I never leave my wallet behind. Okay, so that statement isn't really true anymore. Correction: I never used to leave my wallet behind. Hopefully never will again ...
I blame Heather. Co-worker Heather, not old friend Heather. I had no idea the new Sookie Stackhouse book was out. I love her series. It's the series that got me back into reading about vampires (sorry Stephanie, but Twilight is lost for me). I am going to be severely broken-hearted if Charlaine Harris doesn't end the series I want her to (read: the way it SHOULD end). So, Heather has the book sitting on her desk when I get into work, and I just about lose my sh@t. (Who knew that would make a link? Not me.) Ahem ... getting distracted.
So, she tells me to buy it at Costco, 'cause it's only 16 dollars there. It's twice that at Chapters. I jumped all over that - and on payday, too!
We go to Superstore Wholesale first to get our month's supply of groceries - and a few novelty items, like my Dinosours. Yes, I bought two bags. Yes, they're as good as I remember them. So, 250 dollars later, and almost everything on the grocery list covered, we head to Costco. 15 minutes until closing, we head into the store to get 2 things - just TWO things! - coffee for mum, and Sookie for me. We also end up getting chicken, red velvet cupcakes, real bacon bits, sliced ham, and a renewal of our Costco membership. Those few things cost as much as a cart full of stuff from Superstore Wholesale, but that's beside the point (sort of).
Excited about reading the 12th book in the Sookie series, I quickly put the groceries in the side door, put my book on the front seat, rush the cart to the rack, and head back to the van. I got about twenty pages read before we got home, and giggled more than a couple times.
We pull up to the bank so I can get my mum some money out of my bank. I reach for my wallet, and my heart stops. It's not there. Not in my purse, not in the console, not on the floor. Not in the box of groceries, not in the pocket of my door, not shoved under my seat. It's. Not. There.
I remember quickly where it is: in the child seat in the cart, back in Red Deer, in the Costco parking lot.
I said "fuck" a lot.
I keep everything in my wallet. Bank cards, ID (government, and high school IDs going back to 2002), pre-paid credit card, gift cards, gift certificate to the Bamboo Hut, Alberta Health Care, blood donor card, family pictures, Grad ticket from 2007, Youthwrite quote card, novelty card from Disneyland, etc. The only thing I didn't have in it was cold, hard cash. I keep everything in my debit. What I did have in it, up until yesterday, was a bank card with my online account number and password written on the back, and my SIN card. 'Cause I'm smart like that.
All of that, sitting in a cart in the Costco parking lot overnight.
We drove right back into town as soon as we realized it was gone, called my brother, and a woman we know that works at Costco. She didn't get our message until the store had already closed, and we ended up getting there before my brother, anyway.
I had a brief moment of euphoric relief when we first pulled into the parking lot, 'cause I thought I saw my wallet sticking out from under the flap of the first cart in the rack. I literally jumped out of the car and ran over, only to cuss in disappointment. I'd literally been chasing shadows. We searched all the carts, looked in the garbage cans, banged on the doors ... nothing. Went over to the gas bar, and got the attendant to radio security in the store, who might have looked in the lost and found bin, and told us nothing had been turned in. The attendant gave us instructions on how to get in touch with the "administration" in the morning, and that was all she could do. She was nice, and helpful, but it didn't mean a whole lot right then. I had to go home empty-handed.
I spent the night with lead in my heart, envisioning having to replace everything in my wallet, most of which couldn't be replaced, and dealing with the hassle of replacing my SIN card - 'cause they won't issue you a new SIN, that would be too difficult (read: too logical).
I didn't get much sleep that night, and woke up at 3:30 with a massive, stress-induced Charlie-horse in my left leg. Not a fun way to wake up.
After we got the papers done we headed back into Costco. I called the "administration", and told them about my missing wallet. They took down my information, said they'd look for it and call me back. We arrived about half an hour before they were supposed to open. I looked again in the garbage cans - having kicked myself all night for not having a harder look in them, 'cause my wallet is heavy, and probably would have fallen to the bottom. Cussed some more when I saw that the garbage cans had been emptied.
Did I mention the rain? Yeah. It had rained all night, so on top of everything else, we had to do papers in the rain, and my shoe had a hole in the bottom, so my socks were getting wet. The umbrellas we brought were more broken than usable, and I was just about at the end of my rope. I could only hope that no one had noticed my wallet, and it was inside with the rest of the carts that had been pushed in.
My mum told me repeatedly that she was sure we'd find it. I am a realist, borderline pessimist. I don't have much faith in humans as a race. I was convinced that one of the shoppers had seen it the night before, and had taken it, despite the lack of cash inside it. My mum told me, "It's not like it was the Walmart parking lot. You have to pay to shop at Costco, so generally the people who shop there 'have money' - they wouldn't need to steal your wallet. I'm sure the woman unloading her cart behind us saw it, and took it in." I didn't disagree with her - that's not to say that everyone who shops at Walmart is a lower-class citizen, but there are some pretty colorful people there, and I've seen more than one homeless person rooting through the garbage cans at Walmart. I don't want to think about what would have happened to my wallet if I'd left it in the Superstore Wholesale parking lot, with the casino right next door!
Anyway, I was feeling pretty blue around 9:15am, Saturday morning. At the very least, I was going to be late for work, and I was sure my wallet was gone. I saw a strap hanging out of one of the carts that were piled beside the main doors, and decided to go check it out - better than sitting in the car for another 15 minutes until the store opened. I didn't have very high hopes, especially when I passed the cart I'd been looking at, and there was nothing there. Still, I decided to look through the whole line.
My wallet was left outside for twelve hours, in the pouring rain, abandoned in a parking lot, and I swear it smiled when it saw me. It was in the same cart I'd left it in, in the second row of carts, about six carts away from the wall of the building. I almost couldn't believe it when I saw it. Then I snatched it out, squealed, and headed back for the car with an outstretched arm and a wide grin. My mum stared at me as I got closer to the van, and she rolled down the window to say, "Did you find your wallet?!"
She, who spent much of those twelve hours trying to convince me we'd find it, looked absolutely flabbergasted. I bounced around outside the van for a minute or so.
So many things could have happened - it could have been tossed into a garbage can, it could have been stolen for the $3.50 in change that was inside it, or someone could have used my ID and SIN card to steal my identity ('cause the $7000 debt is something worth stealing). I could have been royally screwed.
As we were driving back to Sylvan, and I was hugging my sopping wet wallet, I said to my mum, "Thank you, Karma! This is why I'm a good person!"
So, to summarize: My excitement about the new Sookie book - which was completely Heather's fault - led me to leaving my poor wallet alone and afraid, in the soaking rain, for twelve devastating hours, only to be happily reunited with me the next day. My grad ticket and Bamboo Hut gift certificate suffered the most damage, but they both dried nicely. My SIN card is carefully tucked away in a place that's NOT my wallet, and I don't have to cancel any cards or change any passwords.
All in all, life is good.
Except that I missed Supernatural Friday night. Perhaps Heather will let me blame that one on her, too ...
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Can You Say Ego Stroke?
I've been writing fan-fiction for the past five years. I've been posting on fanfiction.net since July of 2008.
The first fan-fiction I posted on that site was a terrible attempt at dirty humor; a fanfic that has only received 9 reviews in only four years. It wasn't a very good fanfic. Still, I kept writing. Since then, I've posted 302 stories on fanfiction.net, some one-shots, some multi-chapters. As of April 22, 2012, I have received 7245 reviews on my combined stories. My best story (in my opinion), http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4929550/1/Going_Home has received 753 reviews on 28 chapters. It took me two years to complete, longer than my original novel (and has more words, too).
The story that this blog is about, http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7070864/1/Burn_Out_the_Sun began on a whim. It was my third True Blood fanfic, and I had just gotten into the swing of writing Sookie/Eric fics. I was re-watching the second season of True Blood, and had decided that killing Godric off was a really, really stupid idea. (It amazes me how TV shows and movies change so much in the transition from books, but they NEVER change when our favorite characters die!)
So, I did what I've done since I was five years old: I rewrote the story. In my fanfic, Burn Out the Sun, Godric didn't die. Eric didn't have to trick Sookie into drinking his blood - I threw that in, because it was one thing that always annoyed me about the Sookie Stackhouse realm; if vampires are so "allergic" to silver, to the point that it burns through their skin, how could they just work it out of their system? How is it that a tiny scrap of silver chain can completely immobilize a vampire, but silver bullets will just "work their way out"? Sorry, Charlaine Harris, but there's a flaw in that logic.
I digress. The point is, with a few minor changes, the story does a complete 180. And without the loss of Godric, the story focuses more on his relationship with Eric, and by extension, Sookie.
I started "Burn Out the Sun" June 10, 2011. In that time, I have written 34 chapters, and have received 968 reviews. I think I've only received 2 negative reviews on the story.
I don't believe that my writing is out-of-this-world, ground-breaking, phenomenal type stuff. I work hard to use proper spelling and grammar, I catch most of my typos (and growl in frustration when I see them), I try to keep the story as "in-character" as possible, while maintaining my own creative flow. I take pride in my writing.
