Tuesday, October 25, 2005

see me through

Months and months ago Anne, a friend of mine from work, told me all about her very nice, very French cousin Daniel who was moving to Edmonton and who, coincidentally, she thought would be great for me. Well, there was no further mention of him, so I forgot all about it... until this weekend. Apparently, after getting hung up in Ontario for some reason or other, Daniel (pronounced Danielle because he's French) is now settled in Edmonton. And, Anne plans on bringing him by the store tomorrow night to meet me.

Really and truly, I doubt she'll follow through. She's been promising to bring me eclairs from her other job for the last two or three weeks, and has yet to do so (yum, eclairs). So, I'm not entirely worried. But what if she does bring him by? Maybe six months ago I would be more confident, but the way I've been the last few months, I am so not in a place where I can handle having my face rubbed in a big steaming pile of rejection. And, honestly, that is all I can expect from this situation.

Had a good class today. I haven't written a stitch for our assignment, due Nov. 15, and I'm starting to worry. I just don't know what to write about... where to start. I'm even procrastinating about writing about how I can't figure out what to write, and am periodically switching from this screen over to iTunes so that I can surf podcasts.

I don't want to go to work tomorrow. I really, really don't. Not to avoid the slight chance of meeting Anne's cousin, but because I don't like my job, and I just want to stay home and lay in bed and do nothing. *sigh*

Saturday, October 22, 2005

I started looking, and the bubble burst

10 Things that Crossed My Mind Today
1. After a near-death experience in the shower this evening, I have decided that I am against the usage of bathmats. Seriously. I think the dangers far outweigh the benefits.
2. Karma sucks. I said something rude yesterday and as a result, when I went to BPs with Stephanie to have my yummy, delicious Twisted Rocket, their stupid slush machine was broken.
3. I find humans snoring VERY annoying, and yet, my kitty is snoring beside me as I write this and I find it nothing less than absolutely adorable.
4. Joel Kroeker STILL gives me the warm fuzzies. "With Me" is one of my all-time favourite songs, and would definately be shortlisted for the soundtrack to my life.
5. My raspberry skin lotion is not very moisturizing. I put some on my dry scaly hands, and after making them soft and supple for a couple of seconds, the effects wore off and I am back to having alligator mitts. My hands are so dry that when I was rubbing them together in the break room today Megan had to cover her ears 'cause she couldn't handle the sound. Tee hee.
6. Age does not bring wisdom. Stephanie and I were talking over dinner, and she had some very insightful comments to make regarding the reasons why I have not been in a romantic relationship in all of my 24 years. And she is younger than me!
7. Ricky Martin is kinda hot. Actually, he is uber hot. At least, he is in his new video (as cheesy as the video itself is). I listened to his old cd, like, three times while I was in receiving today. And I still love it. Shake your bon bon, baby.
8. I am a bit of a hypocrite -- I always tease people for being celebrity-obsessed, and tend to take on an air of being above the whole media culture machine, but when I hear about other people getting to meet famous people, I make myself sick with envy.
9. I always hear people saying "Oh, if I won the power ball I wouldn't even know what to do with all that money!" and find myself thinking they're obviously mentally deficient because I know exactly what I'd do with it all.
10. Japanese manga makes absolutely no sense. I don't care if they put little 'how to read manga' guides inside the front cover. It still makes no sense.

Friday, October 21, 2005

i'll be dizzy from growing wings

I am listening to my favourite song on my Rascal Flatts album, Long Slow Beautiful Dance.

"A deep breath and baby steps, that's how the whole thing starts. It's a long, slow, beautiful dance, to the beat of a heart."
Jann Arden was amazing... naturally. I am so happy that all the good things we've heard about her were true -- she was even better than I was expecting. I thought I would end up regretting not being more familiar with her music, but in a way, it was nicer not to know the songs she was performing. Instead of expending energy on singing along (which I can't help but do when I know the words) I was able to invest myself entirely in her performance. So many of her songs are so emotional, and so bittersweet. I admit to shedding a few -subtle- tears, and found myself fighting back even more. I couldn't help but wonder how many of her songs are written from her own life experiences...

And, on another music note! Josh called me at work tonight to tell me that Sarah Slean is coming! Ah, Sarah Slean. She is a goddess. But, um, I can't wait a month and two days for her concert. No, really, I can't. I asked Josh, very sweetly I might add, to purloin one of her concert posters for me, but he's too chicken. Still, this news is a panacea, smoothing away the wounds I bear from the dissolution of the Tea Party.

