ｻ Why CanCon Does Not Really Blow Goats (at least when it comes to music) (part one)
I recommend the link if you're Canadian, if you like music, if you're Mark (hi Mark!) or if you just think that Gayleen Froese deserves to be read (and you borrowed my copy of her novel and haven't returned it, Melle).
Sincerely, check her out - she writes good stuff.
I'm back from Canada and despite many murderous attempts by the weather, I'm in one piece. My computer, however, is not - it's missing the n key. *sigh* (It's also missing the right-hand shift key, but that doesn't count because I don't use it.)
It's nice being greated with squeals of joy and words like "Don't leave again! Don't go to Australia!" whenever I go away, but I wish that they wouldn't follow up with "Australia has snakes!" Everyone tells me Aus has snakes. I feel like responding with "Hey, I didn't play D&D all those years without learning a little something about managing fear", but the reference would be lost on too many people.
But c'mon! no one mentions the scary spiders, or the roving bands of sting rays, or anything about the socio-political structure there and how it may drive me nuts. It's always the snakes.
Makes me want to watch Snakes on a Plane again except with my eyes open this time.
Speaking of which, Snakes on a Plane references seem to either make flight attendants giggle or go right over their heads.
It was a very long flight home. Hell, it was a very long trip, mostly because I seemed to spend every waking moment doing something, which is fairly par for the course when one goes home for a visit, especially if one manages to not do this very often. I still didn't manage to fit in seeing everyone I was supposed to, let alone the people I wanted to see but never got a chance to.
I took not nearly enough photos, and didn't get a single one of Edmonton at night. *sigh*
I'm glad to be home.
But I think actual snakes on the plane may have made the trip across the water a bit more interesting....
Let me tell you a story. One with photos and everything. It will be fun! Let's call this story "The Little Airplane that Could".
Little background to the story: As I've mentioned previously, I hate to fly. But, my parents love me, and decided it would be best if I took a plane from Nanaimo to Vancouver's International Airport, before boarding a flight to Kelowna. Because my parents love me and want to spoil me, and know that long bus rides are many things, but mostly tedious and boring. They love me! Love! Love lots! Thus they put me on a plane! Yeah! *shudder*
See this plane? Isn't it small? See the man dragging the plane all by himself?
That plane is bigger than the plane I flew across to Vancouver. It's a 15 minute flight, depending on the wind. Sometimes it's longer, and sometimes it's shorter. Because of wind. Because when you're in a nice little airplane, one that could fall out of the sky with ease, the wind makes a *big* different.
Did I mention that I hate to fly?
This is the plane I actually got on. See the plane? See the pilot? Wow, what a small little plane. And it was just me, and the pilot, and my 18 kilograms of luggage. And my purse.
He was a very nice pilot. The safety instructions were very short and to the point. He explained how to open the doors in a crash, and that there was a lifejacket right underneath me. Isn't that great? Yay, lifejacket! Which is good, because did I mention the plane was small and could crash?
These are my tiny little feet in the tiny little plane. Guess what? I got to sit where the co-pilot would! There were levers and buttons and things to push, and a phone! Isn't that great? I could totally have made a wrong move and we would have plummeted into the ocean, or flown to Seattle or something! Isn't that great? Yay for tiny little planes with tiny little people on them!
(I do have tiny little feet - dear god, no wonder I'm clumsy.)
Then the tiny little plane took off. It doesn't need a lot of water to do that - we didn't even get as far as the ferry, and the ferry is pretty close to where the planes take off. They do several trips a day between the island (where my parents live) and Vancouver. I'm impressed, really, that that many people do the trip by plane instead of by ferry. But the ferry is damned expensive, and the plane will take you straight to the airport. So I can see it, I guess, but still. It's *tiny*. And scary.
There were room for two other people in the plane, but there wasn't anyone but me and the pilot.
