October 21, 2001
One week before moving day. Not a single thing packed. But I'm getting some boxes from my eccentric artist friend Victor today, so don't look at me like that.
Welcome back Vanessa! Thanks for bringing us up to date on what's been happening in your life. I don't think you should feel embarrassed about wanting to stay close to home. Uprooting yourself and moving halfway across the continent is not a step to be taken lightly, and generally it looks more glamorous when someone else does it; the reality is not always so attractive. Do what feels right in your heart and you'll rarely go wrong. That's my perspective anyway.
I dunno, I should be the last person to presume to hand out advice. I read Mendi's thoughts and I want to say something helpful, but really, what do I know? I just keep going back to the same thing I just said – our gut instincts are usually right, and we should trust them more, and not over-analyse. If it turns out to be the wrong thing to do, then it's just an experience you learn from, and you move on. But to me one of the most poisonous emotions is regret over a chance not taken. You can't live your life in fear of making a mistake. You'll never grow, and growth makes life worth living.
That, and good sex. Which you appear to be getting plenty of. Woo hoo, go Foamy!
Kara, I appreciate your comments implying you think I'm some kind of brilliant writer. It really does make me feel better to know there are people who have that impression of me, despite my own self doubts. Ruth thinks I'm brilliant too. Now if I could just convince myself, maybe I'd start acting the part.
Is it just me, or is everyone finding it impossible to access Liz's journal site? I haven't been able to get into it for months. Maybe I have the wrong URL, or maybe her server has changed its rules. I'd really like to know what she's been up to, so I hope someone can shed some light.
Mallus, we need details. Quit hiding.
One last note. I really shouldn't have checked my site stats, because now I know that the most common google search phrase used to access my site was "enjoy seeing naked men." Jesus.
October 15, 2001
Okay, okay, enough with the nagging. I've been busy, all right? Sheesh.
In just two weeks, we're moving. Two disfunctional households into one. Go us! We are both just about broke, scrambling to get more work, at the worst possible time. Oddly, the money problem doesn't bother us as much as maybe it should. We are too focused on the excitement of moving in together, settling in to that wonderful, perfect house...and, I guess, fretting a little over the enormity of this step we are taking, relationship-wise.
I am taking Lisa's approach to moving. Just the other day, I thought maybe I might go out and look for some boxes. Meanwhile Ruth has her dining room packed. Heh. And she always claims to be not organized. As for Ian and his stuff, I am thinking about a snow shovel and a dozen green garbage bags.
He turns 19 in two months. I sometimes fantasize about driving him to the welfare office on his birthday and leaving him there with a note pinned to his jacket: "Feed and house this boy. He likes cheese buns."
Later this morning I have an interview for a communications job with BCAA (the auto club). My fingers are crossed; it would be a great gig, I think. Some cool perks too, including travel discounts. Meanwhile, out of three "sure-thing" contracting prospects I was expecting to have as of September 1, one of them never happened at all, one was put back to the end of this month, and the other might happen in January, if at all. Argh. Stoopid economy.
Hi Cindi. I'm glad to see you back to writing. But I'm sorry to hear the kitten still has that goopy eye. And Camille, don't listen to the critics; I'm sure you sing like an angel.
Going all over the map here coz I'm in a hurry and can't be bothered to edit...Went to see Iron Monkey the other night, with the kids (my daughter was staying with me for the week). It was a hoot, a real popcorn muncher in the grand tradition of mindless Saturday afternoon fun. Lots of energy, ridiculously broad humor, good versus evil, but especially lots of amazing kung fu ass-kicking action.
My daughter turns 15 next week. She and her best buddy, whose birthday is close to hers, are having a joint skating-and-pizza party at the local ice rink. She has invited 70 people. Seventy!! I told her I don't even know 70 people, and I'm...um, really old. She just laughed. I'm glad I amuse her.
Ruth and I are thinking of dropping in on Towel one of these weekends, at her new job at Fifth Avenue Cinema. Just to embarrass her, you see. She has been sending me weird, insulting messages, and needs a comeuppance. I might drag Ian along with me to see if she'll take him off my hands. That would teach her. Ha!
Oops, it's almost time for my interview. Gotta go shave my legs. Wish me luck! Mwah!
October 6, 2001
Holy canneloni! I turn my back for a few days and all hell breaks loose. People posting left and right, zombies coming out of the woodwork, dogs marrying cats, Stuart getting laid...it's unbelievable!
I was going to get into a couple of what's-up-with-that rants. Like, what's up with corn mazes? I didn't know there were such things, and now, just this year, I'm seeing them everywhere. This summer in Winnipeg we noticed the tourist guidebook in our hotel room had not one, but TWO corn mazes listed as attractions. We've seen signs pointing out corn mazes in the Fraser Valley, in Washington State, in Illinois...
Can someone explain this phenomenon? Did the corn farmers suddenly all decide to go after tourism revenue? Maybe it was discussed at their annual conference (CobCon 2001). Am I the only one who's read Children of the Corn? Mendi? You there?
Oops. That was a rant, wasn't it? OK, I won't say anything about how stupid someone has to be to get into a lineup at the airport (especially nowadays) and tell bad jokes about carrying a bomb...yet I've read half a dozen stories recently about people doing just that. Duh!
First off, Terra: yes, I do read your entries. I enjoy how open you are about your own foibles, and many times you make me laugh. Like your inability to remember faces – I have the same problem with names. It's murder in my business, where networking is so important, but there are times I could forget my own name for chissake. I also smiled at your comments about self-affirmation, mainly because it reminded me of Stuart Smalley. I could never do that kind of thing with a straight face, even though I probably need it as much as anyone.
Um, another thing, Terra...have you figured out yet how to see Ciderwoman's entries? You have to scroll down a tick. I didn't realize that at first either. Heh, what a doofus I am.