After spending some time tweaking and polishing my New City piece, I submitted it to paper/cuts, the literary magazine that the magazine-editing class is putting together this semester. I was uber-intimidated by the subsequent knowledge that Chantel, Brett, and Jason -- all people I know -- we're going to be the individuals judging it. Fortunately, they appear to like it and are going to include it in their magazine! This is a bit of the email they sent letting me know: Hi Natalie, We've reviewed your piece and are happy to accept it for publication in paper/cuts. Congratulations! Your writing is just stunning. Poetic and lyrical. We loved every minute of it. I just wanted to put that in here because it made me happy. Of course, I still have this irrational fear that they are going to change their minds. But, I'm trying to ignore that feeling in favour of that flush of pleasure that accompanies a peer's approval.

by Aua
To Lighten Heavy Loads

I speak with the mouth of Qeqertuanaq,
and say:
I will walk with leg muscles strong as the
sinews on the shin of a little caribou calf.
I will walk with leg muscles strong as the
sinews on the shin of a little hare.
I will take care not to walk toward the dark.
I will walk toward the day.

Tuesday, October 18, 2005

she was on fire last night and I was breathin' gasoline

Night Piece, by Robin Skelton

I have been dreaming half the night
of holding you beside the sea
and watching waves crash into light.

I do not know how I can write
of that heart-pounding mystery;
I have been dreaming half the night
of holding you beside the sea

and wondering if those breakers might
be telling of our times to be
when tide and moon are at their height;
I have been dreaming half the night
of holding you beside the sea
and watching waves crash into light.

I had a dream last night, that is still got it's hot little hands wrapped around my heart. When it begins, I'm in this large room, and it's full of people. Could be a church basement, a community hall, somewhere where there is a lot of different sorts of individuals, and not a lot of scenic clutter. I look across the room and am stirred by the sight of an attractive man, around the same age is me. He is wearing sunglasses, and is holding a long thin white cane, and, putting two and two together, I realize he is blind. A *very negative and embarassing* thought crosses my mind-- maybe he would be interested me, because he can't see what I look like. The next thing that I remember is that he and are I together when we're told that we have to go to this other place, on, like, a pilgrimage of some sort.

So, we're walking somewhere in the middle of nowhere when we come out on this road or path running on the edge of a large hill looking down into a valley. I gasp, in complete awe of the view, and start expounding on how absolutely beautiful it is, and how we have to stop here for a minute. We stand at the edge of this place, looking down and the sun is setting, and I realize that he can't see what I can, and ask him if I offended him/hurt his feelings by talking about this beautiful view that he can't see. He gives me this grin and says no, but f I liked, maybe I could describe it to him? So, I do -- the distant spires of a city off on the left, the valley in the middle, and on the far right, miles and miles of rolling hills. When I finish, we turn to leave and then -- I remember this part, the physical sensations and the emotional echoes, so vividly it hurts -- he moves to take my hand and lace his fingers with mine. For some bizarre reason he has trouble fitting his fingers between mine and teases me that my hands are too small. Then, hand in hand we keep walking.

We get to this other place, that actually resembles a hotel, and we're supposed to go to our rooms. His parents(?) say that because he is sick he needs to be quarantined, so his room is down this side hallway away from everyone else's. I don't think the parents want me with him, but I end up in his room anyways. We're sitting on his bed, facing eachother, and talking, and he is laughing about something. He stops, and there is silence. And then, he leans forward slowly, and kisses me, the first time playfully, and then very thoroughly the next.

give me a moment

I'm about to say something I figured I would never have to say:
The Tea Party have broken up.

That is as big as the font goes, but the words are about one hundred times bigger in my head, in my heart. Things end, times change, nothing lasts forever. I understand. The big drama surrounding Jeff Martin's press release: JM didn't bother telling Jeff Burrows and Stuart Chatwood that he was leaving the band before he told the media. That's pretty lame.

Saturday, October 15, 2005

live through this and you won't look back

Just finished reading Emma Thompson's film diary for Sense and Sensibility. This is one of my favourite bits:
"SUNDAY 7 MAY : Gidleigh Park Hotel. Here for a weekend off. Walked to Dartmoor, among black-faced lambs and foals, climbed to the top of a large rock and met a small boy.
Me: Hello.
Boy: H'llo.
Me: This is a good place, isn't it?
Boy: Yes.
Me: If it weren't hazy we could see for miles.
Boy: On a clear day you can see way over to south Devon.
Boy: That's something you can't buy.
At which I expected him to sprout wings and ascend to heaven. He was wearing a slightly disappointing AC/DC T-shirt, though, which brought me back to earth."

