 24?

A Good Video Store

2009-04-28T10:11:00.000-07:00

There is an awesome independently run video store about 2 minutes from my house and if you live in my general vicinity, you KNOW which one I'm talking about and you KNOW the awesome people that work there. It brings out that small town vibe. Call me Rory Gilmore.

In any case, since early last Fall, I have been madly obsessed with this video store. People have stopped asking me my plans for Friday nights because I have been holed up at home most Fridays watching my movies and when I do have plans for Friday night, my movie nights are changed to Saturday nights and if I happen to be busy both nights (what? It happens! I totally have friends....) then a hole forms in my heart. A hole only romantic comedies and action flicks could fill.

In fact, let me take you back to last Spring 2008. People were talking movies and such and such movie and if I knew who such and such actor was. "No, I'm not much of a movie person", I'd say. But my. oh. my. how the situation has reversed. If only they could see me now, Don Cheadle this and Tilda Swinton that (why those actors? I don't know).

But let me just say this. This is a very good video store not because of the close proximity, prices (which are about the same as the big box places), but because of the lack of judgment. All good shopkeeps whether they be doolin' out porn, alcohol or lottery tickets know when to keep their mouths shut and let the addiction be. Honestly. There is never any judgment or questions of "Haven't you got any friends?" Because of course I don't. I rent two movies every Friday. He knows it, I know it, but we don't say it. And there's no judgment when I return those movies and get an additional movie the following day. Or when I spend twenty minutes glaring at "The Constant Gardener" wondering if today is the day I'll actually watch it (still haven't). And no judgment of whether I should just buy the movie when I've rented The Devil wears Prada thrice.

I mean, essentially it's something to do that feels like a definite plan (which maybe sounds a little lonely). Most Fridays I'm far too tired to do much of anything. I've likely had just shy of 5 hours of sleep (terrible, terrible), I go workout and then by the time I'm home, showered and dinnered, it's already 9-10 o'clock and I'm ready to sleep. My movies are just a soundtrack to my dreams.

Then I wake up in the wee hours of the night, panick that I still have two movies to watch and power through them before they're due. Often I only have time for one, so the other one is wasted money.

It's a routine, anyway.

Sociopath

2009-04-24T01:27:00.000-07:00

Those that know me know that I'm a sociopath. Wait, no, sociophobe (I hope my employers, both past and present read that... which, FYI-if you Google my full name, it totally leads you to my blog... which... I should probably figure out how to stop...). I think it's moreso this immense dislike for small talk and fake smilery, so I attempt to avoid it. I don't like washing my hands adjacent to other people in the bathroom because I feel obligated to make conversation, and what kind of material have you got to work with in bathroom (that sounds really gross)?

Hence, THIS:

I know, I know, messy and poorly scanned. And apparently I have some weird mark on my scanner^^ do you see? Do you see? HOWEVER, I have connected my scanner to my old computer and have no desire to stay on that thing for any longer than I have to. So yeahhh

Speaking of small talk, you know what drives me nuts? I always find there's someone in the workplace that talks to themselves. And it's like, am I supposed to answer or inquire into your mild tourette's outbursts? I don't think so. I don't like to encourage this type of behavior. These little Twitter-like snippets of complaints or comments impede on my mind-grapes.

Ex: "Oh shoot! Well, that's no good!"
I mean, obviously if you're in close proximity, this is meant to bring up questions like "What? What's no good?" But honestly, I don't care. Especially if you're complaining or in a bad mood. I don't like hearing people complain directly to me, why would I bring it upon myself to inquire further into YOUR complaint?

Anyway.

2009-04-08T10:34:00.000-07:00

The other day my brain carpal-tunnelled. Who knew that could happen, but it can. I was online for far too long researching the origin of April Fool's Day, the crimes committed by the church of Scientology, and the top tracks of the 90's (one of these things don't belong.... well, actually none of them really make logical sense). Anyway, the point is my brain got annoyed and shut down. So... lesson learned: Get a life.

Work makes me lazy, going to the gym after work makes me tired and this leads me to watch far too many hours of online streaming television and has me clocking in far too many hours researching unimportant facts. It makes my brain pissed off, much in the same way my body gets pissed off if I eat junk food. Junk information. You know what food will never in your life make you feel good or sexy? Twinkies. Don't try to argue with me, it's true. Twinkies are the globally known food of choice for all obese motherfuckers and they will always be known as a lonely, depressed, empty food (can I type motherfuckers when I'm at work? I guess we'll see. I know I've typed other words in emails and my computer froze... coincidence? I think not).

