Friday, August 31, 2007

8 Months of Selective Media Blackout Finally Pays Off

When we moved out here we talked about getting a TV. Would we watch a TV? Yes, undoubtedly. We would turn it on while making dinner, I would turn it on after TM left in the morning to keep me company, etc. These things turned out to be the reasons for which we didn't get one -- we didn't want to be those people who flip endlessly through channels, waiting for something to catch our interest, realizing that nothing would, but unable to put the remote down and switch off the set. So we abstained. Thankfully, we can do this without missing anything we actually WANT to watch. Hail, goddess, bless the internet.
Because of this, it has actually been possible to cut ourselves off from certain media outlets that otherwise fill my brain with tidbits of information that I would really rather not absorb. Seriously, that brain space is important to me. I might need it for remembering other vital information. Like how to spin sheep into sweaters.
I speak of course of celebrity gossip. Finally, my head is in a space where I can count on only the fingers of one hand how many times Hollywood Drama has broken into my bubble. Paris, Britney, Lindsay, Anna Nicole, and Brangelina. That's it.
TM on the other hand, seems to be able to avoid all of this information. I am unclear as to whether or not this is by sheer force of will or sheer oblivion. Either way it has often made me envious. How glorious to pass through life unaware of how gobsmackingly moronic Miss Teen South Carolina is.
Today however, having finished my latest book, and possessed of nothing more interesting to read (alas!) I picked up a copy of some Hollywood Insider magazine that someone had left in the lunch room and flipped idly through. On the first page were the results of a reader poll, voting for this person, or against this, or for this breakup, or this reunion. The poll used only first names, and gave no associations i.e. no note of where the person might have appeared in TV/Film. I stared at the spread confused for a moment before it hit me: I have no idea who these people are... and then...

HOLY CRAP THAT IS SO AWESOME.

At last, I have reached that most holy state of consciousness:
The Pop (and Tart) Culture Vacuum.

Hallelujah, amen.

Thursday, August 30, 2007

Tailless Raccoon ad infinitum

So, apparently, people in the Southern United States have a thing about tailless raccoons, because I’ve had my second hit on those keywords in less than a month, and two hits for me on the same random keywords? That’s an enormous deal.

I have dutifully looked them up myself (because my first instinct was to be all sarcastic – like, who looks up tailless raccoons? Do they actually think that such an animal exists? Like a manx raccoon? Hi! Raccoons get mutated spines because YOU RUN THEM OVER IN YOUR CAR, not because they’re bred that way. Both hits from the Southern US: coincidence? – but then I decided to suspend my sarcasm and look before I launched) and as it turns out, while there is no such thing as a naturally occurring tailless raccoon, and for that reason this website is ranked IN SECOND PLACE!!! there is in fact a term, “Tailless Raccoon” helpfully defined in the Urban Dictionary. BEFORE YOU CLICK – I should warn you that the definition is really gross, and that you should definitely not open it at work. Just save it for a private moment at home. Trust me, it can wait.

Unfortunately, this definition, in addition to the aforementioned sarcasm, has left me with two unfavourable conclusions about the Deep South. On the one hand they could have such a tenuous relationship with the idea of evolution as to think those mutilated critters running around were born that way; on the other, the geographic attribution of the term “Arkansas license plate” (google away, I can’t stop you) may be a very appropriate association.

Do you think, if I keep this whole Tailless Raccoon thing going for a while I might get my very first hit of hate mail? Oooh. Hate mail totally puts you on the map. But hopefully a very NORTHERN part of the map. Tee hee!

Luckily, I’ve actually been to a lot of the Southern States, so my jesting observations are actually tempered by first hand experience. With the exception of the constant repetition of the horrifying lingual amalgam “y’all,” the people all seemed very nice, very un-annoying, and not, outwardly anyway, overly inclined to bum sex (sorry! sorry!).

Anyway, I’m so excited about this tailless raccoon activity, that I might make my Tailless Raccoon post a weekly event. Haven’t had a recurring theme here since the Song of the Day petered and died. But of course, as with everything I propose offhandedly, we’ll just have to wait and see.

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

Giddyup

Ah crap, I’ve already fallen off the horse. I’m spacing on a lot of things lately, including my pledge to post. I blame my creepingly decaying memory capacity (what?) on the event of my 24th birthday, which will take place THIS SUNDAY.