Went out to celebrate Katie's birthday tonight, met up with her and her gigantic gathering of friends at Moxies on the north end. It was the first time I'd seen Melissa all year -- she looked really good, and she and Jeff are still together, which warms my heart. My meal was SO yummy and I had a Moxie-sized Rockin' Berry Margarita that was SO good, I am totally not even exaggerating. I think I'm a margarita-holic. Katie and some of the others were going to New City afterwards, which I would have totally been up for, if not for three things: 1. I worked all day and my feet hurt. 2. I don't really feel *comfortable* at the bar without one of *my* friends with me (silly and totally junior high-esque dependency, I know). 3. I feel like a big tubbo, and that doesn't really put me in dancing mode.

I had a pretty good day at work, though! Surprising. Totally figures... I had a wretched day yesterday, and had decided that if today was a bad day I'd put my notice in on Monday. Seriously. But noooo, it had to be a totally fun slacker giggly day with all my favourite people (Jo, Jill, Lisa, Christie, Christina, Melissa, Tracy, Karrie, even Marla -- tsss). We were totally over-staffed, so there was an awful lot of opportunity for goofing around. Melissa and I acted like total geeks -- who knew a seemingly innocuous book title could turn out to be the source of so much amusement? Let alone a MARGARET ATWOOD title *gasp*. We were talking today about the staff Christmas party (amongst other things), and it sounds like this year may be a fun one (yay), so I can't quit quite yet. I do need to find a better job, though (no doy). Jill and I were discussing wages/raises, etc. in the break room, which is always demoralizing. Also, I had both Gerrit and Cindy (who doesn't even work with me anymore!) say things to me last week that made me feel even more crappy then usual. *sigh*

What am I going to do?

On a lighter note, when Rianne dropped me off I went in the doors at the other side of my building, looked up, and noticed that the blanket that was previously serving as the curtain in Curtis' bedroom is now gone. I suppose that means they've moved, like he'd been saying they were going to. This is good. Now I won't have to suffer beneath that noxious cloud of terror --okay, a little fear, a little hope -- that settles over me whenever I think of running into him again. That chapter is now closed.

So, awhile back I entered a poetry contest that Rianne had directed me to, and I guess one of the poems I sent in was shortlisted to a list of 40. They are featuring 20 on their website, and printing the other 20 in a chapbook, which they are sending a copy of to all who entered, and then three poems will be chosen as cash-prize winners. I know this is really cool, and I'm totally excited... but... I've almost completely badgered my optimism out of existence. I seem to follow the 'way of the wacko'. After the first thrilling flush of euphoria, this is what I thought (in no particular order):
How many people entered? 40?
Why did they pick this poem? Did they decide previously that they were going to pick at least one from every writer who entered, and this was just the least-worst out of mine?
They shouldn't have picked this poem. It's lame, and annoying. Who writes in couplets anymore?
What if it doesn't get chosen for the chapbook? Then it doesn't even count. If it's not on paper, it doesn't count.
They just wanted my $15 entry fee.
I'm no poet. Nobody will ever hold my words to their chest or roll my syllables on their tongue.

Oh, and speaking of chapters, Jill thinks our screenplay should be called "Paragraphs". I think she thinks she's funny *lol*. Ah, but she is.

Things to do:
1. loan repayment papers - fill out and send in
2. mail Lorraine her care package
3. work on scarf
4. read book for class
5. make Katie a CD
6. laundry

Tuesday, October 11, 2005

No rhyme, no reason

I'm in a list-making mood, so this is going to be a really random, late night coagulated mess of inconsequential data.

