Stick a Fork In Me...

My darlings, I am done.

I have, at best, been phoning in this blog for the past several months. I've been thinking about this for a while, and I'm finished. Who knows how I may feel in a few months, but for now - I am closing up shop.

I want to thank everyone who has ever commented, lurked or read me - even just once.

I can't believe the people that I've had the opportunity to meet/write to/speak with because of this tiny little space. It has truly been an honour.

I will still be reading and lurking around all your spaces, so please keep up the good work.

Kisses and tiaras,
Princess/D

This is a Long Rambling Post That You Really Don't Want to Read...

I am cautious. And a good girl.

I would never want to do anything to disappoint my Father. Essentially that's it. My whole world revolves around not letting my Father down.

He's not judgmental, or critical. He's kind and accepting.
However, because I worship the ground my Father walks on, I try to behave in a way that I believe he would like me to.

Yes, I've made a few questionable choices that he would raise his eyebrows at. I've quit jobs without anything to fall back on. I've had sex with a few randoms. I've gotten tattoos.
But I've never really done anything intentionally damaging.

I can only think of a few times where my behaviour has gotten me into trouble and I had to be reprimanded. And they still haunt me. And the two real examples I'm thinking of? One was at age 18, and one at age 20.

I'm 34.

I've never really worried about people gossiping about me, because it's not like I do anything worth talking about. I never think that the girls whispering around me are talking about me - because why would they?

I show up to work. A agonize over something like skirts and boots, so it's not like you're going to see me dressed scandalously. I don't miss deadlines. I don't date - ever, so it's not like people are going to talk about me fraternizing with co-workers.

I do my best to show up to all family gatherings and bring appropriate gifts and food. I try to be considerate to those around me. Getting married? I'll: throw you a shower and a staggette and help address invitations and put together table favours - even if I'm not in the wedding party. Having/Had a baby? I'll: throw you a shower, bring you food in the hospital, make you meals to freeze and eat at your convenience...

And I? Am boring.

My best friends are occasionally reluctant to tell me their own sins because I'm so bloody saint-like. If a person never does anything, why would you want to confide in them?

Now let me qualify that last statement - I am NOT a saint. I've done my share of stupid crap. What I am is (as mentioned above), cautious and kinda dull.

No one is ever going to refer to me as their cool, exciting friend.

But this has resulted in me living a rather passionless existence. I don't really feel like I live my life, I feel like I trudge through it. I don't have anything that I work towards that truly gives me joy.

And that? Is a ridiculous way to be. It's easy to be safe when you're only existing. It's easy to be dull when you don't have a certain "thing" that defines you. When you have nothing that makes this drudgery worthwhile, you can carry on being considerate and boring.

You may remember me occasionally mentioning my erotica blog. That came from me deciding that I wanted to try my hand at the "intimate" section of a dating site. And I felt very shocking doing that. But really, I was scared that my friends were judging me, and that I would get myself...you know killed or something. (Drama Queen much?)

So I met one person a couple of times, then ended it altogether. Now, all I do on there is write. And I admit, I am surprised at what an enjoyable hobby erotic writing is. It really does challenge me.

And you know what? I'm meeting a couple of girls through that blog over the holidays. Yes, my lovelies - the Princess is being oh-so-risque and is staying at a strange girl's house in Hamilton for a couple of days after Christmas. OMFG!

But you wanna know what my concern is about the trip? Not that these girls might be murderers. Not that that they might corrupt my goody-two-shoes *ss. Not that this trip might result in The Sex. (Cause if I'm there, seriously ladies - you probably won't be getting any - I have that kind of celibate aura around me).

Nope. I'm worried about how to tell my Dad that I'm going on a trip one province over to meet strangers. Because that's the thing to be worried about in this scenario. Clearly.

I tried writing about this a while back, and even that seemed dull:

She writes erotica in her spare time. She writes about all the things that she would like to be doing, when in fact she hasn’t been touched by a man in over a year.

This persona she’s created in her erotica world is one more real to her than she herself is at times.

She feels like a ghost. One who rises each day at 6:30 AM, works for eight hours, then comes home to kill time until 10:00 when it’s time for bed. Each night, 8 hours of sleep simply to prep for 8 hours of work. 8 hours left in the day, yet they are meaningless.

Her life seems built around trivialities. Reading blogs. Eating meals. Tidying her house. Doing all the things that she has to in order to fulfill her role as considerate friend, obedient daughter, dutiful employee. She doesn’t even know what genuinely gives her pleasure anymore.

Her simple joys are meaningless. Movies. Books. Even creation of a Master’s application seems like something she should do. Something to further her career. Something to fill her time. The subject matter seems interesting, yet the slightest difficulty with the application process makes her wonder if she really can be bothered with it at all.

She feels old. Too old to be attempting a degree that will take up three years of her life. Yet the question haunts her: “what else are you doing with your time?”

She’s not married, and unlikely to do so anytime soon. She has no children and no propects. She has a home that she doesn’t mind, and a job which is pretty good. But her existence lacks passion. It is precisely that: an existence.

Does she contribute anything to this world besides fulfilling her required roles? Will there be a void in the world were she to disappear? Doubtful.

She has no dreams of travel, nor any unfulfilled flights of fancy. She likes writing, but doesn’t everyone with a blog fancy themselves the next Hemingway? There is nothing about her that’s unique or memorable – not even her dreams. Is mediocrity something to aspire to? If so, she has reached the pinnacle of success. What next?

And melodramatic much? Seriously.

I understand that it's ridiculous to wait around for something to happen. I know that I need to take control of my life, and make things better. If I'm unhappy - the only person who can change it is me. The world doesn't owe me anything.

But I feel stagnant. And ghost-like. And I can't seem to find a way to control it.

Prissy

One of my co-workers called me prissy last week.
Well...to be fair: she told me not to be such a priss. Is that the same thing?

The trigger? Boots.

You see I am determined to be all adorable and trendy and one of those people who can pull off things like scarves, and flamboyant earrings and skirts with tights and boots. So I bought a skirt. And black argyle tights. And I own boots. Boots that until now I tended to wear under pants. But now? Now I had to commit. I had all the pieces, I just had to put them together and go forth into the world.

And then I freaked out. The top? Was it too tight? It had little holes cut out of the sleeves - is that trampy? And the boots. Were the heels too high? Would I look like a whore? What about the skirt? Was it the right length? There are rules about what length of skirt is worn with certain kinds of boots. In The Devil Wears Prada they say that you're not supposed to wear over the calf boots with knee length skirts! And it's a red top! And the red boots don't match exactly! Is that OK? Is it even possible to match exactly?!?

So I just wore the top. With jeans. And the boots.
And then I got to work and explained the situation to the girls.
They clucked and sighed at me. (Not with me).

Apparently it's not possible to match colours 100% when the materials are different. How could leather look precisely the same as cotton? Oh.

And why the h*ll didn't I just wear the whole bloody outfit?! Wear the skirt tomorrow Princess. And your other boots. No, the heels won't be too high.

