Master Khan

Do you know this mouse? We believed we had caught the elusive Master Khan, however this morning, well after the release of the fugitive into the wild, another critter who looked suspiciously like him scurried under the dresser. If you see this mouse, call 542-6666 (KHA-NNNN) immediately.

Working on your Resume

Working on your resume, while at work, on a computer whose screen everyone entering the premises can see: Tacky.
Tackier than baseball JC. Tackier than blogging while at work.
End Transmission

Unemployed in St. Thomas

Working on a project for school. It involves choosing 75 books to buy for a library in St. Thomas Ontario (whose notable characteristic recently is that it has lost thousands of jobs in the auto and manufacturing sectors).
Unfortunately, we chose the Dewey area of 'Recreation and Sports', which means I'm sifting through a lot of books like 'How to win at Internet Poker' and 'Solitaire and other solo games' and 'Drinking Games neither you nor your friends will remember' and 'How to become an awesome online gamer'.
Every book hurts a little. Except Amy Sedaris' book on entertaining, which I think might be a perfectly justified addition to any library.

Moondog

I went to Wikipedia to discover the name of the type of Jazz played occasionally on my favourite playlist. Was it free jazz? Experimental? Whatever it's called, it gives me a goddamned headache, and makes me milli-anxious.
Instead I discover Moondog. I'm still not sure if I like his music, and it seems he's become a bit of a cult figure to some, but he's an interesting chap. Blind, he lived on the streets for many years by choice, and earned the nickname 'The Viking of 6th Avenue. Apparently, though, he was a talented composer who even invented a couple of instruments.
Here's a sample if you're interested.

Go Moondog!

Today I thought I came up with the perfect job for myself. I wondered if it already existed, and it seemed to me that it might be an untapped market, and that I could land or create the position.
Unfortunately I've forgotten what it was. Goodbye, calling.

What to do

When you're walking down the street, with a load of confusing feelings. When things seem out of control and you want to laugh like a mad person. When you're too old for most of the classic self-destructive behaviours, and too prissy to go out on a bender.
Solution: SUPERCUTS. 10 minutes and 14 dollars later and I'm a new(ish) woman.

Ask Manny for the short-long. It'll do you good.

Wall Decals

They really tie a room together

Love Bites

How many people do you love?


I only love a handful. I only feel capable of loving a handful. Another few I like, sometimes quite a lot.
The rest of you, I'd like to push away with the glowing torch of my misanthropy, like you're beasts closing in on me in a low cave. That is all.

The Hobbled Woman

The following has been bothering me for the past few days. I recently read that the 'Stiletto Sprint' will be coming to Toronto. I'm not usually one to get up in arms about things like this--sure, I think about them, but rarely does it seem so clear to me that I am unhappy with something. I feel that this event is an excuse to sell interest in the company's consumer goods, encourage an unhealthy attitude towards appearance to the participants, and to make a spectacle of women, all under the guise of 'a good cause'.
The charity (Look Good Feel Better) benefits minimally from the event (there is a minimum 15$ entrance fee, all of which goes to the charity...the participants do not get sponsors or donations of their own). The women all receive a 'Stylesense Prize Pack' (which I assume will be full of Winner's coupons) and are competing for the $10,000 prize money, as well as the chance to "show what they can do in heels". The race will be shown on Breakfast Television, where the whole city can watch the participants look like idiots. Don't get me wrong, I'd have less of a problem with this if the charitable connection were more obvious. I have no problem with charity events that use exceptional tactics to get attention for their cause and raise money. I don't feel that this is the case here. The whole thing makes me uncomfortable.

