Bobby Pins and Bowling Balls

His name is Bruce.

2012-02-03T07:02:00.000-08:00

A brand new Springsteen tune hit the airwaves this past week. Driving to work this morning (in my boyfriend's brand new used Corolla), this tune came on the radio and filled the car with its magical sound. It may not be the greatest Springsteen song ever, but it has that thing, that unidentifiable thing that can only be found in a Springsteen tune, that thing that somehow sneaks into my brain and boosts my seratonin, making me certain that everything is gonna be ok. While I have no scientific proof that Bruce Springsteen's music has any effect on the chemical balance in my head, I do know that it never fails to make me smile. And that's something special.

So today is a Springsteen day. A day for good music, warm beverages, reminiscing, and glimpsing a future both idillic and realistic. Enjoy this day.

Objectively awesome.

2011-11-21T11:01:00.000-08:00

Depression and memory problems sometimes conspire to make me forget/ignore the FACT that I am by all standards objectively awesome. Today, I remembered.

Today, some high school aged girl from Lithuania sent me a friend request on Facebook. I don't know this girl. But noticing that her family name very closely resembled mine, I figured I should at least check out her profile. Upon observing her profile pic, it became clear that I must befriend this girl because she had my face. Her picture looked almost exactly like pictures of me at age 14-15. Whether the resemblance is due to family ties or purely coincidental, I'm pretty psyched to have found my doppelgänger.

Then, I decided to look through my profile pics in order to see what impression of me this young girl from another continent would develop by perusing my profile. And I came to the conclusion that this girl could not do anything other than find me to be awesome. Let me describe some of the photos of me so that you can see for yourself why I would be perceived this way:

- photo of me wearing a straw hat and holding a giant water gun above my head, ready to attack = awesome

- photo of me hugging a giant inflatable ice cream cone = awesome

- photo of me wearing a fur hat and a scarf, white xmas lights wrapped around my head, and an expression of mock terror on my face = awesome

- photo of me dressed as a bearded lady standing next to my boyfriend dresses as a juggalo = awesome

- photo of me playing jenga = awesome, just because its jenga

- various photos of me playing roller derby = awesome

- a photo of me and a few other people in a claw-footed bathtub in the middle of the woods = awesome

- photo of me holding 2 tiny kittens up to my face so as to have a kitten moustache = pure awesome

Its entirely possible that this girl in Lithuania has a different idea of awesome than I do. And its entirely possible that everyone reading this disagrees with me on the definition of awesome. But right here, right now, I'm really happy to know that I see myself as pretty damn awesome.

Red State

2011-07-15T07:50:00.000-07:00

Last night was the opening night of the Fantasia Film Festival and I found my was into the audience of the opening film, Red State. Red State is Kevin Smith's foray into the horror genre. Honestly, I was a little concerned that he might have created some weird composite of Jersey Girl and Cop-Out with more gore. But I was pleasantly surprised. Kevin Smith managed to create something absolutely wonderful. Vulgarity, humour, blood, gore, religious zealots, mixed with an awesome cast and a massive dose of realism. The most eery aspect of the film is how realistic it feels.

When Red State opens in theatres, I strongly recommend you flock to the box office in hoards.

Its spring again...

2011-07-15T07:17:00.000-07:00

Concussions will fuck up your life. I don't quite remember the last time I posted on this blog. The fact is I don't really remember much of the spring, summer and fall of 2010. I remember being very aware of my limited memory and very upset about it, but the details of my existence are quite fuzzy. Things really only start to get clear around April 2011.

At some point in my unemployable state, I decided to go back to school so that I can become employable again. So in April 2011, I was finishing up my first semester and feeling pretty damn good about it. My head barely ever hurt, so I sent off an email to my former employer mentioning that I would like to try my hand at working again if they had a little bit of contract work for me. So, they called me up, I worked a few days and BAM, I was feeling awesome.

3 months later, I've been working consistent graphic design work. I've started going to music shows again. And I'm even ok with having a drink or 2 on occasion. Its a rebirth of sorts. I am alive again.

manifesto of a chunky girl

2010-08-20T18:52:00.000-07:00

Is it ok for mothers to tell their daughters that they need to lose weight? It is ok for grandmothers to tell their granddaughters that they need to lose weight? Is it ok for anyone to tell a grown woman what to do with her body?

No.

No, its not ok.

And as a happily chunky girl, I resent anyone who says anything to make me think I should be ashamed of my body. I may not be thin, but this girl has never had any trouble attracting the people she wants to attract. A pretty face, big boobs and a firm (roller-derby experienced) ass are physical qualities that many women would kill for. And yet, some people can't see past my weight.

My size has proven to be an asset to me on so many occasions. My legs are large and they are powerful. My shoulders are broad. My hips are wide and ready to bear children. I am a strong beautiful woman who can be physically imposing when necessary. I have never had to fear for my safety while walking alone at night in the big city because I am a big, strong, confident woman who has always held onto (perhaps foolishly) the idea that she can kick the shit out of any mugger or sexual predator who crosses her path. And I'm not afraid to enjoy hearty meal.

To those people who try to make me feel ashamed of my size, I tell you now:

"I will not lose weight for you, not now, not ever."

I did not choose to be a big woman. My genetic make-up made me this way. I did however choose to embrace my body, to find the pros to being a sizeable woman and use them to my advantage.