So the next day I wore the skirt, and tights, and black, zippy, high-heeled boots. And no one called me a whore, or a tramp or even the slightest bit unprofessional-looking. They told me to stop being so prissy.

OK. Now that I have boots tackled, and am solidly working my way through scarves-what's next? Should I become a hat person maybe?

Festive

You know what day it is today?

November 26.

Since I am not American, that does not mean Thanksgiving to me. That means that it is ONE MONTH UNTIL BOXING DAY.

And that? Means that Christmas is less than a freakin' month away.

Within the next few weeks I must:
- Bake several dozen somethings for my Christmas baking exchange.
- Do my Christmas cards (PS If you've moved, or I don't have your address, email me - or no card for you!)
- WRAP! (Oh wait, that's a perk. Anyone in Winnipeg wanna stop by with their gifts? Wrapping is one of the few things that gives me true joy in life. They will be art when I'm done with them. Trust.)
- Shop. Ugh. I'm about halfway done.
- Decorate? In my world this means putting a bunch of ornaments in a big ass martini glass, with a few regular-sized ornamented glasses along side, and calling it a day. I don't put up a tree, so those ornaments gotta go somewhere, right?
- Rehearse with my carolling group, and pick days and neighbourhoods to visit.* (*Hahahahahahahaha! Does this actually happen in the real world, or just in Hollywood? Has anyone ever actually seen a caroller?)

Now I am excited about the Boxing Day part. Not so much because I want to put myself through that hellish shopping experience - but because I am again running out of clothes. At the moment, I have one pair of jeans and 2 pairs of work pants that actually fit properly. This is becoming problematic. I've actually started considering wearing sweats in public. And I don't have any cute Lululemon-type yoga pants - just old sweats that can be cinched at the waist.

Thank God I'm done work on December 18. That's a whole glorious week off before the BIG DAY. I do love working in education.

Someone Called Me a Name...

So tonight, I came home to find a note on my car window. Odd.

"Asshole, you parked in my spot. Do it again and I will have you towed."

??!!??

So I looked.
Yes, I did indeed park in the spot next to mine when I got home last night.

It's not the first time I've done it. We're all in a row, and the numbers on each spot are pretty tiny. Every other time, I've noticed it right away and corrected myself. Last night I clearly wasn't paying attention.

My bad....

But does anyone else think the note was a bit unnecessarily harsh? I mean really, I've been living below, and parking next to this guy (who shall herafter be known as the Vampire Upstaires, or TVU for short) for 4 1/2 years.

I kind of feel like we're each other's tormentors in some ways.

Example 1: Once when backing out, I accidentally touched his car. I honestly couldn't tell if I scratched his paint, or just the dirt. Regardless, I left him a note and never heard anything about it.

Example 2: One day I found water leaking down through my smoke detector. From his washer. I ran into TVU in the stairway and requested that he look into that. He blinked at me and walked away. (To his credit, he walked away - into his suite, and the water stopped. But still an apology? A gasp of shock? Something?)

Example 3: I was being woken up from the occasional sound sleep by TVU doing...calisthenics? Something. I chose to ignore it. Though occasionally I would have guests over who would be both awed and annoyed with his...let's call it...stompiness. I've never complained. But I have whined to myself ALOT about this.

Example 4: There is a newly installed water pump outside, and when it rains it goes off and on with a loud thump. It seems that only my suite is effected by this. However, the sound carried in such a way, that it seemed like the noise was coming from above me. So I politely asked TVU if he was running some kind of machinery. Confused blinking. "No." OK then.

Example 5: see above- parking incident.

So, what I haven't quite decided is this:
Did he know that it was me that he left the note for - or did he think I was just random idiot who parked in his spot? I mean I've had this car for 2 1/2 years, so I would think that he'd recognize it...

But if so, I'm back to the original question - wasn't the reaction a bit disproportionate to the crime?
I admit, I'm a bit of a suck, and it hurt my little baby feelings to be called an asshole.

But, I decided that I can only control my own behaviour, so I decided to take the high road.

"My apologies for parking in your spot. I've been sick this week and clearly just wasn't paying attention. I do hope that you parked in my spot instead. It won't happen again."

Too sucky?

Pot-Er-Ee

A few months ago, my darling Ali asked me if I would be interested in doing pottery with her.

Now since I take any opportunity I can get to see Ali, I agreed - without actually having a clue as to what I was agreeing to.

When I hear "pottery" I think that sex scene with Demi Moore and Patrick Swayze in Ghost (which is of course also inextricably linked with Unchained Melody).

However, that? Is not precisely what she had in mind.

I think it was for the best. I mean she's married. And I don't even really like the Righteous Brothers.

Miscellaneous fact about me? I hate to get my hands dirty. So touching newspapers, eating ribs, and doing something like making pottery? Well they kind of stress me out. But for the love of Ali, I would do anything.

And...I am a dork.
Because pottery kilns? They didn't enter the picture at all.

What you CAN do at this pottery studio is paint pre-made pieces. Pieces that don't look all wobbly like they were made by children. Of course once you start painting, the child-like skill issue does come into the picture. Because I? Have not touched paint since high school art class.

So after we both strongly considered painting a plate with a skull and crossbones (and bow) on it, we each went with something different. I went with a pitcher, and she went with a curvy kind of bowl.

And then came the hard part. Stencils. And drawing. And choosing colours. And painting. Three coats.

Ali came up with the awesome idea to put fish all over her bowl. (To make a fishbowl. Get it?)

Love it.

For some reason, I went with a sort of nature theme. Ladybugs and butterflies and sunflowers etc.

Of course after I was done painting all things that can either sting me or give me allergies, my pitcher still looked bare. So I came up with the brilliant idea to put a border around the top and bottom, with little squares.

Little squares. In two symmetrical rows around the top and bottom.

Each one has to be painted 3 times. In the lines.

Oh, and why don't I do a black border around them all too. But don't touch the squares. And don't forget about the inside of the pitcher. Because taping around a semi-round pitcher will be easy.

See this photo? My squares? NOT in symmetrical rows. Not even remotely.
And the black border that I painstakingly painted around each square? Well, let's just say that those squares? Used to actually be square. And bigger.

So it took us roughly two trips and close to 10 hours to complete the project. Surprisingly we finished around the same time. Ali had to paint around fish. 3 times. And she painted the entire bowl blue (cause water's blue - get it?).

Needless to say, I am MUCH more impressed with her fish bowl than I am with my pitcher. But I still kind of love them both.

So, who in Winnipeg wants to come with us to do the skull and crossbones plate?

On Betlgeuse, Donny Osmond and Vigilantes

So the uber fabulous Neil Kramer from Citizen of the Month came up with the brilliant interview experiment. Bloggers interview each other, and post the answers from the person they interviewed on their blog. Wanna read mine? The amazingly sweet and charming (AKA my new BFF) has posted it over at her place...