I am not Bananas

I tidy up my room, open some unread mail from my optometrist, and a bewitching scent floats out of the envelope. My optometrist has scented business cards. Apparently he is not the only one.
"Scent Your Business Card- (an ebay guide)
Not only will your business card reflect your business visually, you can have an added dimension that is guaranteed to make an impact on someone’s nose. This method works well for those of you who sell gift baskets, baked goods, flowers, or perfume. Perhaps your name, or company’s name, is Rose, Rosemary, Jasmine, etc. or that is your logo—so a matching aroma would be beneficial to helping people remember your company.
Scented cards won’t be appropriate for many people or businesses (for example, if you run a mortuary? Or a brothel?)
The card actually smells very nice--like woody citrus fruit, but without the alcohol taint that gives you a migraine.
Dr. Andrew Leung, you've outdone yourself once again.

Skirts Can Be Treacherous

I wore a flowy skirt to work yesterday. I just didn't feel like wearing pants and that is my right. I've actually come to appreciate the freedom and comfort of skirts in the last couple of years instead of looking down on them as impractical and crippling. When I left work at midnight yesterday, though, my imagination started to go a little crazy. What might jump up and bite my legs as I knelt down in an empty lot to pet two sleepy cats? What strange sewer snake might jump out of the grating on the sidewalk, paralysing me forever and rendering me highly unloveable? What crack-addled man at the sketchy boarding house would see the flash of colour and determine that I was his next victim?
I got home safe (as I totally knew I would) and thought more about whether pants or skirts are truly freeing, and thinking about how we try hard to keep the snakes and rats and badgers away from our cities. Thinking that only a city girl has the privilege to walk around in a state so theoretically exposed to danger.

Another drunk post

Went to a barbecue tonight. All was well, I was being social and funny, and felt pretty confident. Until I said something sexist. And someone called me on it.
I don't even really believe what I said. I just said it. I guess some part of me believes it. It was something that implied that men can't be blamed for cheating as much as women (in the case that the man is your partner and the woman is your friend) because your friend should know better, and a man can be more easily tempted when put into fucked up circumstances (like being wasted or heavily hit on). Someone took this to mean that I was implying that men are stupid, which I was not.
Someone else made the point that when the pants come off, everyone knows what they're doing. I agreed with that. I don't know what caused me to say what I said. It feels like a dark mark on an otherwise very lovely evening with some great new people. I'm taking it fairly lightly right now, for some reason, but I think I will actually think about it more seriously tomorrow. For now, the sleep of the well-boozed and well-snacked.

On Being Hateful

For the last couple of weeks I've been impossible. I've had trouble being around anyone, and everything has made me unhappy or unsatisfied.
When I'm somewhere, I want desperately to escape. When I'm alone, I'm lonely and introspective.
I went to an event alone the other night after work, an event full of people schmoozing, with some lectures and musical entertainment scheduled. I stood around for 40 minutes, drank a beer, and then went home. I had absolutely nothing to do to keep myself entertained. There was nowhere to sit, no one to talk to or even make eye contact with, and nothing to look at after I finished endlessly surveying the audience from the stairs. The bartender served 5 other people and ignored me while I stood at the bar. I saw people secretly smoking and I wanted to rat them out to the bouncer. I overheard a boy telling his girl he'd never cheated in his life and I believed him. I saw seemingly underage girls in ugg boots and backpacks pooling their money to buy a drink. I felt tired and angry.
Why did I buy a ticket to this stupid thing? If this was my idea of the kind of cultural event I would enjoy, why was I miserable? Why was what I thought I'd enjoy so boring and unpleasant? What do I really want to do with my time?
Which leads me to the problem. Everything seems to be unpleasant these days.
There's too much stuff on the desk in the living room and my blood starts to boil. Someone asks me for help at work and I instantly go from zero to fifty on the aggro scale. Someone makes a comment about my home or appearance and I want to keep them from ever seeing, or hearing anything to do with me again. I work really hard to be alone so that I avoid having these intense feelings, but they're still here even when everyone else is gone. I get into fights when I'm trying to express my opinion. I'm afraid I might crack, and I've gone from one of the most helpful people around to someone who shuns social contact. All I do is complain. And now I have to do write a paper.
Something has to change. Fucked if I know what.