And let me specify that when I say sizeable, I do not mean obese or unhealthy. I am a healthy active individual who strives to maintain a happy healthy active lifestyle, but understands that losing weight is not a magical answer to anything. So if you are someone who doesn't want to see a chunky girl enjoying life more than you, look elsewhere. I am not ashamed. And I will not change to fit your mold.

When the tornado drops gold in your lap...

2010-08-17T14:34:00.000-07:00

I haven't written in a while because the Lady Gaga concert I went to a while back caused a relapse of my concussion pain. As a result, I missed a ton of work, developed a mild painkiller habit and lost my job.

Now, I could blame this all on Gaga, but I know she meant me no harm and I really should have known that my head wasn't healed enough to permit me to attend a concert at the Bell Center. Shame on me. And while the average person who finds themselves unemployed and in frequent pain would most likely be somewhat resentful of the events/decisions that lead to their present state, I am rather relieved.

The pain, I could definitely live without (hence the painkillers), but the loss of my job is something of a blessing in disguise. It has forced me to reevaluate my career choice. And I've come to the realization that although I do enjoy being something of an artist, spending all day everyday in front of a computer is detrimental to my well being. And so I've decided to go back to school. The program I am most interested in is Special Care Counseling. Its too late to register for this semester and they do not accept new students in the spring semester, so I'll have to wait until next year. And in the meantime, I will find a new job, perhaps sitting in front of a computer screen, perhaps not. And then I'll save some cash so that I will not starve when I go back to school full-time.

Other perks of unemployment are that I now have time to whip myself back into shape and time to spend cooking hearty and healthy meals for myself and my boyfriend. Being active and eating well make me feel healthy and happy and more productive. So, if I can keep this up, life should be good.

POP!

2010-06-16T07:20:00.000-07:00

Last Friday, I was exhausted. The week had been filled with long work days and too many evening events and all I wanted to do was sleep. Instead, I collapsed on my bed after work, watched and hour of "Say Yes to the Dress" and then took the world's longest shower and spent a ridiculously long time doing my hair and makeup and finding the perfect rock n roll outfit. When I finally felt ready to leave the house and break out into the world, there was no denying that I looked HOT! And after a long long week of going to work in jeans and a hoodie with no makeup because I always woke up with zero energy, knowing I looked good was just the boost I needed to get me psyched about enjoying my evening.

My evening plans consisted of accompanying my entertainment editor boyfriend to a french popstar's concert at the Bell Center. I had never heard of Marie Mai (the popstar in question) until 2 weeks ago. All i really knew about her was that she was known as a bit of a french Avril Lavigne, that she's been on Star Académie and that she was trying to break into the anglophone market.

When Walter and I got there, the show was well underway and the crowd was filled with french rocker moms and children of all ages armed with glowsticks and dancing up a storm. Walter and I found are seats and sat down to be amused by the spectacle. But then Marie Mai dedicated her next song to everyone in the audience. What she then proceeded to play was an epic 20 minute medley of so many great pop and rock songs. There was Lady Gaga's Bad Romance, Ke$ha's Tick-Tock, LaRoux's Bulletproof, a bit of AC/DC, some Twisted Sister, Jump Around and much much more. With every transition from one famed song, Walter and I lost our shit and let ourselves go as wild as (if not wilder than) the rest of the crowd. Afterwards, famed late 80s early 90s quebec rock chic Marjo joined Marie Mai on stage to make Marie Mai's childhood dream of singing with her idol come true. It was all pretty epic.

After Marie Mai walked off the stage, many parents chose to ignore the possibility of an encore and started filtering out of the theater. But then Marie Mai appeared on this mini circular stage to sing some of her classic french ballads. Just her and a grand piano. And then she walked through the crowd, still singing, surrounded by security, to get back to the main stage where the rest of her band joined her to finish up the encore. Excellent showmanship.

Then, Walter and I found our way backstage where we consumed entirely too much free wine, chatted up Marie Mai's manager and I ended up the evening committing a minor crime.

After seeing the spectacle of this minor pop star, it made the decision to purchase Lady Gaga tickets a lot easier. So now I'm psyched. Less than 2 weeks left... LADY GAGA!

Les Miserables

2010-06-14T06:57:00.000-07:00

Everyone who knows me well, knows how much I love Les Miserables and how sad I was for 20 years of my life about not getting the opportunity to see it. Specifically, I was pissed at karma for giving me the chicken pox when I was 7 and had a ticket to see Les Mis with my dad. My brother went instead and the natural born musician in him absolutely loved it and shoved it in my face that I wasn't able to go.

So last Tuesday, when I got to see Les Miserables at the Francofolies, it was a dream come true. Every song pulled at my heartstrings. And while I was sitting in the dark theater, it was like I was 7 years old all over again and I let myself be completely immersed in and enchanted by the music and the costumes and the sets and the lighting and the whole production. Only, I believe I was able to appreciate it in a way my 7 year old historically uneducated self would not.

Highlight of the night: Walter leans over to me and says "You didn't tell me the Susan Boyle song was in this!!!"

The BCASA Mortal Kombat Official video

2010-05-28T13:33:00.000-07:00

This may just be the greatest thing since sliced bread.

Dinos for you and me!

2010-05-21T06:26:00.000-07:00

Let us take a moment to reflect upon dinosaurs.

Dinosaurs are undeniably awesome. Just think about this for a second: giant reptiles roaming around the Earth back in the day, a long time prior to the existence on mankind. Some bigger than others. Some vegetarian, some carnivorous. Some with long necks like giraffes so they can access the most tastiest of foliage from the highest of trees. Some with sharp scary teeth. Some with bulbous foreheads. Some with horns. Some with wings. Some walking on 2 legs, others on 4... And although they lived billions and billions of years ago, we're still unearthing some of the skeletons and fossilized remains today. HOW COOL IS THAT?!?!

