Tuesday, March 27, 2007

big mouth strikes again

As some readers who (somehow?!) stumble upon my virtual meanderings may have realised, I don’t dive much into political/social discussions around here. Nope. Aside for the fact that I am fundamentally self-obsessed and frivolously cultured, this is also because I rather have what I deem as 'Adult Conversation' live, so to speak. With friends and/or family and/or random strangers over food and/or/of course lots of liquor, where one can thoroughly enjoy all the passionately weird facial expressions, vociferous highs & lows, exaggerated & dramatic hand gestures, in-jokes, rabid retorts, and a building momentum where everyone ends up shouting at one another. Ah! Good times! I think I have a belligerent streak in me, which may have been passed down courtesy of me Daddio. (Not that The Crazy Woman is a kitten either, but when discussions are mixed with my dad’s right-wing friendly obstination and my conviction that I’m always right, it always makes for a particularly… auditive experience, whereas my mum simply prefer to shy away from direct confrontation by giving us the Evil Eye.)

Anyway, all that to say (and also to provide further proof that I can’t help but to talk about myself anyhow – seriously, it’s a curse) that this is going to be one of those 'Adult Posts'. Sort of. (Oh, who am I kidding? It's not.)

I am not going to pretend that Canadian politics is all that exciting (OR that I actually know much anything about it), however last night’s electoral run was some kind of roller-coaster that may or may not have seen yours truly rise from her drenched sweated seat* & hop around the house making jihad chants** as the thin social fabric that have leisurely rocked her priviledged ass crumbled when the Action Democratic Of Quebec rose from the bowels of hell. Yes, the ADQ that promises to solve all of the financial, educational and health issues from its own windy fart. Um. Yeah. I suppose if I were high on myself [enough] and gulped down an entire bottle of Ritalin, I could have come up with a loosely similar ‘program’. AND WIN 31% OF QUEBECOIS VOTES! Squashing the PQ to the grounds as the LEADING opposition!

Now, being a non-separatist and all, I have never been of the Parti Quebecois, but at least i enjoyed and would actually listen to what they have to say. They're like the arch nemesis of the Liberal Party, and seeing them crushed - but literally - was heartbreaking in the same way that seeing David Xanatos being destroyed by Demona*** would be devastating!

While Beelzebub Junior slowly wraps his dirty little fingers around the confusedly 'leftist' political throne, it was announced that the barely leading Liberal Party was going to reign as a minority government - which was no big surprise, really - BUT WITH NO PREMIERE AS CHAREST LOST IN HIS COUNTY! Oh the horror! You should have seen my poor sister who is a die-hard fan of the Liberals. There were sighs, then cries, then a lot of screaming and death threats (while I congratulated myself a little in the inside for making a good call by running away from it all to England [soon enough, I cry & plead hopefully!]). We figured that all was lost and everything we held dear - the life-long battle between the Liberals & the PQ, the stable shitty government that everyone complains about which allowed all this spoilt whinging anyway - was surprisingly twirling down the drains! Oh, save the children! We were finally going to taste true chaos! As I already began dancing & chanting in my indigenous taunt****, a sudden frantic recount in Sherbrooke settled, at the very last possible minute, that – hurrah! – we were going to have a legitimate leader after all! What a [insignificant yet relieving] turn of events! We all gathered around the telly keenly waiting for the poor man to deliver his defeated speech of victory at around 1am, and I was genuinely glad and touched by [and believed!] his dignified & humble discourse. That of the sad PQ leader, André Boisclair, reeked however with understandable disappointment and held-back tears. It was quite sad, honestly. And queasy to watch.

Anyhow, it’ll be interesting to see in the next few weeks & months as the ADQ gather their shits together trying to figure out what the hell they are doing in the National Assembly while the two arch rival PLQ & PQ might finally join force to battle against a common foe. Oh, these are exciting times***** indeed!…

Will be back to my usual uninformative shallow naval-gazing self soon enough. At ease.

