My New Kingdom

I have moved...
Why not check out my new digs here.

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.