I approach the date with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. First because it is a long weekend and isn’t that the best kind of weekend on which to have a birthday? Not only a weekend but LONG. Woot. Second because I will be TWENTY-FOUR *dodges implements thrown by the 25+ audience* and celebrating my entry into that fuzzy, confusedly expectant period known as the mid-twenties. Wasn’t I supposed to have some stuff figured out by now? I’m sure there was a memo. Or a form. Possibly a checklist. But most likely that was all chucked out with the bag of high-school era clothing that no longer fits. *sniff*

See? I am practicing my melodrama in preparation for my 40th birthday.
Of course, some people might say that I’ve been practicing for my 40th birthday every day of my life, and OH BOY are there levels of meaning in that.

For the weekend though, I am reserving a special supply of excitement – simply for the fact that it is LONG and therefore deserves special respect. Also DEAR GOD I NEED TO GET OUT OF THIS DESK CHAIR.

Friday, August 24, 2007

TGIF

The air in the office was thrumming with weekend energy by the late afternoon today. I was much to distracted to post at lunch. It was all I could do to read my book:

"In cyberspace, no one gets pantsed."

~ Karen Joy Fowler, The Jane Austen Book Club

Behold! My fifth day straight of posting. I am undecided yet whether I will post on weekends, and as you can see I'm much too lazy to post properly today. But I'm betting that you're much too lazy to read today. So here! Here are some pictures!

(I also added that tea cozy picture to the post from last Friday)

Duelling Ukes

Salmon House on the HIll 3

The rocking-est Ukelele ever.

Framed!

Thursday, August 23, 2007

Good Morning!

1.
There is a girl I see most days on the bus, who gets on at the same stop downtown as me, and then gets off again in the same place to transfer. Thankfully, our ways always part there, and I always let her get on and off first. I don’t get in her way.

What is it about this girl? She is always nicely dressed, clearly puts thought into what she wears, brushes her hair, puts make up on. But otherwise, the resemblance between her and some of the more unbalanced homeless people in this city is striking.

You know that guy who stands in the middle of the street, with the matted hair and the smell that hits you like a fist from 15 feet away? The one who’s yelling things at uneven intervals about how it’s not his fault but yours! Your fault! But thankfully he never seems to be blaming you directly.

It’s kind of as though this man has taken up shop in this girl’s body. She’s got none of the smell, none of the directionless-ness, but all of the unadorned hostility towards her surroundings. This girl’s anger wafts off her like the former’s aroma. I have seen her mouth incredible things at buses that had the nerve to be other than the bus she wanted. A couple of weeks ago I saw her make the most obscene gesture I have ever seen a woman make. I don't mean to be sexist here at all, but obscenities etc. still pack more punch when they come from a girl. I can't help that we're still conditioned that way -- when I saw her flipping off a car that had turned in front of her crossing the street, then slap her crotch roughly twice and bring her hand back up to blow the driver a kiss, I couldn’t help but stare. And those of you who are staring now I am not even remotely exaggerating.

This morning as she went ahead of me to get off the bus where we transfer, I could see her mouthing “move, move, move” at the backs of people’s heads in front of her, and I just thought, “My god. How does she draw breath?”

I’ll be honest here, I’m no stranger to feeling exasperated intolerance towards some of the people I encounter on a day to day basis, but I just can’t imagine living with such a constant rage at the entire world. I also find myself completely at a loss as how to react to this creature. I can’t decide, should I ever formally be introduced, whether I’d want to hug her, or slap her – or give her the details of a good anger management program. No matter what I actually would want to do, I am certain I wouldn’t do it. Her reaction to any of those attempts, like all her reactions I’ve observed so far, would most likely be unpleasant.

2.
I got off the bus at my stop still thinking about the young woman's rage. I often get a little sad when I see her doing things like that. It lets the air out of the morning a little. And I was already late for work.

Hurrying up the hill, I was stopped by a garbage truck (not one of the city's obviously) blocking the sidewalk at the entrance to the toxic alley. One of the shirtless garbage men was taking the opportunity of the traffic in front of him to examine and prod at a zit on his back in the sideview mirror. He was leaning halfway out the window. Seriously? Seriously.