Camille, welcome back to the Big Smoke on the Water. I'm glad to hear your brother is okay and ready to start throwing himself off cliffs again. I think I'd like to meet your mom some day; she sounds like a hoot. I wouldn't be surprised if I went to school with her (ack!).
Cindi, I've been meaning to tell you I have listened to Jordan's CD a few times, and I like it. Some of the tracks have a real nice mellow groove. I like the acoustic guitar work especially.
Cider, re. your bit about truckers signaling thanks to each other, did you know that Ruth (Crabbygal) used to be a long-distance truck driver? She has a ton of great stories to tell. Maybe I'll share a couple of them, one of these days.
Paul, nice zoo pics. When we were in Chicago this summer with Cindi, we toured the Brookfield Zoo and saw some amazing stuff. Like a rhino taking the biggest, longest piss I have ever seen. Man, it was like a firehose! We also watched bats having sex. They do it while hanging upside down, repeatedly, and the female makes a hell of a racket. A lot like...um...never mind.
OK, enough out of me. I'm glad to see everyone peeking out from their foxholes again. Let's keep it going.
September 29, 2001
OK, I'm a bad journaller. I try to be better, but lately it's been hard. I think I just let myself get out of the habit.
It has been a weird month. What happened on Sept. 11 really threw me for a loop emotionally. I was in a fog for a week, doing little else but watch CNN and read every newspaper report I could get my hands on. All the while, I had a big writing project which I wasn't able to focus on. This despite the fact that I desperately needed the money, and you don't get paid til you finish the job and send the bill.
I have a lot of opinions around the whole WTC thing (are you surprised?), but no desire to get into any debates about who is at fault, did the U.S. have it coming, should we be worried about war, and all that. I already argued myself out on the Sissy boreds, debating with a tedious English git over whether all religious people are potential suicide bombers.
Anyway, the event shook me up because I could imagine myself in one of those towers. I spent years in the corporate world; I know that environment, those people. I could picture myself sitting there, reading my morning e-mail with my Starbucks coffee, exchanging idle banter with the guy in the next cubicle. And then the plane hits, and within minutes the universe has been shattered and I'm leaning out of a smoking window, 100 floors above the street, watching my coworkers jump to an ugly death, and trying to decide whether to join them. I used to have nightmares about falling from a skyscraper; this was a nightmare come to life.
Anyway, it messed me up. Stupid CNN.
September was supposed to be the month my financial crisis turned around, after a very lean summer. But the jobs I was expecting are still not happening, and may not happen. I have rent due on Monday and I'll have to borrow to pay it, and I feel like a loser.
Anyone need an article written? A strategic communication plan developed? Technical report laid out? Will work for food.
Oh well, it's not all bad. Vancouver in the fall is beautiful. I love the crispness in the air, and the way the sunlight slants against the mountains, and the yellow leaves everywhere. I have Ruth to lean on, thank god. I don't know what I'd do without her.
I haven't read everybody else's journals before writing this, so my apologies for not responding to anyone's thoughts here. That will be my next entry. Along with a rant about corn mazes -- what's up with them, anyway?
September 10, 2001
All right, my hiatus is over. I'll be posting more regularly again.
It was an eventful summer, maybe too eventful to cover it all in one post. And I doubt anyone is all that interested in the details anyway. So here is a quickie summary just for the record:
I scraped through the summer with hardly any work (and therefore, very little income), so I was depressed about that for quite a while. I had to borrow money just to make ends meet. But the ends did meet, and now I'm working on a couple of good contracts, so I'll be OK again soon. Thank god Ruth has been making good money and insisted on helping me out, or I would have been on the street corner selling my ancient ass, or living in a cardboard box under the bridge. Woe unto me.
In late August Ruth, Ian and I went to Winnipeg for my dad's 75th birthday, and for a couple of reunion performances by the jug band I used to be part of, back in high school and college (1970-78, specifically). It was great fun, lots of nostalgia value. Ruth and Ian had never seen us play before, and both were duly impressed by my artistry with a washboard and kazoo.
After that, Ian flew home and Ruth and I continued on to Chicago (which, incidentally, you can't get to from Winnipeg -- don't ask). We got to hang out with Cindi and Mendi, and had a wonderful time. Cindi is the world's best hostess and tour guide, and the sweetest thing since schmoo (a Winnipeg dessert Ruth is addicted to). Mendi is a standup comic with a wicked, dry sense of humor. Both are welcome in our home any time; ditto for Shrew and Wooman, actually.
On our return, we finalized the purchase of our house. We're moving in together, the three of us, at the end of October. There are some complications that make Ruth nervous, but I don't want to get into that now. We're excited, mostly. And nervous. Urk.
This weekend we drove down to Portland for yet another sissymeet. We have now met 21 little cartoon girls in total. Sabine and Devi got pissed and did a cheerleader routine. Ruth and I stayed over at the place where the group met: a large old school that has been converted to a funky hotel and meeting place. There was a chalkboard in our room. And an elaborate carved headboard that now has Ruth's fingernail scratches on it. Oops, I promised I'd stop talking about sex. Sorry.
That's it for my news. I'm now scrambling to keep a tight deadline, writing a series of articles on medical research. Go ahead, ask me what's new in neurogenetics, I dare you.
Camille, I'm relieved that Aaron is on the mend and appears no worse for wear. But what's this you were saying about dating an eight-year-old boy in Hawaii? I must have missed something.
Terra: is it your birthday yet? If so...ha ha, you're old! No, seriously, I hope you celebrate the milestone in style. Get really drunk and do something totally embarrassing. Then move away. Yes, that's the way to celebrate.
To kara and everybody else that is still keeping up, I hope you're all okay and in love. L8terz.