DUMPED!

I  got back from Vancouver last night. I was there visiting my family for the holidays. The night I arrived, I arranged drinks with a bunch of old pals. Some couldn't come and one of my oldest friends was one of them. I was disappointed. Mostly cause I kind of got the feeling from the excuse given that this friend was just not into me anymore. This friend had moved on. I will admit this friendship has been getting less close throughout the years and neither of us have put in much effort to keep it alive. I had to accept it, what other choice did I have? But then something else happened. I won't go into detail but lets just say it made it absolutely clear that I was on the outs. In fact I couldn't believe the lengths this person went to just to not come have a drink with me. I thought to myself, how tortourous is it to be in my company, I mean, I'm kinda charming, no?

No one sleeps when I'm awake

I have trouble sleeping. I have trouble sleeping quite often. You see, I'm a thinker. Now, I'm not saying that I am an intellectual, in fact, far from it. My formal education is well, non-existent. I am not thinking about world issues or philosophical ideas, I'm thinking about, well, wait for it....myself. Now, it might surprise you to know what I am thinking about. It might surprise you to know that the most sleepless nights are not when something is bothering me, it's when I'm excited about something. Now with the upcoming holidays, I find myself excited daily. I'm counting down the days until I see my Mom, my Dad, my sister and brother in-law and my adorable little niece. I'm also excited about all the social things that are happening before I leave. I'm thinking about what I should bring for hosts, what to wear, will my crush be there? Will my other crush be there?  And don't even get me started about actual Christmas day, but since I'll be at my parents Christmas Eve, I'm sure I can scam a sedative from my mother's stash. In these sleepless moments, I try to calm down by breathing deep, I imagine clouds in the sky, moving slowly but then I picture myself floating on them like a magic carpet, traveling to far away places — oh the sights I am seeing! The new friends I am making! So then I try to count sheep, but inevitably I start naming them and cuddling them. Hey, they are pretty cute. Eventually I'm so exhausted from all this fun that I fall asleep and the next morning, I wake up, excited about the things to come.

Do's and Dont's

Things you should not do when depressed

1. Hang out on Facebook.
Sometimes just a quick scroll through my news feed is enough to send me on that downward spiral. Exes frolicking about, crushes that don't crush you back, parties you weren't invited to (they were lame for sure, but Facebook makes them somehow seem thrilling), oh I see 'blah blah' and 'blah blah' are now in a relationship — oh I'm still single, HOW have they found love when I can't even get a date — I'm going to die alone... you get the picture. Rationally you know it's all meaningless but still, you are going back to bed.  

2. Watch a depressing movie.
The other day I watched Melancholia, the latest Lars Von Trier offering. It is about the end of the world. A beautiful movie that sucked me in from the get go and when it was over, I felt heavy and it took 2 days to recover.

3.Watch porn.
Yah sure, while you are er, 'doing it' everything is fine, but afterwards, flushed, sweaty, half-dressed — now what do you have to look forward to? You are alone and somehow even more sad than before. Although perhaps if you keep doing it all day....

4. Drink alcohol.
One drink is fine, but when the bottle is empty and you are clicking through your exes Facebook pictures, remembering 'the good times', you've had enough.


Things you should always do when depressed

1. Take the Dufferin Bus.....to Dufferin Mall.
When I lived in Vancouver there was this dive-y bar called The Dufferin. We used to go there for cheap booze and ego boosts. Same applies here, except you can handle it sober. If you're a first timer, the bus might be enough, don't overdo it. Or maybe just The Mall for now. You know yourself, do what's comfortable for you.

2. Watch a funny movie.
Remember that funny movie you loved? You've seen it a million times and you have laughed a billion laughs? Well watch that. Laugh and laugh until you realize there is no reason to be depressed. Laugh until you realize how wonderful life is. Laugh until you are delirious and you forget why you were even depressed in the first place.

3. Watch porn.
A lot of it. See above.

4. Drink alcohol.
Life just gets better the second drink in. Have a couple of drinks, watch that funny movie, then take the Dufferin Bus to Dufferin Mall and buy yourself something pretty. You deserve it honey.

Simplicity and technology

So, my computer was away in the repair shop for about a week. During that time I noticed a few things — well besides nature and the Food Network. I realized how much I rely on it. For more than just work that is (and porn). The morning after it broke down, I woke up in a haze. Did I dream that? Is compie really gone? I looked out the window to a beautiful, sunny day. Hmm, I thought it was supposed to rain today. Can I bike to work? I'll check. Go over to my desk. DUM DUM DUM. It's gone! How on earth will I know what the weather is? How will I know what to wear? I went back to the window and waited to see people on the street. Ok, that guy is in shorts, she's in a t-shirt. Oh, that woman is in a cardigan, but she is old. Ok, off on bike I go! As the day at the office winded down, it occurred to me that I need to keep track of my hours. Normally, I would come home, open the client's outstanding invoice and add my hours to it. Hmm, I can't do that. I thought about it. For about a minute. I was stumped. Then I figured it out. I will email from work to my email account my hours, then when I get my computer back I will have them. Later that evening when I was having dinner with a friend, I relayed this story to her. She said 'well, why didn't you just get a piece of paper and write them down?' I paused for a minute and thought about it. 'Hmmm, I didn't think of that'.

My rational mind

Last night I was awoken at 3am. I heard some sort of clank noise that jolted me awake, followed by the sound of water. Drip. Drip. Drip. My sleepy mind struggled to understand what was happening. My first thought was that there was a killer in my house. My heart began to race. Then I turned on the light and slowly crept out of my bedroom. I saw no one and continued to hear the Drip Drip. I came into the kitchen and found the source of the noise. It was some dishes I had left in the sink from dinner (For the sake of this story, I will say this was a one time thing). Anyway, I wondered what had made those dishes shift? Was it a psycho killer? Did he move the dishes to confuse me? Distract me somehow then jump out behind the door and... But I realized that is silly. It must be that my house is haunted and some ghost is perhaps annoyed with mess or maybe just a bit of a brat. So, I went back to bed, happy I wasn't raped and killed and planning to do my dishes first thing in the morning.