Never, in my nearly four years on fanfiction.net, have I EVER received a review this amazing. This review was written by http://www.fanfiction.net/u/2336024/bloodyblond
When I read this review, I was alone in my room, and I was blushing down to my toes. I literally had to close my eyes and look away from the screen three times before I could read the whole thing. It was just too much.
Here it is:
"This story is bananas!
Normally when I see threesomes in the story description, I turn the other way with a ‘thanks, but no thanks.’ I’ll read the smuttiest smut any day, but for some reason, threesomes have just never meshed well with me and I can count on one hand how many I've read. I’m so insanely loyal to particular pairings, that to see another mashed in between them strikes up this strangely uncomfortable feeling of... betrayal? If that makes sense... or does it just make me sound utterly crazy? But after reading this story I’ve come to the realization that, perhaps, I just haven’t been reading the right ones, because this has been an absolutely amazing journey.
It’s a lot easier to be so accepting thanks to the way you’ve paced the sexual development of the Sookie/Eric/Godric relationship. You’ve set up and nurtured the Sookie/Eric relationship so wonderfully, that when Godric is added to the equation it feels like an entirely natural development... almost to the point where it would almost be wrong not to include him. I should just thank you for including him in the story in general. I became quite fond of his brief stint on TB and was absolutely devastated when they got rid of such an interesting character. I realize they probably did it to show the softer side of Eric and start setting up the potential Sookie/Eric goodness, but considering how well that turned out, it would have been better to just keep him alive... or undead I should say. Even more thanks are offered for the added depth you gave his character and the insight into the bond that him and Eric shared. Normally slash is not my thing, but the way you wrote it, I found myself agreeing with Sookie, they are beautiful together.
Your characterization of Sookie has caused near moments of hysterical relief, considering how frustrated I ended up with her character on the TB show (so much in fact with season 4 that I will no longer continue watching it.) Considering the show revolved completely around her, she was disappointingly unlikeable at times. The development of her character, more specifically her ‘fairyness’ and the Sookie/Eric relationship came off as a rushed, confused messed and sadly felt incredibly forced... was I the only one who found their sex scenes awkward...and after all that wait... :(
In regards to her ‘fairyness’, I’m really enjoying the unique approach you’ve given to it. The powers of her ‘mood ring’ lights are always a pleasure to read (I’m particularly fond of the one that allows her vampires to walk in the light. Just imagining that awed look of pleasure on their faces gives me the warmed fuzzies), as well as the fact that she seems to have such amazing control over them regardless of having no help. The growth of them, like the pace of her relationship with her vampires, feels like a natural, and more importantly, sensible development. I can easily believe she has these powers... even the vamp mind reading. Though I’m sure there have been other authors to do it, yours has actually been the first that I’ve read to have Sookie be able to do that and I’m really liking it. For some reason, in my mind, that shows how truly powerful she’s becoming.
Also, though only touched on briefly, I’m glad you made mention of the potential of Sookie being turned. Though some may consider it something not necessarily relevant to the story, this has always been something that has bothered me greatly, because so many authors seem to be completely against the idea of it because apparently it goes against Sookie’s character. But how can you truly believe that the bond between them is real and true when such an important factor is seemingly ignored? It just seems to me that it’d simply be: OK, you love me, but not enough to spend forever with me? Just to have an author mention it, whether they’re for it or not, can make a world of difference, at least for this reader and I really appreciate that you have it in your story... and I really hope something comes of it. :) I can definitely guarantee I am full on board with a VampSookie... and if I can’t have that, I’m more than willing to settle with a bond that simply ties her life to that of her vampires (to be honest, I’m actually a little more fond of that approach. It keeps Sookie alive and breathing and guarantees that her vamps don’t ever have to sink their fangs into someone else for sustenance.)
It’s not even finished yet, but all in all, this has been one of the most enjoyable and brilliantly written fanfics (not just in the TB verse) that I’ve ever had the pleasure of reading.
I eagerly await more, and once again extend thanks for changing my mind on the potential of threesomes. My willingness to seek out more like them in the future, opens up so many more stories that I may have overlooked in the past.
Keep up the awesomeness!"
Yeah. Wow.
It wasn't like this reviewer boasted on and on about my "mad skills as a writer". I've had reviewers tell me they're jealous of my writing, or tell me that I should write for the TV show that I'm doing fanfics for - I love those reviews, I don't mind admitting that they make me EXTREMELY giddy! I think the thing that I most loved about this review was how thorough it was. Normally when someone takes the time to write a lengthy, thorough review, they have SOMETHING negative to say about the story. I couldn't believe that this person didn't.
Burn Out the Sun had a lot of firsts in it for me. It was my first "threesome" pairing, it was my first multi-chapter vampire story, it was the first story I'd used a translator for - Caaro: http://www.fanfiction.net/u/1877146/ did me the huge favor of translating certain lines into Norgwegian - and as of now, it is the longest fan-fiction I've ever written. At 34 chapters, it's still "in progress".
Out of 7245 reviews, I've received maybe 12 negative reviews. 12 in almost four years. That's not too shabby. Still, it only takes one negative review for me to second guess my skills as a writer. Isn't it amazing how 1 negative critique can outshine 600 positive ones?
Today, I don't doubt my skills as a writer. Today, I'm still riding the high of this incredible review.
Thank you, bloodyblond. It's because of awesome reviews like this - because of readers who take the time to review a story that they enjoy - that I'm still writing fanfiction after four years! Love you!
The first fan-fiction I posted on that site was a terrible attempt at dirty humor; a fanfic that has only received 9 reviews in only four years. It wasn't a very good fanfic. Still, I kept writing. Since then, I've posted 302 stories on fanfiction.net, some one-shots, some multi-chapters. As of April 22, 2012, I have received 7245 reviews on my combined stories. My best story (in my opinion), http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4929550/1/Going_Home has received 753 reviews on 28 chapters. It took me two years to complete, longer than my original novel (and has more words, too).
The story that this blog is about, http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7070864/1/Burn_Out_the_Sun began on a whim. It was my third True Blood fanfic, and I had just gotten into the swing of writing Sookie/Eric fics. I was re-watching the second season of True Blood, and had decided that killing Godric off was a really, really stupid idea. (It amazes me how TV shows and movies change so much in the transition from books, but they NEVER change when our favorite characters die!)
So, I did what I've done since I was five years old: I rewrote the story. In my fanfic, Burn Out the Sun, Godric didn't die. Eric didn't have to trick Sookie into drinking his blood - I threw that in, because it was one thing that always annoyed me about the Sookie Stackhouse realm; if vampires are so "allergic" to silver, to the point that it burns through their skin, how could they just work it out of their system? How is it that a tiny scrap of silver chain can completely immobilize a vampire, but silver bullets will just "work their way out"? Sorry, Charlaine Harris, but there's a flaw in that logic.
I digress. The point is, with a few minor changes, the story does a complete 180. And without the loss of Godric, the story focuses more on his relationship with Eric, and by extension, Sookie.
I started "Burn Out the Sun" June 10, 2011. In that time, I have written 34 chapters, and have received 968 reviews. I think I've only received 2 negative reviews on the story.
I don't believe that my writing is out-of-this-world, ground-breaking, phenomenal type stuff. I work hard to use proper spelling and grammar, I catch most of my typos (and growl in frustration when I see them), I try to keep the story as "in-character" as possible, while maintaining my own creative flow. I take pride in my writing.
Never, in my nearly four years on fanfiction.net, have I EVER received a review this amazing. This review was written by http://www.fanfiction.net/u/2336024/bloodyblond
When I read this review, I was alone in my room, and I was blushing down to my toes. I literally had to close my eyes and look away from the screen three times before I could read the whole thing. It was just too much.
Here it is:
"This story is bananas!
Normally when I see threesomes in the story description, I turn the other way with a ‘thanks, but no thanks.’ I’ll read the smuttiest smut any day, but for some reason, threesomes have just never meshed well with me and I can count on one hand how many I've read. I’m so insanely loyal to particular pairings, that to see another mashed in between them strikes up this strangely uncomfortable feeling of... betrayal? If that makes sense... or does it just make me sound utterly crazy? But after reading this story I’ve come to the realization that, perhaps, I just haven’t been reading the right ones, because this has been an absolutely amazing journey.
It’s a lot easier to be so accepting thanks to the way you’ve paced the sexual development of the Sookie/Eric/Godric relationship. You’ve set up and nurtured the Sookie/Eric relationship so wonderfully, that when Godric is added to the equation it feels like an entirely natural development... almost to the point where it would almost be wrong not to include him. I should just thank you for including him in the story in general. I became quite fond of his brief stint on TB and was absolutely devastated when they got rid of such an interesting character. I realize they probably did it to show the softer side of Eric and start setting up the potential Sookie/Eric goodness, but considering how well that turned out, it would have been better to just keep him alive... or undead I should say. Even more thanks are offered for the added depth you gave his character and the insight into the bond that him and Eric shared. Normally slash is not my thing, but the way you wrote it, I found myself agreeing with Sookie, they are beautiful together.