When the truck finally trundled out of the way the smell from the alley made me gag twice in the three seconds it took me to run past. Awful.

3.
I got to work and there were TWO messages from TM in my inbox, and he had sent me this! He is pretty good at resetting the day.

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Curiouser and Curiouser

I checked my google analytics yesterday, just for interest’s sake, and was pleasantly surprised to see my hits have remained pretty constant, despite my fabulous lack of productivity over the last couple of months. Thanks for the visits guys, even though I haven’t been living up to them.

Trolling through my keywords, I noticed that an individual in Reno, Nevada (of all places) came upon my site by googling ‘tailless raccoons.’ Fascinating! If that person happens perchance to return here, I’d LOVE to know the impetus behind the search.

TM’s dramatization of the event goes something like this:

TM’s low voice: “I saw a tailless raccoon on the road last night.”
TM’s high feminized voice (the one he uses when he’s mocking me): “It was probably a dog.”
TM’S LV: “No, it was definitely a tailless raccoon.”
TM’S HFV: “There’s no such thing as a tailless raccoon.”
TM’S LV: “Of course there is.”
TM’S HFV: “I’m telling you, there isn’t.”
TM’S LV: “There is!”
TM’S HFV: “There isn’t!”
TM’S LV: “That’s it! I’m googling it!”

It was very impressive. And I would be pretty satisfied with that explanation. Unless of course the actual googler would like to come forward and give the explanation that is NOT based on a regularly occurring conversation in my household. That would also be okay. Of course, I understand that in my little corner of the net, the likelihood of someone visiting me TWICE from Reno, Nevada, is very slim.

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

5 reasons why living in Vancouver is awesome this month. And by awesome, I mean crazy.

First of all, the average MAXIMUM temperature this month, so far, as recorded by the weather network, has been 21.8. Today I wore a sweater and a jacket to work. Yesterday, I kept them on all day. This is not what I expected from “temperate”

Next, there is the following:

July 20th: Public workers strike begins. Now in its 33rd day. I haven’t had a Yogen Fruz from the library in over a month. Also, any garbage not picked up by private companies has not been picked up at all. There is an alley with some dumpsters near my work that should only be approached wearing biohazard suits

August 9th: Gang related shooting in restaurant, Toronto-style.

August 10th: Man attacks three police officers with a chain, gets two of them in the head before the third shoots him between 6 and 9 times. Overkill?

August 16th: Driver loses control of huge container truck and drives it off a bridge. This was awful. Not just awful that he died either, but awful that people weren’t at all surprised that it happened, and more surprised that the bridge wasn’t just closed because another person was trying to jump.

I’m listening to the radio right now waiting for them to report on the army of rabid seals that has jumped the sea wall in Yaletown and is chowing down on the miniature malti-poos in the playground while their terrified owners abandon them to cower in their Land Rovers. The dachshunds remain mysteriously untouched.

Monday, August 20, 2007

The Eco-Sainthood & why I'm not a member

Through a tenuous connection to my work, I have been periodically thumbing through my boss’s copy of Adria Vasil’s Ecoholic, a rather daunting archive of all the knowledge you need to a) transform your ecological army-boot-print into the impression of a baby-sized organic vegan leather bootie; and b) drive yourself completely and obsessively raving mad. “Ecoholic” isn’t kidding – you’d have to have the compulsion of an addict to act on all these minutiae of earth-hugging acts. The feat alone of remembering the names of all those evil chemicals you’re spitting into the sea every time you use toothpaste is enough to drive one to drink. The perfect student in me had a very hard time not reaching for a pen to make feverish notes.

At the same time, my DIY nature was very attracted to the idea of making my very own body lotion – free of any carcinogens that would be rapidly absorbed into my bloodstream. And this is where I’m liable to get carried away. Thanks to this book, before you know it I’ll be refusing to buy soap because I know I can make it myself. Does this mean that I actually will make it myself? No. But because the option is there, I like to think that I’ll get around to it eventually. Witness me, Pioneer extraordinaire! This peculiar particular aspect of my psychology accounts for the disappearance of bread, candles, winter hats (any knits, actually), printed t-shirts, wall-hangings, pest-control solutions, and clothing alterations from my shopping list. While this is probably a good thing for baked goods (store bought desserts? what abominations!), TM may have to draw the line when I try to convince him to try my homemade mouthwash. Timelines are also suffering. No doubt there’s extra care put into hand-crafted gifts, but when Christmas is suddenly in March, is it worth it?