So, we take this short run up to the sky, and I'm holding onto myself for dear life, convinced that if I grab the wrong thing, the plane will crash. But the take-off was remarkably smooth, and there was none of that sudden vertigo I tend to get during them. Just this woosh as we went up into the air. I grabbed on to the bottom of my seat, and then looked out....
The view was amazing.
I got up there and thought for a bit: Wow... this is so much nicer than flying commercial planes. You can see out the window, and see all these amazing things. It's loud, but it's not nearly as bad as it could be. I know, I'll get my pilot's license when I can, and then save up and buy a little plane like this, and fly around the world. I'll just land whenever I want, and see all sorts of nifty places. Free as a bird!
Then we landed.
I don't land well.
The plane did not crash, and all was safe, and I even made my flight to Kelowna with 15 minutes to spare before boarding closed, but I was a wreck. Flying = bad! Landing = bad! No more little planes! None none none! Not even with great views of the area! None!
And that's the story of the Little Airplane that Could.
There are some photos of the view... these are the ones that aren't blurry because I was shaking too hard.
(Note: No snakes were harmed in the writing of this entry, as they were not allowed on the plane.)
(With very odd values of "amusing")
This is totally my own fault.
I emailed my mom the details for when I'd be getting in to Vancouver, or so I thought. I hadn't looked at the email from the airline, though, and didn't realise that the only information on it was when I was *leaving*. My poor mother ended up in the airport for several hours waiting for me, and when I arrived (after 11), it was too late to get the last ferry back to the Island. There I am, praying for nothing more than a shower and clean clothes, and my 61-year-old mother says "Oh, yeah, we'll be sleeping in the car in the lineup for the ferry!"
We weren't the only ones - we could have had a party, had I been awake enough to enjoy it.
I bugged Tom for days before the wedding that if he flubbed up his wedding vows, it would mean the marriage would be cursed. (Damn am I lucky that Tom loves me.) This may be because every other wedding I go to, someone mixes up the vows. And because I am mean.
So, the wedding is happening, and yes, someone did flub up the vows - the Justice of the Peace.
I wore a corset to the wedding (it's like armor, in a way), and had help getting laced into it.
I failed to remember until I got back to the hostel that I didn't have anyone to help me get out of it.
Asking random French-Canadian boys to unlace you is an excerise in ... fun! Yes, fun!
Trying to be helpful, I bought the groom and best man a drink before we left for the wedding. Two bottles of coke. I carried them both together, handed them both to them at the same time.
Tom's burst open, spraying coke everywhere. Clay's was fine.
I think it may have been nerves.
The bride was so beautiful that when the groom stood up to do his toast, he looked at her and forgot all the words.
I've been really busy this week, because all the really cool people were apparently born in July. It's been a great week, although incredibly hot, and coming right on the heels of the trip to Canada, I've been too tired to think straight. But content. Very content. I've got people coming over tonight to formally celebrate the death of my youth, with friends from Canada having contributed recordings to be played as people eulogise me. It may not been a surprise trip to Bali, but it'll do. *smile*
My trip to Canada (just BC - some people thought I'd breezed through Alberta and not called them. I felt so bad!) has left me in a bit of a state. It was little things that kept calling to me - like sitting in the hotel lobbey and having country music playing in the background. I love country music, and I listen to it a lot at home, but there's something nice about just catching a familiar song out of all the noise. I don't get that much here.
I had drinks I grew up around (my mom bought a whole bottle of Rye for me on the last night I was with her, and then we each only had one glass. (I bought myself a little bottle to take home, and someone drank a bunch of it at the wedding. And it wasn't the groom. Or the bride.), and lots and lots of steak. Everything in Canada smells different than it does here. And in Canada, right now, I'm the distant traveller, whereas in the UK I'm considered poorly travelled, having only been to France and China. It was nice.
A lot of things were nice.