And I? Had the glorious pleasure of interviewing Tracy over at Tiny Mantras. Her blog, is absolutely fab, and manages to reach that glorious balance between being informative and entertaining.
Why don't you go check her out after reading what she had to say:

1. Can you tell me how exactly to find Betelgeuse? (I'm pretty sure I can find the big Dipper)

Most of what I know about Betelgeuse is that it’s a massive star, about 20 times bigger than our sun, because my son loves to watch videos on YouTube that compare all of the sizes of the planets, then the stars, then the galaxies. This is a great way to make a person feel extra teeny tiny. I also know that Betelgeuse may go supernova one day, and then become a black hole.

For some reason I know all of this (although I did not know it until I had a son who is nuts about space), and until your question, hadn’t thought about where to look for it in the sky. Now I find that I look at it all the time! It’s part of the constellation Orion the Hunter – after the big dipper, the three stars of Orion’s belt are usually among the easiest for me to find in the sky. Betelgeuse is Orion’s shoulder – technically his right shoulder (the bright star above the left of the belt as we look up). Thank you so much for asking this question! This info will give my son a huge thrill next time we’re out stargazing.

2. Your conscious eating post was really interesting - do you have any thoughts on vegetarianism vs veganism?

While I’m an animal lover, and I’ve lived with vegetarians and eaten as one for periods of my life, I don’t personally feel that animals shouldn’t be food for humans, or produce it. I respect anyone who has those beliefs, but I don’t necessarily share them. I go to a Tibetan Buddhist temple, so I do know a lot of people who have moral reasons they choose to live vegan, but there are lots of debates in the sangha (community) about whether or not a Buddhist has to be vegan.

My mantra in 2009 has been about holding the aspiration to live and eat more healthfully and responsibly instead of giving myself a diet ultimatum and thinking I can stick with it. If I went to what would be (for me) an extreme like veganism, I doubt that I would be able to sustain it. I’ve been trying to make different choices, though. I eat plant-based foods on my plate first, make more nutritionally complete vegetarian meals, have smaller portions of meat and dairy, buy local or at least try to buy foods from sources that have more ethical, humane and earth-sustaining practices. These smaller shifts have been quite manageable for me. My food life is different than it was a year ago in a lot of fundamental ways. Now my husband is reading Mark Bittman’s Food Matters and is starting to get on board with “less meatatarianism,” so hopefully, we’ll keep progressing.

3. You wrote a screenplay about a pregnant vigilante - what do you think ever came of the baby? Born in jail? Died with the mother in a rain of gunfire? Grew up to become a ninja?

Wow. I can’t believe you found that post in the archives! I did that for a contest where they gave you a genre and you had to write a screenplay in 24 hours. I wanted to see how I would do in the screenplay format and I find deadlines motivating. I had to write a thriller, so that character was developed in my head in one long afternoon, and never thought of again. Let’s just say that the baby lucked out with her adoptive parents and grew up to be an extremely well adjusted microbiologist who also makes cell-inspired fiber artwork.

4. Who do you love more: Josh Groban or Donny Osmond? Explain.

I’d have to say Donny Osmond, because his purple socks and “little bit rock and roll”-ness were part of my childhood. But I did have an epiphany at a Josh Groban concert, which is not someplace that I would have ever been by choice. I was reviewing the show for the local daily and no one I knew wanted to come with me. Somehow I had a blast being there all alone, taking in the absurd wholesomeness of the scene (he actually cracked jokes about eating Pixie Sticks) and coming up with lines in my notebook like “He is Donny Osmond Giovanni!” So naturally, they both have a special, vanilla wafer-sweet place in my heart.

5. How did you choose the name "Declan"?

My husband and I got started into parenthood a little later than our siblings and cousins, so most of the traditional family boy names had long been spoken for. My husband thought of it because it’s Irish (like my son and husband’s last name, which is different than mine) and not terribly common. We both liked the cadence of the way the two names sounded together. It means “full of goodness” and is also Elvis Costello’s real name - he was born Declan McManus. Because my husband and I have both worked in music (me as a music journalist, and him as the owner of an independent live music night club for many years), a lot of friends assume we named our son Declan for Elvis. It wasn’t the reason, but sharing a name with an illustrious songwriter certainly wasn’t a strike against it.

6. What is your favourite blog post? (link please in case I've missed it!)
I passed 500 posts not to long ago, so this is hard! I keep “The Story of My Son” on the top of my blog because it reminds me of some important things that it can be easy to forget in the day-to-day stuff of motherhood, like the importance of having some personal mythology, of infusing some magic into the way we consider our own possibilities and potential. I wrote it when my son was four months old:
http://www.tinymantras.com/2005/08/story-of-my-son.html

I have written a lot of stuff that isn’t about motherhood, but the motherhood stuff probably is nearest and dearest to me. Declan turned four this year, and I love what I wrote him on his birthday:
http://www.tinymantras.com/2009/05/note-to-my-boy-who-is-four-today.html

If you want to see something non-mommy, maybe The Michael Jackson Memory Filter:
http://www.tinymantras.com/2009/06/i-wanna-rock-with-you.html

Thanks to both Abigail and Tracy for showing me such a great time!
xo

On Catalogue Shopping...

The other night I was bored. In my world "bored" means I sign up on a random site to amuse myself with. I heard a rumour that people use those sites to actually meet people.

I don't get that.

I use them to see just how quirky I can make my profile, and to see what kind of cheesy come on lines the men in the "intimate" section will use on me. And then I'll blog about them.

There's the classic: "Wanna f*ck?"
The cliché: "you're soooo sexy."
The subtle: "How are you this evening?"
Rarely do I get clever or interesting.

I received a message within moments of signing up from "B." He was in the "Dating" section.
This was it:
How's it going? Any questions for me? Anything you think I'd like to know about you?

My response: (I won't go through all the messages - just establishing a bit...)
Can I make up a name for you starting with B? I think you should know that I think diamonds as gifts on the first date are just far too showy. I hate it when men do that. Shoes and cookies are perfectly acceptable though.

At this point, I really couldn't have cared less if he responded or not. I tend to attempt to be as shocking as possible in my messages to see if they a) have a sense of humour and b) are actually capable of running with it. I've done way worse in some messages. Diamonds and shoes? That's pretty tame.

Now I've had some of my friends argue that I'm doing myself a disservice, and that I'm not really giving them a chance when I do that to them. Oh well. I'm really only hurting myself, and I have to say, one of the main things I look for in a guy is wit.

I was actually impressed with his response:
What the f**k am I supposed to do with these diamonds now?

Hmm, not bad.

We exchanged a few more pleasantries and moved onto MSN.
He sent me a message to my email the next day asking me some random questions:
(My responses included)

Favourite book? The Fionavar Tapestry (3 books in one really)

Favourite ice-cream flavour? French Crisp - Laura Secord

Favourite sex act? Right now I'm going with making out. Perhaps it will change...

Favourite item of clothing? I have a beautiful velvet & lace scarf that I could wear every day...

Favourite thing about me thus far? The fact that you're giving me diamonds on our third date.

Now it does annoy me a bit when they ask to get a zillion photos (which he did) and focus on sex too much (which he also did). I mean where's the wooing? Sex comes soon enough if everything works out. And also? Why do men need such constant reassurance? For the most part, if you pay attention to people's responses, you know what's working for them.
(Cause I am of course the expert on dating and relationships. Whatev. Stop judging me.)