I have to apply the same rationale to the issue of my footprint. Buying organic free-range eggs directly from the farmer’s backdoor is all very well and good and rosy-coloured. However, the actual practice is virtually impossible, unless you’re a) unbelievably wealthy, and b) having of an abundance of time with absolutely nothing better to do than track down said farmer, for example, because of the existence of a), your unbelievable wealth.

First of all, buying organic is EXPENSIVE. Second of all, “organic,” as a result of its growing consumer popularity, has become increasingly convoluted. Yes, the chickens may not be pumped full of chemicals and antibiotics, but is there a guarantee that their feed has not? Not always. Even the term “free-range” can, legally, mean anything from actual freedom in a farmyard to a cage where the chicken can complete one full rotation of its body.

The whole practice of buying responsibly is fraught with pitfalls, until the question you really have to ask yourself is how far am I willing to push myself over the edge? Am I willing to live my life constantly worried about the origin of the seeds I planted to grow the basil for my home-made pesto, etc.? I wish I were, but I’m not.

There is some reprieve, though, for those of us who don’t have such addictive personalities. There are partial steps towards redemption which, while not complete, will reduce our shoe size considerably. Thankfully Adria Vasil acknowledges this. Not everyone CAN be an eco-saint. Just this morning I heard on the radio that if a person were to simply stop eating meat, they could reduce their greenhouse gas emissions considerably. The cultivation and transportation of meat products accounts for 19% of greenhouse gas emissions associated with human beings. Red meat is the head of that pack.

Friday, August 17, 2007

Time has come today

I don’t know, but I’ve been thinking about it, and it’s time to start writing again. I will just start there in the middle, and tell you that, although I have used that title, I do not like that song particularly, except for its redeeming quality of having used the word “psychedelicized.” I’m sure the Mssrs. Chambers would be horrified to know that today the word strikes me as being unbelievably quaint.
But why today? Today I woke up and realized, not for the first time, that it is Friday and Monday seems as though it were yesterday, rather than 5 whole days ago. That work time is not the same as regular time and that although TM’s presence in my life here and my financial gain guarantee that I am not wasting time necessarily, neither am I any longer producing things that are meaningful to me. Except of course for this excellent tea cozy:

Finished Product

Of course, TM and I have been working, albeit cerebrally, on the new website. We even have a name, some content ideas, and so on. But it’s a slow process, and hard to get started, and I have let this drop in the mean time, which maybe I shouldn’t have.

It hasn’t been very peaceful in my head lately. TM, who is at this point I’m sure the only one checking this page any more, won’t be surprised to hear me say it. He is a daily witness to my fits of disquiet, my restlessness. It was only this weekend, when we left the city for the first time in months, that I began to identify the source. Before then, I think, I had been telling myself that I should be content, I have no reason not to, therefore be content and shut up about it. Now I think that wasn’t it at all. I am happy, and I don’t say that with any ferocity. I just am. But I’ve also been living my life in intervals of about 8 months for years now. And damn if it isn’t the 8th month being out here now, and what is next month going to be? Exactly the same. There is no next step. Or at least, there isn’t one in the foreseeable future. We know it will change, we just don’t know to what, or when. I am unused to this. I see no coincidence in my spiking levels of anxiety. Having reached this point in my conclusion though, I am unwilling at present to pursue it any further. Right now, knowing that it is the blank of space between now and years from now that frightens me, juxtaposed with my horror of how quickly 5 days can pass without my actually seeing them, is quite contradiction enough to deal with for the moment.

Part of my self-therapy, I have decided, is to get back to this. So many of my posts here have been less personal and more observational, and that’s one of the reasons I have liked this endeavour. Recording things that strike me each day, that engage me (excepting of course, my work place, because we all know where that will get you), I’m hoping will help to distinguish one day from another, and maybe spur me towards the graduation from this site to the next. It’s really, really time.

Aah. There, I feel better, do you?