But it really was a frustrating trip, with this constant sense of waiting to get back to Edinburgh. I was so impatient in the Gatwick Airport that I started singing songs (Canadians ones, naturally) to pass the time, bouncing on my heels as though sheer force of will could make the plane land faster so I could get on it. Finally getting to the city, and I felt this rush of relief. I was home.
I know it sounds silly, since I keep coming back to this point, but I was actually afraid I'd get back to Canada, have some Timbits, and never want to leave again. I love my friends, and I miss them a lot. But really.... they should just come here more.
So, as I said before, my friend Scarecrow is up for a job at Sonic. Now he's got a chance at the Wildcard Slot, but only if he has votes for it. Voting doesn't actually take place until October 14.
So, check out Mark's Vote For Mark website.
Here's something else you can do if you're in Edmonton (from Mark):
Right now, I'm also seriously considering having a "Vote for Mark" rally in the Sonic parking lot, on Saturday the 15th, right in the middle of voting. Of course, I won't do that unless I can get about 20 people out to it...you know, make a good showing for the TV cameras. So, if you think you can grab a couple of friends and meet me in the Sonic parking lot next Saturday...that'll be a go.
If you're interested, please let him know, through his blog or emailing him at mark@chaosinabox.com.
Vote Mark! Yay Mark!
My very dear friend, Mark Cappis, is up for a job at Sonic 102.9!
Mark, aka The Scarecrow, was voted Primitive Radio God at Augustana, which is where we met. While there, he hosted Chaos in a Box, his excellent weekly radio show, and found in himself a passion for all things radio related. After spending a year in Japan teaching English, he came back to Edmonton, went to NAIT for a year, and got his Radio Personality Something or other. (Because, although I adore him, I can't for the life of me remember what his degree is in. Because I *suck*.)
And now, he's up for a covetted newscaster job at Sonic!
Why am I telling you this? Because, according to their website, they are letting listeners pick a Wildcard Spot for one of their finalists in the news divison. And I want YOU to listen to Mark, encourage him, and vote for him when the time arises! (And, if you can, pimp it on your own blog/website, because votes can come in from anywhere, and you can listen to it all online, and because frankly, Scarecrow rocks and you should be reading his stuff anyway.)
Mark talks about the radio spots he recorded for this here, and you can listen to his "spot", although it's a slow load on my computer. (It's an mp3 file.)
I'm sure Mark will blog about the whole experience. (Yes, Mark, that's a hint.) His day on the radio (if you're in Edmonton) is the morning of Wednesday, October 5. Listen to him, tell him he's wonderful, and when the chance comes up (which is later in the month): Vote Scarecrow!
Attention Friends of Don M.
Although normally a very clever man, Don is less than able when it comes to the intarweb.
I pointed out to him several weeks ago that his email account still had a reply to: field that lead to an email address that he cancelled at the beginning of June. He meant to fix this, and apparently failed.
If anyone out there has replied to an email of Don's without changing the email address in the reply to: field, he hasn't gotten it. He's not just ignoring you, he probably thinks you're ignoring him. (Okay, not anymore, because I just reminded him *again* that he hasn't changed it, and this time he swears he has. Really.)
IOW: Don is not being a jerk, he's just having troubles with his email.
(Raven, could I trouble you to post something similar on your blog? You know more of Don's friends than I do, and I'd feel bad if they thought he didn't care.)
I have had a really good couple of weeks. I've been out for beer and lengthy conversation with Barry, had a yummy lunch with Kristi, got my nails done with Mel, had dinner at Joe's place with Crash, Linette, Kristi and Linda, had dinner with Raven (where we talked... and talked... and talked... *grin*), went out to see the Leg grounds with Scarecrow, played DDR (twice!) with Kris, and had a bunch of fun people over yesterday for bread and movies. Not that we watched any of the movies, but the intent was there. *grin*
In a few short hours, me and Rip will be winging our way to Vancouver. I'll spend a couple of days with my parents, a few days with Jenn, and a couple of days with Tom. Then, next Sunday, I'll be on the plane to Scotland. I managed to get my luggage to about 1 kilo over the weight limit, and I think I'll just cope with the 7$ charge. As the Worst Packrat Ever (please understand, I had been carrying some of this junk around since early high school), I'm very proud of getting everything I'm bringing down to just over 20 kgs.