This was his response to mine (above): My favourite sex act is a good, old-fashioned philosophical debate.

And again, I attempted to be shocking and clever. And it all went downhill from there.

Princess: If you're not going to make out with me, then what the hell am I talking to you for?
B: Huh?
Princess: Apparently that was much funnier in my head.
I said my favourite sex act was making out - you wanted a philosophical debate....?
Anyhow...

He was still confused, so we went back to MSN and then he asked for my bra size.
Gentlemen: a word of advice 1. Bra size depends on the style of bra. So it's really impossible to answer that. 2. Why is it important? 3. Seriously? Seriously?

Anyhow, I clearly find myself clever and hilarious. But it may in fact all be in my head. At times it really does become apparent that I can be my own worst enemy.

It's a good thing that one the whole, I don't mind too much being little Miss Independent. Cause the whole online dating thing is never going to work for me. I find it to be too unnatural and just can't take it seriously.

xo

God Gave Rock n' Roll to You

Monday night I went to a KISS concert. With my brother. Because I am all kinds of cool like that.

Gene and Paul and two other guys who weren't Ace & Peter were there. In full make-up and platform boots.

It was fantastically awesome, and I found myself amused at the fact that while I found it completely unforgivable that Motley Crue seemed incapable of removing themselves from the 80's with their commentary, looks and moves, I found it positively charming that KISS seems to doing the same thing they've been doing since the 70's.

With KISS it's...classic. With Motley Crue, it's...dated. There's some subtle nuance there that I can't explain, and really I should probably be focusing on the fact that I have now admitted that I was (am?) in fact an 80's hair band junkie.

Let's review for a moment shall we?
Concerts the Princess has attended:

Bon Jovi x eleventy squillion (I've never missed a show in Winnipeg - they were my first concert when I was 14 in 1989, and I will in fact be seeing them in July when they return)
Skid Row
Warrant
Poison
Guns N' Roses
Motely Crue
Poison & Vince Neil concert
and now...KISS

In my defense, I've also gone to some lovely events that don't revolve around men wearing lipstick and mousse:

Jesse Cook x 3
The Cranberries
Goo Goo Dolls
Great Big Sea x 4 or 5
Vance Gilbert
Amanda Marshall
Boston (or do they fit into the category above?)
Russell Crowe and Thirty Odd Foot of Grunts
etc...

Ok, this post seemed to segue in an odd direction. Back to the point: the KISS concert last night.

By the time we were done work yesterday, neither my brother nor I really felt like going. My Dad bought the ticket for my brother as an early Christmas present. (He offered to buy mine too, but I am still assessing my options, I think I'd prefer a pony or a new tiara...)

Anyhow, after much discussion over dinner, my brother's conscience allowed him to decide that we would try to sell the tickets outside the arena and we would simply give the money back to our Dad on the way home. And here we enter the lesson in non-scalping portion of the post:

HOW TO SELL CONCERT TICKETS ON THE NIGHT OF:
1. Show up early. (Not say, 20 minutes before the opening act)
2. Even though you're proud of being all "legal" and intending to sell at face value, get over yourself.
3. Because people will offer you $20.00 for a $140.00 ticket.
4. Ignore the hecklers, because there will be LOTS.
5. Resign yourself to the fact that unless you want to take a massive loss, you are in fact going to the concert yourself.

A little note about KISS. I wanted to go because a) they're a zillion years old, and it'll probably be my only chance to see them in platform boots and full make-up. b) I've recently caught a few episodes of the Family Jewels and it is in fact hilarious. c) It seemed like a good bonding event with my brother. I used to hear KISS coming up through my floor from his basement room for years.

But as a child? KISS terrified me. I mean look at this album cover? Cartoony right? Even kind of funny. Now picture yourself looking at it as a four year old girl. I thought they were demons. I actually thought that Gene Simmons (not that I knew his name at the time, cause even at 4, I probably wouldn't have been scared of a guy named "Gene") was in fact the Devil.




But I will say about the show: It was awesome. They know how to entertain. They really seem to care about actually showing everyone a good time. It's not just a bunch of singing heads. I even bought a t-shirt. Because again? I'm cool.

xo

Journeys...

So I went to Halifax this past week. If you follow me on facebook (and if you don't, why don't you?) you've kinda heard all about it.

The trip was for a work conference, and it was truly both educational (no pun intended) and exhausting. AND I will say that I learned a few things about myself and humanity in general on this trip, which I suppose should mean that I should look back on it as a success.

So, here are a few tidbits that I came back to Winnipeg knowing:

1. I know that life is supposed to be a journey and all, but when it comes to traveling - I'm ALL about the destination.
There is truly no part of traveling that I really enjoy. From sitting in airports for hours, to feeling cramped in airplane seats, to having my head feeling positively explosive from the pressure, to the 70 squillion dollars they charge for a pillow or bag of peanuts to the delays. I really do wish we could teleport everywhere.

2. People like to drink.
There was a lot of wine passed around at this conference, and aside from the fact that it's a lot of calories, I was not at all tempted. I've just never really been a drinker, especially not wine. I prefer it to be of the pink, ultra-sweet (translation: not at all classy) variety. But I saw most people taking a few glasses each of what was passed around. I would be reluctant to have more than a glass at a work function, since I have the alcohol tolerance of a field mouse, but no one else seemed to have those concerns. I was impressed with how many bottles and glasses I saw outside in the hotel room hallway too. Clearly, I am exceptional. (In sooo many ways).

3. Cliques exist your whole life.
Yes, it was work. Yes, it was my first conference so I couldn't be expected to know people. But wow, let's face it lovelies - even once you're out of high school, the cool crowd is still intact. Not to say that someone who was considered a "loser" in high school might not be part of the cool group once they hit the real world. Oh no, I have a lot of faith in that sort of transition. But the fact remains, not everyone is welcoming and friendly like you'd hope once you become adults. Just not realistic.

4. I need shinier shoes with higher heels.
I hate high heels. I know they make your legs look all sexy, but I am a spazz. I get whiny when my feet hurt, and my ankles just seem to like giving out in them. But women? Care about shoes. And I felt like an unprofessional fraud when surrounded by these goddesses who could strut around for hours in stilettos like it was nothing.

5. Conference Organizers don't seem too concerned about dietary issues.
I'm from the prairies. Seafood here is pretty expensive. I was overjoyed at the amount that was served this past week. But I could tell that a lot of others were not impressed with it. It's a risky thing to just assume everyone will be pleased with that option. It's not safe like chicken. Oh man did I ever eat bad/good this week. Red meat for the first time in 4 months. Cheese. Potatoes. Delish. And I'm pleased to report that I neither gained nor lost from last week. I'm OK with that.

Postcards will be coming soon for those who requested them!
xo

Ephemeral

I've written a few posts about my mother on here, so I imagine a lot of you know that she passed away when I was 11, and I lived with my Dad and brother until I was 18. At 18 my dad re-married and we moved into a house with my step-mom and one step-sister. My brother bought my childhood home and got married himself.