* Right, well, yes. I suppose i should specify right away that i am infringing the first law of voting, in that i am whining here when i *cough*didn'tevenvote*cough*.... BUT! I wanted to, but, then i just...didn't really care give a shit could.... Ahem. Besides, it's not like it would have counted anyway seeing as where i live people are actually literate and didn't vote for the devil, so there. Really. It's not all that bad!... All alright! i'll sign up for some extra volunteering be really keen and helpful and extra nice, from now on, yes? It balances everything out in the end! Um...Look! A bird!
**Right, should have warned that this wasn't going to be necessarily very PC either, eh? (Tch, of course, i mean in a ironic way... ahem.)
*** Yes, well, i've been oddly reminiscing about my childhood lately.... Suppose when things seemed much simpler, and my biggest concern was either gargoyles & humans can have babies and whether or not i could steal wear my sister's Calvin Klein socks to school without her knowing it. *sigh*
**** cf. 2nd endnote.
*****Ouh! the possibly really good exciting news of the night was that the Green Party actually increased in popularity! Yay! And I'm not all dead and cynical in the inside!

Sunday, March 25, 2007

the coming of spring

Aside from the general sun tauntingly shining on, puddles of melting brown shite (or What Is Left Of The Glorious Snow), the sweet smell of feces emanating from said pile of melting snow (extra aromatic due to months of fermented bliss - mmmm...), and wait - is that my throat itching? Is that my nose running? Is that my left eye tearing? Why, it's ALLERGIES SEASON! *punches fist into wall* - it can't be all bad, can it...?

With that in mind (Ouh! Ouh! Look at me being all positive!), here is a list of Good Things About Spring:

  1. After months of wanting to let my bangs & hair grow, I gave in to the Spirit Of Change and cut the whole damn thing! Well, not the entire thing, just gave myself a wee trim. And a kickass dye. Which feels immmmeeeensely good. Behold!


    After(See the difference? It's darker now, yes?
    Am image of Adventurous, truly?...
    Humour me?)

  2. Maple syrup. Need i say more?

  3. Now, if you break it down, what 'Spring' really stands for is 'Spring Cleaning'. Which ultimately leads to LOOK AT MY SWANKY CLEAN COLOR-COORDINATED CLOSET!

    I love it so much, i could just sit here and marvel at it for hours, quite sadly!

  4. Have just finished my paper on Education & Minority Language Acquisition! Hurrah-rah-rah! (...although that doesn't have anything to do with Spring, now does it? If anything, Spring is paper season and i actually have two other ones to write for this week! Okay, happy thoughts, happy thoughts...)

  5. Ouh! With the warm weather I can now wear my cute lighter coat and kickass brown leather boots again! Gnarly!

  6. AND, because three months of Winter makes us Canadians slightly deranged in the head, we can now enjoy our drinks on terraces! Even if it is still only 5C outside!*

  7. Closet again.

    Yes, let its magic wash over you...

  8. ...as you listen to this! (click on the small black box in the middle, marked "media", then "audio", then the 5th little blue square from the left. You can listen to the entire thing too, of course. Go on, it's only mildly frantically dancy!... Unless that's not exactly your piece of pie. In which case, never mind then.)

* I believe that the more exclamation marks i put, the more likely am i to feel its enthusiastic effect. As long as I don't strangle myself out of sheer annoyance first.

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

the blossoms

Well, it is officially Spring. *eyes search vainly for a place to hide*

In the words of a very wise lady (who got it from another wise person - lady or otherwise - although that would not change her 'wise' status as we all know that that birds of the same feather flock together, or some other shit wisdom of sort), "Fake it 'til you make it!"

Right-o. If there were any appropriate time to fake it, it should be now, innit?

Wish me luck.

[n.b. photo courtesy of gontanon. Because i can't be arsed to take a picture of Spring. Yet.]

Sunday, March 18, 2007

au gré des saisons

I have been feeling "less than giddy" lately but somehow my beloved sister successfully talked me into going to the cabane à sucre with a few of her friends. As much as I wouldn’t like to take anything away from her impressive powers of persuasion, promise of endless maple syrup (perhaps) had something to do with it....

