Those Little Slices of Death

Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleave of care
The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course,
Chief nourisher in life's feast.
~William Shakespeare, Macbeth

I find myself more and more frequently retreating to my beautiful haven of sleep. In sleep I go to find escape. Escape from thinking. Escape from planning. Escape from feeling.

I have all the leisure time in the world now. Time to exercise. Time to see friends and family. Time to cook and clean and do all of those little things that I could never seem to find a spare moment to do before.

And yet, I sleep.

Sleep is the ultimate time killer. I lay down only to open my eyes and find that three hours have disappeared. Slipped away never to be found again, not matter how much I might regret their passing. And yet, what have I really missed?

Am I sleeping to heal? Sleeping to find answers? Or simply sleeping as a means to not have to live the life that I find myself in?

Sleep is my reward for each task accomplished. One job applied for? Why don’t you take a nap? Dishwasher emptied? Why don’t you go lay down after all that hard work? A few phone calls returned? I think you deserve some rest now.

Sleep is not really an escape. I find myself dreaming about everything I’ve been doing. Everything I should be doing. Everything I’ve already done, I keep doing over and over again, night after night in some sort of cruel somnambulistic ritual.

I tell myself to view this time of freedom, this era of release with anticipation, delight even. And yet, I can’t help but feel the judgement that I’m most likely only truly receiving from myself.

I view sleep as a release from the torture that I’m putting myself through; a sanctuary from the almost militant plan that I’ve laid out for myself. I can’t allow myself to believe that I’ve truly been through a terrible time, and that I deserve, nay, needed to escape from where I was being held prisoner- both by my manager, and myself.

I don’t wake up feeling refreshed and revitalized. I wake up cursing myself for having wasted precious moments that I could have been doing…what? I don’t know. Something.

Meditating? Applying for more jobs? Scheduling therapy?

Sleep. How I loathe those little slices of death, and yet I long for them as well.

xo

How Many Posts Have You Read Today about Mother's Day?

Today is Mother's Day.

My step-sister had a garage sale the day before Mother's Day once, and after I left a found a card in my purse from my Step-Mom. I still have it.

It says:

"On this day for remembering mothers, your loss must be especially painful.
Hopefully Mother's Day can be a day for you to celebrate your memories...
...and your friends and family can celebrate that part of your mother that lives on in you."

It still makes me kind of choked up. (A significant improvement over the immediate bursting into tears that it used to result in).

I have to say that I don't find Mother's Day to be as painful as I would have thought- especially knowing how sentimental and emotional I tend to be. Perhaps it's because I don't have any particular memories of any Mother's Days that I spent with my Mom. I don't remember anything specific that I did for her. I know I must have, but nothing really comes to mind.

If anything, I can just bring up the happy memories that I have of my mother, and wistfully wish that things could have been different.

• I remember her buying me make-up in grade 5, long before me and my other friends had really even considered it.

• I remember her learning how to read cards (not tarot, but regular playing cards) and practicing on me all the time.

• I remember her having me wrap my own Christmas presents, and having perfect trust that I wouldn't peek inside the boxes to see what I was getting. (I didn't - I always was a little goody-goody).

• I remember her reading stacks and stacks of Harlequin or Silhouette romance novels.

• I remember her speaking French to me a lot, so I would learn it quicker, and so she wouldn't lose it.

• I remember her talking about her dream to go to the Orient, and how her and I would go there together someday.

• I remember her love of science fiction movies, and her taking me to a double-feature of Star Wars and the Empire Strikes Back.

She was a good Mom who had a lot of problems. Now looking back I suspect she was suffering from depression- or perhaps even bi-polar disorder. However, I never once doubted that she absolutely adored and cherished me.

Happy Mother's Day Mom, I hope you know that I'm thinking of you.

xo

The Apple* Doesn't Fall Too Far...

So in the past few years I've found a new hobby- geneaology. Like most people, a lot of my family came over on a boat from Europe, so I figure there's gotta be some royalty in there somewhere. I don't necessarily need any monarchs- but even a duke or a countess or an earl would be kinda cool. I'd settle for a knight even!

I've managed to get myself back to the 1700's in some branches, but the nobility aspect is sorely lacking. Here are the cool things that I have found though:

• My Great-Great Grandmother was Métis.


• My Grandfather was once arrested for bootlegging.


• My Great Grandfather supposedly came to Canada from the US because he opposed guns & the war etc, but apparently it was really because of some family feud.


• I am part: English, Scottish, & Norwegian for sure. Potentially I am also Irish & Welsh


• My Great Grandfather was killed by being gored by a bull. I have my my grandmother's (his daughter) diaries from that time - it is so heartwrenching to read.


• My Grandfather lost his eye in WWI at Vimy Ridge.


• My Great Uncle also lost his eye (not sure how though)


• My bootlegging Grandfather left home when he was very young, got his wallet stolen, and it was found on the thief's dead body. Everyone thought it was my grandfather was dead and his parents moved away. It took him a while to find them, and it was quite a shock to them when he arrived at their doorstep!


• My Great Great Grandfather was recruited by the Hudson's Bay Company from Scotland to come over here and work.

So what have you got? Any interesting family facts? How far back do you know? It's a super interesting (and expensive) hobby to have. It almost makes me regret not having children (never say never I suppose) so I would have someone to pass this all on to...

* Or is it acorn??

xo

I Don't Have Any Dances Coming Up...