Movie week

I'm at day 5 of this unplanned week of movies.

I went to the theatre on Saturday night to see Adrift in Tokyo, which turned out to be a cute, but not exceptional movie. It was nostalgic, and conveyed mood well. It was full of walking, talking and eating (three of my favourite things) and the young male character had no love interest, which is a choice I respected.

Day Two - Rented 'In the Realm of the Senses' based on a positive dvd review in NOW Magazine. The review, which I scanned, made it clear that the movie revolved around lust and sex, and was explicit. I did not realize how explicit.
I should have known when one clerk at Queen video gave me the dvd (which I'd called ahead for) and said to the other clerk "This is the person who's renting it." I had no idea a movie could depict what this movie did and get an NC-17 rating (I later learned that NC 17 is not the last rating before X, but replaces the X rating).

Day Three - Went back to Queen video (was hoping to see the same employees so I could give back the dvd and go "bleckhh!", just to prove that I'm not a perv)
and picked up Wong Kar Wai's Happy Together. It was satisfying (although, not very happy-I should have known it was a somewhat ironic title) in that is was very moody, colours were used or not used symbolically, and the sets and plot were a great contrast to the personalities of the characters. I'm amazed at how convincingly gay Tony Leung is, and how passionate and emotional both of the actors were. I feel like this is the first portrayal of a gay relationship I've seen that really felt authentic. And painful.

Day 4
No, not another asian movie. Watched 'For Your Consideration' (I may be the last person in Toronto to see this film). The most interesting part of the film, for me was watching older people play youthful characters, or characters striving to be youthful. I found myself thinking of the actors a lot, wondering whether they felt awkward about being old and playing people fighting their age, being old and playing people desperate to be cool and hip. It wasn't hilarious, but there were a couple of lol moments. And I think I could listen to Harry Shearer all day.

Day 5 . . .

Toying With Designs

I liked the images that I found related to the last post so much, I played around with them and turned one into a pattern. It's been my ambition for awhile to find a picture (preferably from archive.org, but perhaps not) and turn it into a pattern to print on fabric. Then I'd like to make it into a skirt.

My sewing skills are pretty bad. I'm getting better, but it doesn't come naturally to me. Also my sewing machine came from the garbage :)
This is what i have so far. It seemed to need something more, so I added a dot in the middle. Also, making it only two per pattern allows me to print it on standard paper at a higher resolution. I'm working on another cat one now.

Porno Comedy Show

I read about this night on BlogTo, and by the end I was sad to learn that it would be the last one of its kind. It was a blast.
The premise: the internet has killed the porn industry. The video store is closing its porno basement and selling everything off for 5 bucks. Come see a sexy comedy show and perhaps take home a souvenir.
I enjoyed every act.

The whole room was pink-tinted. We ended up near the bj section, just behind the gay pr0n area. The bum stuff was on our right. Strangely, it managed to not be that awkward. But I have to admit, that when I picked up the movie on the top row, far left, I covered the penis on the cover before reading the info. I didn't even realize that I did it.

All the comedy was sex-themed. I am clueless enough that this was not obvious to me. One of the first acts was a girl group, sort of a musical acting comedy troupe. When they walked on stage chanting about 'yoni power' I knew I was going to love them. They need to come up with a long-form of their act and turn it into a 'Best in Show' type movie. They did some great bits about their first sexual experience, complete with chanting in unison and grand, wavy vaginal gestures. Good girls!
I didn't get a picture of all of the performers, but the opener was great as well. She was incredibly crass, and made a great joke about preferring the taste of vegetarians.
Next up was Jimmy Hogg, who I imagined would be a 200lb trucker. Instead he was a musical brit who sang about his platonic love for children. The sentiment I remember liking most was
'We'll play a game and the winner gets ice cream. Unless I win, and then we'll both get ice cream, but I won't win, I'll let you win. But I won't let you know that I let you win'. I yelled something while he was on stage, instinctively tried to contribute to his joke (yes, it's possible to forget that comedians really don't like it when you do that) but he took it in stride.
The most memorable acts of the evening came at the end. First, a woman with her 'dance partner' Gerard - A dummy with her hand under it. She did an incredible job of using her right hand to seduce herself, and ended up getting herself drunk and passing out 'in his arms' (after showing a fair bit of garter-clad thigh).
The grand finale - the adorable and hilarious host did a dance to what he proclaimed to be his 'coming out' song from the nineties - the most glorious of dance tracks, 'I'm gonna get you' by Bizarre Inc. He did this dance in shorts, totally balls-out.
Combined with drinks with Deb, a stellar night.