Your characterization of Sookie has caused near moments of hysterical relief, considering how frustrated I ended up with her character on the TB show (so much in fact with season 4 that I will no longer continue watching it.) Considering the show revolved completely around her, she was disappointingly unlikeable at times. The development of her character, more specifically her ‘fairyness’ and the Sookie/Eric relationship came off as a rushed, confused messed and sadly felt incredibly forced... was I the only one who found their sex scenes awkward...and after all that wait... :(
In regards to her ‘fairyness’, I’m really enjoying the unique approach you’ve given to it. The powers of her ‘mood ring’ lights are always a pleasure to read (I’m particularly fond of the one that allows her vampires to walk in the light. Just imagining that awed look of pleasure on their faces gives me the warmed fuzzies), as well as the fact that she seems to have such amazing control over them regardless of having no help. The growth of them, like the pace of her relationship with her vampires, feels like a natural, and more importantly, sensible development. I can easily believe she has these powers... even the vamp mind reading. Though I’m sure there have been other authors to do it, yours has actually been the first that I’ve read to have Sookie be able to do that and I’m really liking it. For some reason, in my mind, that shows how truly powerful she’s becoming.
Also, though only touched on briefly, I’m glad you made mention of the potential of Sookie being turned. Though some may consider it something not necessarily relevant to the story, this has always been something that has bothered me greatly, because so many authors seem to be completely against the idea of it because apparently it goes against Sookie’s character. But how can you truly believe that the bond between them is real and true when such an important factor is seemingly ignored? It just seems to me that it’d simply be: OK, you love me, but not enough to spend forever with me? Just to have an author mention it, whether they’re for it or not, can make a world of difference, at least for this reader and I really appreciate that you have it in your story... and I really hope something comes of it. :) I can definitely guarantee I am full on board with a VampSookie... and if I can’t have that, I’m more than willing to settle with a bond that simply ties her life to that of her vampires (to be honest, I’m actually a little more fond of that approach. It keeps Sookie alive and breathing and guarantees that her vamps don’t ever have to sink their fangs into someone else for sustenance.)
It’s not even finished yet, but all in all, this has been one of the most enjoyable and brilliantly written fanfics (not just in the TB verse) that I’ve ever had the pleasure of reading.
I eagerly await more, and once again extend thanks for changing my mind on the potential of threesomes. My willingness to seek out more like them in the future, opens up so many more stories that I may have overlooked in the past.
Keep up the awesomeness!"
Yeah. Wow.
It wasn't like this reviewer boasted on and on about my "mad skills as a writer". I've had reviewers tell me they're jealous of my writing, or tell me that I should write for the TV show that I'm doing fanfics for - I love those reviews, I don't mind admitting that they make me EXTREMELY giddy! I think the thing that I most loved about this review was how thorough it was. Normally when someone takes the time to write a lengthy, thorough review, they have SOMETHING negative to say about the story. I couldn't believe that this person didn't.
Burn Out the Sun had a lot of firsts in it for me. It was my first "threesome" pairing, it was my first multi-chapter vampire story, it was the first story I'd used a translator for - Caaro: http://www.fanfiction.net/u/1877146/ did me the huge favor of translating certain lines into Norgwegian - and as of now, it is the longest fan-fiction I've ever written. At 34 chapters, it's still "in progress".
Out of 7245 reviews, I've received maybe 12 negative reviews. 12 in almost four years. That's not too shabby. Still, it only takes one negative review for me to second guess my skills as a writer. Isn't it amazing how 1 negative critique can outshine 600 positive ones?
Today, I don't doubt my skills as a writer. Today, I'm still riding the high of this incredible review.
Thank you, bloodyblond. It's because of awesome reviews like this - because of readers who take the time to review a story that they enjoy - that I'm still writing fanfiction after four years! Love you!
Monday, February 20, 2012
Polar Bear Dip 2012
I don’t get cold.
I know, it sounds bizarre. Some people think it’s crazy, some people think it’s fascinating, some people think it’s a lie. (‘Cause making up some random, weird, body malfunction is what all the kids are doing, right?)
For as long as I can remember, I couldn’t feel cold. I’ve been walking around in tank tops and shorts since I was twelve. When I was a kid, I would shed my winter clothes as soon as I got out of view of my house, sweating under the suffocating pressure of a thick jacket, toque and gloves. (My mom would inevitably find out about it from various people in our community, I would get a spank, and the next day, I’d be doing the exact same thing again.) I don’t know why I can’t feel cold.
I’ve met two people, and have heard of one other person, who have the same “body malfunction”. One worked on a farm, and would do her chores at five o’clock in the morning in the dead of winter in her short-short pajamas and rain boots. One worked at Subway, and said she used to be like that, but she grew out of hers a few years after she turned eighteen. The third person I heard of through a college classmate, who was the first person to tell me that it was associated with some sort of medical condition.
I don’t know why I can’t feel cold, and a part of me doesn’t want to know. My body is what it is, it’s all I’ve ever known. I love being able to walk around in the winter in shorts and a tank top. It’s the only time I can wear a t-shirt or pants without sweating.
Our first Winter in Sylvan Lake, we heard about this thing called the Polar Dip. They cut a hole in the ice, stick a few firemen with “dry suits” in the water, and crowds gather around to watch a bunch of insane people jump into the freezing water.
Awesome, right?
So, we go down to the lake that first year with a Food Bank donation, so that I can jump into the water. Did they let me? No. You have to have pledges to jump into the water.
Suffice to say, I was annoyed. I put off doing the Polar Dip from then on out of sheer annoyance. I could just as easily take an ice-cold bath, so why bother? (Yeah, it’s not too hard for me to hold a grudge.)
Anyway, fast forward three years. We’ve just started a day home, and one of the dads has heard about the Polar Dip. He knows I don’t get cold, and wants a partner to jump in with. He asks me … and asks and asks and asks. One day while we’re bowling, he tells me that he’s registered us for the Polar Dip. I go from shocked, to frustrated, to grudgingly impressed, to finally acceptance.
“Fine, I’ll do it, but I’m not wearing a silly outfit,” I tell him. He turns to his wife and says, “She says she’ll do it, and she’ll wear a silly outfit!”
Sigh …
Anywhoo, half an hour later, he tells me that he’ll let me know when he gets us registered for the Polar Dip. … Yeah. Little bastard conned me into doing it. I am planning his demise ;)
Long-story-short, I get myself registered, pick up my pledge package, and start raising money. I only had about three days by the time we got it all sorted out, but I still managed to raise $191.75 for the Sylvan Lake library.
Our “Read Banned Books” month is coming up, so I figured I’d make my “costume” along those lines. My co-workers suggested I go as a book, but I am nowhere near that gifted in the fashion area. Instead, I bought a plain white t-shirt, and decorated it:
I had more than a little fun working on the shirt ;)
Three days before the jump, I caught the cold that my mom’s been battling since before Christmas. Sinus congestion, chest congestion, shortness of breath, sore throat, headache … not fun. But still, I was determined to follow through with the jump.
Twenty-two years old, and I had my very first experience with Buckley’s. I opened the bottle, and sniffed: “Oh my god, it smells like hair dye!”
“Just get it over with,” Mum says.
I shook it up, poured the required amount onto the spoon, and let it hover in front of my mouth. It still smelled like hair dye. Finally, I put in in my mouth. Swallowed as soon as possible. Waited. “That’s actually not so - oh my god! It burns!” The thing about Buckley’s? The aftertaste is SO MUCH WORSE!! It just doesn’t go away! But guess what? It’s the first time I’ve found an advertisement that held true: “it tastes awful, and it works.”
Yes. Yes it did.
The day of the jump, I was still congested, but nowhere near as badly as I would have been if I hadn’t self-medicated.
The safety meeting was fun, albeit a bit stressful due to the late arrival of my partner. My awesome niece came with us, and as the only kiddo there, got to help hand out trinkets to the jumpers, and as a reward, got her own “I Survived the Sylvan Lake 2012 Polar Bear Dip” t-shirt … the smallest size is a dress on her, and she loved it. Auntie Corrie will be writing “Ice Ice Baby” and “Ice Ice Baby Jr.” on our matching t-shirts.
So, after much waiting and clapping and anticipation, we finally bussed down to the lake. It amazes me how many people walk in front of traffic, and then get pissed when they get a horn blown at them. We were actually flipped off by a grown woman, for blowing the horn at her so she wouldn’t get run over. Classy, huh?
Anywhoo, we made it into the heated tent (and by heated, I mean hotter than a f--king sauna! None of us could stay in there!), and waited eagerly to jump into the water. Dallas and I were 24th down the list, so I expect there to be a long wait until it was our turn. We had two hours to jump, so I figured it’d be at least an hour and a half before we got our turn. Wrong. It took just over thirteen minutes before our turn was up.
The announcer had a good time reading off my bio card, putting emphasis on the “apparently she doesn’t get cold”, and had equal fun mocking Dallas’s Calgary Flames jersey ;)
Finally, FINALLY we got to jump in.