And since the dawn of film, people have been making movies about Dinosaurs and trying to mythologize these creatures who are not creatures of myth but of the far past. As a child of the 80s, I was exposed to the Land Before Time films (well maybe not all 10 of them, but at least the first 3), the Jurassic Park trilogy, the comedic genius of the television series Dinosaurs, the 2001 Disney film Dinosaurs which I saw in theaters with my little cousins. And I've got to say, its damn cool that we've got a category of creatures that remain mysterious no matter how much we attempt to study them billions of years after their extinction. And this mystery only increases our love and curiosity for these beast.

Fuck Yeah DINOSAURS!!!!!!!!!!

lost weekend

2010-05-20T11:59:00.000-07:00

Last weekend was a lost weekend. The kind of weekend where time seems to work differently that usual. I went up to a friend's lakeside cottage for a weekend of relaxing times, nature adventures and good eats. The eats were actually beyond good. The meals were divided up between all the guests. And since everyone only had 1 meal to prepare, everyone decided to take their 1 meal to the ultimate level. I would love to recount to you in detail the glorious food that met my lips and found its way into my belly over the weekend, but I'm convinced that just thinking about it will cause me to fall into a potentially fatal food coma. I'll just leave you with one comment about the food: it was all delicious.

There's something magical about spending a weekend out of town. We wandered through the woods, sat on the beach absorbing the sun, went for a spin in the canoe, took catnaps, and spent as much time as possible ridding the all-terrain-vehicle. ATVs are AMAZING! I want one. Actually, it also made me want to get my motorcycle license, which is something I definitely cannot afford right now, so I would settle for frequent rides on the back of someone else's motorcycle. I WANNA BE A BIKER CHICK!

dating monthly anniversary gift guide

2010-05-18T09:29:00.001-07:00

Tomorrow is my 2 month dating anniversary with my boyfriend. That's right, no one cares. The only reason I am not filled with total apathy at this tiniest of milestones is that Walter has this tendency to bring out the cheesy romantic in me. Anyways, I decided to search the internet for traditional anniversary gift lists, only the find that those lists only dictate what gifts are appropriate for wedding anniversaries and on a yearly basis. And personally, I think that's BALLS!

So, I've decided to make this fun and create my own list of gifts to mark the monthly milestones of the 1st year of a relationship.

1 month: napkin poetry

2 months: graffiti

3 months: found art

4 months: humorous erotica

5 months: personalized performance art

6 months: the tears of a unicorn

7 months: pasta

8 months: bubbles

9 months: cherry flavored alcohols

10 months: things that start with the letter X

11 months: a non-gender appropriate sex toy

12 months:

I'm going to leave the 1 year mark blank and see what comes up. All the other's are open to interpretation and creativity.

Fried Gator or Voodoo Pasta?

2010-05-14T09:27:00.000-07:00

The rest of my week was filled with fun things like my first BBQ of the season, the HABS playing game 7 of the series against the Penguins and winning (woot! i love game 7s), annoyance at rioters (especially towards whomever was responsible for injuring a police horse, i mean COME ON! Who decides to pick a fight with a horse anyways?! Idiots), and a very special occasion called date night.

This wasn't just any regular ol' date night. There is a cajun restaurant by the name of La Louisianne that has always taunted me with its seemingly delicious menu and slightly extravagant prices. And my degenerate gambler of a boyfriend promised me that if he won money in his hockey pool, he'd take me out good and proper to La Louisianne. By sheer chance, his dumb luck proved useful and so a La Louisianne dinner was place in the cards. With my recent head pain, we decided not to rush things and we waited for a day when I would be able to thoroughly enjoy the evening. That day was yesterday.

Since this fancy dinner was pretty much a 1 time thing, we decided to go all out, PROM-STYLE! That's right folks. I put on my pouffy flowery strapless dress and heels, did hair and makeup, got myself all dolled up (i even purchased a new bra for the occasion.) Walter put on his most gentlemanly attire. And we walked down Sherbooke street on a warm evening in May to a fabulous restaurant.

We sat on the terrace and the waitress quickly brought us drinks. A La Louisianne Cocktail for the lady (Southern Comfort, lemon, Grand Marnier) and a beer for the gent. And then we perused the menu. Everything sounded so deliciously southern: Catfish Étouffée, Voodoo Pasta, Hushpuppies, Ya Ya Gumbo, Jambalaya, Deep-Fried Alligator, Sweet Potato Fries... and the list goes on... The decision was a tough one. I wanted to try everything. Even the fish and seafood dishes tempted me despite my lifelong disassociation with those food items. However, not wanting to waste this 1 time opportunity on something I might not enjoy, I decided to play it safe and went for the chicken jambalaya with hushpuppies as an appetizer. Walter got the linguini with mussels and a tomato basil garlic soup. We shared the soup and the hushpuppies. Both were intense. In case you've never had them before, hushpuppies are tasty balls of spicy yeast; 99% carbs, 1% crazy spices. The tomato soup was so thick it was almost like eating tomato sauce. I couldn't stomach more than a couple spoonfuls, but damn, those few spoonfuls were good.