I've been a bad little Princess lately. I haven't been responding to any of the comments that you lovelies have been leaving. I do apologise, and promise to make it up to you, starting with this post!!

*Back to our regularly scheduled programming*

I was searching through some of the blogs that Google Reader recommended the other day and I came across the coolest site: Wikihow! Has anyone else ever been there? I now know how I'm spending the rest of my time at my job. And I thought I was going to be bored....

Like wikipedia, the information is submitted by regular joes. In this case, I think none of them are over the age of 14.

Obviously the first thing I was going to ask it was: How to get a boyfriend. I mean c'mon- it's a how-to site! It would tell me what I was doing wrong.

Here's what it told me to do: How to Find a New Guy

1. Don't force yourself to get over someone. You just have to let it happen. The more you try, the harder it is. Trust me!
2. When it happens, take a week or two and just explore. Does anyone just pop out at you?
3. If not, just keep looking. There's nothing worse than hurrying!
4. Day by day, you'll notice someone. I guarantee it. A guy you barely know or a best friend you've never seen as a guy. Seriously, it could be a guy you NEVER expected it being!
5. Next, you have to show him you like him. Is there a dance coming up? Don't ask him to the dance, but when you're at the dance, ask him to slow dance a lot! He'll start to get the point.
6. Have one of your friends call him and ask him what he thinks of you, then, have your friend tell him to consider liking you. Have your friend compliment you as if saying to the guy, "You should like her! She's pretty, smart, really nice!" (Unless you know that friend has a history of flirting with guys you like, then don't. Otherwise, she might end up getting the boy)
7. Then, the final step, have your friend tell the guy to ask you out. Have them say "You should go out with her! You guys would make a really cute couple." And have your friend make him as you out on the phone.

TIPS:

• Remember not to seem too desperate.
• Don't be all over him, remember. At a dance, don't ask him to the dance, don't scare him. Ask him TO dance! Not TO THE dance! (If you get what I mean!)

Score!!
My person? My Dear Anon? I have someone that I need you to tell to ask me out. His name is James....

Anon? Remember the rules from when we were 16: no flirting with Princess's exes, potentials or wannabe's... (true story).

xo

Man! I Feel Like A Woman

I've heard a lot about sexism, and discrimination in the workplace etc etc.

I don't put a lot of stock in it, in my own world (this is not to negate anyone else's issues). I figure if I make less than a man, I need to negotiate better. If I get less respect than a man, I need to be a bit less sweet and laid-back, and a bit more alpha female. I prefer to take on the responsibility myself, rather than blame it on external forces. I'm a bit of a control freak that way. I can change myself, but I can't do much to change other people.

Is this about to be a feminist rant? Not even remotely.

I figure, we, as women have a WAY better gig than men do. So much so, that I have no idea why guys walk around feeling so superior all the time.

Let's take pain threshold. Sure in the movies men act all tough when they're fighting through a gunshot wound. As if a woman would put up with that! Why were you silly enough to end up in a situation like that in the first place?

You wanna see pain? I tried to explain to one of my male friends once what cramps are like. He rolled his eyes and scoffed at me when I said it was like getting stabbed in the abdomen and having the knife run back and forth across the length again and again. I could've punched him in the face.

Next I suppose he was going to tell me that women are exaggerating about the pain of childbirth right? Cause that looks like a good time.

Next let's look at aesthetics. Look at a woman. They're soft and curvy, sexy and voluptuous. Men? Yeah, some of them look OK, but should we compare sex organs? Enough said.

But men miss out in the looks department. Though most women are of course naturally beautiful the second they roll out of bed in the morning, we at least have the option to improve on that perfection if we so choose. Looking a bit pale? Nothing a bit of blush or bronzer can't fix. OMG! A blemish?! (And may I mention, what am I 14? I can't believe those things still show up once you hit adulthood) Nothing a bit of concealer won't vanish.

And look at the rainbow of dresses, skirts, halters, stilettos, blouses etc etc etc that we have to choose from. A guy wants to look pretty? A suit it is. ("What colour tie should I wear dear?")
Not to mention the fact that we can get away with looking even more adorable than men in their own clothes. I've yet to see a guy look cuter than me in one of my little dresses.

AND, the biggest tragedy of all, in my little princessy opinion. Tears.
I cry at commercials, movies, talking about my job, thinking about my Mom, when my friends have babies, at weddings...you name it, I need a tissue. Men? Well, there's no crying in baseball is there? And while it may not be the most professional to cry at work when something goes awry, at least people won't look at you like you're a total freak if you happen to slip up a let a few tears escape. Men? Yeah, not so much an option.

And dirty/messy/icky jobs? Sure, I'm completely capable of: killing that bug, changing a tire, lugging that heavy box up the stairs. But would you be a dear and help me out just a wee bit with that? *flutter flutter*
Can a guy get away with that without emasculating himself?

AND, let's not forget the beautiful ability that women have to be irrational, emotional and freaky. Can we burst into tears because we broke a nail? Yes. Is it irrational? Yes- but it's our God given right to do so, so just back off there skippy!

Do we ask completely nowinnopossiblecorrectanswer to questions such as the following: Do I look fat in this? Is she prettier than me? Of course we do. And we expect the right answer. A resounding and completely convincing "NO!" And we get it.

If a man tried either of the above. Yeah, we'd laugh. In his face. And so would all his buddies too.

So men, you want to rule the world? Start wars? OK- while you're off doing that, I'll be at the spa getting a mani & pedi. Which sounds more fun and relaxing to you?

xo