I don’t know what I was expecting. I was honestly hoping as cold as the water was, I would finally feel something … a shiver, a “burr” … anything. Instead, the first thing I noticed was the bottom of the lake - very squishy, very gross. Then I popped up, and had to blink the water out of my eyes to see; tried to look around for Dallas, but couldn’t see him. That’s when I tried to breath.
My heart froze. Could not breathe. It was insane! Wasn’t cold, wasn’t shivering, wasn’t desperate to get out of the water. I just could not breathe.
Took me three tries to get out of the water, and each time I tried to tell them I couldn’t breathe, and they just said, “grab the rope!” Well, sure … when I can suck in oxygen again, I’ll get right on that!
I did make it out of the water intact - despite my shorts trying to stay in the water! We got back into the tent, dried off, got our shoes on, all the while with big grins on our faces. We did it. We survived!
It was awesome. I would so do it again in a heartbeat - as soon as I actually get my heartbeat back on track! It was so worth it - at first, I just wanted to do it because it was cold and I thrive in the cold. Then I was mad that I had to raise money to do it, so I put off doing it for a long time. It took a kick in the butt and a twist of the arm to do it, but I’m glad I did. Raised almost 200 bucks for the library, and the free publicity we’ll get from the pictures and videos is priceless.
I know, it sounds bizarre. Some people think it’s crazy, some people think it’s fascinating, some people think it’s a lie. (‘Cause making up some random, weird, body malfunction is what all the kids are doing, right?)
For as long as I can remember, I couldn’t feel cold. I’ve been walking around in tank tops and shorts since I was twelve. When I was a kid, I would shed my winter clothes as soon as I got out of view of my house, sweating under the suffocating pressure of a thick jacket, toque and gloves. (My mom would inevitably find out about it from various people in our community, I would get a spank, and the next day, I’d be doing the exact same thing again.) I don’t know why I can’t feel cold.
I’ve met two people, and have heard of one other person, who have the same “body malfunction”. One worked on a farm, and would do her chores at five o’clock in the morning in the dead of winter in her short-short pajamas and rain boots. One worked at Subway, and said she used to be like that, but she grew out of hers a few years after she turned eighteen. The third person I heard of through a college classmate, who was the first person to tell me that it was associated with some sort of medical condition.
I don’t know why I can’t feel cold, and a part of me doesn’t want to know. My body is what it is, it’s all I’ve ever known. I love being able to walk around in the winter in shorts and a tank top. It’s the only time I can wear a t-shirt or pants without sweating.
Our first Winter in Sylvan Lake, we heard about this thing called the Polar Dip. They cut a hole in the ice, stick a few firemen with “dry suits” in the water, and crowds gather around to watch a bunch of insane people jump into the freezing water.
Awesome, right?
So, we go down to the lake that first year with a Food Bank donation, so that I can jump into the water. Did they let me? No. You have to have pledges to jump into the water.
Suffice to say, I was annoyed. I put off doing the Polar Dip from then on out of sheer annoyance. I could just as easily take an ice-cold bath, so why bother? (Yeah, it’s not too hard for me to hold a grudge.)
Anyway, fast forward three years. We’ve just started a day home, and one of the dads has heard about the Polar Dip. He knows I don’t get cold, and wants a partner to jump in with. He asks me … and asks and asks and asks. One day while we’re bowling, he tells me that he’s registered us for the Polar Dip. I go from shocked, to frustrated, to grudgingly impressed, to finally acceptance.
“Fine, I’ll do it, but I’m not wearing a silly outfit,” I tell him. He turns to his wife and says, “She says she’ll do it, and she’ll wear a silly outfit!”
Sigh …
Anywhoo, half an hour later, he tells me that he’ll let me know when he gets us registered for the Polar Dip. … Yeah. Little bastard conned me into doing it. I am planning his demise ;)
Long-story-short, I get myself registered, pick up my pledge package, and start raising money. I only had about three days by the time we got it all sorted out, but I still managed to raise $191.75 for the Sylvan Lake library.
Our “Read Banned Books” month is coming up, so I figured I’d make my “costume” along those lines. My co-workers suggested I go as a book, but I am nowhere near that gifted in the fashion area. Instead, I bought a plain white t-shirt, and decorated it:
I had more than a little fun working on the shirt ;)
Three days before the jump, I caught the cold that my mom’s been battling since before Christmas. Sinus congestion, chest congestion, shortness of breath, sore throat, headache … not fun. But still, I was determined to follow through with the jump.
Twenty-two years old, and I had my very first experience with Buckley’s. I opened the bottle, and sniffed: “Oh my god, it smells like hair dye!”
“Just get it over with,” Mum says.
I shook it up, poured the required amount onto the spoon, and let it hover in front of my mouth. It still smelled like hair dye. Finally, I put in in my mouth. Swallowed as soon as possible. Waited. “That’s actually not so - oh my god! It burns!” The thing about Buckley’s? The aftertaste is SO MUCH WORSE!! It just doesn’t go away! But guess what? It’s the first time I’ve found an advertisement that held true: “it tastes awful, and it works.”
Yes. Yes it did.
The day of the jump, I was still congested, but nowhere near as badly as I would have been if I hadn’t self-medicated.
The safety meeting was fun, albeit a bit stressful due to the late arrival of my partner. My awesome niece came with us, and as the only kiddo there, got to help hand out trinkets to the jumpers, and as a reward, got her own “I Survived the Sylvan Lake 2012 Polar Bear Dip” t-shirt … the smallest size is a dress on her, and she loved it. Auntie Corrie will be writing “Ice Ice Baby” and “Ice Ice Baby Jr.” on our matching t-shirts.
So, after much waiting and clapping and anticipation, we finally bussed down to the lake. It amazes me how many people walk in front of traffic, and then get pissed when they get a horn blown at them. We were actually flipped off by a grown woman, for blowing the horn at her so she wouldn’t get run over. Classy, huh?
Anywhoo, we made it into the heated tent (and by heated, I mean hotter than a f--king sauna! None of us could stay in there!), and waited eagerly to jump into the water. Dallas and I were 24th down the list, so I expect there to be a long wait until it was our turn. We had two hours to jump, so I figured it’d be at least an hour and a half before we got our turn. Wrong. It took just over thirteen minutes before our turn was up.
The announcer had a good time reading off my bio card, putting emphasis on the “apparently she doesn’t get cold”, and had equal fun mocking Dallas’s Calgary Flames jersey ;)
Finally, FINALLY we got to jump in.
I don’t know what I was expecting. I was honestly hoping as cold as the water was, I would finally feel something … a shiver, a “burr” … anything. Instead, the first thing I noticed was the bottom of the lake - very squishy, very gross. Then I popped up, and had to blink the water out of my eyes to see; tried to look around for Dallas, but couldn’t see him. That’s when I tried to breath.
My heart froze. Could not breathe. It was insane! Wasn’t cold, wasn’t shivering, wasn’t desperate to get out of the water. I just could not breathe.
Took me three tries to get out of the water, and each time I tried to tell them I couldn’t breathe, and they just said, “grab the rope!” Well, sure … when I can suck in oxygen again, I’ll get right on that!
I did make it out of the water intact - despite my shorts trying to stay in the water! We got back into the tent, dried off, got our shoes on, all the while with big grins on our faces. We did it. We survived!
It was awesome. I would so do it again in a heartbeat - as soon as I actually get my heartbeat back on track! It was so worth it - at first, I just wanted to do it because it was cold and I thrive in the cold. Then I was mad that I had to raise money to do it, so I put off doing it for a long time. It took a kick in the butt and a twist of the arm to do it, but I’m glad I did. Raised almost 200 bucks for the library, and the free publicity we’ll get from the pictures and videos is priceless.
Saturday, February 18, 2012
It's the Hard-Knock Life
I was going to blog today about my experience at the Polar Dip, but that's been moved to the back-burner for now. After one too many thoughtless comments made on Facebook, I decided to address this the way I oh-so-love-to: through a blog. Enjoy.
"You wanna start a battle of who has the harder life? Let's do it."
I’m up at 4:00 am every morning to deliver newspapers to nearly 200 people in Sylvan Lake. If I’m lucky, I get an hour of sleep after that before I have to go to work at the library (my second job). Then there’s the Thursday evenings that are devoted to delivering two separate newspapers (my third job) to almost 150 Sylvan Lake locals. I get two scheduled days off from the library per week, which doesn’t really count as a break, seeing as how my mother and I have started a day home (my fourth job), so whenever I’m not working at the library, I’m helping to look after 6 kids between the ages of 7 months and 9 years. Couple that with the extra time I put in to fundraise for the library, protest for animal rights, spend time with my family and friends (real face-time, not just posting random crap on Facebook), write and edit any of the four novels I’m currently working on, and maybe get an hour or two at the end of the day to eat and watch something on my laptop - not on my TV, because it’s so old that it’s got lines running through it, and the DVD player rejects more discs than it plays. I can’t afford to replace either of those, or even buy a bed that would help correct my back problems, because for the last five months I’ve been paying for rent, utilities, and groceries, while barely managing to replenish the worn and tattered remains of my wardrobe, so that I don’t get fired for wearing swim trunks and cleavage-bearing tank tops to work.