Do not take a picture....it lasts longer

With all the online sharing we do these days, it's become second nature to want to photograph, write and post all the moments of our lives. Or blog about our silly opinions on things (for example). Lately when I've seen something beautiful, from a stunning sunset, to my niece pulling a cute face, to the sexy gaze of my crush — my first instinct was to want to photograph it. "ooh, where's my camera, I MUST get a shot of this". Then as I go to get my camera, or phone or what have you I realize I'm missing this moment. I need to just stay in the now (as many self help gurus would say) and keep this view, this sight to myself instead of uploading and hitting 'post' with a funny caption and by doing so, taking away it's power. So next time I see a beautiful thing I'm just gonna keep it myself, unless it's a good picture of me...then that bad boy is going up on my Facebook profile to share with all of you.

Seasons of change

The last few days, it seems Fall has fallen upon us. It was Summer one day, then I went to bed. When I woke up, it was Fall. I'm not ready. Maybe I'm just in denial. Maybe slow to change. Whatever do I wear? What was I wearing last Fall? I seem to forget every season change what to wear. I feel like I'm just starting to 'get' Summer and now...here comes Fall. I guess I'll just throw on a sweater over my shorts and tanks for now until I figure it out...probably around December.

Comings and goings

I flew in from Vancouver late last night. When I got on the plane I was immediately disappointed with the level of attractiveness of the flight attendants, they were more the motherly type and that's not what I look for in flight attendants. I mostly stared out the window, looking for shapes in the clouds while listening to my iPod, but then as the sun set I decided to check out the movie offerings. I chose 'Something borrowed' cause it looked simple and probably stupid but actually I found it quite poignant. With about half an hour to go in the flight my screen and a few others around me cut out. There was an uproar, mostly from the woman beside me, I accepted this as fate and gazed out the window. They got it working again and I continued watching but as we descended, a portly flight attendant told me my type of headphones cannot be worn at this time. I put them around my neck but that wasn't good enough, they had to be 'away'. I didn't understand but felt I would lose this argument. So, I never saw the end of the movie, which actually made it even more meaningful as the movie was all about fate and choices and what is meant to be. I got off the plane and got my baggage. I walked through the sliding doors, imagining that my love or my crush or someone I'm dating is waiting to pick me up, you know, like they do in the movies. But, no one was there, so I went outside, pulling my suitcase behind me, got on the bus and headed home.

Just do it, soonish

I had a dream last night that I did something. Something that I wasn't sure I wanted to do. I woke up and thought I had done it. It wasn't a dream at all, I was just remembering what I had done. Man, I was bummed for those 20 seconds or so. Until I realized that it was a dream. I didn't do it in real life. Whew. Thank god. I got out of bed and wrote in my metaphorical notebook in the 'con' column 'it's invading my subconscious and will stay there until I make a decision'. Then I crossed that out and put it in the 'pro' column. Then I made some breakfast and told myself I'll think about it later.

Trapped!

I am currently trapped inside my house. I went to go on a bike ride and found my door wouldn't open. This had happened to my downstairs neighbours weeks ago but unlike me, they have a back door to go in and out of. I climbed out my back window, unto my roof and my neighbours asked if they could throw me up a beer. I declined, but took a cigarette. I starting thinking terrible thoughts like what if there is a fire inside my apartment. I planned my route of escape off the roof. I figured I could jump and might sprain my ankle, but wouldn't burn to death. I could throw out all my bedding, towels, etc and jump unto that. Or, I could teeter along the fence like a cat, then down to the backyard table and to safety. Ok, I should be fine, but what, pray tell am I to do with myself now? Help!

I'm growing and changing and changing and growing....and getting paid for it (a little)

I got paid today from Google Ads for this blog. You know for clicks on ads. It only took 15 months to make over the mandatory $100 before receiving payment. I started thinking about those 15 months ago and what my life was like when I started this blog. Well, I was unemployed, with A LOT of time on my hands. And now I am self-employed, with A LOT of time on my hands. I was single. I'm still single. I was stressed out about what I was going to do with my life. Today, I'm less stressed. Back then, I had a lot of 'thoughts' about things that I felt I should get out. I was unsure of myself and those thoughts. And today, I probably have a lot more thoughts, I'm still unsure about them, but I care a lot less. In fact, the less sure I am, the better the post. Letting myself be a little vulnerable [online anyway] has been good for me. I feel like I should do something to mark the occasion. Champagne? Take my blog out for a nice dinner? How does one mark this frivolous, trivial milestone? I guess I'll just continue sharing my thoughts until I reach the next payout and let you know what my life looks like then. Stay tuned, it might be something.

Goes both ways

Ever since I 'broke up' with my friend, I've been paying more attention to the friendships I currently have. Are there anymore break ups I need to initiate? I'll admit that I have been jokingly telling some 'be nice or I'll friend break up with you!' However, I've been noticing that I am being slowly broken up with by a few. I mean, they are not being blunt and telling me it's over, but come on, I really haven't seen some of them for awhile and one is not returning my texts. Hmmm. Could it be true? Is it possible that I, Jenny Watson, could be sacrificed so easily? Was it something I said? Something I did? I can change, really I can! [Oh hang on Blog readers, I just got a text.] It's from my friend, the one that wasn't returning my texts! And she wants to hang out tonight! I guess I'm not dumped after all, just neurotic and paranoid, in other words, my normal self. Yes!

