Me again

Hello. Is this thing on? Ahem. Hi, I'm Jenny. I used to be here all the time, then I left, for awhile. Now I'm back. I think. I mean, I might just be passing through, but maybe I need to be here. Again. Like I was, back then. I'll keep you posted.

Text message break up

Hey tech-savvy friends: What's the etiquette for texting?

I'm constantly annoyed by friends who don't respond for a day or two, or sometimes never at all! Sometimes a friend will text me with a question, I will respond and then nothing! Ahhhhh... YOU TEXTED ME! YOU TEXTED ME!

Do I just let it go? Or should I get new friends? I'm always wondering if my phone is not working. But then I remember that three out of six friends respond back reguarly. So should I just be satisfied with a 50% texting success rate? Does that mean that 50% of my friends are rude? I mean let's face it, it is usually the same 50%.

My girlfriend says I'm crazy and I should just let it go, and I shoot her a "don't be patronizing" look and then she shows me her boobs to try to distract me, but of course it doesn't work because I can't let things go just like she said earlier! I mean, duh! And thus the vicious cycle continues. I can't get past the rudeness of it all—from people who apparently like talking to me! Or do they? I mean don't they? So if you can help me or have any answers to this thing that plages me daily, please let me know. Otherwise I guess I'll just continue the way I have been dealing with this my whole life—well, since texting came around—deep breathing and lots of booze.

Addict

I'm addicted to my iPhone. We all saw this coming, perhaps you more than me. I always thought "nah, I won't be like them. I won't "check in". I won't Instagram every cool street sign or cute tchotchke sitting on a shelf. I won't post something then 10 minutes later check to see who "liked it" or who made a comment. And then 10 minutes after that check again. No, I thought I was better than all of you. Thought I would know how to behave, how to treat this technology with respect, or more accurately, respect others around me by engaging with them instead. But alas, no. So, now what? Where do I go from here? What do I do now that my life revolves around this tiny, pretty device? Do I need an intervention? Perhaps some sort of "iPhone patch"? Come on, there must be an app for that.

Just another anxious Monday

Today I got on my bike and set out to A. Go to a computer store and get an electrostatic bag (as outlined by the manufacturer), then B. Go to UPS, put my External Drive into electrostatic bag, then buy a box, put into box and package up to ship back to the manufacturer for repair. $30 later, the Drive is off to Burlington. I leave UPS, it's raining and the wind is well, windy. I bike home huffing and puffing against the wind, rain blowing into my eyes. I check my mail. There's a letter from the library, well a bill. It says I owe $19 for a book, they say I lost. grrr. I never lost this book! I clearly remember returning it! I start to feel annoyed, how am I going to prove that I didn't lose this book? Goddamn it I'm going to have to pay for this fricken book! Breathe Jenny, just breathe. I never even read the bloody thing! It was months ago when I was in a 'self-help' phase and signed out a bunch of promising titles. I looked at the bill again and couldn't help but laugh at the irony when I read the title of the 'missing' book: Self coaching: The powerful program to beat anxiety. If only I had read it.

The cycle of life and love

I've started job hunting. Yah, I know you feel me. It sucks. So difficult to remain positive and upbeat. Hard not to stress about well, the unknown. It really reminded me of online dating, another awful thing that I partook in recently. If you don't start out insecure, you certainly end up there. Or you don't. Depending on what happens. In my case, both endeavors make me reach for the ice cream/booze/cigarettes/insert vice here. Then of course, after indulging in ones vice, one feels bad about themselves then feels more insecure and useless and will 'never get a job' 'never find love' and so the cycle goes on and on until you get a call for that interview, or you get a flirty message from that cutie. Then suddenly you feel on top of the world. Until you don't.

Like mother like daughter

My mother was just in town for a few days. She stayed with me in my tiny apartment — she took my bed, I took the hard-as-cement couch. We explored the city all day and dined at some place interesting every night. We got along great, my mother is really wonderful to spend time with. We talked, A LOT. We really never ran out of things to discuss — which is not surprising to those of you that know me — I usually have A LOT to say, often about nothing. One evening we drank a little too much. We had a glass of wine at home, actually maybe two, went for dinner, shared a bottle, then came home and had a little baileys. Just a little. A digestif if you will. The next morning my mother felt a little groggy and swore she would not drink that much anymore on this trip. She said we shouldn't get a bottle of wine at dinner, just a glass or two. I agreed. So, we went about our day wandering and exploring, then out for dinner. Again on the way there my mom repeated how we won't get a bottle. I again agreed. We get to the restaurant, sit down and my mother says: 'We should get a bottle'. We both laughed and I told her that I do that too. Recently someone I was dating pointed this out to me, that I say something, then a little later say the opposite. It's kinda how I figure out what I actually think or want, by saying it out loud. It's a process if you will. I also have no willpower and little self control...but that's another blog post. Since being told this, I've been thinking about why I am that way. I came to the conclusion that I was just a bit strange. It never occurred to me that this might be something I got from my mother. In all these years I never noticed she does that too. My mother is just as weird as I am, and that is kind of great.