So at 2 p.m., prepped up in my Outdoor-Woodsy outfit (yes, i name my outfits... what?) , I apprehensively stepped out into the cold wind and on my way to meet my sister. Some two hours later. Now usually, despite being a true public transport kinda gal, the prospect of 120 minutes of transit accompanied by strangers with dubious social skills [ha!] would only further convince me to stay hidden between my covers. However, this time, I was going to take the train. And I love trains. I love being in the central station. I love the high ceiling, the open space, being in between destinations. It feels homely to me. I love the way trains smoothly slide across the city, from downtown to its furthest outskirts, and lazily watching as you drift off into the ether [suburbs].

By 4 o’clock sharp [4h20], i met up with her and, after frustratingly arguing & fidgeting with her new GPS device [her] & threatening to throw the damn thing out the window [me] for another 15 minutes, off went two of the most hardcore city girls I know into the untamed wilderness [Rigaud]. Two hours of jolly car-riding later, we managed to get there unscathed [startled by the creepy robotic GPS woman every 3 minutes and freaking out as we speeded through the Steepest And Narrowest Road With The Most Potholes Ever]. As we circled around looking for parking, we noticed however that the entire place was eerily deserted. In a quickly abandoned kind of way. With empty old wooden cabins scattered across the perimeter...
“What time are we suppose to meet them again?! It’s already 6 o’clock! It’s going to get dark soon!”, I calmly inquired.
“I don’t know?! They should be here now!", my sister reassuringly replied. "Oh look! There’s Audrey’s car!”
After parking the car right next to the little Echo like the expert driver that she is, my sister skillfully tried to turn the GPS off as it angrily refused à la HAL-9000, while I keenly scanned the woods for a man in a hockey mask. To further prove how paranoid I am my survival skill was on tact, I dutifully made note, as I was putting my handbag in the trunk, that there was a shovel in there, youknowjustincase. Clearly, we was made for outdoor fun, the two of us!

My sister, sensible & fearless as her dependable nature can ever tolerate, suddenly laughed out with glee as we were circling the grounds and declared, “But where the HELL is everybody?!” Grabbing onto her like dear life, with my Alert Button switched on to RAMBO, I discretely responded in the most comforting of tone, “ OH MY GOD! THIS HAS JASON VOORHEES WRITTEN ALL OVER IT!” Oddly enough, it was at that precise moment that a sweet old man with a beard that seemed to be chewed off by rabid rats & a farmer’s hat he'd found on a cadavre decided to jump out from one of the wooden cabins as if he had been watching too many B-rated slasher horror flicks, followed by two hungry feline creatures that hissed at us out of our fucking tits, and asked us where we were going. “Oh my god! Are those cats hissing at us?!..”, I courteously shouted in response.
“Est-ce que vous pouviez nous dire où se trouve la cabane à sucre, monsieur?”, my sister finally asked him, realizing that I was about to run for my life and/or kill them bastard cats, which incidentally decided to rub against my legs.
“God! What’s it doing?! Is it rubbing against my legs? It’s rubbing against my legs! Hey you! Cat! Don’t you know I hate you?”, I continued on my lovely gibberish.
“Oh, c’est pas très loin. Attendez ici, je vais vous amener”, the old farmer replied.

Instantly, my mind travelled from Friday the 13th & Pet Cemetary to Wolf Creek in the speed of light. As I turned to my sister and met two petrified bulging eyeballs, I comforted myself in knowing she was thinking the same thing. Still, as it would be most impolite [and insane] to start running for the hills, we decided it would be best to hide our fear and waited while he harnessed two ginormous Canadian horses to a wooden carriage.
“Are there blood stains on the horses?”, I caught myself asking aloud.
“Can you run?”, my sister abruptly turned to me. She was smiling in that Scared Shitless way she has.
“Oh hell yeah, I can run, but… what? You want me to leave you behind?”
“Just make sure you can run, okay?! [insert maniacal Lost-Her-Mind laugh]".
As I was [actually] contemplating if i could make it by running back to the car, finding a way to open the trunk, getting the shovel and coming back in time to save my sister, the Creepy-Wolf-Creek-in-Rigaud Farmer stormed out as if he was triumphantly riding Hades' carriage. At his suspiciously kind behest, we nervoulsy hopped in.