Laugh of the day

Remember when I used to post funny videos of things that were funny? I want to do that again. I saw this episode of How I met Your Mother the other day and this scene made me laugh out loud. It also reminded me of something I might do and you know I gots to make it all about me! Enjoy.

You got to know when to hold em....

I broke-up with someone yesterday. I did it quickly, a few paragraphs via email and sent it off. It had been plaguing me for awhile. We had grown apart, we didn't 'get' each other anymore, it was time to move on. Oh, I didn't mention that this was a friend break-up. Now I have had many, many, MANY friend break ups before, but usually I'm the one being broken up with. It has hurt, i would say some have hurt more than romantic break ups. Often it's mutual, in time we just drift apart, phone calls become less frequent, hang outs go from once a week to once a month to just commenting on each others Facebook status to nothing. Sometimes it's really dramatic and painful when suddenly all the stuff you've done wrong through the years is thrown in your face and there are tears and voices are raised. Sometimes you are betrayed by someone you thought was a friend and the hurt stays with you forever. But usually we don't actually 'break up' with friends, I mean, we don't say anything. We just avoid that person, turn down their invitations, find ourselves always 'busy' until it just naturally fades away. This is the first time I've actually broken up with a friend, I mean, actually said something to the effect of 'this friendship is not working for me'. Maybe it's because I'm experienced, been there done that, or just too old to waste time on people that don't fit with me. It reminded me of something an old friend of mine once told me. He had read this article about a famous actress who had fired her agent for being slow to get her a part. He said, “Can you believe it? The woman makes her famous and rich, and this is how she repays her!” I thought about it and replied, “I don't know, I understand where she’s coming from. I mean, if a relationship isn’t satisfying, why pretend to be happy?”

La Belle Époque of me

Today I got on my bike and rode through the hot, hot heat and went to see a matinee. I walked into the theatre and went straight to the top, back row, right under the projector. I was early. No one was here, not yet anyway. I thought, life is sweet, life is sweet! I like to be early when seeing a movie. I remember a few years ago being out with my girlfriend at the time. We walked by a theatre and she noticed that the new Woody Allen, Vicki Christina Barcelona was playing. Come on, come on, she urged. But it was starting in 5 minutes, I said. There isn't time! She forced me  — which was a good thing — and I, panicking, followed her lead into the theatre. Thankfully we made it before the coming attractions started, whew! Today, here I was seeing the latest Woody, Midnight in Paris. It was a perfect choice as I wanted an escape and this movie was all about that. The main character, a writer (of course), finds himself transported to '20s Paris. He hangs out with Hemingway, Dali, Picasso and Cole Porter to name a few. It's basically about the illusion people have that a life different from theirs would be much better. I thought what is my golden age, my Belle Époque? Where would I want to go? When would my life be better? At that moment I didn't want to be anywhere other than having just seen that movie. When I left the theatre I was disoriented and was half hoping it would be raining, as there is something sexy and inherently romantic about the city in the rain, which if you've seen the movie you will understand. But it wasn't, it was bright and the sun was beating down as I jumped on my bike and slowly peddled back into my world.

Friday night at the Legion

Last night I went to my good friend's 40th birthday party. Another friend of ours had rented out the Legion — who knew? I got on my bike and immediately regretted it as the humid air started wreaking havoc on my freshly washed body and styled hair, but I pushed on. I arrived just after 7pm to a beautiful setting on the water, a harbour full of boats — again, who knew? I went to the bar and ordered a Heineken. $4 — who knew? I gave him $5. I drank several $4 Heinekens, and ate many samosas and cupcakes, then danced them all off. Here I go, here I go, here I go again...Girls, what's my weakness? — Men! My friend acted as DJ and as the night wore on and the more drunk everyone got the er, transitions between songs got, well, sloppy. 'Seamless!'— my friend shouted after one such transition and we all laughed. Suddenly it was after 2am and time to hop back on my bike and head home. GULP. I took all the side streets up, weaving through beautifully quiet areas, took a few wrong turns but didn't care as my $4 Heineken-ed body needed the wake up. I rode by some people sitting, drinking on their porch. They shouted out to me 'hey, you're hot'! Which I'm pretty sure in hindsight was sarcasm as I WAS wearing a helmet. But at the time I thought 'oh yah, you know it!' and rode on. I neared my house and turned into the driveway, stopped and in getting off my bike, slipped and fell over, my bike landing on top of me. I lay there for a minute, then looked up into the sky, raised the one arm not trapped under my bike and quietly mouthed the word: seamless.

I got a [gut] feeling

Sometimes one has brief moments of clarity while completely intoxicated. One such moment happened to me this Pride weekend. Picture it: Toronto, 2011, The Churchmouse and Firkin, 145am. I met my friend and filled her in on the events of my night up until this point. We then got talking about our lives, what's been going on in them, etc. She said to me 'The difference between you and I is that you don't listen to your gut feeling about people. You always try to see the good in people, even when there is none'. I thought about what she said, while drinking my 'last call' drink. I realized that she is right. I've met people in my life, a few in the last few years, that I had a gut bad feeling about but worked hard to ignore because it was convenient for me to cause they were sexy, or we had a ton of mutual friends and they were just always around. But when I look back, after they have flaked off, or stabbed me in the back or what have you, I remember the feeling was there from day 1. I never trusted them, I thought there was something 'off' about them. I was right all along! I'm so smart and intuitive! So, the question is what to do when I have this gut feeling again? Do I ignore this person completely? Do I nip our budding relationship in the bud? Do I stop sleeping with them? Do I just take from them what I need, not caring about their needs? Is it not human nature to give people many chances? And how many chances are too many? But the real important question here is: why can't everybody just be more like me?