Top 5 in 'my' music right now:
Rascal Flatts
Dave Matthews Band
Ray LaMontagne
mix from Josh's ipod list

5 CDs I want right now:
Hawksley's "new" one
something by Fiona Apple
the music from Rent -- but with the cast that Josh and I saw on Broadway
Elton John's Reg Strikes Back
Rascal Flatts' Melt

5 Bands I still like listening to:
Backstreet Boys
Spice Girls
The Darkness
Boyz II Men

Last 5 movies I've seen:
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
Dr. Strangelove
It Takes Two
40 Year Old Virgin

Last 5 books I've read:
A Certain Slant of Light (halfway through)
To Say Nothing of the Dog (4 times)
May Bird and the Ever After
Cloud of Sparrows
The Mermaid Chair

5 People who are unfathomably kind to me:
Megan, Rianne, Jacquelyn, Josh's mom, Jaima

5 People who always make me laugh:
Josh, Jo, Steve, Katie, Jill

5 People I wish to be more like:
Lorraine, Terri-Anne, Allia, Kent, Chantel

5 Things I am thankful for:

those that I love
my hands
my bed/room

BP's Twisted Rocket slushie drink

5 Things I could/should be doing right now:

reading my book for class
figuring out my finances
watching the movies Allia lent me eons ago
making mix cds for all my friends

5 Things I'm craving right now:
a cola slurpee
an ocean breeze
Rebel Man
inner peace
my own house

5 Things I will inevitably think about before falling asleep tonight:
Clayton, wherever he may be (since I've been thinking about him a lot of late)
how best to avoid cat claws poking me in the butt
money, and/or lack of it
what I am going to be if it turns out I'm not a writer
how nice it would be to have someone to dream with

One Good Love erases all

I'm listening to my new Rascal Flatts CD. It was on sale @ HMV so with a bit of conspiring with Josh I was able to purchase it for only $10! After listening to it about a dozen times in the last few days, I can say that I've gotten my money's worth. Every song but for one is about love, which isn't exactly rare, but still... most bands throw in a song with some sort of political commentary, a song about death, something like that. But not these guys. Anyways, listening to all these love songs for the last few days has me thinking about *love* (not that I don't think about Love enough, as it is) and I remembered this list I compiled when I was avoiding doing homework one night last year. The list, which remains untitled, is of all the boys and (a few) men that I have had feelings for. Feelings as in the mushy gushy.
Since this is lame, I understand if anyone reading stops reading at this point.

In order of appearance (as best as I can recollect):
Matthew Sparrow (had a twin brother who bit a hole in my tights at daycare), Carl (used to pull on my braids in grade 1), Scott E. (used to chase him around the playground in grade 3... tee hee), Mr. Miller (my grade 4 homeroom and music teacher -- I just realized he was the first musician I ever loved!), Matthew Stevely. Clayton. Sometimes I think the world shifted, changed, when I met him.

Doug (grade 8), Jace, Raymond, Alex H. (he always made me laugh), Troy (my big jr. high crush), Lloyd (Grade 10), Benjy, Chad, T.M., Jared, Ray, Dave (my 'boyfriend' of one day), Neal (from McDonalds), Richard (cute redhead with great taste in music), Tim (Lloyd's best friend), Ian, Andy, Jared B., Ryan... my second heartquake. Jacek, Mike, Noah, Jon (the first Jon, and my favourite), Dave G. (my first younger man), John (my first older man), Michael... my third heartquake. Nick, Josh H., Jeremy, Jari, Craig, Danny, P., Jon (from HMV), Dan, J. from school, Scott... my fourth (and last?) great heartquake. Clayton (from work), Michael (the philosopher), Rebel Man (sigh), Curtis (I suppose I should count him even though he's a jerkface), and Jim.

Feels strange not to be *interested* in anyone right now. I still lust after Rebel Man, but when I barely ever see him I don't think it really counts. I hate letting my heart languish for too long... please lord, send me someone sweet to love.

Tuesday, October 04, 2005

the secret symbolism of bees

The new Nickelback song is on the Bear... I don't think much of the lyrics (bordering on trite) but I have to admit when the chorus comes on I feel a little bit of a lump in my throat. Cheese! I suppose "every memory of lookin' out the back door, got my photo album spread out on my bedroom floor, it's hard to say it, time to say it, good-bye, good-bye" resonates with this overwhelming attachment I have to my own past. Heh. As I write this, the new song on the radio goes: "you'll never find out, you'll never see, if you don't break out, and let it be, letting go, letting go, now, letting go, letting go, it's all about letting go, letting go, it's your way out".

But, hello, it's not exactly easy.

I was offered a couple of compliments in class today, from two of my friends. Well, one friend, and another by proxy. I love compliments, I do -- I love that heady rush of pleasure a pleasing word affords. But, for the last few months, I've found any kind word about my writing just sends me into a downward spiral of self-doubt, for my craft itself hasn't been all that kind to me, of late. I haven't written an actual poem since May, and I feel the pain of it. In fact, the major reason I started this blog was so that I would have an outlet for my creative drive, a medium slightly less intimidating than a blank piece of paper, where I can stretch my muscles without HAVING to break into a full run. Even this little bit of writing makes me feel just a smidgen less of the failure I feel when I've done no writing at all.