To calculate, I usually get about 4-5 hours of sleep a night. If I'm lucky, I get about 4 hours in the day to myself. The other 15 hours are spent working at one of my 4 jobs. Multiply 15 hours/day with 7 days/week, and you get 105 hours - that's my work week. Don't even try to lecture me on a 40-hour work week. If I really try and I'm REALLY lucky, some weeks I go down to 90-95 hours. Life is hard - boo-fucking-hoo.
I value those who are important to me. I make time for those who are important to me. While I acknowledge the benefits of Facebook as a social networking tool (not as the free therapy, harassment-ridden soap opera that it has become), I don’t bank the entirety of my social life on it. When I want to connect with someone, I make the time to see them in person, I take the initiative to plan social interactions, and I spend the money that such outings will require. I don’t bitch about the hassle, whine about how no one ever spends time with me, or make up bullshit scandals about former friends because I’m feeling bored, neglected, or underappreciated. When I want a social life outside of the craziness that is my reality, I make it happen.
Am I bitchy? Yeah. To quote Lady Gaga, “I was born this way”. I don’t mean this in a wannabe rebel way, I mean it quite literally. I was diagnosed with ADHD when I was three, a disorder than has a 50/50 chance of being passed on to children of those with ADHD (diagnosed or undiagnosed). I’m the 1 in that 1-in-2 chance. I have always been loud and aggressive, easily fixated, and highly expressive. I am also extremely possessive, and extremely protective. If you are an underdog, I will defend you until I am blue in the face - then I’ll take a hit of my asthma inhaler, take a deep breath, and keep on going. If you are causing harm to someone who is an important part of my life, then I will come at you with everything that I have - and that is not limited to my fists. I am proud of my ability to carry on an intelligent debate. I am proud of my quick wit and sarcastic tone. I am proud of my ability to articulate myself, both verbally as well as in written form. I am proud of my command of the English language. I am proud of my intelligence, as well as my ability to admit when I’m wrong.
I also have the gift of maturity. I know when to be vague (such as now - notice that I'm not spreading your name and specific issues all over blogspot/Facebook), and when to come out and say who did what to who, and when they did it. I know when to keep private things private, and when to scream it out at the top of my lungs. I know that true friendship is a hell of a lot more important than a stupid bicker-war over Facebook.
You want to know one more thing about me (Which at this point, if you’re still reading, I have to assume you must)? I know that I do not work harder than everyone else in the world. I know that I don’t have the hardest life, or the worst luck, or the most damaging childhood/parents/experiences. I know when to admit I’ve caught a break, and how to recognize those who are still in need of a break.
Every day I see homeless people come into the library, wearing the same clothes they’ve been wearing all winter, smelling of garbage, urine, cigarette smoke, alcohol, human and animal feces, sweat, and in some cases, skunk. I feel sympathy for the mentally unstable people who roam around Sylvan, who somehow find the courage to talk to people, when they know people would rather not have to look at them. To look at them, to speak to them, means acknowledging their existence. It means admitting that someone else has it harder than you. I feel pity when I see impoverished people digging through garbage cans for beer bottles and soda cans, on the faintest of hopes that they can scrounge up enough to afford a meal for the day, or even just a hot cup of coffee.
I look at them, and know that my life could be monumentally harder. That doesn’t mean my life is easy. That means I know just how hard I have to work to keep the things that are important to me. My dog is important to me; his needs will always come before mine. My mother is important to me; her needs will ALWAYS come before mine. My family is important to me, my friends are important to me, and I will defend them until I am blue in the face … and then that old asthma inhaler comes back out, and we’re full circle.
Bottom line - I will not be silenced. I will be loud, I will be honest, and above all, I’ll think before I speak (or in this case, type).
"You wanna start a battle of who has the harder life? Let's do it."
I’m up at 4:00 am every morning to deliver newspapers to nearly 200 people in Sylvan Lake. If I’m lucky, I get an hour of sleep after that before I have to go to work at the library (my second job). Then there’s the Thursday evenings that are devoted to delivering two separate newspapers (my third job) to almost 150 Sylvan Lake locals. I get two scheduled days off from the library per week, which doesn’t really count as a break, seeing as how my mother and I have started a day home (my fourth job), so whenever I’m not working at the library, I’m helping to look after 6 kids between the ages of 7 months and 9 years. Couple that with the extra time I put in to fundraise for the library, protest for animal rights, spend time with my family and friends (real face-time, not just posting random crap on Facebook), write and edit any of the four novels I’m currently working on, and maybe get an hour or two at the end of the day to eat and watch something on my laptop - not on my TV, because it’s so old that it’s got lines running through it, and the DVD player rejects more discs than it plays. I can’t afford to replace either of those, or even buy a bed that would help correct my back problems, because for the last five months I’ve been paying for rent, utilities, and groceries, while barely managing to replenish the worn and tattered remains of my wardrobe, so that I don’t get fired for wearing swim trunks and cleavage-bearing tank tops to work.
To calculate, I usually get about 4-5 hours of sleep a night. If I'm lucky, I get about 4 hours in the day to myself. The other 15 hours are spent working at one of my 4 jobs. Multiply 15 hours/day with 7 days/week, and you get 105 hours - that's my work week. Don't even try to lecture me on a 40-hour work week. If I really try and I'm REALLY lucky, some weeks I go down to 90-95 hours. Life is hard - boo-fucking-hoo.
I value those who are important to me. I make time for those who are important to me. While I acknowledge the benefits of Facebook as a social networking tool (not as the free therapy, harassment-ridden soap opera that it has become), I don’t bank the entirety of my social life on it. When I want to connect with someone, I make the time to see them in person, I take the initiative to plan social interactions, and I spend the money that such outings will require. I don’t bitch about the hassle, whine about how no one ever spends time with me, or make up bullshit scandals about former friends because I’m feeling bored, neglected, or underappreciated. When I want a social life outside of the craziness that is my reality, I make it happen.
Am I bitchy? Yeah. To quote Lady Gaga, “I was born this way”. I don’t mean this in a wannabe rebel way, I mean it quite literally. I was diagnosed with ADHD when I was three, a disorder than has a 50/50 chance of being passed on to children of those with ADHD (diagnosed or undiagnosed). I’m the 1 in that 1-in-2 chance. I have always been loud and aggressive, easily fixated, and highly expressive. I am also extremely possessive, and extremely protective. If you are an underdog, I will defend you until I am blue in the face - then I’ll take a hit of my asthma inhaler, take a deep breath, and keep on going. If you are causing harm to someone who is an important part of my life, then I will come at you with everything that I have - and that is not limited to my fists. I am proud of my ability to carry on an intelligent debate. I am proud of my quick wit and sarcastic tone. I am proud of my ability to articulate myself, both verbally as well as in written form. I am proud of my command of the English language. I am proud of my intelligence, as well as my ability to admit when I’m wrong.
I also have the gift of maturity. I know when to be vague (such as now - notice that I'm not spreading your name and specific issues all over blogspot/Facebook), and when to come out and say who did what to who, and when they did it. I know when to keep private things private, and when to scream it out at the top of my lungs. I know that true friendship is a hell of a lot more important than a stupid bicker-war over Facebook.
You want to know one more thing about me (Which at this point, if you’re still reading, I have to assume you must)? I know that I do not work harder than everyone else in the world. I know that I don’t have the hardest life, or the worst luck, or the most damaging childhood/parents/experiences. I know when to admit I’ve caught a break, and how to recognize those who are still in need of a break.
Every day I see homeless people come into the library, wearing the same clothes they’ve been wearing all winter, smelling of garbage, urine, cigarette smoke, alcohol, human and animal feces, sweat, and in some cases, skunk. I feel sympathy for the mentally unstable people who roam around Sylvan, who somehow find the courage to talk to people, when they know people would rather not have to look at them. To look at them, to speak to them, means acknowledging their existence. It means admitting that someone else has it harder than you. I feel pity when I see impoverished people digging through garbage cans for beer bottles and soda cans, on the faintest of hopes that they can scrounge up enough to afford a meal for the day, or even just a hot cup of coffee.
I look at them, and know that my life could be monumentally harder. That doesn’t mean my life is easy. That means I know just how hard I have to work to keep the things that are important to me. My dog is important to me; his needs will always come before mine. My mother is important to me; her needs will ALWAYS come before mine. My family is important to me, my friends are important to me, and I will defend them until I am blue in the face … and then that old asthma inhaler comes back out, and we’re full circle.
Bottom line - I will not be silenced. I will be loud, I will be honest, and above all, I’ll think before I speak (or in this case, type).
Saturday, January 14, 2012
The Theatre Experience
Part 1: I Will Speak My Mind.
Part 2: Why Toddlers and Theatres Don’t Mesh:
In the midst of letting go of my hate, and by extension, some of my anger, I thought I would make a few things clear.
“Letting go of my hate” does not mean I’ve suddenly turned into a soft-spoken, curled-up, terrified, little worm. When I have something to say, I’m gonna damn well say it.