During the few interminable minutes of the ride, which involved small talks [him - “Vous venez d'où, memzelles (are you far from safety)?”, “Vous êtes toutes seules (will anyone come looking for you as I rip out your lungs)?”], noting that we were at least going slowly enough to jump off & run for the hills if need be [me], grinning in what can only be described as utter & complete fear [sister], I casually asked him whether there were lots of people working today. Confused and slightly suspicious (?), he distractingly whispered “Non, pas vraiment...”. *Alert Button goes off the charts* As we were about to put our escape plan into gear, the carriage suddenly came to a halt in front of what looked like the dinner hall. He got off first and stood by the gate.

To help us get down.
Like a real friendly gentleman.

Feeling a little silly indeed, we graciously thanked him for his utmost kindness. And then ran inside.

Much to our relief, all my sister’s friends were already there (and not in fact ripped to shreds nor pinned up to a wooden stick) patiently [drunkenly] waiting for us. We told them how we had arrived "in style" [as oppose to "insanely"], and much eating & drinking ensued. Soon, the only impending danger facing us was the explosion of our stomach as pea soup, homemade breads, sausages, mashed potato, ham with maple syrup, eggs, and oreilles de criss [fried pig skins] quickly filled our bellies. It was like a massive Celebratory Breakfast For Being In The Glorious Woods with no adults to say 'no more'. And lots of wine. Obviously.

As dessert was coming up soon, we all firmly believed that [embarrassing] dancing would burn off the calories & make room for the traditional sugar pies and crêpes.

Of which I had six.

The night cannot be over however without the epitome of the sugar shack experience [the main reason why I dragged my sorry ass out of bed], so as soon as the chansonnier* announced that the Maple Taffy was ready, we clumsily (and drunkenly) ran outside to get in line, just like we used to do when we were 10 years old. Mmm, good times.

Yes, it all looks like a game of Write Your Name In The Snow from your younger mischievous days**, but it's really hot maple sap poured onto [what we all delusionally hope is] fresh snow. As it hardens up, you quickly twirl as much of it as you can around a popsicle stick, much like in this most expert of ways:

And then, when you have successfully created a lolly without getting maple all over yourself and become thus a life size maple stick (very dangerous, especially around drunken hungry gluttons - trust me, i know...), you simply suck on it 'til all self-respect is lost! Yeah!

High on sugar, we merrily popped by the General Store where many a-maple syrup goodies are neatly packaged and ready for consumerist use. My sister bought two jars of syrup while I got me some dark chocolate filled with maple sugar***. I would have bought that entire basket too, but alas, am also very poor.

All in all, i was glad i went. Even though it involved trying to be "sociable" and "friendly" to people i've never met (eventhough most of them were indeed quite nice, albeit slightly scary, what with the horde of stray cats and vapid killer eyes to their general impression...)

So, lesson of the day: psychotic murdererous scare & massive amount of sugar increase mood. You read it here first.

*Yes, a real one! With the curly country hair, plad shirt, brown suspenders and even coureurs-des-bois boots...to boot! Get it?...ahaha... okay. Carry on.

** Which i sincerely implore, for everyone's involved well-being, to not play during -15C conditions. One would think this is obvious, wouldn't it? Not so, blog world, not so...

*** T'is but a shameful marketing tactic, to drug one up on sugar before the shoppig spree, i know. But, eh, who's complaning? Not I.

Friday, March 16, 2007

fade to grey

I woke up in a spacious run down room. The wall across me had peeled off-white paint lazily patching the dark grey plaster underneath. The windows were low and had no curtains. He had left cds with my name on them all over the room. He wanted to see if i cared enough to find them all. I gave up. The Crazy Woman found some porn. She deliberated whether to watch it or not.

I looked out the window. Rooftops with old convoluted cornices adorned the tightly squeezed houses across the street. They were of the deepest reds and blues. The most beautiful view i had seen. The sun was rising. Or setting. I wasn't sure. I tried to take a picture. It didn't come out right.