I've written about how there was a question about whether I was abused as a child, and about how I'm scared to get married or have children because of how my mother treated both me and my father.

But on a fundamental level, being raised without a mother for the latter part of my childhood had its effects that come up at the oddest times. Especially in the sense that I feel the affects of her influence on me from the 11 years I had with her colouring everything I do. Every decision I make, to jobs, clothes and the words that come out of my mouth.

It's odd that someone who has been gone so much longer than I ever knew her can have such an impact on my psyche. Especially since I know that she was a troubled woman, I have to remember to not necessarily use her as the paragon of the ideal behaviour to emulate.

I think a problem with losing someone when I (and she for that matter) was so young, is that while I can attempt to analyze her through an adult lens now, I suspect it's still tainted by childish interpretations and memories. Because I never had a chance to speak with her as an equal, I know that there is so much that I can simply never know about why she made the decisions that she did.

It seems to ridiculous that I live in such conflict about romantic relationships because of her. While I am relatively independent, I still don't want to die alone. Yet, I am terrified to become the nagging, condescending and occasionally cruel person that I saw my mother be towards my father. Because I have it in me. I have an inherent coldness and judgmental side that only seems to come out towards the men in my life - D2, my brother, boyfriends. I think I would rather be alone than to be the cause of resentment from another person.

Sometimes I feel I live my entire life trying to do things contrary to what my Mother would have done. Yet at the same time, I desperately want to believe that she's somewhere out there, aware of what I'm doing, and isn't disappointed in me.

It would be so much easier if life adhered more closely to the black & white. My mother had a plethora of good qualities. I remember distinctly her telling me that I was going to be "spectacular" when I grew up. I remember her sitting for hours just talking to me.

But I also remember the fear. And anger. And helplessness. And the need to be perfect.
And even being a china doll.

And how unrealistic would it be if I viewed my mother through that black and white lens? If she were completely evil and messed me up, or if she were positively angelic and perfect? Neither are realistic either as memories nor aspirations (or anti-aspirations as the case may be).

I don't really know where I'm going with this post, but I've found myself thinking a lot about her lately, and find it both slightly sad, and more than a little frustrating at how much this woman that I can barely remember touches on so much of my being. I know that it seems logical since she's my mother and all - but still, she was such an ephemeral influence in my life, I just wish that I had a bit more choice as to what and whom created my foundations...

Apparently Bon Jovi is Coming to Winnipeg Too...

So apparently when I only write a post every week or two, you get a bunch of "this is my life right now" kinda posts. Aren't you all delighted?

Apparently you also get a post with not one, but two photos of me in a tank top and sweats/yoga pants. Kinda makes it all worthwhile doesn't it?


These two photos are a progress report on the weight loss update. So far I am at 31 pounds down. That pile of clothes? All the clothes that I can no longer wear because they are now too big. Like falling off me too big. I love clothes shopping, but I will be really happy once I settle on a size and stay put for a while. So, I now look like this (with a less flashy face normally). Not too bad. According to the WW site, I have 34 pounds to go before I'm at the top level of my healthy weight range. We'll see how it goes. I should be there by March or April.

(Please note how beautifully made my bed is...not).

This photo? Is the scarf that I just spent entirely too much money on this past weekend. But isn't it pretty? I don't even want to tell you what it cost. It's actually embarrassing. I mean it's a scarf.
In other news, I am going to Halifax next week for work. Anyone ever been? Any place I should see? Do I have any readers in Halifax who wanna meet?





Ok, love you all.
And just to tantalize you - I have an exciting co-post coming up sometime soon with Ali where we show off our artsy side! Stay tuned!

xo

Voca!

Is this another thing that I'm the last one to know about??
(Anyone else get the sense that they were inspired by the Blue Man Group? Um, except how the Blue Men don't talk and all. I kinda mean the quirkiness and the "look")

I Need Advice From the Internet

So I have to make a decision this weekend, and I don't really know what to do about it.
This is of course where YOU come in.

The scenario:
I have been friends with D2 since Fall 2001. We went out on one actual date, and did have sex a couple of times over the years, but on the whole: just friends.

The thing is, I have a few fundamental problems with our relationship:
1. I get the sense that he only wants me as a friend on his terms. He wants me to be agreeable to anything he wants to do and not try to sway him.

E.g. In Minneapolis:
D2: We should go to the IHOP for breakfast tomorrow.
Princess: What about Denny's? They have "Moons over my Hammy" I miss that since Denny's left Winnipeg.
D2: We should go to the IHOP.
Princess: What if I don't want to go to IHOP?
D2: Then we have a problem.

2. Whenever he has a girlfriend he both a) vanishes so I only see/hear from him every few months and b) lies to the girlfriend when he does happen to spend time with me.

Let me say this: I am not dumb. I understand that being friends with someone of the opposite sex can occasionally be complicated. Maybe your significant other is the jealous or insecure type. You don't want to totally write them off for this, maybe you want to be sensitive?

However, in 8 years there have been 3 or 4 significant girlfriends and I've never met one of them. I don't even know if they realize that I exist. I guess I won't be invited to the wedding. Cause wouldn't you (the bride) wonder why this other girl is so important to invite if you've never even heard of, or met her in the past x years?

So I haven't seen D2 since March. You see he was in a play and he met a girl. So April & May involved rehearsals, and the rest of the time involved him having a girlfriend.

He is now calling and emailing a lot. He has decreed that we shall get together on Saturday - breakfast, afternoon, evening - whenever works for me.

A couple of months ago I thought about writing him off altogether. 8 years of being his placeholder girl who gets ditched the second a real girl comes along is enough.

But should people really be that expendable?
I mean he is fun and sweet to hang out with. It's not like he's my bff. Why can't I just be acquaintances with him?

This seems the obvious solution: downgrade the friendship to acquaintances. We get together a couple times per year, and that's that.

My dilemma? (This is where YOU come in)
Do I announce such a demotion to him? Discuss my hurt, resignation and ultimate decision?
Most of the time when friends drift, this is kind of a natural occurrence, but that isn't the case here. I suspect he's single again and wants to start hanging out.

I really hate melodrama.
I don't want to get into a big discussion with him about how I've been treated and how it made me feel yadda yadda. It's silly. And girlish.
I've gotten angry with him in the past - especially about the crap like the IHOP situation when we're on holiday together. That's easy: WE set the agenda - not YOU.

But this? I'm just not sure how to handle it with the least amount of girly emotion possible.

Thoughts?

You Are SO Lime Green Jello of Me

I remember when I was new to blogging and I proudly sheepishly proclaimed that the only thing that prevented me from posting everyday, or even multiple times per day was the fact that I didn't want to look like a loser with no life.

I still kinda feel like a loser with no life - but apparently now I'm not afraid to let y'all see it.
Let's not call this a slack *ss bullet post - let's call this.. catching everyone up on what's been going on with me in a very succinct way, shall we?

- I gained 2 pounds last Monday, but made up for it by losing 5 when I weighed in yesterday. (Net loss = 3 for those of you not so big with the math). That makes for a total of 28 pounds since July 2. Go me.