What condition my condition is in

I went for a chest x-ray this morning — I HAD MY REASONS SO JUST SHUT IT — anyway, I left my house at 7:30am, hoped on my bike to make it for the 8:00am x-ray place opening. What a beautiful time to leave the house, who knew! No traffic, a cool breeze as the sun was not yet shinning it's hot, hot rays. I weaved through the side streets all the way from Landsdowne to Yonge Street, cutting through Yorkville, oh hello rich people, arriving at the x-ray place. I checked in and sat down to wait. I barely got to the masthead of More Magazine — a magazine celebrating women over 40, which at first I thought how will I relate to this, then realized, oh right — when the doctor called my name. "Mrs. Watson. Mrs. Watson". I figured he meant me as there were only 2 other people there and 1 was male. I picked up my bike basket and went through to the changing area. The technician said of my bike basket 'oh, I thought that was a baby' as he ushered me into a changing room 'here you go Mrs. Watson'. I told him it's Miss, he didn't seem to care. I wondered if it was a sign, the Mrs, the baby, the over-40 magazine? I left wondering, thinking and walked out the door and banged right into this old man — oh my god, I'm so sorry, so sorry. He looked at me, smiled and said 'that's ok young lady'. And I was back to normal, so to speak.

I hate it when I can't 'like things'

I will admit that although I'm pretty free with my opinion, sometimes I do hesitate to make comments/like things on facebook. Mostly on friends posts that I may have dated/slept with/crush on, etc. I don't want them to get the wrong idea, I don't want them to be thinking 'oh gawd, Jenny is SO into me' or something to that effect. But I have a hard time controlling myself in these situations, cause the comment is on the tip of my tongue, sometimes I even write it out, then read it and just close the window or refresh before I hit return. I hate being stifled this way, but even I have some boundaries. How annoying.

No pun intended....I swear

I got caught in the rain riding my bike home from work yesterday. My first reaction was to pull over, seek shelter, wait it out, which I did. I stood under an awning, wiping water off my cheeks, watching other cyclists and cars go by. I took off my rain spotted sun glasses and put them in my basket. I suddenly felt lonely, felt small. I thought, fuck it, I'm just gonna go for it. I got back on my bike and at first rode slowly trying not to get splashed from my fender-less back wheel up onto my behind and back. Bikers started passing me  — I sped up a bit — and could hear the whirring sound of water coming off my back wheel and onto my ass. I sped up more. I saw a huge puddle and started to slow down and then thought, fuck it, and rode through, water splashing on my feet, on my thighs. I felt so free, the wetter I got, the freer I felt, my shirt clinging to me, water dripping off my face, like a kid again when you don't care how you look, don't care what others are thinking, I was free! Sure, I would have eventually got home by taking the slower route, the safer route, but I wouldn't have had as much fun! When you throw caution to the wind and just let yourself get wet, well, that's when it really starts getting interesting.

We've been hacked!

One of the jobs I have is designing for this monthly, lifestyle magazine. I go into their office 2 or 3 days a month to do this. Yesterday, I was there and as we worked, our printer kept spitting out pages and pages of, well, nothing. This nothing changed into wingdings, the wingdings got bigger and bigger to the point of only one wingding per page. A large club, then a heart — ok, um, what are they telling us — gambling? We should go to Vegas? Then a large 'non-smoking' sign. — Hey, I quit already, what more do you want. Then a bunch of shapes that made up a fish, a dead looking fish — ack, is that a threat? Wait, I don't have any fish. Then a cat, then just the word 'weekend' with a question mark after it. Yikes! Then we get a poem, actually a song, written by the hackers telling us about how they have been 'exploiting your security since 2002' with a picture of a boat made up of their name (which I won't say here cause, of course they are watching me, like for sure). We then got this message: WE (on it's own page) KN (by itself) and OW. YOWZA!!! We googled the hackers and discovered their site, the Love Boat theme played as a welcome — you know keeping with the boat theme — and we were suddenly put at ease with it's catchy tune. The last messages we received were about 20 pages of email addresses from Fox's X-Factor. That was my cue to call it a night.

This hypochondria is really starting to make me feel sick

So, I've been seeing my doctor a lot in the last few months. You know, cause well I've had a lot of symptoms of stuff, symptoms that when looked up online suddenly become A LOT more serious...but I digress. So, this morning I was in my doctor's office, bright and early. When she walked in I said 'you must be sick of me by now'. She replied 'not yet, you'll have to try harder'. That made me smile. Then I proceeded to tell her of my latest ailment which she diagnosed as 'nothing to worry about'. I told her 'I don't know why I'm such a hypochondriac. Maybe it's from watching too many Woody Allen movies?' She laughed. I realized though as she filled out a form to order me an x-ray to put my mind at ease, that I am just this way. This is what makes me, me. I have such a wild imagination that sometimes imagines such wonderful, beautiful things and other times, such negative, ugly things. So, if I lose one, I will surely lose the other. However, good thing I live in Canada, cause I have a feeling I wouldn't be such a 'hypo' if I was footing the bill. Spending too much money makes me anxious.

Online shopping

I know many women on the online dating site. I see their little thumbnail and — hey girl, hey! Do I click on it? But then they will see that I 'viewed them'. But I'm oh so curious! hmm, I definitely have a type, which, although I was somewhat aware of before, is now painfully obvious when presented with a screen full of little pics. I won't go into what that is though. Hmm, she looks cute — click. Hmm, she looks nice — click. Hmm, those boobs look nice — click. I'm still finding it weird and detached and wonder if my profile is really getting ME across. I didn't have anyone edit it after all. There are some women that really could use an editor or therapist. And I am still amazed at how many manage to bring up their cat/s in the one paragraph they write. Although I brought up cats too, how not fond of them I am. Hey, might as well weed out the cat ladies before I get a glimpse of their long legs, or ample cleavage or youthful face. Oops, guess my type is 'out of the bag'....so to speak.