Is there any better reason to be full of joy

Than the sight of cats jumping through hoops?
This is a shot in the Inle Lake Monastary in Burma-Myanmar, where they train cats to jump through hoops. Let's go?

Eating for two?

No, not that kind of eating for two. I ordered from New Generation Sushi after a long day of disassembling furniture, cleaning and moving mattresses in preparation for the new roommate. When I got my order home, I noticed that it had two pair of chopsticks in the bag. They must have assumed that due to the volume of food I ordered, I must be two people.
All of this home preparation is strange and new for me. Up until now, no one else here gave a crap about the apartment, and I was the last one in. I wasn't about to take responsibility for making the place look better or keeping it super tidy if I was going to be doing it all alone.
But now that I'm the senior roommate (wtf...am I in goddamned college or something) I feel more of a sense of responsibility for the place. Now I do things like buy tablecloths and clean baseboards instead of wake up hungover and crawl to brunch.
On a related note, I got very down after going out with people from my faculty. Not only was I terrible at making conversation, but I found only one or two of them remotely interesting or friendly. I biked home drunk, huffing and puffing and feeling like a big boner.
Should've gone to a movie instead.

Grownups Read Things they Wrote as Kids

Lives Here.
What a wonderful night.

Who'd have known little you would be so hilarious, seemingly without effort.
Have a look at the most tender, naive, selfish, unadulterated part of yourself by looking at your childhood writings.
Some of the readers seemed to treat the evening as a sort of therapy. Others laughed at their young selves and played to the audience. Each presented a slightly painful, completely deluded and understandable view of reality. One more memorable moment-two versions of a young girl's autobiography, written two years apart. In the first "the most important person in my life...is my mother"
in the second
"the most useful person in my life is my mother"
I'd love to contribute next time...off to my mother's house to dig up some 'treasure'

Must be the Season of the Witch

A gang swarmed several people last night in my neighborhood, attacking them with a knife and some kind of metal object and robbing them. I wonder if it had anything to do with the few recent warm days, or with St. Patrick's day. I guess not wonder--hope. In my heart I'm hoping that they're drunken revelers from the suburbs come downtown on St. Patrick's day.
As an evening worker and a fan of late night walks in my hood (and taking the back roads) this worries me.
Also in the news, our friend Joseph Fritzl is in court. According to wikipedia, he is charged with: "rape, incest, kidnap, false imprisonment and slavery, which carry a maximum 20-year term."
Reading up on a similar case in Britain which did not involve imprisonment but did result in 19 pregnancies, I was puzzled. In the latter case, the defendant received 25 consecutive life sentences and must serve a minimum of 19.5 years in prison. Why do the charges against Fritzl only amount to a maximum of 20 years? He imprisoned his daughter and their children for 24 years. It will likely be impossible for some of them to have a normal life after what has happened to them. In some ways I think that several decades of rape and enslavement are worse crimes than murder. I know that life can't be returned once it's taken, but in essence, these lives were taken as well.

It's not a tumour

Or perhaps it is.
Fauna got out of the cage recently, and began acting strange shortly after.
The vet thinks she might have a tumor of the pituitary gland. From what I've read online of symptoms, I would tend to agree.