1: When I call ahead to inform you of the time I will be arriving, I expect you to be prepared. When I am informed that you will be “ready to go” when I arrive, I expect that to be the case. When I arrive to see you barefoot and playing video games, do not expect me to be right as rain. When I remind you of the time, and the aforementioned arrangements, I expect not to get told to “chill”. When I adjust my mode of transportation so that I don’t miss my pre-arranged meeting, I expect you not to act like a spoiled, immature brat. When you tell me to get out of your house, don’t expect me back anytime soon.
2: When I - along with a dozen other people - are walking up the stairs behind you, stopping in the middle of the steps to choose your seat, turn around, and push your way past is not acceptable. Be considerate, or you might find yourself tripping down a few of those stairs.
3: When a movie is advertised to begin at 7:40, twenty minutes of previews is a bit much. If the movie’s going to start at 8:00, advertise the correct time. I will complain, and I will not do it quietly.
4: When you are in a crowded theatre (children’s movie or otherwise), be respectful of the people around you. You are not the only ones there. When you bring your toddler into a movie theatre - insert separate rant here:
- 4.1: A theatre is dark, loud, packed with strangers. The screen fills up the entire front area, alternating between impossibly dark, and blindingly bright. People you don’t know are cramped in beside you, laughing at different intervals, lengths, and pitches. How exactly is this a comforting environment for a child? Women who bring their infants to adult movies ‘cause they couldn’t or wouldn’t find a sitter - you annoy me. Parents who bring their children to a theatre, and then let them roam free through the aisles, running and thumping and crashing and shouting and giggling and racing and crashing - you annoy me. Parents who expect children to sit quietly through a movie, and then do nothing when they chat and whine and cry - you annoy me.
FYI, obnoxious Spanish lady who sat behind me chatting with your husband, your son, and some friends/family who were at least two rows behind you, “Beauty and the Beast” is a children’s movie from MY generation. There were more adults than children at that movie, because they could actually appreciate it. It’s a classic. You wanna take your kid to a movie? Take him to a matinee, where the theatre is less crowded, the lights aren’t as dim, and he isn't babbling to keep himself awake. Or better yet, buy the damn movie and watch it at home, so you don’t ruin it for the rest of us. I WILL tell you to shut up when I can hear your rude babbling over “Tale As Old As Time”.
4 continued: Ahem, getting back on track: When you bring your toddler into a movie theatre, be prepared to quiet him when he talks loudly AND repetitively. Do not just say “yeah”, and continue to watch the movie. Clearly, you were there for you, not for him. When people around you are going “sshhh!” that’s your cue to stop talking, not talk louder. When you bring your child into a crowded theatre, and he doesn’t stop talking, be prepared to take him out. We did not pay $50.00 to listen to you converse back and forth in another language.
When I go to a movie, I go to watch the movie. If someone is talking, I tell them to be quiet. If they bicker and bitch at me, I’ll give it right back. Guess what? Not only am I louder, I’m also not afraid to go get an usher to boot your ass out of the theatre. Nor am I afraid to stick my hand in your face to cut you off, or tell you how shitty a parent you’re being by submitting your child to such an ordeal.
Do I hate these people for nearly ruining a wonderful, magical, expensive evening for me? No. Hate is too strong - it takes up too much space. Would I mind if they’d been pushed … ahem, fallen down the stairs? Not particularly. Would they be more attractive with my popcorn dumped in their hair? Probably. Am I going to let them ruin “Beauty and the Beast” for me? No. Why? Because they’re not worth it. A punch in the face, sure … but not worth ruining the best, the first, the one that started it all.
Beauty and the Beast, you were spectacular. And yes, I kept my 3D glasses, ‘cause let’s face it … they look pretty awesome.
Part 2: Why Toddlers and Theatres Don’t Mesh:
In the midst of letting go of my hate, and by extension, some of my anger, I thought I would make a few things clear.
“Letting go of my hate” does not mean I’ve suddenly turned into a soft-spoken, curled-up, terrified, little worm. When I have something to say, I’m gonna damn well say it.
1: When I call ahead to inform you of the time I will be arriving, I expect you to be prepared. When I am informed that you will be “ready to go” when I arrive, I expect that to be the case. When I arrive to see you barefoot and playing video games, do not expect me to be right as rain. When I remind you of the time, and the aforementioned arrangements, I expect not to get told to “chill”. When I adjust my mode of transportation so that I don’t miss my pre-arranged meeting, I expect you not to act like a spoiled, immature brat. When you tell me to get out of your house, don’t expect me back anytime soon.
2: When I - along with a dozen other people - are walking up the stairs behind you, stopping in the middle of the steps to choose your seat, turn around, and push your way past is not acceptable. Be considerate, or you might find yourself tripping down a few of those stairs.
3: When a movie is advertised to begin at 7:40, twenty minutes of previews is a bit much. If the movie’s going to start at 8:00, advertise the correct time. I will complain, and I will not do it quietly.
4: When you are in a crowded theatre (children’s movie or otherwise), be respectful of the people around you. You are not the only ones there. When you bring your toddler into a movie theatre - insert separate rant here:
- 4.1: A theatre is dark, loud, packed with strangers. The screen fills up the entire front area, alternating between impossibly dark, and blindingly bright. People you don’t know are cramped in beside you, laughing at different intervals, lengths, and pitches. How exactly is this a comforting environment for a child? Women who bring their infants to adult movies ‘cause they couldn’t or wouldn’t find a sitter - you annoy me. Parents who bring their children to a theatre, and then let them roam free through the aisles, running and thumping and crashing and shouting and giggling and racing and crashing - you annoy me. Parents who expect children to sit quietly through a movie, and then do nothing when they chat and whine and cry - you annoy me.
FYI, obnoxious Spanish lady who sat behind me chatting with your husband, your son, and some friends/family who were at least two rows behind you, “Beauty and the Beast” is a children’s movie from MY generation. There were more adults than children at that movie, because they could actually appreciate it. It’s a classic. You wanna take your kid to a movie? Take him to a matinee, where the theatre is less crowded, the lights aren’t as dim, and he isn't babbling to keep himself awake. Or better yet, buy the damn movie and watch it at home, so you don’t ruin it for the rest of us. I WILL tell you to shut up when I can hear your rude babbling over “Tale As Old As Time”.
4 continued: Ahem, getting back on track: When you bring your toddler into a movie theatre, be prepared to quiet him when he talks loudly AND repetitively. Do not just say “yeah”, and continue to watch the movie. Clearly, you were there for you, not for him. When people around you are going “sshhh!” that’s your cue to stop talking, not talk louder. When you bring your child into a crowded theatre, and he doesn’t stop talking, be prepared to take him out. We did not pay $50.00 to listen to you converse back and forth in another language.
When I go to a movie, I go to watch the movie. If someone is talking, I tell them to be quiet. If they bicker and bitch at me, I’ll give it right back. Guess what? Not only am I louder, I’m also not afraid to go get an usher to boot your ass out of the theatre. Nor am I afraid to stick my hand in your face to cut you off, or tell you how shitty a parent you’re being by submitting your child to such an ordeal.
Do I hate these people for nearly ruining a wonderful, magical, expensive evening for me? No. Hate is too strong - it takes up too much space. Would I mind if they’d been pushed … ahem, fallen down the stairs? Not particularly. Would they be more attractive with my popcorn dumped in their hair? Probably. Am I going to let them ruin “Beauty and the Beast” for me? No. Why? Because they’re not worth it. A punch in the face, sure … but not worth ruining the best, the first, the one that started it all.
Beauty and the Beast, you were spectacular. And yes, I kept my 3D glasses, ‘cause let’s face it … they look pretty awesome.
Friday, January 13, 2012
Beauty and the Beast 2012
Beauty and the Beast - or, how things are finally starting to turn around.
As mature as I am, I will always be young at heart. I will always giggle like a little girl when something is really funny, Goofy will always be my favorite Disney character, "The Fox and the Hound" will always make me smile, and I will always remember my very first movie.
Things have been touch-and-go for a while … just about five months, now. We’ve been stressed, shocked, annoyed, frustrated, hurt, disgusted, angry, spiteful, and just about defeated. Time was, my mother didn’t know the meaning of the word “quit”, but she’s finally thrown in the towel with Josh. He’s hurt us enough, it’s time to move on.
And so, we have. I’ve been working at the same wonderful job for the past 4.5 months, mum has been running her own day home - successfully - for about 2 months now. We’ve been delivering papers in the evenings, and now have our own early morning Red Deer Advocate route. (Getting up at 4 o’clock in the morning? Not so hard. Not going back to sleep as soon as we get home because I work in 3 hours? A tad hard.) But, for an extra 1000 bucks a month, it’s well worth it. No more scraping together money to get by each month. No more working 28 hours a week to see maybe 50 bucks of my paycheck. No more having to deal with the incredible bullshit that is Children’s Services. We’re moving on.
We were watching Bones last night, and a commercial came on for Beauty and the Beast - in theaters. I despise 3D, but for Beauty and the Beast? … Yeah, I’ll tolerate it. It’s coming to theatres tomorrow. I’m off work at 5 … I’m going to see the 7:40 showing.