And really, just a word of warning, Twinkies don't taste good. If you're going to get fat off something, at least make it delicious. Twinkies are the dryest, crumbliest, uncomfortably-sweet snack cake. I know sometimes when you're at 7/11 you see them and think "oooh, maybe I should just splurge, eat me some Twinkies". NO. they taste like shit and if you're going to be bad to your body do it right. Bake a Betty Crocker box cake. OR! Get those madeleines from Starbucks. Fantastic.

On that fatass sidenote, I realized I bring an apple to work every day and like 4 out of the days I do so, I completely forgo the apple and buy banana loaf or chips or something else unhealthy. Today we got free cupcakes at work. yay.

Little accomplishments (which are definitely nothing to be proud of)

2008-10-26T02:50:00.000-07:00

"Accomplishment" is likely the wrong word, but since it's late and I'd rather not dictionary.com some new words, we'll say accomplishment. Okay, maybe "experiences" is a better word. Oh crap, now I should change that title. Plus the first sentence. And now the second. And now... oh forget it.

My mundane experience was riding the bus past midnight, and I rarely (well, never) ride the bus alone late at night, but I felt compelled to garner some independence (that and no one was available to give me a ride nor could I catch a taxi). I guess this is kind of a stupid thing to be proud of because isn't it "stupid, careless, oblivious girls" who stray late at night by themselves who always get into trouble? Aren't those the kinds of girls "asking for it"? I guess that's what people teach us, right? I mean, I would never share this tidbit of liberated glory with my mother, who would likely have a heart attack, telling me "gangs, rapists, perverts, werewolves and leprechauns" are on every corner waiting to pounce. She will then direct me to the news and newspaper and tell me about all the crimes against women happening in our area. My mother makes points and backs them up with footnotes and Works Cited.

She would have a point, though, but I think it's just so annoying living as a fearful woman (boo fucking hoo, I know, but bear with me). But honestly, as I learned from Women's Studies 101 (not just a GPA booster course, but a life lesson), women are conditioned to always live by a rape/danger schedule. We are limited by our fear of being attacked. We can't do shit at night for fear of being attacked. Attackers are on every corner they say. Attackers attack everyone they say. Attackers live in your home, they say. How much attacking would an attacker attack if an attacker could attack you? Lots, they say.

And of course, I did feel a tinge of regret when an underaged drunken kid offered me a sip of his cheap vodka and asked me to come to his "party". I ran like a mofo off that bus after that (in heels no less! Gawd, talk about a horro movie waiting to happen!), watching my back all the while to see if he was following me. I also had a "what the fuck moment" when a pale lady dressed in black stepped on the bus holding a human head. I was like, you have got to be kidding me, were you sent by my mom to teach me a lesson? (I realized that she was probably coming home from a Halloween party, but in my fragile state, i panicked)

Of course I'm not stupid and will not make this a routine. Nor will I run around overconfidently topless in the woods, carrying an LED-lit runway to my vag. I mean the only reason I felt okay with running from the bus stop to my house was because it literally only takes me all of two minutes to do so and secondly, because my house is close to a park and a forested trail which are much more ideal for raping.

So that's my bit of short-lived independence. It's not much and barely worth noting, but I've gained a teensy bit more confidence than I had before. All the ladies who truly feel me, throw yo hands up at me.

Mall Musings

2008-10-21T02:45:00.001-07:00

As of late, I've become somewhat of a mallrat, scouring racks and racks looking for fulfillment, a new soul and a great pair of ankle-high, buckled boot-flats. I've had moderate success in the first two, but oddly, the third is the hardest to find. It seems there are many size 6-7 women running around in Vancouver wearing my fucking boots. How. Dare. You.

But I digress.

I noticed a couple things at the mall. Who thinks while they're at the mall? I do. What else is there to do when your i-pod craps out on you?

(These are not ordered in terms of importance, but I like numbered lists... it makes them feel more official versus bullet points)

1. Mallbabies

There are far too many mall-babies at the.. well, mall, of course. Too many babies in general. Just grow and become adults already! Okay, okay, so I don't have a big problemo with babies day-to-day, but for some reason aggressive moms at the mall feel the need to use their baby stroller as a tractor and they always seem to try to herd me out of aisles.

Just as a sidenote on babies (a babynote if you will, har, har, har): Why do parents constantly try to impress their babies with nothing...? I understand, parenting is hard and that little baby seems easy to impress, but honestly, give the child a little credit in the brains department. Today I saw a father trying his hardest to try to impress a baby with his own reflection. He tapped that mirror and tapped it and the baby was totally not having any of it. It's the relentless trying I don't get. Another time, I saw a mother trying to impress a baby by crinkling garbage in its face. I'm all for alternate forms of fun, but sometimes, just buy the kid some yogurt or whatever babies eat.