The online quest begins....again

I haven't forgotten that I'm supposed to be online dating. I apologize for my tardiness,  I know you are all waiting patiently for my online exploits and I do not like to disappoint. So, here goes. OK, I'm doing it. I'm up and running, I'm looking at people, they are looking at me. I am getting messages — I have yet to send any messages though. How do I turn people down? Do I just not respond? Or do I act coy? Or do I flat out say I'm not interested? I don't want to hurt anyone, virtually or otherwise, what is the etiquette? And what if I am interested in someone that messages me? What do I say back? Do we meet right away or do we chat a bit. I'm not getting any younger you know. I've already made a few errors, such as clicking on the 'meet me' feature, which allows you to, I thought, give the site a better idea of your 'type' but really sends messages to the people that you deem 'attractive' — Sneaky. I know this because when my picture came up in this 'meet me' feature, I, of course gave my gorgeous mug the highest accolades and then got an email saying I wanted to meet me. I feel like in the real world, when meeting people, if I fuck up I can say 'sorry, I fucked up'. But here, there is no one to listen. I guess I could change my user name to 'sorry_I_fucked_up', but I have a feeling it's taken.

I know muffins

This morning I went to my favourite coffee place to get my morning wake up. I was hungry and needed a little something. I asked 'do you have any carrot muffins'? The woman replied 'no, but this one, the morning glory is carrot based'. I said 'hmmm, um, no, I've very choosy about my muffins'. And we laughed.

I like this! As often as possible.

I often get people saying to me 'I usually don't comment on people's statuses but this time I couldn't help it'. Now, of course I'm flattered by this but I'm also disappointed to hear that people don't comment often on things. I mean, these social networking sites are much more fun when we engage with each other. I like engaging! So much! It's fun! In fact if I have engaged with someone a few times and they don't engage back, well, I've been known to delete them. Now people think that it's harsh that I do that, but it's not like I'm actually deleting a person, although imagine if it did????  I am just deleting a link. A dead link really. Plus I get deleted all the time and I am, well, lets just say, active, so that's worse. It's really nothing personal, it's just if you don't want to play with me, then I'll go play with someone else.

Finishing things

This morning I went to make coffee. I opened the cupboard and grabbed the box of coffee filters and pulled out the last one. The box was finished. This made me happy. I think I even said out loud 'oh, good, I've finished the box'. Then I asked myself 'why does this please me?' The feeling is one of accomplishment, like I succeeded in drinking enough coffee, thus depleting my supply of filters, so I now have to buy new and start the process all over again. Whoa — starting new, processing, success, accomplishment— this is just a little too heavy for a slightly hung over Sunday morning. Another cup please.

And my day begins

On my way into work I pass this 'salon' called Beauty Jenny. Sometimes when I'm feeling a bit tired or low, I look at the sign and I think, ooh yah, that's right, gurl! You got it going on sista! Baby, somebody better call God, cause he's missing an angel! ooh weee you some kinda beauty, Jenny!
And that is how I start my day.

Rage on dude

Ooh, I forgot to tell you...
The other day on my ride into work I saw the most interesting thing go down. This Mercedes SUV cut off a cyclist. The cyclist rode by him shouting 'watch out next time'. The man in the SUV stopped, got out of his vehicle and started chasing the cyclist. Unfortunately, he forgot to put his car in park and it rolled backwards into the car behind him. At some point, he realized and ran back to his SUV, the cyclist long gone. He got in and pulled over as the guy behind him did too, presumably to exchange insurance information. I wonder how he is telling this story? I have a feeling he's leaving some parts out.

Eggs, they do a [every] body good

I'm a terrible egg cracker. I never can make that clean break. Now, I don't eat eggs often, usually a weekend thing — you know when I have a little more time to eat a leisurely breakfast, read the paper, sip on coffee — I am currently having such a morning. I was up early, I decided I was too groggy to go for a jog, so instead, I put on a pot of coffee and grabbed a couple of eggs from the fridge. When the water was making it's bubbly sound, I knew it was time. I tapped the egg a couple of times on the side of the pot. It made a little crack, but not big enough. *taptap* a few more times and *TAPPPPP* — ok, here we go, oops, some got on the stove, but most made it into the pot. WHEW! Just breathe, just breathe. Ok, egg number two, I won't be so gentle this time. *TAP* *TAP*,  I try to grab both pieces of shell as the egg topples into the water, bits of shell swimming around the pot. I realize, as I watch the yellow of the yoke seep out slowly, filling the pot, then hardening, that my egg cracking skills are a kind of metaphor for my life skills. I never blindly just 'go for it', so many of my emotional decisions are filled with agonizing analysis, much trepidation. So of course when I 'go for it', which I inevitably do, I'm bound to get some shell. Of course my yoke always breaks. I need not worry so much! I shouldn't be so scared! Confidence Jenny! That's it, next weekend or perhaps even tomorrow, I'm cracking that egg with one swift TAP and not looking back.

Check this!

I really don't care for the 'checking in' applications. You know what I mean: 'blah blah is at blah blah with blah and blah'. It's really just another way of making people feel not included. Oh, and also, I don't care where you are. Sorry, I just don't. Oh, and also, why not just enjoy where you are with the company you are with instead of getting on your blackberry or iphone and 'checking in' the first place. Think about it.