I'm kinda anxious about this, but at hte same time... damn, I'm so excited! I'm gonna live in Scotland! *squee*
I probably won't post while I'm in Vancouver.
I guess I don't need to be getting the weather report for Edmonton anymore, eh?
Take care, everyone, I'll let you know when I hit Glasgow!
Today is Random Day.
Number of times I've walked with a male friend down Whyte Ave this week: 4
Number of times we've been stopped by a panhandler and told what a beautiful couple we make: 3
Number of these men I've been dating: 0
British money is funny looking. The smaller denomonations (did I spell that right?) are smaller bills, too. Holly thinks they look like play money.
I got my nails done on Tuesday with my friend Mel, and now I can't type properly. But they sure do look purty.
I managed to schedule myself to be in three different places today. I suck.
If I were just moving across country, or even across town, I would be doing great. I think I have less than a small u-haul worth of stuff left to deal with. Unfortunately, I am moving across the planet, and I can only bring something like 25kgs with me. This is causing my no end of problems, but on the other hand, I have a lot less stuff. And I will admit, I'm a lot happier because of it.
But... even after getting rid of something close to a ton of books (boxes and boxes and boxes of them have already gone, and I have four or five still kicking around), I still have a whole packed bookshelf to decide what I'm taking, and what is being given away. *sigh*
Still alive, still kicking, and looking forward to my weekend.
But the little things? God, they make me want to scream and bang someone else's head against a wall. Repeatedly.
Mostly, it's the bus. I'm convinced, totally, that the buses will be nice and pleasant in Scotland, or I'll know the reason why! I have gotten to the point where I can't stop grinding my teeth every minute I'm on the bus. It's hugely annoying and very childish and I really want to stop. Nothing is that big a deal, the people on the bus are not out to get me personally, damn it, but it feels like that. Like everyone I deal with should just know I haven't been sleeping or eating much lately, and should treat me like I'm a fragile and delicate flower ALL THE FUCKING TIME.
Yeah, I know. I'm six. Or four. Or something. Gah.
I wish I could get upset about the big things, but I seem to be taking them in stride.
Of course, it's kinda interesting how things are falling out. See, I really really wanted a laptop. I fell in love with Don's little portable Mac thingy. I want to be able to play Dungeon Keeper on the plane ride, or find wireless connections in random places. And, you know, I just wanted a computer so that I could have a computer. I'm not sure I could live a computerless life. But, the laptop I coveted was very expensive, and Don pointed out that I might be able to afford it, depending on the cost of the plane ticket. So, in a rush to prove that I can, at the age of... 28? 27? However old I am... I could buy a plane ticket all by myself, I walked into the nearest travel agent and asked for their best prices from Vancouver to Glasgow.
And found a flight for the time period I want for 150$. Canadian.
Hell, it's costing me 109$ plus tax to get to freaking Vancouver!
So, the Finalized (for real) this time plan is that I fly to Vancouver Monday afternoon, then fly out of Vancouver Sunday night. Really really late Sunday night. I'll arrive in Glasgow Monday evening, have booked a hostel for the night, and have a first class train ticket to Edinburg already paid for. The whole trip, Edmonton-Vancouver-Glasgow-Edinburg is only 450$, which is less than I exected to pay for the trip just to Glasgow. Oh, and that includes the cost of traveller's insurance for the first month of my stay.
Both Don and Margery have decided that this means the trip is meant to be, and that I should stop fretting so much about it. Obviously some power or another has decided I need to go live in Scotland. Very very soon.