Sidenote on the sidenote on babies (a sidetosidenote, if you will, ho, ho, ho): Why are baby carriages so big? I feel bad for mothers who try to get on crowded buses with those things. Someone needs to Optimus Prime-up that shit and make them transform into something else. Something like a bus, perhaps.

2. Payless Shoes

Am I reeeeallllly paying less for shoes when you charge me $39.99 for a pair of "can't be over $20" pair of flats? I mean, when you factor in the quality to price ratio, I can't imagine I'm paying less for shoes. In general, the store's average shoe price is lower than other shoe places, but the quality just sucks. They should name the store "Pay-an average to overpriced amount for low quality Shoes". Catchy, n'est-ce pas?

3. The busy-ness of the mall

It's simple math really: My less than $5 item + huuuuuge line-up=just asking me to shoplift. I don't, but I could. Add in ugly and annoying sales staff and that's like begging me to shoplift.

4. Speaking of ugly and annoying sales staff

Customer service is always a huge grievance, but I mean, customer service at Below the Belt is just a joke (well, the one closest to me... I don't think the others are as bad). It's called Below the Belt because everyone there is completely caught up in their own assholery. I have no idea why I go there either, when I think I've bought maybe two shirts there in my lifetime. I go there to get pissed off and get ideas to blog about. Awesome.

5. Odd Couples

This is not so much a grievance, but just of interest. I enjoy seeing odd couples. The ever-popular cute Asian immigrant woman with ugly old white man, obese woman with teeny man, etc, etc. I highly enjoy people watching, and people highly enjoy staring me down for my creeper skills.

Fun fact: Did you know that couples still do the "hand in backpocket of jeans" thing? I thought that went out in the early nineties. Who knew? Well, now you do. And you're very welcome.

6. People Watching Part 2 (it's an obsession)

You know that one group of "punky emo" kids that's always at the mall? Where there's always like, a fat chick in striped nylons and horn rimmed glasses and then other kids of varying weights with dyed/teased hair, guys wearing makeup, combat boots, and other "rebellious" memorabilia..? I love and hate them, but not for their anti-everything 'tude, but because of their explicit ironic state. If you're so rebellious, why the fuck are you at the mall? What the heck are you guys even buying? Go start a fucking band or something. I've never seen two of those groups at the mall at the same time, but would love to see that happen. Maybe the two will mash-up and combine to form a Super-Mega Emo group and solve mysteries?

oooh.. note to self: Start a book series with the above premise.

7. This is not even really mall-related...

I found out I really love the cornball side of Halloween... You know, where ghosts say puns like "Welcome to our house... we've been dying to see you! MUAHAHAHAHAHAH!" I love that. It's part of my whole YTV obsession as a child where I would watch marathon upon marathon of Goosebumps/Are you Afraid of the Dark/Freaky Stories. I love Halloween tv specials, scary stories, Halloween school projects (like making witch hats out of construction paper!) and Halloween costumes. I am so still 7 years old. But I don't care much for gore, whore and apple core halloween stuff (ie. bobbing for apples. that's a disease ridden cesspool if I've ever seen one). Nor do I even really like candy (blasphemy! I know).

Alrighty, that's all for now.

See you later kiddies, thanks for dropppppppping byyyyyy (said by a zombie who falls from the ceiling with a noose around his neck.... yeah, saw it on an episode of tales from the Cryptkeeper I think)

Partay Animals

2008-10-17T00:04:00.000-07:00

I thoroughly enjoy going to the zoo. I dig all creatures great and small.

Be forewarned, because you'll see this annoying dude. He usually has on khaki shorts, because for some reason he thought that he wasn't just going to the zoo, but that he was going to go into the actual fucking wild.

Because everytime you go to the zoo, there's always that one douchebag who says:
"Man, you kind of feel bad for those animals eh? They look so bored..."

And sometimes they press their face up to the glass and say:
"You don't want to be locked up in here, do you? You want to be out there in the wild"

And the rest of us are all standing around like "Fuck you, man. We ALL just spent $22.50 to check out some animals; don't ruin it!". Because he obviously doesn't feel that bad after he snaps 208 pictures of that same animal. I hate to crush your little world pretentious freedom fighter, but that $7 souvenir cup with the rhinoceros on the front filled with red slushy drink? Didn't do shit to "free" the animals either.