When the main course arrived, I'd grown chilly and Walter had given me his coat. My drink had gone to my head a little bit. And I found myself caught in one of those perfect priceless moments when everything is just right. Then I took my first bite. The chicken was grilled to perfection and the jambalaya was made with the perfect blend of texture and spice. I was barely able to eat half my plate... This however turned out to be a blessing because now I will get to enjoy the leftovers for lunch today. Let the sequel feasting begin!

Movie Stars and Mini-Burgers

2010-05-14T06:16:00.000-07:00

This week has been filled by a multitude of memorable events. Unless I write them down here today, my future self will never remember that all these events transpired within the same week.

Monday night, I attended the red carpet premiere of The Trotsky, a Montreal based film starring Jay Baruchel and Colm Feore. My important newspaper man boyfriend had to interview the stars, writers and producers of the film as they walked down the red carpet and I stood next to him. At first is was kind of exciting and then I grew eager to sit down and enjoy the film. As Walter interviewed people I listened curiously, a litte to hear what the movie stars had to say, but mostly to be awed by Walter's ease with questions and mad interviewing skills. He brought out chuckles from his interviewees and managed to ask potentially indiscrete questions in a charming and social acceptable way. As I glanced at the long row of media folk eager to get quotes from everyone, it struck me how horribly tedious it must be to be asked variations of the same questions over and over and over again and to be expected to answer with charm and grace. Colm Feore struck me as the essence of professionalism and eloquence. I am so glad no one expects me to behave like him.

The movie was cute. Walter and I had differing opinions. The films refusal to address certain issues pissed him off somewhat. But it was exactly that same overall feeling of acceptance of a delusion that I enjoyed about the film. The ending is not a sad one, the hero is victorious in the end, however the victory in itself makes the character hopelessly tragic.

Anyways, the best part of the night was after the film. We ran out of the theater to catch the last 10 minutes of the hockey game in the sports bar upstairs and then up one more flight of stairs to the movie première after party. At this point I was exhausted and being in a room crowded with movie folk, their friends, media, etc. was not seeming like the most fun way to spend my evening... but then I found the free wine and the free buffet table overflowing with delicious MINI-BURGERS!!!!!!!!!! The mini-burgers were so damn delicious that I'd give up my entire fortune to go back in time and experience that first bite of mini-burger over and over and over again. The wine was also pretty fantastic. However, the one thing I will always remember from that evening will the the epic flavour and abundance of the free mini-burgers.

The end... for now.

why this year is better than the last

2010-05-10T07:30:00.000-07:00

My recent brain injury has caused me to neglect my writing. But unlike last year's concussion, this one has not prevented me from living and enjoying my life. I've been to derby games, karaoke nights, plays, dinners, family parties, museums... Sometimes I bail early or cancel my plans at the last minute because Mr. Massive Head Pain comes to visit, but those incidences are becoming less and less frequent.

And unlike last year, I haven't let the physical pain effect me too much emotionally. Yes, I am occasionally a little sensitive because the pain wears down my patience a little, but I have not let myself succumb to self-pity and fall into the depths of depression. For this, I have Walter to thank primarily. I would not be able to keep a positive outlook on life without him supporting me. He is my rock. He cooks for me when I wouldn't have the energy to do anything other than heat up some spaghetti-o's. He makes me smile when I am inclined to to frown. He reminds me to take my meds and shows me the bright side of life even when he's having a stressful day. And he puts up with me when I pick fights for no reason other than to express frustration over not being healthy yet. And the list goes on...

This past weekend, many of my plans were foiled by headaches and exhaustion. I imagine the drastic weather change had something to do with me feeling under the weather. And although I probably spent the majority of the weekend in bed, it does not feel like wasted time, like missed out fun. I was able to recharge my batteries pleasantly enough with cuddles and movies and reasons to smile.

True Romance

2010-04-05T10:45:00.000-07:00

Over the past 5 or 6 or 7 or 10 years, I've gradually become pretty jaded about love. I've managed to convince myself for brief periods of time that I'd lost my ability to love, that men are incapable of love, that passion only exists for teenagers, that love is a myth, that I'm just not lovable, and that I'm not worth loving.

Recent events have caused in me a change of heart. I met a guy in a bus shelter on the morning of the St-Patrick's parade. And now, I'm a believer again.

Fate has been kind to me.

1-2-3-CLAP!

2010-03-22T06:43:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, my derby team took a little roadtrip down to Vermont to share some of our training methods with a Burlington based team. My teammate Ashley Thudd's mother lives in the area, so many of us stopped at her place post-derby for some sandwiches and conversation before hitting the road. Ashley Thudd's baby girl Tess decided to take advantage of the large audience of derby girls entranced by her every smile and wiggle. So she took her first step. She took 3 steps and then clapped (so we all clapped) and then took 3 steps and clapped again. Cutest thing ever.

Its not everyday one gets to be privy to such an event. It was totally heart melting. Such a tiny little step yet such a large accomplishment. Witnessing baby Tess' total awareness of the vastness of her accomplishment is what touched me the most. As adults, we take so much for granted. And when you think about how there was a time when something so simple as walking evaded your comprehension, it really sheds a greater light on all the things one has accomplished in life. With every little step forward we take in life, the memory of Tess applauding herself ought to come to mind. Our evolution as individuals throughout our lifetimes is nothing short of extraordinary. And I'd like to thank baby Tess for being such a beautiful reminder of that.

Bones Malones

2010-03-18T11:08:00.000-07:00

Last night, the fabulous Bones Malones released his first album. And the album launch was a truly awe-inspiring gig. Years from now, when the band has achieved international success, people will look back on that show as a momentous event in music history.