So, it's shaping up to be a hectic week (although both people I was supposed to hang out with today had to cancel on me. Ah well, I'll see them tomorrow instead.). A few days ago I saw one friend who really drove it home for me that this is it. It's possible that everyone I say goodbye to this week, I may never see again. I know that sounds melodramatic, and it's true that I have full intententions of coming back for visits (and weddings, god, why is everyone I know getting married?), but who knows what will happen? Will people be gone? Will I just never really get the chance? Talking to my friend, it all felt so final, and it's finally coming to me that this is the Big Choice Thing that people make. This is looking at my life, realizing I'm very unhappy, and refusing to continue to live this way.
All joking aside, I don't think living in Scotland is going to be all roses and kitkats. But it's going to be a chance for me to make difference choices, to stop living in a rut where I'm not satisfied with anything, not work, not my social life, not my home. Maybe I'll hate Edinburg, but it'll be a new place to hate, if that makes any sense.
(Not that I hate Edmonton, I find it a beautiful place, but god, I'm so bored.)
I don't know, I have more I want to say about this, but I can't really gather my thoughts into coherency, and I really really just want to write about how my new laptop is the best thing ever, especially once I turned the modem on. I can't keep focused on much right now, so I guess I'll just end this with the comment that I'm very excited and happy and scared and anxious and worried and counting the minutes until I touch down on Scotish soil and can start claiming that all Canadians wear lobsters on their heads and just... this is going to be such a great experience, I already know it. Even if I hate every minute of it and it rains the whole time and I end up working at McHaggis or something, this is going to be a great choice, and I can't wait.
But I'll probably never stop missing Edmonton and that sense that this might, maybe, have been home, if things had turned out a bit differently. Not sure if I'll ever find another place with the sort of people I found here.
Don't look back.
Still in shock. (stop)
Leaving June 13th. (stop)
Oh my, this means I only have 10 days to do everything I want to do, and see everyone I want to see.
Okay. So, who wants to go shopping with me? I need to buy pants. A laptop. But mostly pants.
Instead, I'll just respond to a bunch of comments that I've been too lazy to actually email people in response to. I kinda suck that way.
In no particular order:
Laura: If you promise that you'll get Tall Man dressed up as nice as he was at that one Untitled game, with the top hat and everything, I would fly back from Scotland to see it.
Star: The only mandarin I remember may be less than helpful. Does Aria need to know how to say "I'm not American, I'm Canadian!" and "I have no money"? Cuz I can do that. I can also teach her how to sing "Brother John" in Mandarin. It's a song about tigers, though. One has no ears and one has no tail. It's very strange.
Wally: I really don't have ten minutes to rub together... but I could find it if the right man asked... *wink*
Raven: Oh, I don't think you'd want to be my wife anyway. There are so many shineys in my house you'd forget to crack the whip. Speaking of which, I found my whip. (Or is it Kristi's whip? I can't remember.)
Ben: Oh my, I didn't notice your comment till now. I suck. I have a whip, someone must crack it so I remember to email you. When I have more than ten minutes to rub together. See earlier comment.
Crash: Yes, yes, sending off the paperwork and getting everything ready is the point, but gah! Gah! GAH!!!
Gail: I'm getting to Scotland by plane. The question has been how I'm getting my cat to my parents' place, as the quarantine stuff in the UK is insane, and my cat would go nuts. He is, in fact, the devil in a tidy cat suit. (I did look at going over by boat, since I hate flying, but that's not economically viable.)
*thinks* Was there anything else? Nothing I can really think of....
Oh, yes. In unrelated news, my Visa arrived today.
Anyway, lately I've been having really strange days. I'll have days where I think everything in the grand city of Edmonton is wonderful. The weather is pleasant, the people are nice, there is some gorgeous eye candy on Whyte Ave (Dear Goth Boy with the black lipstick: I am moving to far far away soon, and could possible die. You wouldn't want me to die without being your special friend, would you? You can reach me any time, day or night, at anna@annaoverseas.com. Trust me. Hugs and kisses forever and ever, or at least until the next pretty goth boy walks by, Anna.), and I fall in love with the River Valley. Those are the days I can't remember why I want to leave.