- Remember blind date guy? I never did tell any of you how it all went. So without revealing too many details - I met him, and I reallyreallyreally wanted to make it work. He was trying SO hard. And I really didn't want the fact that he had an awful mustache influence me, cause hello? Shallow? But then he wouldn't tell me his last name. After we'd already met once. Which of course led to my co-workers googling him, and finding out for me. So yeah, between his paranoia, goofiness, and mustache I realized that I just wasn't into it. Ugh.

- I am considering applying to a Master's program. This is terrifying. I mean as if any of my undergrad professors remember me at all. I contacted one of them for a reference letter and he said yes - but am at a total loss about what to do for the second reference letter. Even if I had gotten along with my honours thesis advisor (which I really didn't), he's passed away - so he's not an option. And writing? What writing do I do other than work emails and my blog? Should I send them a link to both blogs? My erotic writing is pretty hot and all - but not sure I really want to use that as an application piece. Ugh.

- I am considering therapy again. It annoys me. I have gone this route twice before. Isn't it enough already? But I'm just so angry all the time. And hurt. And occasionally burrowing. I probably need it - but it's just so frustrating. Why am I broken? Why do other people get through life just fine, yet I need to find a couch to sit and yip about all my crap on? I'm not ashamed of therapy - I'm a Psych grad and all - but I do find it annoying.

- Movies I have seen lately (and I don't feel like linking them all): Zomebieland, Whip It, Jennifer's Body, I Love You Beth Cooper, My Life in Ruins, (Second run theatres are awesome). Oddly, my favourite of them all? Jennifer's Body. Bizarre. But the writing is so hilarious...and it has Seth from the OC!



-My washing machine stopped spinning yesterday. I had dripping clothes all over the place. That spin cycle? REALLY important. Totally prevents you from having to wring out your clothes, and tossing them around the dryer for 10 hours straight. It took 3 1/2 hours for the clothes to dry, and 5 hours for my comforter. Fun.

- I blatantly stole that "Does Winnipeg Really Exist" clip on my sidebar from PsychGrad. Check it out- it's awesome!

- I hit "mark all as read" yesterday. I'm sorry. I love you. I'll try to do better. I was WEEKS behind. I couldn't help it.

xo

Burrow.

So I burrowed.
And I cried.
And I wondered if I was an inherently damaged person.

Why do I do better alone?
What is my problem?

My friends called/commented/texted/emailed.

Some offered their couches.
Some threatened me that I couldn't get rid of them no matter how reclusive I became.
Some told me that it was fine if I needed alone time.
Some asked to know what it was that they said that hurt me.

So I poked my head out and forced myself to live.
I called back.
I returned texts.
I responded to emails.

Am I OK now?
Not really.

But will burrowing help?
No.

I'm still hurt.
I'm still confused by why I react the way I do to things.
I would still prefer to hide on my couch ignoring all forms of communication.

I haven't attempted to twitter again.
This blog post kinda sucks.

But as much as I might like to avoid people - I think that's the sort of behaviour that turns you into the crazy lady that wanders the street in a bathrobe followed by stray cats. The lady with the house that the children avoid on Halloween because somehow the rumour got started that if you get too close, you might get snatched up inside, never to be heard from again.

I think I have the potential to become that lady. Not actually kidnapping children of course- cause once I had them, what would I do with them? But the bathrobe in the street lady? Yeah.

So I un-burrowed. Because my people? They give me humanity. They force me to laugh and look at myself in different ways - both bad AND good.

Stoic

I once told a boyfriend that my goal was to be more “stoic” in life – and it struck him as odd. Now admittedly, now that I have a firmer grasp of the nuances of the word – I perhaps would choose a different phrase- but the sentiment, even 10 years later is still the same.

Now perhaps I would say that instead of being “more” – I would choose to be “less” on a few qualities. Less emotional. Less sensitive. Less thin-skinned. Less fragile.

I quit my last job because I ended up on anxiety meds, throwing up every morning, and in therapy. Is it the job’s fault?

I wouldn’t say so entirely. It’s me. How I handled the situation. Another person may have thrived there, but for me it was impossible.

And now? I am in a glorious nurturing work-place. Is it better? For me, yes. For another person, perhaps not.

I seem to be in an ultra-sensitive phase at the moment. K pointed out to me that it may be PMS and I’ll be fine next week. I’ll give her that- it might be. I think as I’m getting older, the PMS monster might be rearing it’s ugly head. I’m going to have to start tracking my moods in relation to my cycle. That sounds like something I would rather stab myself in the eye than do fun.

But right now, I’m simply tired. Tired of the fact that being a friend, employee, child, sibling... is so hard sometimes. Tired of having to accommodate everyone’s moods and quirks, in order to be a kind, considerate person. Tired of having to shuffle in my head around what some people say to me in order to get what they actually mean, and not be insulted/hurt/damaged by what they literally said.

This isn’t new or unique to me. We all have to do it. We’re all different and special – which means that those around us have to learn that me saying “x” can mean something completely different than you saying “x”.

But at the moment, I’m exhausted and delicate and considering doing what I find myself doing far too often: burrowing myself into my condo, not answering the phone or seeing people for a while.

Is this a useful or constructive reaction? No.
But it lets me heal for a while. It allows the bruises to fade, and my mind to forget what was bothering me to begin with.

You might ask why I don’t talk to my people who have said/done things that bother me. Well, it’s for a variety of reasons really.

1. I don’t want people to think that they have to be super careful in what they say to me. I don’t want to be one of those “walking on eggshells” individuals. I’ve had people like that in my life, and it’s very frustrating.
   
   
2. It’s not like they meant to hurt me. In some ways it’s cumulative. Say the same thing to me a dozen times and the first time I’ll laugh, the second smile, the third be silent and after a while I’m getting hurt by it. Why should they know that suddenly it’s not OK to say that thing that I used to find funny?
   
   
3. Sometimes it’s the choices that they are making for their own lives that’s upsetting me. I don’t have the right to tell people how to live. I strongly believe that people have to make their own choices in life, and I am simply there to support them unless it becomes so damaging to either them or me that I can’t handle it anymore, and I have to simply remove myself from the situation for my own well-being.
   

I simply need to learn to be more even about things. This even came up in my performance review with my boss last week- she asked me what I thought my flaws were, and didn’t disagree with me when I said that I was too emotional.

I know that we all have our times when we're feeling that life is tough and unfair and "why do people suck?!" But right now it just seems to be overwhelming me, and is causing me to not want to talk to my nearest and dearest for fear of shriveling up into a tiny quivering ball over the slightest cool word from them.

I have a tendency to internalize everyone's behaviour to the point where I feel like a harsh or flippant word means that I'm a burden to them. An unimportant figure in their lives. A task that must be endured.

So I hide myself away and wait to see if anyone notices, and won't cry out for the help I might actually need. Because a single and sometimes lonely and depressed friend is not what people tend to put on their want lists. So I am considerate. And try to not complain - because I've been scolded for writing or mentioning or thinking too often about being alone. And no one wants to hear about my struggle to not hurt myself - because there's nothing they can do about it anyhow.