Now, you may think I'm exaggerating because I know the band

personally. The band consists of Nick Raz (my younger brother) on drums, Chris Raz (my older brother) on guitar, Wes Paterson (friend), and Bones Malones himself (friend). I've known all these guys for at least half their lives and I've seen them evolve into the fine musicians that they are today, so its understandable that I may feel a personal connection to their music. But i can honestly say that if I didn't know them, had been walking down the street last night and hear their music wafting out of the bar, I would have walked in and gladly paid the 5$ cover to check out that sweet sweet sound.

Bones Malones' songwriting is reminiscent of that of Tom Waits, Bob Dylan and Townes Van Zandt. His raw voice and gritty lyrics draw you in and then the musical arrangemenst blow your mind. While Bones is not a fan of being referred to as an italian Tom Waits, you can definately hear the Waits influence in his ballads. However, his more up-tempo tunes kick it into a gear that is entirely his own. You could categorize the music under the label ROOTS, but its so much more than that. You can hear blues, folk, country and punk influences in almost every tune. The album is definately worth the 10$ price. You can hear it a bunch of it online on the Bones myspace page. But I'd recommend buying the album. Its a keeper. It'll never go out of style.

Now, for those of you who have just clicked on the link and are listening to the music, I know you're impressed. However, the live performance last night makes the album tracks sound like live mice in a blender. For the special occasion that is a first album launch, Bonesy invited some musical guests to add to the sound. Mike Gasseldorfer wore a giant hat and rocked out on the percussions (i believe he even played the cheese grater at one point.) And an excellent horn section complemented the regular band on more than half the songs: Lorraine Muller on the sax, Howie Woiwood on trumpet, and Nicky Popovic rocking the trombone. This added a whole dimension to their performance that I've never seen before. Divan Orange was jam-packed with a captivated audience. And when the show come to an end, the audience refused to leave without an encore.

I wish someone had filmed the show, so I could post a clip, but alas you'll have to use your imaginations.

the value of a good neighbor

2010-03-16T09:34:00.000-07:00

Last night, I learnt the value of a good neighbor. Since I moved into my current apartment, I've been pretty isolated. I live alone. When I'm in dire need to food or company, most of my immediate family is just a 4 minute walk away. But in most cases, at least a busride is required to visit my friends. However, this weekend, I randomly befriended a guy who lives in my building. And last night that new friendship proved quite useful.

I was home cleaning, blasting music and enjoying a chill evening at home when I was interrupted by a phonecall from a friend in need. As there is nothing I wouldn't do for my friends and family, I was out the door in seconds and off to provide emotional support. Providing a sympathetic ear, a shoulder to cry on and any means possible to help alleviate someone of their burden is my life's passion. But I have a tendency to take on more than I can handle.

So when the crisis was averted and I wandered back into my apartment, my mind was a little rattled and I could feel enormous clouds of tension building up in my shoulders. Normally, this situation would be dealt with by a couple muscle relaxants and early to bed (which really only puts off the "dealing with stress" till morning.) But this time, my newly befriended neighbor invited me over for a bit of whiskey and conversation. I couldn't ask for a better way to soothe my state of mind. The guy has a sick movie collection too... so being bored at home alone on weeknight? never again.

the art of invincibility

2010-03-15T11:49:00.000-07:00

Sometimes the universe conspires to create a situation in which i feel 100% at ease. Such was my saturday night.

The Montreal Roller Derby League hosted a fundraiser at Green Room. And the bands playing at this event all happened to be bands that I know and love. The starting band was Inside Riot, my friend is dating one of the guys in the band and i've met the rest of them a few times. The second band was Prevenge. I don't know these guys very well, but I've seen them a couple times and they're nice guys. The third band was the B.C.A.S.A, which is my brother's band. And I've been going to their shows since the band was born in my parents basement a billion years ago. And the final band was Dig It Up, whose drummer is a close friend of mine (and the rest of the band members are common staples of my social circle). So, the bands all felt like home to me. And the crowd was filled with my friends and derby people. And the bar was one I used to frequent on a weekly basis. So really, the whole atmosphere felt like home.

My self-confidence sky-rocketed and i was able to talk to strangers, cut loose on the dance floor and have a totally uninhibited good time.

And in the aftermath, my self-confidence is still through the roof. So, ladies and gentlemen, don't fuck with me because right now, i am INVINCIBLE.

RAW

2010-03-10T20:57:00.000-08:00

I've always had a great dislike for the suburban punk trend. Those kids who had a billion shiny new Blink 182 t-shirts, wore Vans, listened to overproduced wanna-be punk boy bands and thought they were rebels. I guess there's nothing wrong with flowing with the mainstream, but it was never my thing. It just always felt too safe and too PG... like sandwiches with the crusts cut off. I've always leaned towards the raw and gritty... I don't want the music, art, architecture and adventures in my life to be emotionless and mass-marketed. The southern US is filled with grit. I'd like to go back to Memphis and listen to the old black man blues again... Or maybe spend the night drinking with street kids in NYC again. That was a classic night.

More raw power of emotion. MORE.

Adam West is my homeboy

2010-03-09T07:40:00.000-08:00

Remember the old Batman movie with Adam West, the Bat shark repellant and the classic line "Somedays, you just can't get rid of a bomb!"? I love that film. And right now, reminiscing about the cheesy dialogue, the ridiculous villains and their silly plots, the fluffy soundtrack and the soothing sound of Adam West's voice is pretty much the only thing keeping me sane this morning.