Online arrogance

So faithful blog readers as you know I am venturing into this online dating world. I started setting up my profile and as self involved as I am, it's really hard knowing what to write. Picking a user name is difficult enough. I just want to use Jenny. But I know I'm supposed to use something like: designergal or lookingforlove or firstimebuyer or...well you see my creative struggle. So, I wrote some stuff then read it and thought 'wow, I sound like an asshole'.  Then I thought 'maybe I am an asshole'. So, I edited it a bit, but not much...fyi. I just made it sound a little less assholy. I mean, you ARE selling yourself on this thing, so it's not arrogant, right? I don't know. I've never done this. I've always met someone the old fashioned way, you know, drunk on some dance floor. I barely had to say a word in order to seal the deal (ok, that sounded assholy too I know, but hey, I'm on a roll).

TMI?

I am thinking of doing the whole online dating thing. Mostly so I can have stuff to blog about, but having more people that I can make out with is also appealing. But I have concerns. No, not that I will inevitably see people I know on the site (although this is a bit odd). I figure it's like gay men and bathhouses — you just acknowledge they are there, but continue to the next room (or in this case, profile). But my concern is more like, can I get sued? I mean of course I won't use anyone's name, but how much can I report? Also, what if I meet someone really great and they find out I've been blogging about how they over-salt their pasta? And then they end it and I'm neurotically back-pedaling like some pathetic lead in a romantic comedy? But, hey, maybe I get screen play fodder out of this little experiment, go on to be famous, marry Drew Barrymore (or equivalent) — leaving that heartache in the dust. Hmm.

Another nostalgic Sunday

So I woke up this morning. Well, my cough woke me up for the millionth day in a row...but I digress. So, anyway, I woke up and after some juice and coffee I went to the computer to listen to some music. From one band to another, I found myself listening to Saint Etienne. Now if you don't know them, Douglas Coupland described them as follows: "The sounds of the city are the sounds that bring us news of love and adventure. And this is the sound of Saint Etienne — a sound that is both utterly metropolitan and effortlessly clean. It is the sound of love without blame, and hope without conditions." So, a few YouTube videos in, I decided I might as well put on one of my Saint Etienne CDs. I grabbed 'Finisterre', opened the case and saw a yellow post it note stuck inside. It was a little love note from my ex, the one I moved here from BC to be with. At the time we were together, this album was playing on repeat in my house. This note was written the night before she left and it would be a few months before we were to see each other again. Seeing it made me feel nice, made me remember all the good back then. Just like looking at old photographs and remembering that moment in time, those few lines brought back our entire relationship. So, I played the whole album, fondly remembering, until the last track ended and I put the CD back in its case, sticky note in tact, until next time, when I need to remember again.

Quote of the day

In order to be irreplaceable one must always be different.  
— Coco Chanel

What do I have now?

I am sick. I've been under the weather all weekend. Yesterday I was better than today. Of course I wondered what I had. Is it a cold? Is it allergies? Is it cancer? Why am I coughing so much? — it must be lung cancer — Why am I so congested? — it must be allergies — Why am I sweating? — it must be a flu — why does my chest hurt? — that's it, it's lung cancer! I go to bed and my eyes start watering — is it allergies? oh wait... Aha, I have roses in my apartment. This is new! Maybe I'm allergic to roses? — yes, that must be it — I climb out of bed, grab the roses from the vase, open the window and toss them out. Whew, sigh — I felt better already, I must be allergic to roses, who knew? I woke up this morning with all the same symptoms together: congestion, watery eyes, cough, sweating.  Seems it's just your garden variety common cold...or is it? Stay tuned...

My good deed went punished

I just got home from work. On the way into the subway, there was this man in front of me trying to get a suitcase through the turnstile. I offered to help him lift it and grabbed the bottom to work it over the metal bars. As it went over, my finger got caught in the wheels and took a chunk of skin with it. I cried out as it dropped to the floor. I'm ok, I'm ok. There was blood, I sucked on it and continued to the platform but couldn't control the bleeding, so I went back up to the attendant. She tenderly cleaned it and put a bandage on and sent me on my way. I rode all the way home, finger throbbing, blood seeping through the bandage. When I got home, I went to my bathroom to clean it properly, and I noticed a big streak of blood on my cheek, I must have brushed it with my hand at some point. I wondered what people riding with me must have thought. Maybe they are telling the story of the girl with blood on her face as I tell you my story of how it got there.

The ex

I keep seeing my ex. Like everywhere. Except it's not my ex. It's some woman that looks like her, from afar. On the subway, on the street, at the gym, at the grocery store. is that her? GULP. My heart skips a beat, a nervousness comes over me. Oh god, what will I say to her. I look tired, oh why didn't I wear mascara today. It's like that Woody Allen movie where he keeps seeing his mother although, not as humorous, in fact not humorous at all, it's just annoying. I try to think what this means. Does it mean I miss her, does it mean I'm not over it? I have no clue. But the one thing I do know is that there are a lot of women that look like my ex living in Toronto. And that's just not fair.