Why do I get to see this? Today is payday. I don’t have to wait two months to get paid from Children’s services for Child Care. I don’t have to count on them for anything anymore. I have an awesome job that pays well, and I finally get to start spending my money on me. (After paying utilities and buying groceries, of course ;)
Beauty and the Beast was my very first movie. My mum bought it for me, and I watched it so many times that to preserve her sanity, she bought me and new one. And so on, and so on. Today, my room is flooded with bookshelves full of movies. Movies are my passion. I love action, drama, romance, thriller, animated, war, historical … the list goes on. I could happily spend a week just sitting in my room, watching hours upon hours of movies. “My Name is Khan” is my favorite movie, “Rent” is my favorite musical, “The Fox and the Hound” is my favorite kids movie … but “Beauty and the Beast” will always be the best, the first, the one that started it all.
And it’s coming to theaters. You bet your ass, I’m gonna be there.
As mature as I am, I will always be young at heart. I will always giggle like a little girl when something is really funny, Goofy will always be my favorite Disney character, "The Fox and the Hound" will always make me smile, and I will always remember my very first movie.
Things have been touch-and-go for a while … just about five months, now. We’ve been stressed, shocked, annoyed, frustrated, hurt, disgusted, angry, spiteful, and just about defeated. Time was, my mother didn’t know the meaning of the word “quit”, but she’s finally thrown in the towel with Josh. He’s hurt us enough, it’s time to move on.
And so, we have. I’ve been working at the same wonderful job for the past 4.5 months, mum has been running her own day home - successfully - for about 2 months now. We’ve been delivering papers in the evenings, and now have our own early morning Red Deer Advocate route. (Getting up at 4 o’clock in the morning? Not so hard. Not going back to sleep as soon as we get home because I work in 3 hours? A tad hard.) But, for an extra 1000 bucks a month, it’s well worth it. No more scraping together money to get by each month. No more working 28 hours a week to see maybe 50 bucks of my paycheck. No more having to deal with the incredible bullshit that is Children’s Services. We’re moving on.
We were watching Bones last night, and a commercial came on for Beauty and the Beast - in theaters. I despise 3D, but for Beauty and the Beast? … Yeah, I’ll tolerate it. It’s coming to theatres tomorrow. I’m off work at 5 … I’m going to see the 7:40 showing.
Why do I get to see this? Today is payday. I don’t have to wait two months to get paid from Children’s services for Child Care. I don’t have to count on them for anything anymore. I have an awesome job that pays well, and I finally get to start spending my money on me. (After paying utilities and buying groceries, of course ;)
Beauty and the Beast was my very first movie. My mum bought it for me, and I watched it so many times that to preserve her sanity, she bought me and new one. And so on, and so on. Today, my room is flooded with bookshelves full of movies. Movies are my passion. I love action, drama, romance, thriller, animated, war, historical … the list goes on. I could happily spend a week just sitting in my room, watching hours upon hours of movies. “My Name is Khan” is my favorite movie, “Rent” is my favorite musical, “The Fox and the Hound” is my favorite kids movie … but “Beauty and the Beast” will always be the best, the first, the one that started it all.
And it’s coming to theaters. You bet your ass, I’m gonna be there.
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Letting Go Of My Hate
This is not something that has ever been easy for me to do. Sure, I’m a pushover when it comes to apologies - I could hate someone to the point where I’m meticulously planning their murder, but if they so much as murmur out a quiet sorry, I’m goo in their hands. This doesn’t mean that I forget. Forgive, yes … temporarily. At least until the next time they do something to piss me off, and then I just add their latest indiscretion to the tally.
I have an amazing memory. I can recall conversations that took place in high school like they just happened a minute ago. I can quote lines from movies I’ve seen once a decade ago, and recite entire pages from my favorite books. There are very few things that I forget. Hate is not one of them.
I have always been an angry child. Angry at classmates, angry at teachers, angry at opponents, friends, family members, etc. It doesn’t take much to get on my bad side.
But, I’m trying to change all that. This is where people usually say “life is too short to fill it with hate” … I’m a big believer that life is not short. There is nothing you can do that is longer than life. Life is long … sometimes agonizingly so. I don’t want to spend every minute of every day hating people for stupid things.
So, I’m letting go. No more grudges. No more petty arguments or catty comments. No more rejoicing over ex-friends gaining weight while I’m losing it. No more nitpicking, no more looking for the tiniest little flaw to sink my claws into. I’m done.
I had this epiphany while looking at an ex-friend’s pictures online. I was cruising through news feeds, and one thing led to another. I happened upon a rather “questionable” picture, and seconds after reading the caption, snickered out a scathing remark. Ten o’clock at night, in my room alone, I was mocking this picture as though the subject within it could hear me. I don’t want to spend my life like that … would you?
So, I’m done. I’m letting go of my hate. And now, to cleanse:
Heather: I've edited this from the original draft, as I realized I hadn't really let go then. I've spent a lot of time going over our friendship, and where things went wrong. I've said for a long time that it was because you didn't believe in me, but that's just an excuse. The problem is, we're just too much alike. Both stubborn, both passionate, both relentless in our beliefs. You decided what you wanted to believe about me, and I was too stubborn to do anything other than hate you for it. At the end of the day, it doesn't matter who said what. I can look back on what we used to have, and still smile at the memories ... I guess that's all that matters.
James: I’m done hating you. Really, I haven’t actively hated you for about three years, but I figured I should give you an “honorable mention”. I’ve outgrown my juvenile attachment to you, and am better for it. I’ve overcome the feelings that I once had for you, but I’m not sorry about them. You showed me exactly the kind of guy I don’t want in my life. I’m done hating you for leading me on, I’m done hating you for toying with my emotions. I hope that one day, you can do more with you life than play being straight, and work Connections at Walmart.
Walmart (AKA, Store Manager Lee): I’m done hating you for forcing me to quit because I was sick. I’m done hating you for wasting twenty months of my life on you. I’m done resenting you for letting the “regular” sized clothing overrun the Women’s Plus (k, maybe a little resentment left over - they’re tiny, they don’t need THAT MUCH space!). Ahem, I digress. In short, I’m putting your part in my life behind me. I’ve finally found a job that I LOVE, and I know now that you never really stood a chance with me … no one can be expected to give their all to a job that they despise. Fortunately, I don’t have to fake a smile in my workplace anymore.
Dad: … I want to say I’m done hating you. Most of me is, but part of me will always hate you for forgetting my name, for forgetting how old I am, and for treating my family like shit. Part of me will always hate you, for all the years that I spent loving you, not knowing the real you. I’m going to work hard at not hating you. I don’t want to be miserable … I don’t want to spend my life despising you for being you. You’re never going to change, so I have to. I’m done.
Josh: You proved the saying, “there’s a fine line between love and hate”. You are my brother, and I will always love you … and I’m trying not to hate you for what you’ve done to my mother. You will never be “whole” … your biological mother ruined that chance for you. I hope that one day, you’ll be able to look back on everything that you’ve done, and feel some modicum of remorse for it. I hope that you’ll let go of all your hate and anger for what your biological mother did to you, and realize that there are better ways of channeling your anger. Most of all, I hope that you stay far, far away from us … it’s easier not to hate you if I don’t have to see you.
The list could go on and on … I’m done hating Tauni for picking on me in elementary school; I’m done hating Mark for … well, everything that little shit did; I’m done hating Jackie our first landlord for screwing us out of our house in Innisfail; I’m done hating Byron for screwing my Mum over, I’m done hating Gaetes for not accepting his responsibilities as a landlord. Etc, etc, etc.
So much hate. Too much. No one should live like that. I’m done. I’m done bottling it all up, waiting for it to explode. I feel better.
You should try it, too.
I have an amazing memory. I can recall conversations that took place in high school like they just happened a minute ago. I can quote lines from movies I’ve seen once a decade ago, and recite entire pages from my favorite books. There are very few things that I forget. Hate is not one of them.
I have always been an angry child. Angry at classmates, angry at teachers, angry at opponents, friends, family members, etc. It doesn’t take much to get on my bad side.
But, I’m trying to change all that. This is where people usually say “life is too short to fill it with hate” … I’m a big believer that life is not short. There is nothing you can do that is longer than life. Life is long … sometimes agonizingly so. I don’t want to spend every minute of every day hating people for stupid things.
So, I’m letting go. No more grudges. No more petty arguments or catty comments. No more rejoicing over ex-friends gaining weight while I’m losing it. No more nitpicking, no more looking for the tiniest little flaw to sink my claws into. I’m done.
I had this epiphany while looking at an ex-friend’s pictures online. I was cruising through news feeds, and one thing led to another. I happened upon a rather “questionable” picture, and seconds after reading the caption, snickered out a scathing remark. Ten o’clock at night, in my room alone, I was mocking this picture as though the subject within it could hear me. I don’t want to spend my life like that … would you?