My mind sometimes get caught in a loop. It'll focus on something over which i have no control (like knowing a friend was at the site of a natural disaster or wondering whether or not i'll get a job I've applied to). Sometimes its something little, sometimes its something big. But every time, the thoughts churn over and over in my head and evolve into something fairly crusty and unpleasant. My shoulders tense up, my teeth grind together and my skin starts to feel like its restricting my every movement. And ignoring this situation is how panic attacks happen. So, today I've adopted the classic distraction technique. And my distraction of choice: Adam West. So far its working like a charm.

My brain is like a record player.

"SMACK! BAM! POW!" is the present soundtrack to my thoughts.

lipstick meets mirror

2010-03-07T19:41:00.000-08:00

At some point this weekend, I wrote my phone number in lipstick on this guy's bathroom mirror. I was not drunk at the time. And i can promise you that not once in my life prior to this event had I ever thought to myself "hey, you know what would be really (insert adjective here)? Writing my phone number in lipstick on someone's mirror." This was not a premeditated act. My train of thought went something like this:

"Hmm, i should give this guy my number.

I don't appear to have a pen.

I'll just use this lipstick.

Man, would it ever suck if i chose this moment to forget my own phone number...."

End of story.

But now, I really wanna know what went on in this guy's head when he groggily got out of bed this afternoon, walked into the bathroom and saw my work of art for the very first time. How do you react to that? I can't imagine myself in that situation. I'd like to think I'd find it rather endearing, but i don't know. I can't help but wonder how difficult it is to get lipstick off mirror. How much Windex would one need to use? And what if there was no Windex in the apartment?Wouldn't it get annoying to not be able to see yourself clearly in the mirror because of the lipstick art? This kinda reminds me of this crazy crayon soap my parents bought when i was a kid. You could draw pictures all over your body (and on the bathroom walls) with the soap. Totally cute idea. Probably marketed as a way to get kids to enjoy soaping themselves up. But really rinsing out all the soap drawings before the child turned into a prune was more difficult/complicated than bathing them the old fashioned way... And I seem to have strayed from the point.

Whatever the outcome, I'm pretty glad i did this. Not many people I know can boast that they have. So it makes for an interesting anecdote. And if something does come of it, the interesting anecdote turns into quite the cute story.

F is for friendship

2010-03-03T23:59:00.000-08:00

Every human connection begins with something superficial. Be it physical attraction or a shared experience, the spark that starts a friendship is, more often than not, something small and seemingly insignificant. When I was but an infant, a friend and neighbor of my parents bore a fetus in her uterus. And in the tradition of young parents associating with young parents, this fetus and my infant self were much in eachother's company and this continued for several years after the fetus became a child. This fetus was my original best friend. And to this day, she and i have a bond that can never be broken. Our friendship began due to proximity and age. But now, proximity is rare (as she finds herself in Africa more often than not and I primarily reside in Montreal.) The common ground in our everyday lives is quite minimal. She is a student who runs off to assist in hospital administration in 3rd world countries on a regular basis. I've been working full-time as a graphic designer for 4 years now. She spends her free time being the most social creature on the planet, going to dinner parties, organizing fundraisers, and making all the boys fall for her ridiculous charm. I spend my free-time playing roller-derby, socializing with the most socially awkward people on the planet, fighting depression, and going out of my way to convince people not to fall for me. We are very different people living very different lives and yet, when we are together, our respective lives cease to matter, our personal baggage gets lost in transit, and we revert entirely to the person inside ourselves who has always been there. The constant. The thing that has always made me me (no matter what life path i've chosen to walk) and the thing that's always made her her. Those things become more evident and present that at almost any other time in my life. And its not that we bring out the best in eachother or that we're soulmates or any of that jazz. Its just that over the years, no matter how long we've gone without speaking, no matter how much we'd evolved, our cores have become the only constant we have left. And thus being around her makes it just so easy to be me.

I have other friends who are slowly reaching to my core and becoming established parts of my existence, but none so much as this one girl. She's been an established part of my life since year 1. I hope she remains so for years to come. She is the sister I never had. And its always great to see her because then for a little while after resuming my regularly scheduled life, I am 100% certain of my own identity. And that is not an everyday occurance.

So... its 3:30am... and i'm pretty sure this blog entry rambled like mad... please don't hate me.

Zombie Muppets Save Lives!

2010-02-24T08:30:00.000-08:00

I have robots tattooed to my wrists because, lets face it, robots are awesome. When I put my wrists together, the little buggers hold hands. Its incredibly cute. And I can just tell that you're incredibly jealous. But aside from being cute and quirky, these tattoos do mean a lot to me. Its commonly said that its the little things in life that make it worthwhile. And one of the little things that has never failed to make me smile is my love of robots.

Every once in a while, something inside me zaps away all memory of the little things that get me all psyched. So here is a list of things that have manage to remind me of the awesomeness of life in the past 24hrs:

Zombies (more specifically the comic book The Walking Dead and the possibility of it becoming a television series.)

Muppets (Beaker... on fire... i love that guy)

Starting a mult-person blog with 4 of my closest friends (it promises to be scandalous)

Roller Derby (no explanation required)

Plain yogurt with maple syrup (for someone who rarely consumes dairy, rediscovering my love of yogurt has pretty much blown my mind)

Iron Man (falling asleep watching that film guarantees a good mood in the morning)

Olympic Curling (i haven't even watched any olympic curling but last night my brother started talking to me about the gretsky of curling and this girl on the canadian women's team that he wants to marry... he was just so animated and excited about it that i caught the curling bug)

I expect to encounter many more of these wonderful little things in the days to come.

jam hands cause plague

2010-02-16T17:25:00.000-08:00

Young children never fail to take a liking to me. Its a fact. They may hide in their mother' sleeve or cry at the presence of too many strange faces. But I always manage to win them over. Kids and I have a special bond.