About last night

So last night I went to a birthday party. It was in the Village — Church Street for those of you who are unfamiliar. We drank, we celebrated, we laughed, we ate a cake, all in all it was a great time. When it was time to go, I walked a few friends up the street to Wellesley, said goodbye and said I would get a cab. I started walking towards Yonge Street. I was feeling lucid. Sure, I was a little drunk and a little high, but in a good way, the way that you know you are not ready to hop into a cab and head home. So, I walked. I walked up to Bloor Street and when I reached it, I noticed people waiting for the bus. I thought, hey, I should take the bus! It's bound to be interesting at 2:45am. So I went to the stop and waited. I knew it would not be long as there were many people there. Yes, drunk people. Yes, sloppy drunk people. I was excited. This is going to be fun. And I was not wrong. A sing a long of Wham's Careless Whisper, the highlight. Followed by a slightly offensive discussion of why George Micheal should not have been caught having gay sex in a washroom. A man standing up, eating a Shawarma, messily, pieces falling onto the floor, dangerously close to a sitting passenger's arm. A couple making out, pretty intensely which had me wondering, why they just didn't take a cab, but maybe being on a bus does it for them. A conversation between two straight women about a rejection that occurred earlier on. I looked at the woman, she was SO beautiful, and being so hard on herself, I wanted to tell her, 'hey, you are beautiful, he's an idiot, forget him!' When my stop came, I wormed my way through the drunk bodies, ignoring the last ditch efforts to pick up. Hey, it's late and hey, I'm gay (I think). Goodnight Bloor bus, I'm glad I took you.

Subway stories

There was the cutest little queer boy on the subway today. He was stylish and self-assured. He was leaning against the doors, filing his nails. I wanted to tell him how cute he was, although I was a bit uneasy about the nail filing in public. But then I thought, i can't really tell him that cause people don't really do that, so I just watched him with glee, until he got off the train and disappeared into the crowd.

Morning

The morning commute is starting to get to me. When I first started this job, it was a novelty. The subway? How cute! It goes so fast! How efficient! Now, I dread squeezing myself into its doors, pushing through the people trying to find something to hold on to. This morning I found a spot, pretty comfortable one actually, then noticed I was trapped right opposite this woman with well, lets just say, ample cleavage. Now, I'm not a tall woman, and often I find myself eye-level to such sights and hey, I'm not complaining, but this was awkward. I tried to look around, find something to focus on. I thought: can I swivel around? Is there room, no. I started sweating, it's too hot in here! I unbuttoned my coat. I looked up, maybe there is a funny ad I can focus on, a poem I can read? Something, anything! Oh the humanity! I then noticed a tattoo peeking out from this woman's sleeve. I looked closer to find it was one word, simply written, in script on her wrist, and that word was love.

Quote of the day

When we are committed to honesty, we help reduce the level of misunderstanding, doubt, and fear throughout society. — Dalai Lama

I age you age we all age!

So, as most of you know, I have a slight obsession with aging. I'm always checking out old faces, studying their wrinkles, saggy skin, wondering how close my face will mimic what I'm seeing when I'm 50, 60+. Then a thought occurs to me, are young women in their twenties looking at me and wondering if they will age like me when they hit my age? And are teenagers looking to these young women to see how they will change and so on and so forth? But then I remember, not everyone is crazy like me and I relax and continue my observations.

Thoughts on oranges

I am eating an orange. It has about 781 pits in it. Is that normal? I mean, 3 to 4 pits per piece? really? Isn't that overkill? And who decides these things? And why do some oranges have no pits while others have way too many? What is the standard? And does it mean that they will taste better or worse? Or is that even a factor? The ones with pits seem more satisfying — probably because there is more work involved in spitting out those annoying pits. And what if you buy 6 or 7 from the market. Now you have 6 or 7 days of spitting out those damn pits! Sigh. Ok, back to this delicious, annoying orange.

quote of the day

To fear love is to fear life, and those who fear life are already three parts dead. — Bertrand Russell

Slow love

I went to this queer slow dance party last night. I didn't know what to expect, it sounded interesting and a lot of people I knew were going and said how fun it was. So, I went. When we got there, they gave us all a dance-card which I put in my pocket, but later noticed people wearing around their wrists. It was like high school all over again, but high school like I had transported my 30-something self with all my knowledge and experience back into. I danced with some of my friends, focusing on them for that 3 or 4 minutes, no distractions, just nice intimate moments. We really talked! It was like the close proximity made barriers come down, the physical intimacy made it easier to cut through all the shit and just talk. I danced with a lover, who I was feeling a little disconnected from. It didn't take long to reconnect over, wait for it: 'I believe I can fly'. That song became sexy to me, and suddenly no one else was there, nothing else mattered. I was just 'in the moment' — ok, yes, I was a bit drunk at this point, but you get what I'm saying. Later some of my friends were leaving as Celine's 'My heart will go on' came on and I said 'You can't leave now, it's Titanic!' So of course they stayed and of course we danced more.

That's so rude!

I don't like rude people because well, they are rude. From the ones who don't line up at the bus stop but cut in front of you trying to go unnoticed, oh we see you rude one! To the the guy talking on his phone while ordering a coffee, barely acknowledging the cheerful Starbucks employee getting his drink. Pfft - you're an ass. To that Facebook friend who doesn't RSVP to your birthday party, but is on Facebook 24/7, you are rude my friend (oh, and ps: get a life). Don't be rude, it's uh, well, rude.

Jenny's Porn

Is it weird that I needed a cigarette after watching this?

Nostalgic Sunday

It's Sunday. I feel a little tired from last night. I saw a show where there were a lot of old friends and/or old lovers in attendance. It was surprisingly ok. Then this morning, I was leafing through the eye magazine or maybe I was reading tweets or maybe a post on facebook...but something made me go to my CD collection to see what I got. I grabbed one by this band called Revolver — an English 'shoegazer' band; the genre I primary listened to back in the day — popped open the case, turned on my receiver and CD player and slid it in. I pressed play and listened to it from start to finish. It reminded me of my 20's, and how lost I was then. How much agony I was in over some lost love, or some insecurity I suffered from. But still, then, I was surprisingly ok — that was just normal life. And I was happy. And now, 15 some odd years later, when I know what actually being happy and confident is, I can't help taking a little trip back in time now and again, just to remind myself.

Would you give Judi Dench your seat?