So, I’m done. I’m letting go of my hate. And now, to cleanse:
Heather: I've edited this from the original draft, as I realized I hadn't really let go then. I've spent a lot of time going over our friendship, and where things went wrong. I've said for a long time that it was because you didn't believe in me, but that's just an excuse. The problem is, we're just too much alike. Both stubborn, both passionate, both relentless in our beliefs. You decided what you wanted to believe about me, and I was too stubborn to do anything other than hate you for it. At the end of the day, it doesn't matter who said what. I can look back on what we used to have, and still smile at the memories ... I guess that's all that matters.
James: I’m done hating you. Really, I haven’t actively hated you for about three years, but I figured I should give you an “honorable mention”. I’ve outgrown my juvenile attachment to you, and am better for it. I’ve overcome the feelings that I once had for you, but I’m not sorry about them. You showed me exactly the kind of guy I don’t want in my life. I’m done hating you for leading me on, I’m done hating you for toying with my emotions. I hope that one day, you can do more with you life than play being straight, and work Connections at Walmart.
Walmart (AKA, Store Manager Lee): I’m done hating you for forcing me to quit because I was sick. I’m done hating you for wasting twenty months of my life on you. I’m done resenting you for letting the “regular” sized clothing overrun the Women’s Plus (k, maybe a little resentment left over - they’re tiny, they don’t need THAT MUCH space!). Ahem, I digress. In short, I’m putting your part in my life behind me. I’ve finally found a job that I LOVE, and I know now that you never really stood a chance with me … no one can be expected to give their all to a job that they despise. Fortunately, I don’t have to fake a smile in my workplace anymore.
Dad: … I want to say I’m done hating you. Most of me is, but part of me will always hate you for forgetting my name, for forgetting how old I am, and for treating my family like shit. Part of me will always hate you, for all the years that I spent loving you, not knowing the real you. I’m going to work hard at not hating you. I don’t want to be miserable … I don’t want to spend my life despising you for being you. You’re never going to change, so I have to. I’m done.
Josh: You proved the saying, “there’s a fine line between love and hate”. You are my brother, and I will always love you … and I’m trying not to hate you for what you’ve done to my mother. You will never be “whole” … your biological mother ruined that chance for you. I hope that one day, you’ll be able to look back on everything that you’ve done, and feel some modicum of remorse for it. I hope that you’ll let go of all your hate and anger for what your biological mother did to you, and realize that there are better ways of channeling your anger. Most of all, I hope that you stay far, far away from us … it’s easier not to hate you if I don’t have to see you.
The list could go on and on … I’m done hating Tauni for picking on me in elementary school; I’m done hating Mark for … well, everything that little shit did; I’m done hating Jackie our first landlord for screwing us out of our house in Innisfail; I’m done hating Byron for screwing my Mum over, I’m done hating Gaetes for not accepting his responsibilities as a landlord. Etc, etc, etc.
So much hate. Too much. No one should live like that. I’m done. I’m done bottling it all up, waiting for it to explode. I feel better.
You should try it, too.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
My Anti-Resolutions
2011 was, quite frankly, a shitty year. It sucked ass. And the sad part is, three out of the four quarters of the year were good. One might even say great.
We sent our Foster kids to live with their “Forever Mommy and Daddy”, welcomed two new girls into the family, and went camping in our home town (oh, how I miss Brooks) for the first time in three years. I had a wonderful third practicum, started volunteering at the women’s shelter, and then got hired at my local library - can you say dream job?
I watched and was disappointed in the last Harry Potter film, discovered True Blood, and through Charlaine Harris’s wonderful Sookie Stackhouse books, rediscovered my love of Vampire love stories. (Sorry, Twilight, but I'm not a teeny-bopper anymore, I just can't take you seriously). I hit the 300 mark for my published fan-fictions, and won 1st Place for one of them through Energize W.I.P. Awards. I discovered the Hunger Games trilogy, and loved it all the way up until the end (die Peeta, die!!!).
All of these little things made 2011 good, but one action from Joshua, my adopted little shit of a brother, made the year a complete and utter catastrophe.
I’m not going to go off on a long rant about how he fucked us over (yes, there is harsh language in this post, sorry if it offends). I’m not going to rant and rage over the ridiculousness of the Foster Care system, or the inconsiderate, two-faced, vindictive assholes at Children’s Services. Nope, not this time ;)
It’s a new year, and I am going to do my best to move on. That being said, here are my anti-resolutions.
Why, you may ask, am I making anti-resolutions, as opposed to resolutions, which are the norm with the New Year tradition? The simple answer is that resolutions are just a flashy way of listing all the things you aren’t going to do. How many people honestly stick to their New Year’s Resolutions year-round? Not many. It’s kind of like dieting - it only works while you do it, but once you stop, you’re back to square one.
So, these are my 2012 anti-resolutions:
1) I will not let Josh’s cruel, sadistic actions stop me and my mother from enjoying life.
2) I will not use Facebook as free therapy, or a place to flaunt my drama for the world to see (I don’t normally do this anyway, but I thought I’d put this out there for certain people to consider - you know who you are, quit lying to yourself).
3) I will not let my dog go another three months without a bath (If you have a hairy dog, you know it’s not pleasant).
4) I will not let games like Solitaire and Mahjong distract me from finishing my novels (may have to implement aversion therapy to get this one to stick).
5) I will not let it bother me when my father calls me three days after my birthday and forgets how old I am. (Well, it might bother me, but I won’t let it ruin my night again.)
6) I will not go another year without paying off my late fees at the Red Deer Downtown Library (finally sent back my movies that were about 4 years overdue).
7) I will not pass up a work-free day to take my dog for a walk.
8) I will not spend half of my paycheck on movies (especially now that I can request most of them through the library).
9) I will not let my room get as messy as it currently is. (Spring cleaning a little early this year, I think.)
10) Finally, I will not snicker madly when I see ex-friends stuck in dead-end jobs that will slowly drive them insane (this will quite possibly be the hardest of my anti-resolutions … I’m a little vindictive myself.)
Will I stick to them? Hopefully. The point is? These aren’t just things that I’m going to try and stick to for one year, and then pat myself on the back when I’ve achieved them. These are changes that I want to make in my life for good, not just for now.
How about you?
We sent our Foster kids to live with their “Forever Mommy and Daddy”, welcomed two new girls into the family, and went camping in our home town (oh, how I miss Brooks) for the first time in three years. I had a wonderful third practicum, started volunteering at the women’s shelter, and then got hired at my local library - can you say dream job?
I watched and was disappointed in the last Harry Potter film, discovered True Blood, and through Charlaine Harris’s wonderful Sookie Stackhouse books, rediscovered my love of Vampire love stories. (Sorry, Twilight, but I'm not a teeny-bopper anymore, I just can't take you seriously). I hit the 300 mark for my published fan-fictions, and won 1st Place for one of them through Energize W.I.P. Awards. I discovered the Hunger Games trilogy, and loved it all the way up until the end (die Peeta, die!!!).
All of these little things made 2011 good, but one action from Joshua, my adopted little shit of a brother, made the year a complete and utter catastrophe.
I’m not going to go off on a long rant about how he fucked us over (yes, there is harsh language in this post, sorry if it offends). I’m not going to rant and rage over the ridiculousness of the Foster Care system, or the inconsiderate, two-faced, vindictive assholes at Children’s Services. Nope, not this time ;)
It’s a new year, and I am going to do my best to move on. That being said, here are my anti-resolutions.
Why, you may ask, am I making anti-resolutions, as opposed to resolutions, which are the norm with the New Year tradition? The simple answer is that resolutions are just a flashy way of listing all the things you aren’t going to do. How many people honestly stick to their New Year’s Resolutions year-round? Not many. It’s kind of like dieting - it only works while you do it, but once you stop, you’re back to square one.
So, these are my 2012 anti-resolutions:
1) I will not let Josh’s cruel, sadistic actions stop me and my mother from enjoying life.
2) I will not use Facebook as free therapy, or a place to flaunt my drama for the world to see (I don’t normally do this anyway, but I thought I’d put this out there for certain people to consider - you know who you are, quit lying to yourself).
3) I will not let my dog go another three months without a bath (If you have a hairy dog, you know it’s not pleasant).
4) I will not let games like Solitaire and Mahjong distract me from finishing my novels (may have to implement aversion therapy to get this one to stick).
5) I will not let it bother me when my father calls me three days after my birthday and forgets how old I am. (Well, it might bother me, but I won’t let it ruin my night again.)
6) I will not go another year without paying off my late fees at the Red Deer Downtown Library (finally sent back my movies that were about 4 years overdue).
7) I will not pass up a work-free day to take my dog for a walk.
8) I will not spend half of my paycheck on movies (especially now that I can request most of them through the library).
9) I will not let my room get as messy as it currently is. (Spring cleaning a little early this year, I think.)
10) Finally, I will not snicker madly when I see ex-friends stuck in dead-end jobs that will slowly drive them insane (this will quite possibly be the hardest of my anti-resolutions … I’m a little vindictive myself.)
Will I stick to them? Hopefully. The point is? These aren’t just things that I’m going to try and stick to for one year, and then pat myself on the back when I’ve achieved them. These are changes that I want to make in my life for good, not just for now.
How about you?
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