However, this weekend, I consorted with a variety of children, all of whom took a liking to me (fell asleep in my arms, showed me their toys, kissed me on the cheek before going to bed, insisted that i pick them up and spin them around.) It was great fun. But now, I have strep throat. And my guess is that one of the children picked up the bacterial infection and passed it on to my weaker than average immune system while I wasn't paying attention.

So now, i haven't slept in 36 hrs (because I'm in so much pain). I haven't eaten solid foods in 2 days. I have this unattractive tendency to drool. And every time i swallow, the pain makes me wanna puke. And yesterday, for a good few hours in the midst of sick person melodrama, I managed to convince myself that i was dying and started writing a will of sorts. My parents get Skeletor. Jenn gets Casey Jones. Keith gets all my zombie-related literature. And after much debate about what should be done with my corpse, I snapped out of it and realized that my doctor would be smart enough to keep me alive through some kind of throat infection. And now, I'm on meds and hopefully heading towards recovery.

Anyways, all this to say that sometimes hanging out at the kids table can sometimes get you into trouble. This does not mean I'm going to stop befriending little people. It just means, I'm going to take a ton of echinacea and carry around hand sanitizer with me every time I enter a child's playroom.

Karaoke Pinball

2010-02-12T07:14:00.000-08:00

There's something quite liberating about singing. Who doesn't love a good sing-along?! I know I do. However, when it comes to solo performances, my usual audience consists of a scruffy fluffy kitty named Casey Jones and a sleek and graceful cat known as Skeletor. These feline embodiments of cartoon characters from my youth aren't really big on audience participation. I tried to get them to sing along to Country Roads one time and they just looked at me like I was crazy. I encourage their participation no more.

Last night, I somehow ended up at a Karaoke night with a couple friends. We all declared our intention not to sing. We are not karaoke girls. We met up with some other people there who were by definition karaoke people. They were on stage blurting out some tune or other every 5 minutes. Their enthusiasm and the music inevitably got under my skin and the urge to sing rose. Of course, it was immediately struck down by paralyzing performance anxiety.

Everything changed when I found the perfect Karaoke song for one of my friends. She agreed to sing the Fresh Prince of Bel-air theme song on condition that I would sing something too. I half-heartedly agreed with every intention of backing out. But after she sang and came back to the table super pumped and wanting to do it again, I became determined to find my perfect karaoke song. So i sifted through the pages of song titles until I stumbled upon the Patsy Cline tunes. Patsy Cline will always have a special place in my heart because when i was 14, I spent a week living in a barn with a friend of mine. We spent the whole time listening to Patsy Cline, painting philosophizing and exploring the woods. It was a good time. So I carefully selected the Pasty Cline too I know best: Walking After Midnight.

When my name was called, I walked up on stage and waited for the music to begin. But the song started all wrong. The music was in the wrong key and at a faster tempo than it should have been, so i stumbled over the first few bars. And then I suddenly found my footing. And the words flowed out of me just like they did when i was 14, walking down that country road late at night.

From the audience, you rarely take into account that the person on stage can see your reaction. So it was it total shock to me when i looked over at my friends and was able to read their positive facial expressions. I'd always been aware of the performer-audience interaction, I'd just never experienced it from the performers point of view. It was enlightening. I can now see how an audience can make or break a show. I could see that my friends were a little shocked that I can actually sing and that gave me the encouragement i needed to put my whole heart into the tune. I imagine most performers feed off the energy in the crowd, just like the crowd's energy is influenced by the performer's stage presence.

I plan on doing this again sometime. Preferably soon, so that my performance anxiety doesn't return. And in the meantime, I'll continue practicing with my cats. And hopefully, one of these days, they'll learn to sing along.

To ice or not to ice.

2010-02-08T18:20:00.000-08:00

In recent times, a friend of mine has oft remarked on her love of cake. And in my head, she has become a cake obsessed fiend. Thus when she was feeling a little down the other day, I decided to bake her a cake. However, being a horrible friend, I failed at making her cake in a timely fashion. In fact a whole week went by before I overcame most of the obstacles preventing me from baking this cake (lack of time, lack of eggs, lost measuring cup... actually i never found the measuring cup, i just eyeballed it.)

This evening, time just fell into my lap (a meeting got cancelled at the last minute). So off to the store i went for eggs. And on my journey to the gas station/convenience store, I was inspired. What was supposed to be just a regular chocolate cake, turned into a chocolate cake experiment. I altered the recipe to include strawberry milk instead of regular milk. And when i got home and opened my cupboards, my dislike of marshmallows turned into a genius idea. Cake became cupcakes and in each cup, i stuck a marshmallow. Then shoved the cupcake tray in the oven in the hopes that my estimated quantities didn't land far from the mark and that the strawberry-chocolate-marshmallow combination didn't create some crazed chemical reaction/oven explosion of doom.

While they did overflow (with flavour), the cupcakes are now out of the oven and looking and smelling and tasting mad delicious. Now the question that remains is: should I add a layer of vanilla icing? or would that be too extreme? Sometimes, less is more. And i think in this case, the added flavour might detract from the existing awesomeness of my experimental cupcake.