I always give up my seat on the bus to an older person. Hey, I'm just a gentlewoman that way. [blushes] But today, I looked up and saw a wrinkly face and said, 'oh would you like my seat?' and the woman turned to me and said 'oh, no thank you, I am about to get off'. I took a closer look at her, she was very elegant. She had a beautiful full length coat on with a sparky brooch, her make-up was perfectly done, she looked, well, lovely. So, then I started to feel bad, like the way I feel when the cute 20 year-old Starbucks employees call me Ma'am. I felt for this woman. She was older than me sure, and she was holding on to that pole with familiarity. This woman had lived! But she still had a lot more living to do! You go girl, you get off at the next stop and go wherever you are going and next time I see you, I'll just look away and let you age like the graceful woman you are.

Quote of the day

Four be the things I'd have been better without: Love, curiosity, freckles and doubt. — Dorothy Parker

20's, 30's, 40's Oh my!

All of us ladies have grown up reading the same magazines. From the fluffy soft porn of Cosmopolitan, to the inspiring Oprah, to the 'every-woman' Chatelaine. [Hey I didn't make these sayings up!]  They all have fashion sections that show 'looks' for your age. They break it down into a look for women in their twenties, one for women in their thirties, one for forties and sometimes fifty + depending on what demographic the magazine is targeting. As I head into my fortieth year, I'm stumped on which 'look' I should be wearing. I'm on the cusp between my thirties and forties, oh, what to do? I mean I don't want people gasping saying 'eek, she is dressing WAY too young'. Yet, everyone thinks I look younger than my age already and come on, lets face it, a lesbian woman's 40 is a straight girl's 30. And you know these magazines are targeting straight women, so I guess I have my answer. Damn, I could have been wearing suspenders for the last 9 years!

Quote of the day

My father warned me about men and booze, but he never mentioned a word about women and cocaine — Tallulah Bankhead

Routinely stumped

I remember when I used to blog a lot. Maybe too much in some people's opinion but regardless, I always had thoughts about something that I felt the need to share. Lately, I haven't been blogging much. I guess I've finally ran out of things to say [cue sighs, applause, desperate sobs]. Truth is having a job is sucking out all of my creativity. Waking up at 7:15 every day is not conducive to noticing the little details of life that I normally love. Now don't get me wrong, I am so happy to have a job, even just to put an end to the Monday to Friday nausea that plagued me for weeks before I got the call saying 'you're hired'. Now, maybe I'm still adjusting to the hustle and bustle of the 9 to 5 commute, the going to bed early in order to rise early. Maybe. Or maybe this is why there are a lot of poor artists out there. I get it, you need time to think, to create, need no distractions. I think for me, it's the routine of it all that is the culprit. It has been said that creativity is the opposite of routine. Now, don't get me wrong, I have my little routines, things I take comfort in. Like for example, having 2 different jams on my bagel (I like the variety of tastes) or blow drying my hair before I get dressed (I get too hot otherwise) or even Sunday phone calls with Mom (retired people still care what day of the week it is — it's their routine). But, these routines please me, I take comfort in them. I am not comfortable with my present Monday to Friday routine. Good thing this is only a contract job and come summer time, I'll be back to freelancing and my old routines of biking to the market every other day, reading on the beach and enjoying that morning bagel at a civilized hour, one side strawberry, the other marmalade, just like it's meant to be.

Spicy girls and spicy treats

I went to this fashion show last night at the ROM. It was filled with young, beautiful people, wearing heels, tight dresses and tons of make-up — the women too! [ba dum ching!]. The women were collectively hot, but individually bland. It reminded me of a How I Met Your Mother episode where Barney, the womanizer of the bunch, calls this: 'the Cheerleader Effect'. Meaning, as a group, they look hot, but seen individually, each one has a flaw. It took a while for the show to start, so we lingered at the bar, getting progressively tipsier and tipsier, my friend trying to numb her sore high heeled feet and me, just enjoying the drink. We were then tardy to get a seat in the now standing room only show. So we watched from outside the line where we could continue drinking. There were appetizers floating around and by this point I figured maybe I should have a couple. I tried this cream cheese onion-y thing that left a sour taste in my mouth, so I glanced around for something to take it away and I spotted little rice crispy squares. I grabbed one and greedily bit into it, only to discover it had been flavored with a strong curry, leaving me confused and sad, so I drank more and watched the models and the crowd and everyone became collectively and individually, a lot hotter.

Quote of the day

kisses are a better fate than wisdom — e.e. cummings

Running up that road, running up that hill, with A LOT of problems

I am not a runner. I have dabbled. I have tried hard to like it. I have tried. I know how amazing you feel once the run is done, but the reward does not seem to pay off for the effort involved. I'd rather head to the gym for some elliptical action or pull out my yoga mat and stretch till I can't stretch no more. I notice a lot of runners out there. I often see you huffing and puffing on my morning commute or while I sit here by the window — in pajamas and drinking coffee — writing this post. I cannot understand when it's -20 and snow is blowing all around and you are out there, unhinged, running your little heart out, breathing in the icy air like a lunatic. I shiver taking out my recycling — and there you are; I bundle up and run across the street to the corner store to buy — no doubt something my body doesn't need — and there you are; I make the 10 minute trek to the LCBO for more wine — and there you are running, mocking me with your crazy toned ass and clinically-insane firm thighs.

I guess you can't be a player forever...

My DVD player has stopped playing. I can't figure out what's wrong but it occurred to me that little Ms. DVD player has been well, shall we say, active. She has let quite a few titles penetrate her silvery walls. Titles from all over the world! Titles young and old! Action, Drama, Chick flicks, Comedy! In and out and in and out these titles have come, some with bonus features! And god knows where those titles have been! So rest in peace my little loose friend. Thanks for all the great stories.