I turned to my left. A three-legged Edwardian chaise had all my clothes on it. It was upholstered with a jade velvet green. It was the chair i had always wanted. The only pop of color in the room. I was intrigued.

I woke up again.


Thursday, March 15, 2007

shack up

Idiot Philosophical Question #3812:

"Why is it that one is dead sleepy when faced with pressing work and have the caffeine come to effect only when one lies down for a quick nap?"

Wednesday, March 14, 2007

human fly

My diet now consists of coffee, Doritos, and chicken nuggets.

"Meat"? Check.
"Wheat"? Check.
Caffeine? Double check.

Am true picture of health, I am!
Someone give me a medal! (I also accept beer.)

Friday, March 9, 2007

neighborhood #4 (7 kettles)

I don’t believe that everything happens for a reason. I don’t believe that all the ‘unpleasant’ things that have happened in my life (or anybody’s for that matter) were good because it was meant to bring me where I am today. I believe that it is slightly delusional and presumptuously self-serving to think there is some higher hand that invisibly guides us through life towards the best possible version of ourselves, and if there is a god at all, out of all the creatures that could be alive in the entire universe, it’d care about us to meddle in our little lives. Like natural selection, I believe things just happen. Whatever the outcome, may it be good or bad, can be at best considered as the result of survival in the big scheme of things, and that we simply do our best with what we have. And if circumstances were different, or if only you knew what you know now, if you chose to go out with that Sweet Gawky Dude instead of Badass Intellectual, or gone to that trip a day earlier, or later, or had made that damn phone call instead of stupidly holding on to your pride, things might be entirely different today. And more disturbingly, unbearably better.

If I had a chance, if I was living in some bad sci-fi novel, I’d fight to be the first one to try out its time machine. I’d go back to the year 2000, June 20th, a little after midnight to be exact. Prom Night. Or, The Last Time I Ever Saw Him. JP-him. Yes, I know…. I’m not even sure what I would say to him now. There was a time where I would spend all my days desperately willing myself to turn back the clock so I could change his mind, so I could be with him, tried my best to make him want to stay. And then wishing that i'd see him in my nights. Now though... I’m not too sure anymore. Knowing what I know.... Yet I’d still want to go back. If only to see him again. To feel him again. Or just to make sure that he knew how much I cared. How much I loved. How much I’d miss him. And how I understand. And I do. That’s why I know it would be meaningless to change his mind after all.

If I had the chance, I would go to a different college right after high school. I’d still study in Natural Sciences but would add some classes in Interior Design as well (I checked the programs). I’d still like to attend the same University I do now, still like to major in the same program, but I’d take a minor in Art History (or vice versa) and be more involved in design/arts internships and opportunities. I’d know exactly which classes to take, how to go about preparing for an interesting career, a planned future. The right life. Because my mind would be so much less cluttered and thus clear to finally live it. I could also go to Graduate School afterwards, perhaps, or decide to get an Architecture degree after all when I came back from Europe. I haven’t decided about that part yet. There would be so many things I’d do differently instead of what i'd done. Wasting my time away. The Best Years of Your Life, as they so often warn you but for whatever reason, whether it be because you think they were patronizing, or because you didn’t care, or because it was too late, you didn’t listen. And suddenly, there they are, the first part of your twenties gone in a few puddles of tears. And you realize you haven’t only missed out on unimaginably delicious delusional relationships & experiences but the luxury to expand your mind through ways that were delivered to you on a silver platter. And you can never have them back.

If I had that chance, I’m not entirely sure I’d be happier. But at least I would not wonder, I would not yearn, I would not regret and so terribly miss…. And I would not be here. Now. Wondering what might have been.

But this is not a sci-fi novel, is it? There isn’t any way for me to ever bend the space/time continuum, is there? It isn't fiction, it isn't a television program. It's just us, with our little lives.