I mean, obviously these animals look bored. Have you ever watched the Discovery Channel? I'm sorry, but animals are fucking boring. When they're not hunting, they're sleeping. that's what they like to do. They don't dance around the wild singing songs about how they'll rule the jungle after their father dies a la the Lion King, or do whatever they did in that Madagascar (what happened in that movie anyway?).

I mean, if even the tv-worthy discovery channel footage is boring, I'd hate to see the shit they take out.

How interesting are you Mr.khaki shorts when you're just trying to live? I can just picture this bastard now going to some sketchy Thai zoo where bears in chains juggle whilst hoisted on medicine balls and him saying "see, these... these animals look like they're enjoying themselves". I totally just wrote Thailandese. Is that a word? Why do I feel in my soul that it is, but feel in my brain that it is not....

Granted some animals get bored and some go crazy in captivity. But I'm sure animals in the wild get a little crazzzay too. that's why they call them "wild".

Paris Hilton's Trainwreckage Search for a Career

2008-10-15T03:28:00.001-07:00

I'm an extremely nice person. I watch shit shows so that you won't have to! You're very welcome. Especially for this atrocity of a show:

Did they totally steal the backsplash and graphics from "Sweet 16" (please sing that as it is meant to be sung)? This show is quite likely the most horrific show I've ever seen. Not because the premise of finding a BFF via a television show is lame, but because the prize is Paris Hilton. I mean, every game show which offers something other than money is a total joke. Oh, but people get diamonds at random times where the winner of each competition is selected in a subjective way that I don't always get, by ambiguous standards like "Who is the biggest clubber?".Not to mention, Paris did in fact at one point mention a Season 2, so good luck Season 1 winner.

We all know how it'll go down, right? In the end, Paris will say she was betrayed or that her new BFF just couldn't handle the hectic lifestyle. We call this the Tila Tequila cop-out (okay, so this show is not the most horrific show, Ms. Tequila's is).

I also love how Paris drops little pearls of wisdom throughout the show, whilst sitting stiffer than Paris Hilton in a sex tape, on a loveseat. Who knew someone could look so unsexy on a loveseat? But she doles out little insights on "true friendship", like how a best friend should be totally devoted to you, dye their hair because you tell them to and do random tasks that don't have anything to do with your personal interests (I mean, I'm sure polo playing skills are just imperative in a friendship).

As a sidenote, whatever happened to Paris' little chihuahua? He has morphed into 20 humanoid contestants, I guess.

Now, in the words of Paris Hilton, TTYN (she's so clever! Talk to you never! LOL!). A better one you can use Paris? See you never, totally. You can shorten it to the acronym C-U-N-T.

Now if you'll excuse me, episode three is on.

It's a metaphor for life, really...

2008-10-02T00:56:00.001-07:00

I always play video games up until the hard level where there's some sort of crazy monster that breathes fire or poisonous gases that make you lose energy every step you take. And then you look up "cheats" online, but the cheats tell you that to defeat the monster, you have to stab it. How novel.

Honestly though, I HATE the whole "Try again at a harder level". I understand if there's some mini "easy" level practice version, but when I'm playing on "normal", don't I deserve the normal ending without the condescending message at the end? Don't I deserve to unlock special codes where I can play with Mario wearing different colour overalls?

Life is about not getting rewards and always trying again on harder levels. But taking the easy way out sometimes means you save a lot of time. And time is money. And... where was I going with this? Where am I? Yeah.

Uggo

2008-09-25T23:00:00.000-07:00

Today my mum told me I looked like Betty. As in Ugly Betty. It's fun to be referred to a character who has the word "Ugly" in their name. In other words, in the absence of "Betty", my mom totally trashed talked me and called me ugly. Secondly, how my mother knows anything about American contemporary media is beyond me.

I embrace being ugly.Ugly is the new pretty. Well not really, but I tell myself it is. It's because I bought new glasses which in the words of my father, are "nerd glasses". The fact of the matter is, I'm, at the very heart of it, a very cheap person (and a nerd). I like to get the most frame for my buck, and if that means horn rimmed glasses, horned rimmed glasses it is. I don't believe in thin frames or frameless glasses. When I want to look like a norm-y, that's what contacts are for.

At the heart of it, you shouldn't be judging books by their covers. You should be judging them by the photo of the author in the back and then judging that author's credentials to write a book.

That is all.

Oh just as a sidenote: I realized both my Uncle and I think Greg Kinnear have the same glasses. So what are you saying mom? Greg Kinnear is ugly? huh? yeah... what now! It's always been my childhood fantasy to look like a handsome male. Awesome.

Plight of Vanity or Humanity or something like that

2008-09-23T11:09:00.000-07:00