But being considerate? And happy? And censoring what I say for fear of not sounding needy? And making a joke of my weaknesses? Is tiring. And bruising. And so I go through phases like now where I'm exhausted and hurt and unable to cope with people.

So, for a while- I think I'm burrowing. And re-training myself in the stoic.

Winnipeg Tweet-Up

Oh hi! Thanks for stopping by.
So I have a blog. And I co-planned a tweet-up.
And I'm crazy busy at work, and this time last year I had the intelligence to request guest bloggers.
Ahem. This year I didn't.



The Tweet-up. Which was intimate and awesome, and went a little something like this:

"Do you know what Twitter is?"
The bartender looked at me quizzically, trying to figure out if this was some sort of come on line that he'd never heard before.
"Uh, yeah."
"Ok, well we planned a 'tweet-up' *insert air quotes* and we're right out there."
*pause*
"I'll be the one in the tiara."

I then walked away quickly; resisting the urge to run, and trying to convince myself that I had just had a completely normal conversation.

Meh. He's a bartender. No doubt he's heard much odder.

At 5:51PM My person told me to stop staring at my phone (translation: clock) as it was still early. No one was even supposed to arrive until 6:00. You know? The time I said it all started?

At least I had my person (+ husband and little one) and My Dear Anon there. Even if no one showed, at least I had company on the patio.

The patio. Where there lies an overwhelming abundance of wasps and pollen and...nature. I was feeling it for days afterwards. So unfair that I can't spend time out of doors without suffering for it later.

Anyhow, as the clock struck 6, suddenly there appeared 2 magical other attendees. Kyla- my darling co-hostess and WpgPeanut with her little girl.

At this point I feel compelled to once again thank the lovely Kyla Roma for helping me with the promotion of this event. I did a pretty slack ass job of it, and she went way above and beyond. Thanks lovey.

At this point I was pretty much content. We were chatting and happy, and new friendships were budding. Then suddenly I heard a tentative little voice ask "Twitter?"

Yes! That's us!

And suddenlt we had a party! Mammapeg arrived with her husband and daughter. And Mammapeg? Is awesome. And fun. And delightful. Trust me. You want to follow her.

We all found ourselves chatting about Nathan Filion and reality TV and my blind dating hilarity and my person's cake decorating class.

OMG. It was like a real gathering. Of people. Getting to know each other.

And then? The waitress came out and told us that our food and drinks were comped, and thanks for hosting the Tweet up at the Current Restaurant at the Inn at the Forks.

O.M.G. I just got free stuff because of an internet event I planned. I. Have. Arrived.

In all seriousness though, that was so wonderful and unexpected. I just can't thank them enough for doing that. I chose the place because of the location, and the fact that it would allow people to include their children.

Then the day of the event I noticed that the Inn at the Forks was following me on Twitter and promoting the Tweet Up.

So Winnipeggers? Go there. Eat the food- which is awesome. Enjoy the spa- which I go to regularly. Plan your wedding there - which my person did. Do it.

Anyhow, after that announcement, THEN Nenette arrived. The poor darling had a sick husband and son, so couldn't get there any sooner. Unfortunately we only stayed for another half hour or so.

And during all this, my phone kept lighting up with all the DM's from people telling me how sad they were that this or that came up which prevented them coming. We missed you all!

All in all? A lovely time. And next time? Even bigger and better right? Who's in?

xo

Winnipeg Tweet Up/Blog Meet!

Will wear tiara on request.

Are you coming?
Cause it'll be an absolutely fabulous event filled with the glitterati of Winnipeg blogging/twitter-verse.

Ok, well I'll be there anyhow. Maybe I'll wear some glitter.

The deets encore:
Friday, September 18 at 6:00pm (CDT)
The Current at The Inn at the Forks
75 Forks Market Road, Winnipeg, MB, Canada

Wanna let us know you're coming??
Why not click "yes!" here: http://tweetvite.com/event/wpgtweetup

Shy?
Believe me, so am I. As soon I started planning this I kinda started freaking out and feeling all presumptuous. I mean, who am I to plan this event? But fortunately the ultra-fab Kyla jumped on board with me, and promised to show up and help.

Love her.
You will too.

Sooo...why not stop by on Friday? Bring the little ones. Bring your non-twiteering, non-blogging peeps and have a drinkypoo.

Oh, and if you have any cute single men in your life? Bring them too. :P

See you Friday!!

xo

Hey Look! A Meme!

Candytuft Stacking Rings

© Wendy Brandes

I was tagged by the delightful (and beautiful- trust.) Nenette over at Life Candy, and since I've neglected you all of late- guess what- you get this slack *ss post!

Apparently all responses must be two words:

1. Where is your cell phone? PURSE POCKET
2. Your hair? NEEDS TRIMMING
3. Your mother? RED-HEADED
4. Your father? MY HERO
5. Your favorite food? BROTHER'S LASAGNA
6. Your dream last night? PROBABLY DULL
7. Your favorite drink? CRANBERRY JUICE
8. Your dream/goal? SEX SOON
9. What room are you in? WORK OFFICE
10. Your hobby? SCRAPBOOKING/GENEAOLOGY
11. Your fear? FATHER DYING
12. Where do you want to be in 6 years? BETTER HOME
13. Where were you last night? VANCOUVER-HOME
14. Something that you aren’t? THIN/RICH
15. Muffins? TOO FATTENING
16. Wish list item? CANDYTUFT RINGS
17. Where did you grow up? WINNIPEG, MANITOBA
18. Last thing you did? ATE LUNCH
19. What are you wearing? WORK OUTFIT
20. Your TV? AT HOME
21. Your pets? ALL STUFFED
22. Friends? ALL AWESOME
23. Your life? MUCH BETTER
24. Your mood? SLEEPILY PRODUCTIVE
25. Missing someone? MY DADDY
26. Vehicle? MAZDA PROTEGE
27. Something you’re not wearing? MINK STOLE
28. Your favorite store? PIER ONE
29. Your favorite color? PINK/LAVENDER
30. When was the last time you laughed? EARLIER TODAY
31. Last time you cried? CAN'T REMEMBER
32. Your best friend? A FEW
33. One place that I go to over and over? MY MANICURIST
34. One person who emails me regularly? WORK PEOPLE
35. Favorite place to eat? ONLY ONE?

Yeah, I'm not gonna tag anyone- but please do it in the comments!

xo

Cosmic

Being bloggers, we may of course find it tragic when so many interesting things happen in our life, yet discretion demands that we share none of it.

I promised a summary of my meeting with internet guy.
I sent and received emails that were truly life-changing this week.

And yet...

All I can say about internet guy is that I am in a state of irritated confusion. Irritated because I know what I would like to do and fairness demands that I do otherwise. Confusion because some of his behaviour has puzzled me exceedingly - and not in a charming way. It will all lead to the same inevitable conclusion- of that I am certain, but circumstances demand that such a conclusion must be delayed.