And if I try really hard at not being so defeatist & pessimistic, I… wait a second, I don’t know how to finish that sentence…

Oh, right, here it is:

I am terribly grateful for the things I do have. The family, the opportunities, the privilege. There is nothing I would change about that part. It's criminally undeserved, honestly. And I know I have come a long way, and even if I could come back, I’d have to go through something similar to what I’ve lived through to clear enough of my head in order to do everything I’ve set out to do should I go back in the first place, which would therefore render everything equal in the end, and whether I stay here or travel back in time would ultimately be inconsequential.

(Disregard that last paragraph – it made more sense in my head, I swear. Really. Not that it is of any comfort, of course, but i figured it was a good enough argument for me. Right. Carry on.)

Actually, no. That’s all I got.

Have a nice weekend now.

Friday, March 2, 2007

picture of my life

While some of my friends are raising havoc at a Frat Party this very minute (it’s all about them cheap beer, young impressionable 17-year-old girls and sexually confused first year Saskatoon lads, you understand... god speed, me boys, god speed!), I am neatly tucked away in bed with a facial (yes, the Depends pads are very comfortable, thank you for asking). Although the unsurpassable amount of beer that taste like piss and drunken pretentious college boys whose best pickup line is "you're such a hawt Asian* chick - burrrrrp" would ratle up any girl's fantasy, I just have the feeling that I can't resist biting some heads off tonight. And speaking of biting, I have not yet digested all that I have eaten, so thought as well to spare the lovely folks at Sigma Chi Lambda Alpha Omega Delta I Haven't The Slightest Clue Really the sweet smell of my bowel movement over the delicious sex pheromones & vomiting sweat. Case in point - what I have ingested today:

  • 2 bowls of Crispix** cereal [which the only grocer carrying it, in a fit akin to Jack Bauer's torturous rage, is no longer selling. They have stopped having it for a while but around Christmas, much to my childish delight, decided to restock only to YANK IT away from its shelves again. Why, dear Metro Gods, why?]
  • half a roll of rosette de lyon sausage from La Charcuterie de Père Lemoine, with enough black peppers to start a small fire in one's throat.
  • a plate of linguine (couldn't resist taking picture of it - notice the melting garlic butter on top. Mm-aaaarrhhh....)
  • a plate of sweet sticky rice with fried onions i had to fight over with The Crazy Woman.
  • Yummy roast chicken with steamed rice [that would be supper, in case anyone was wondering, courtesy of The fabulous Crazy Woman.]
  • A pot noodle. Or two.

[Note to self: must learn to say 'stop'. And actually stop.]

Have also been geekilly youtubing all the music videos i've missed out on, and came to the conclusion that it seriously sucks rats balls to be on a tight budget, as i absolutely must get my hands on The Good, The Bad and The Queen record, as well as the new Arcade Fire***!

And these shoes!

Dancing shoes.
Only-In-My-Dreams shoes.

Prim-And-Proper-Sunday-Garden-Party shoes. (Not that i have ever been, or know anyone who's gone, to a garden party before.)

For some reason remind me of Jem-And-The-Holograms shoes. Which makes me want them even more. I mean, i've even named them and all, so of course they should be mine!...

Yes, it is a sad life I live.

*That would be something not to say to get a girl. EVER. But that is a very long post for another day, i'm afraid...
**As oppose to something like Coco Puffs, or Lucky Charms, i always very boringly prefer something relatively plain in taste. They are the ones that you can eat endlessly, in my opinion. Although i oddly feel like having some of'em Lucky Charms now....
***Speaking of which, their encore performances here were completely SOLD OUT TODAY! *cries* Due, might i add to a bunch of LYING WHORES at one shabby music store who told us they were to go on sale TOMORROW. May you have CRABS, Dirty Blond Shag Boy and Old Nancy Dweeb With Scary Neck Rash! Freakishly gargantuesque Super-Crabs! Now if anyobody can tell me how to get or has an extra ticket, i will gratefully repay them in any way possible. With anything. My soul, anyone? Seriously, anyone?...

the ice storm

This, it seems, would be THE snow storm of the year.

Stick THAT into your shithole and smoke it, Spring!