Then there's the other days.
On the other days, I clench my jaw and close my eyes and mutter over and over in my head that everything in Scotland is going to be SO MUCH BETTER than it is here, and the weather will always be perfect and it will never ever ever be too hot, and the coffee will be excellent and the buses will not only run on time but never be overcrowded and I will never be bored at work or have to work with people who drive me nuts and all the role players will be PERFECTLY WELL ADJUSTED DAMN IT.
I don't really like those days.
Lately, I have been almost completely unable to sleep. I'll be awake for something like 30 hours, and still not feel tired. Friends have taken to trying to bribe me to sleep. "Okay, just close your eyes for 15 minutes, and if you're still awake when I come back, we'll go out and play DDR or something to get some of that energy off. But just try sleeping, 0kay?" "But... but... I'm not tired." Then, I close my eyes for 15 minutes and the next thing I know it's 10 hours later and I'm still not tired.
I don't eat much lately either. I just don't seem to register hungry or tired or much of anything except timetimetimetimetimetime. It's driving me a bit more nuts than I thought it would.
Oh, yeah. And remember that plan? The plan I was so fond of because I had a plan and plans are just wonderful and perfect and I had one and yay? Yeah, plan's changed. No new plan, just old plan didn't work anymore. *sigh*
So, no, I have no idea now what's going. I'm alive, I'm trying to get everything done, and I think I'll be able to pull it off....
Or, you know, I'll find some nice goth boy to distract me so I don't have to worry about it anymore. (He was really tall, too. mmmmm..... tall goth boy.....)
I've been a bit stressed, is it showing?
There is a plan, of course. The plan has changed three times in the past 12 hours, but there is currently something shaping up to be a plan.
The nice people from the women's shelter are coming over later today to pick up all of my good furniture. Kris is coming on the weekend with a posse and at least one pickup truck, if not two, to get the rest of his stuff finally out of my apartment. (For those following along at home, Kris moved out in early January. Yes, it will be June before he gets his stuff out. I know, I have no leg to stand on, there was still stuff of mine at Barry's for about a year after I moved out, but Barry wasn't planning an international move at any point.) I am planning on flying out to BC for about a week, leaving on ... whatever day next Tuesday is. But that's up in the air because I want to find tickets for no more than 119$ one way, and I don't really have a deadline in place to get there. The cat will go to BC with my parents. I don't plan on spending much more than a week in BC, simply beause I am feeling that constant pressure of TIME TIME TIME on my head. By the time I get back from BC, my paperwork should all be in order. (This is assuming I get the visa. I can't imagine any reason why I wouldn't, short of them not accepting a letter from the bank regarding my current financial status. Which would suck, since it was 98$ to apply for the damned thing, and I'd have to reapply and pay another 98$.) Then, I buy my ticket, pack what's left of my things, and flee the country like the hounds of hell are following me.
Somewhere in that mess I need to see a bunch of people, give away some things that need to be given away, take a trip to the Goodwill Store and WINhouse to drop off some donations, and return even more things to various friends of mine that I have belongings off.
Wheeeeeeeee!
*gah* I know I have two more paycheques coming in, that I have 15 impossible things to do before breakfast, that I have a million things I'm forgetting I need to do, that I will be able to fill up all of my time in a productive and meaningful way.
But, damn it, I have no job! Gah!
In unrelated news, I am still playing with the new url. I had to contact customer support to fix the things I broke, though. Note to self: Read the Fucking Manual.
Now don wants to know if he's Rip, and he thinks I am the one who is drunk? Boys are dumb.
Duties will include: Making several important phone calls during daylight hours, ensuring that I eat, and reminding me that coming home at 7:30 a.m. and playing Dungeon Keeper for an hour and a half may be relaxing, but doesn't actually accomplish anything.