Regarding the emails from the week? All I can say is that I am in fact finally "over it." And a hundred pounds of metaphoric weight have been lifted from me. I am finally free from all of it. My last job is now truly a thing of the past - a place where I both grew and was stunted, where I learned about myself and how to do a job, where I made friends and lost them. I am done. Let's hope the dreams are as well.

I am truly beginning a new era in my life. I can now see that for the past 7 years I have been in some sort of purgatory, and I'm finally allowing myself to see the light. Allowing myself the freedom to move on. I can look back with love, acceptance and resignation - but it no longer has to own me.

I made a point this weekend of seeing my very best friends - My Dear Anon, K and My person. A trifecta of perfection in the course of a couple of days. It is not always that a person can know that they have three true friends in life. People that really know you and accept you and love you for all your parts. With them, I have had the strength to get through these last few years of turmoil- and they will continue to give me wings in this next chapter.

It's odd - the way the universe comes together sometimes. I've had a bizarre week, and it all happened at once - like it was meant to be. Like it just may be that there is some other kind of cosmic force out there that plans these things. I've seen it happen so often in my own life that it is almost enough to make me believe in a higher power. God? Maybe? Fate? More likely. Some sort of universal construct of light and energy that has the ability to make things happen when they are meant to.

I'm aware this post said a lot of nothing to those who aren't immediately around me - but I feel like my life is now different. And I have been fundamentally changed.

I truly look forward to the future now and expect beautiful glittery things to happen. I can't wait.

Disliked

I've never really experienced what it's like to have someone strongly dislike me before.

Now of course I accept the fact that not everyone in the world likes me - that would be impossible. People who aspire to such a thing are being unrealistic.

Of course there is elementary school when little girls can be cruel. But that is just a part of growing up, and isn't something that can be taken so personally that it should haunt you. I expect that those little girls scarcely remember who I am, let alone harbouring a burning feeling of...anything.

What I mean is as an adult- being actively, horribly disliked and resented to the point where a person wishes damage and harm to you. I had never felt that before.

This weekend, I had it pointed out to me that such a person does in fact exist.

I was reminded that for all my neuroticisms and insecurities - not all people are alike.

A person once told me "It's not all about you" and I really took that to heart. It was one flippant comment that turned me into a completely different person from that moment onwards. Because really? Most things? Aren't about me.

I firmly believe that most people's actions, have very little to do with anyone else - they are firmly centred around what is best for them. Now this can often result in some very inconsiderate behaviour- but there are vast acres of difference between inconsiderate actions vs those with malicious intent.

It's why bloggers that do nothing but rant about the stupidity of others really get on my nerves. Because while people do in fact do stupid/annoying/inconsiderate things - so do they and I and all my friends. EVERYone does. Because most people do things for themselves.

But this past weekend, I had lunch with a friend who was talking to me about someone that she had lost respect for. Someone who had done something to me. Now, I had always wondered if the person in question had done the action in question (sorry for the vague), but I honestly thought that if it was her, I knew why she would have done it.

I thought that it was done out of a misunderstanding of my actions, and loyalty to someone else. And a part of me still thinks that.

But now I have doubt.

Doubt that the action may have actually been in fact malicious. That this person couldn't temper what she had heard about me with consideration for the fact that there are two sides to every story.

Doubt that this person may not just be kind of socially inept (although she really is) and may just dislike me. May be jealous of me. May actually be harbouring...some sort of bad feeling towards me.

There are a lot of people in this world that I don't care for. A co-worker who just left. The slouchy girl on the bus. My brother's ex girlfriends. Some of my former customers at my first job. But that's as far as it went- when they were right in front of me - I kind of didn't care for them.

But I always knew that I didn't really know them. That there is probably someone else in the world who loves them, and that makes them worthwhile. And while not everyone in the world is going to love everyone else - no one denies that most people on the planet are valuable. And special. And have their own reasons and points of view.

So to finally come to the realization that someone may dislike me so much as to wish me harm...

Well it takes a while for me to come to grips with that.

And one way to look at it is to be grateful that someone in this planet is willing to put that much energy into the thought of me. It's flattering in a twisted sort of way.

But not really.

Have you guys ever had someone actively dislike you? Did you deserve it? How did you cope?

I Still Suck at Non-Dating

As some of you may have noticed on twitter, I had a wee bit of a girly episode the other day.

I had a completely innocuous email from internet boy and didn't know what to do with it. It responded to what I had just said, yet didn't engage me or ask any questions or anything. I didn't know how to respond because really? The topic was done.

Now you may be asking how long this has been going on. Well we've been e-talking for about 3 weeks now. I don't know if that's short or average or forever or what. But as much as I know that I will be having a 15 year-old-worthy freak-out when it comes time to meet, I was done with the ambiguity.

So, instead of asking more questions, or carrying on with a now dull topic, I decided to just put it out there. Do you want to meet? Is your interest waning? Cause if so, it's cool- but let me know.
I was MUCH more flowery and poetic than that. I used the word "perfunctory." And mentioned George Bernard Shaw and Mrs. Patrick Campbell.

I was eloquent.
Or possibly pushy.
Whatev.

I sent off the email and toddled off to bed, feeling girlishly justified in having possibly killed the non-relationship.
For some reason he always responds sometime between 12:41 and 12:49 AM each day.
I'm long asleep by that hour.

I rushed to my email the next morning and saw that he had responded.
Then closed webmail and finished getting ready.

I went to work and opened the email again.
Yup, it was still there.

Throughout the course of the morning I continued to check. Yes, the email remained.
Unopened.

Of course if I never actually opened it, then it would be like he had never actually ended the non-relationship right?
(Because of course by then I was regretting the message and had thoroughly convinced myself that up until I totally screwed it up, he was obviously meant to be the father of my children.)

So I tweeted about how I was too freaked out the read the email.
And of course received a plethora of offers to read it for me from my person, Sheila, Le Sombre, Kyla, Becky....
I have such supportive friends. Not one of them told me to just put on my big girls panties and just do it.

It was then discussed that Sheila and LeSombre should read it amongst themselves, hi-jack my blog, possibly post the message and discuss from each of their points of view.

For the sake of my blog, I must confess that I was very tempted to do all of this. Forward the messages, let my blog be hi-jacked etc. I mean just because I'm destined to be single until I die, doesn't mean that I don't have an obligation to be entertaining to my readers, right?

It was now lunch time, so I phoned my person and gave her my email password. She opened it up and started laughing. Assuming that she actually had somesemblanceofconcernformyfeelings I interpreted that as a good sign.

I will in fact post his initial response to the message:

Hi,
yeah, whatever.
Internet Guy


!!??!!

Next line:
I'm kidding of course.
I'd love to meet.

Now my person refused to read me the entire message over the phone, but I was at least placated to the point where I was capable of reading the whole thing myself.

Apparently we are to meet next week. Perhaps this week he is already too busy meeting other women?

So. I am both relived and chagrined by my own girliness.
And quite possibly just ridiculously a little disappointed that I couldn't do the blog hi-jack thing.

Tune in next week when I freak out about what the hell to wear when I meet him.

xo