She's acting confused and very affectionate. Poorly coordinated. She presses her head against the wall and against my hand.

Prognosis: wait and see for now. And don't chastise me for getting attached. They are my first adult pets and so far it seems a lot like a first love situation. Gimme gimme gimme---ow ow ow...

Happy International Women's Day!

I hope you've taken a moment to think about your womanhood--about what you love and hate about being a woman, about how you enact your ladiness (or don't) and about the plight of your fellow double x-ers.

On such an important day, this woman is contemplating her vagina. It's not necessary to do this in order to fully enjoy I.W.D.

Seriously, though. This is a painting by one of my favourite Canadian artists, Alex Colville. It is a picture of his wife when they were younger, and it hangs in the AGO beside a more contemporary picture of her.
Her hair is grey. She is rounder in the belly, and looks to be retirement age. But you can feel her strong presence through the tempera on particle board (or whatever it is). It's quite obvious that he loves her and that she loves him.
But heterosexual romantic love is also not mandatory in order to enjoy this day. Have a good one!

I has a bored.

It's Friday night.
I'm removing old paint from my bedroom floor with nail polish remover. What the hell is going on.
How did I forget how to amuse myself? All I can think about is the schoolwork I have to do tomorrow.

Touch me

I'm sad that the friendly man representing a Muslim association at the university wouldn't shake my hand.
I listened to his speech. He seemed nice. I had some doubts about his message, but we left on friendly terms.
When I left and bid him a good day and tried to shake his hand. He put it across his heart and mumbled that he couldn't shake my hand.
I had to get back to class, and walked away.
I don't dislike him, but feel confused. Should I make myself angry over this, or am I being a self-centred ass?

Dear February

I'm done with ye.

You make me want to eat cheese and hide, neither of which are at the top of my list of priorities right now.
You make me want to skip school and spend all morning changing my gmail colour scheme.
You make me want to call in sick and scrape old paint off the floor with a razor blade.

Spring. PLEASE!

You asked me where he was,

and I couldn't help but think:
you wish he were here instead of me. You prefer to be supervised by a man. To chat and gain experience with a man. To fraternize with a man.
You don't like the way I do things..or you prefer the way he does things? Or you don't like the fact that I'm a woman, or that I'm younger than you?

Good luck to you anyway,

love

liz

Cataloguing is Boring

What I learned: mouth closer to eyes=cuter. Mouth closer to fat part=cuter. Wide-set eyes=cuter. Smaller mouth=cuter.


Putting faces on avocadoes. Far superior to doing homework.

I was the mother last time

Why don't you have the baby?

I will be upwardly mobile.

I'll take my fancy education,

and bring us home a hundred grand.

We'll get ourselves a big 'ol house,

we'll care for junior in style, and you

can do your thing until you're satisfied.

Leggo

How cliche are symbolic gestures? They're so much a part of our culture, they've become so tired that any personal meaning they might have had has been sapped.

I've found myself too often lately dwelling on resentments and unresolved feelings from my recent past. The problem with these kind of feelings, for me, is that time doesn't necessarily make them easier to handle or duller.
It sometimes takes me a very long time to process things-that's a problem I have.
It seems that I find events too complicated or to dangerous to process and my mind holds onto them for later. Either that, or I look back on them with new eyes as I grow and change.

I'm not an unlucky or an unhappy person. Just the opposite, I feel better about my life than I have in a long time. I'm stimulated by work and school, and have a partner who I love and am very proud of. A domestic but generally happy life, and the best I can do for right now.
I wish I could pack up all of the things that I feel resentment, hurt, and anger for and throw them into the sea or crush them like a car in a wrecking yard. Appropriately, every earthly analogy I can think of for what to do with how I feel highlights the fact that these feelings don't actually go away.
I started this post thinking that I could compose an exorcism, but now I'm not so sure.