Please send applications to anna@annaoverseas.com. Or comment on this post, I suppose. Either or.
I considered looking for a compentent personal assistant instead, but Google talked me out of it. See, if you type "I want a wife" into Google, you get quite a few hits, mostly of an essay published in Ms. Magazine by that title. (If you read the article, I will just comment that I was that wife. Well, girlfriend. And I'm still really really bitter over it.) However, if you type "I want a competent assistant", you get singifigantly less hits.
I wrote out my to do list, the full one, for everything. I measured. It actually is longer than my arm.
I was complaining about this to a friend, who made the suggestion I hire Mel for the job, to which I had to reply, quite honestly, "No, I'd have to pay her what she's worth, and I can't afford that."
So, obviously, I am in need of a wife. At least for a week or two. Any takers?
{For those asking about the boyfriend application of earlier, I shall just say that I'm reviewing applications at this point in time, and shall apprise those who have met the proper criteria to pick a time for their interview. Which they can arrange with my wife. Hopefully.}
I'm not moved in there yet, the place is utter chaos and changing every couple of minutes while I play with it, but if you want to watch the trainwreck, the url is www.annaoverseas.com.
Oh. my. god.
I mention it because I went with my friend Scarecrow, and suddenly realized it was probably going to be the last movie the two of us saw together. Which is kinda appropriate for several reasons. The first movie we saw together was Episode I, when we stood in line for tickets, my CD player blasting the soundtrack that he had picked up earlier that day. We went with a huge group of friends, and it was the experience of seeing the movie, rather than the movie itself, that I enjoyed.
After that, we started meeting every so often to go see movies in the city. Mark is a huge movie person, follows them with a passion. He keeps me updated on projects that I might enjoy seeing, tells me what's going on in the latest Star Trek franchise, and generally doesn't let me only see "artsy fartsy" movies when I go to the theater. He's probably responsible for almost every movie I saw in a "main stream" theater over the past few years.
It's been the main part of our friendship, and something I'm really going to miss.
It's kinda beginning to hit now. There are people that I may never see again. I have life plans that will keep me out of Canada entirely for at least five years. I have been unwilling to plan beyond that, but I don't really see a future where I come back here to live. And people move on and change and do exciting things and have babies and live their lives, and things drift apart, and it's sad.
I'm eager for that future, that five year plan, but I can't help but look back right now on the people and places I'm leaving behind.
So, yeah. Thanks, Mark, for making me see Spiderman 2 in theaters, and I'm sorry I giggled through the entire wedding scene (but that dress was fugly, dude! How could you not?). And I'm really glad I didn't listen to my own instincts, and went with you to see Finding Nemo, cuz that was the first DVD I bought in China, it was so good. It's been a lot of fun. I'm kinda glad the Star Wars franchise seems to be ending here, because it wouldn't be the same seeing the next movie without you.
(If you want to know my thoughts about some issues in the movie, please read my live journal post. I'd love to get some responses to my thoughts there. But it has spoilers in it. And it's not a review.)
Bonus entry:
6. I will not find out I am Anna McCloud of the Clan McCloud, and I can never die. (And whomever I reveal this to will not suddenly want to have sex with me because of it.)
Damn, that's making Scotland seem a bit less appealing, all things considered.
In unrelated news: I am terribly ill. I won't bore you with the details. But it's been hard to care enough to either update my blog or answer my email. Sorry 'bout that.
Does anyone have any recommendations of "good" or actually good Scottish-based film? I'm going to have some spare time coming up, what with the whole not working for much longer thing. And heaven knows how well I handle inactivity.
(I recently had the thought that if I lived in the country, and thus had even less to do every day than I do now, I'd start howling at the moon, until the neighbours left politely worded notes that I was scaring the sheep.)