I think part of my problem is that I am unable to distill my emotions, ending the day with only the most poignant of experiences to speak of. Instead, I find that when I sit down to write I have three dozen different ideas, images, feelings, etc. all clamoring for space in the forefront of my creative consciousness. How do I find time enough to devote to them all? That perfect windy day stripping the trees of their summer garb, the man whose name I long to know, the mother whose addiction is a burden becoming more and more my own to bear, a blind man walking past the bus depot with a guitar slung over his shoulder, the reality of death, that finality, and the question of a god, and... the absolute joy of a perfect song.

I was thinking about Hawksley today (more like cursing him for not playing a *real* concert for us) and pulled out his book of poetry, since I haven't looked at it in awhile. This part has been and always will be my very favourite bit:

Isadora, I'm your earth-bound candy treat. I'm simple. I'm the one
who needs a snorkel to breathe underwater. I'm the one with a wagon-load
of shoe polish and peas. I'm all appetite and envy. I'm all for you,
strapped by tightly wound ropes to fire and stones. I'm brisk, winter,
lemon icicles melting to drop on your tongue. I know the dance
movies and the destinations but long for the journey with you.

I've been reading, intermittently, the script and film diary of Emma Thompson's from when she did Sense and Sensibility (one of my favourite movies), and the journal she kept during the making of the movie is actually quite funny. Reading it gives me even more of a respect for her and her abilities, and makes me think that she must be an enjoyable individual to know 'in real life'. Plus, I love hearing the insights and comments regarding Kate Winslet, whom I absolutely love, in this movie, and in everything she does -- I think she is practically perfection.

Sunday, October 02, 2005

i was born a housecat, by the sleight of my mother's hand

I am just listening to Jann Arden's "Living Under June", one of my favourite cds and also one of those classic albums comprised entirely of songs you can so totally relate to. It is also very singable, much to the misfortune of my brother who is having to listen to me sing from the other room. Looking at the track listings on the back of the cd I realize that I could probably use each song name as a chapter title in the story of my life http://www.allmusic.com/cg/amg.dll?p=amg&sql=10:d7ivad6ky8wn I can't wait to see her @ the Winspear in a couple of weeks!

So. News.
The Mystery of the Mysterious Visitor (a very redundant title, I'll admit) was solved on Friday. Much to my disappointment, it turned out to be the Wainwright guy. *sigh* All my romantic fantasies dashed to the dirty ground (ie. the floor of Chapters). I had let my pathetic imagination run away with itself and allowed one (thankfully secret) thin slippery thread of hope twine itself around my anterior papillary muscle, leading to this nagging feeling of foolishness every time I think about it. Hmm. I fear the nagging feeling of foolishness is fast approaching -- I am going to google Jeremy Sisto. http://mycoolworld.tripod.com/jeremy1.htm

Went out with Lorraine and Stephanie last night, and had a totally fun time. I love those days where I am surrounded by all my favourite people. We did dinner (Red Robin), movie(40y/oVirgin), dessert(mmm. cake) -- I am so glad Stephanie came with us. She and Lorraine really get along, which I am so glad about. Yay! Jill came and hung out with me on her break at work, and we chatted a bit about stuff... the meaning of life and all that, then to lighten things up a bit, our nearly non-existent screenplay. I got to hang out with Jo on my break, and Josh called, so I got to talk to him, too! And, I gave Lisa a fare-thee-well phone call just before she left for her trip to Florida. Ahh... I live for all these connections.

Today, I was invited over to Rianne's house for a 'hooker' party, which is slang talk for chicks who get together and crochet! I've never done it before, so Rianne had to teach me, but she was very patient (thankfully). It was so nice, just sitting and crafting away, eating yummy cookies and listening to Rianne and her friends talk about people from their hometown... Normally in situations where I'm with people who all know eachother better than I know any of them, I feel kind of excluded, but I totally didn't with these girls. I liked just leaning back and laughing at their banter. The only time I felt a little bit lame was when I realized I was the only one without a boyfriend about whom I could share charming - read, amusing - anecdotes.

There's this absolutely perfect house on Cape Breton Island that is up for sale. It's beautiful, right across from water, with green grass and white siding, and a little front porch. Just right for me.