I think that last sentence settles it. My mind is made up. No icing. Not this time.

the beauty of finding hope in past hopelessness

2010-02-06T06:47:00.000-08:00

This morning, I woke up at 8 am on a friend's couch to the sun shinning right in my eyes. Once i was able to adjust my head so as not to be blinded by the light, I was awarded the perfect opportunity to ponder my life of late. The truth is that my life of late has been... interesting?

I've suffered from clinical depression for as long as i can remember. As a child i was the definition of "tough cookie", headstrong and independent and full of zest for life, during the day. But at night, alone in my bedroom, I'd think of the horrors in the world that I knew I could not change and would become overwhelmed by a sense of hopelessness. And as i got older, the barrier of innocent optimism that had previously reigned during the day degenerated due the abuse inflicted by the constantly increasing sense of hopelessness. And one day, hopelessness turned into despair. And when i couldn't stand the pain anymore, despair turned into apathy.

When i was 17, i couldn't be bothered to get out of bed anymore. One day, I just stopped going to school and I eventually had to admit that i needed help (which is no easy feat for someone who prides themselves on their independence.) Therapy, anti-depressants, a change of scenery, a year off school to get my shit together and figure out what to do with my life followed. I shaved my head to stop hiding behind my hair and stopped going out of my way to hide my scars. Pretending I was okay ceased to be an option. I spend years developing a support system, learning how to cope with depression, and reintegrating myself into society as a functional human being. One day, just like that, taking care of myself was no longer a chore. This used to be where my story ended. I would love to be able say "and I lived happily ever after". But such is not the case. I may have let my guard down a little bit.

Last April, I suffered a concussion which really put a damper on my brain function for a little while. I was still functional and coherent, but for months, I felt like my personality was gone. My memory was utter shit and my interest in enjoying myself reached an all-time low. Apathy took over my life and I did nothing to stop it. In November, I found my personality was returning. I had seriously missed being me. So I rode on the high of my own comeback for a while. I socialized and drank (something i hadn't really done in over a year) and made connections with other human beings. I joked around and waxed philosophical. And by January, I was pretty burnt out from over-indulging in being me. Apathy came back, but this time I was aware enough to know that this was bad. I found excuse after excuse not to do things that make me happy, like go to derby practice. I constantly felt ill. So upon going to my doctor because I was convinced I had an ear infection, I decided to mention how depressed I'd been lately. I told him straight up with a huge smile on my face that I needed help and wanted back on anti-depressants. He just looked at me and said: "You don't particularly strike me as someone who's depressed enough to require medication." Tears swelled up in the corners of my eyes as I proceeded to explain to him how he was wrong. Within seconds of my explanation, it was obvious that he'd changed his mind. So now I'm back on meds. Yay!

However, anti-depressants aren't some kind of miracle pill that make everything better. They don't make you happy, but they remove that underlying feeling that no matter what you do, no matter how hard you try, you'll still always be miserable. So now its up to me to fix me. I've been on anti-depressants for 3 weeks now. These past 3 weeks have been emotionally exhausting. The great thing about being totally depressed and apathetic about it is that you can always expect to be miserable. Its pretty much a constant. Now that I'm on meds and working to fight the depression, my mood is nowhere near constant. I go from experiencing childlike glee and finding myself enjoying something simple like a good book or the urge to try something new. And then a few hours later, i crash and burn and find myself caught in the worst anxiety attack of my life because i dropped a bowl of spaghetti on the floor. This kind of emotional instability totally caught me off guard. I have now managed to explain it away. The novelty of being able to feel something other than senseless misery was just so new and exciting that i was unable to feel any emotion other than at its utmost extreme.

This extreme emotional instability has since passed. I can now see that a good book is just a good book, a dropped plate of food is just a dropped plate of food. This morning, I seem to have found balance. Peace. The light is just right. My kitties are asleep on the couch and words flow from the tips of my fingers as i sit in my leopard print bathrobe listening to Townes Van Zandt. A perfectly serene saturday morning. Today, I can enjoy the present. Maybe tomorrow, I'll be able to dream about the future.

hairstylin for circus freaks

2010-02-05T10:55:00.000-08:00

Curlers are something only old ladies use in their blue washed hair to give it an unnatural wave. Right? Wrong. Last night, I purchased curlers and tried them in my hair for the first time since i was 8 years old and my grandma gave me insane jerry curls. And the result, fabulous. I used the largest size curlers i could find, so as not to curl my hair so much as create shape. And shape i did create. My hair became a mountain of volume. This experiment is just the beginning, the first step in my crazy hairstylin' adventures.

Soon, i'll be able to give myself 50s/60s hair and walk outside sporting a beehive wrapped in a scarf (accompanied by jackie-o sunglasses, of course.) This will happen...

Unless i join the circus first. I've recently developed an overwhelming urge to run off an join the circus. Not that i have any specific circus skills. I'm not an acrobat or a freak, but I'd really like to befriend an elephant. Elephants are remarkable creatures. Massive and wrinkled. I'd like to look one in the eye and stroke his side. I imagine elephants can be quite playful. I'd love to play with an elephant. Admittedly, I don't need to join a circus to befriend an elephant. Its just that in my fantasy, its 1908 and i'm covered in tattoos from head to toe, have not a single possession to my name, and i travel across the continent by train with carnies and roustabouts, performers and wild animals. Sounds like a good time. I would have a lesbian love affair with a set of conjoined twins. And I'd probably die of tuberculosis at the age of 32.

And now, i snap back to reality. Time to resume making disney princess books for the children.