Some things never change

The other day someone I went to elementary school with found this note I wrote in probably grade 4 or 5 to some boy named Blair. She took a photo of it and posted it to my Facebook wall. The note said something about how everyone was teasing me for liking him and that I don't like that and oh, please write back! (see attached photo for full note) I don't remember this Blair person or writing this note — I wonder if he even saw it? Who knows! Hey, I was ten years old for gawds sake! What was interesting about this was that a friend of mine saw the post on my wall and told me that even back then I enjoyed being vulnerable, that I 'put myself out there'. (And, I still write those capital N's exactly the same way.) I was also pretty bossy and that is something else I tend to be now (in a cute way...I think...oh, I don't know). This struck me as funny and true. We don't change that much. Now of course some things have changed. When I write my latest crush a note, I probably use a richer vocabulary and probably send a Facebook message or email or text instead of using some cute stationary with handwritten type. And I may not be so bold to say 'write back!'....but I always hope they do.

No iPhone, no aloha

I do not have an iPhone. I also do not have a blackberry or any sort of smartphone. I have a phone that I can answer calls on, receive and send texts and well, that is pretty much it. I have nothing against these devices it's just that because I am on a computer Monday to Friday, 9 to 5 with constant online access, I've never found myself caring about that capability when I was out of my house. I know eventually I will get an iPhone, but I'm not rushing into anything. I've seen what happens when people get one, they are never the same. They are taking photos of everything from street signs to their bowl of corn chowder. They are tweeting their locations from Dufferin Mall to Tim Horton's. And why are they doing this? Because they can! It's so easy so why not and it's fun! I get it. The other day I looked out my window and saw this fat cat sitting on my roof. My first thought was 'cat on a hot tar roof' and my next thought was that I should take a picture of it, put it online and that could be the caption. I grabbed my phone, turned it towards the cat, looking for the zoom. I didn't have one. I went to get my camera, I took it out of its case, went to turn it on, the battery was dead. I looked back out the window, that fat cat on the hot tar roof was gone and I had nothing to show for it.

Mysterious chairs

Last night my friend and I went out for a few beers. We sat at the bar and after awhile she suggested we go outside and have a cigarette. The place wasn't packed, but I left my gloves on the bar to mark my place. As we were walking out, these two women sitting at the bar eyed us with a sort of glee. We didn't really pay attention to it at the time, but later, we understood why they expressed that odd emotion. We enjoyed a smoke and came back in to find those women had migrated to our spot. They had moved from their seats at the bar to our seats at the bar. My friend was furious. I was amused. My friend spoke loudly about how we lost our spot as I wandered over to grab my gloves. I came back and my friend decided that when they go outside for a smoke, we will switch back just like nothing happened. It was a plan. We continued drinking, continued our discussion of what would make those seats better than these seats, and waited for our moment. It never came, they finished their drinks and left. I said to my friend that I'll be on my deathbed texting her, no wait, I'll telepathically communicate to her — or however we do things in the future — saying (in an old person's voice) "so many years have passed and we will never know why those women changed seats. It is one of life's great mysteries. gasp. gasp. gasp." And I'm gone.

Partying is such sweet sorrow

It's Friday night. I'm supposed to go to this birthday that will have in attendance some gossipy, back-stabbing, nasty women. I would obviously need to drink in order to stomach it, but my stomach is saying no, no, no to the drinks. Well my future stomach that is. The one that I will wake up with tomorrow after downing many cocktails. The first one or two will be to numb my nerves a little, the next one will be to tolerate the I can only imagine insults about who happens to not be in earshot. Then after that, well I don't remember! I don't want to go. I'm too old for this. I've been partying and tolerating unpleasant company for 20 years. It's time I cut back on the drinks and cut out the Riff Raff. After all, I'm not getting any younger. The grim reaper could be right around the corner waiting for me and I think if I was hung over, I would find him really annoying.