In unrelated news, I read a book yesterday that was the complete antithesis to Bridget Jones' Diary. It's called The Bride Stripped Bare, and it was the story of a 30-something woman who realizes she's restless and out of sorts about her life, and wants to do something to escape it. This is something I find a lot easier to understand than endless angsting. It's written in a very odd style: 2nd person, present tense, short entries like a diary. It's very engaging and thought provoking, and it's left me feeling a lot less alone in the world. The author said she chose to remain anonymous so she could write whatever she wanted, without fearing what would be said to her or her family. I want to recommend it, but I'm not sure how much anyone else would like it.
Anyway.
Countdown to last day at work: 13 days...
1. Horrible Bedside Manner
So, I'm with a friend of mine who needs to go to the hospital once a year and have his heart examined by really big machines. I guess I was invited as moral support, or perhaps just as a distraction, because I really wasn't much use as anything else. But, we're sitting waiting for the results, and the following conversation ensues:
Me: So, you've been coming here at least once a year since you were five?
Him: Yup.
Me: You've been living with the knowledge that at any point your heart could just burst open and kill you instantly since you were five?
Him: It's not the heart, it's the aorta. And yes, basically.
Me: So, how do they explain that to a five year old? "Well, kid, everyone dies some day, you're just gonna die a lot sooner."
Him: That's not quite how it went.
Me: What, did they explain that death is just a land of magical fairies and chocolate?
Him: I-- No, no, that's not it. As a note, I don't think you'd make a good doctor.
Me: Hey, I think it's a great idea!
Him: See previous comment.
So, yeah... perhaps not so much with the good parenting aspect.
2. Children need actual care.
Unlike my cat, who I can lock in the apartment, going home long enough to feed, water, and pet him on my weekends, I would actually have to take care of a child. My understanding is they need someone there all the time.
3. I like toys too much.
And anything that was purchased for the kid, I'd end up playing with. I have a collection of toys I have to get around to giving to the children of various friends of mine, that I got in China, but they're so darned cute! And yesterday I bought myself a stuff bee that for some reason I insist on wearing around my wrist and have named "Killer". I am so strange.
I've been advised I should also add "wanting to name my daughter Antigone" to the list, but I don't think that would make me a horrible parent, just an eccentric one.
In unrelated news, I gave my notice at work yesterday with a letter that went mostly like this:
Dear (boss man):
I quit.
Formal letter to follow.
See you tomorrow night.
Hugs and Kisses,
Anna
Okay, not quite, but I gave my last day as the 25th.
God, it's all happening so fast now.
It feels like making this choice, to live in Scotland, in Ireland, to go to live in as many places as I can, never staying too long, feels like some sort of rejection of so many things. Like a rejection of my mother, who at this age already had my brother, was trying so hard to have me. A rejection of the person I was a few short years ago, who could see nothing better in the world than having a home of my own, a white picket fence with a garden in the back, a couple of kids and a dog. It feels so much like deciding to do this is a rejecting of a lot of my friends here, friends I want to stay close with but at the same time I just don't understand how they don't feel this wanderlust, this need to see the world in a way that tourisim doesn't.
I still remember being so annoyed with the only tourist I really met in China, the one who stayed at only the highest class hotels, only hit the major tourist spots ("We were in Beijing yesterday, today we're going out to see the Terracotta Warriors, after that we're off to Hong Kong to do some shopping"), and insisted that my view of China was just wrong. That there must be other foriengers in Jiangyan. (There were, about a month later, but not at the time.) I don't want to see just what you can see in a quick jaunt through a country. I want to see what it is to live there, to get to the point where Canadian accents sound strange, and being on a bus full of people just like you seems far more overwhelming than the first busride in China ever could. I want to live like that, and somedays I don't understand why other people don't.
I talked to my mother about this a few days ago, and she told me that she couldn't help but be jealous. She wanted to do the same things I do, but it wasn't done when she was my age. She grew up in a small town in southern Manitoba, went to a one room school house for most of her public education, wore her jeans under her skirt to keep warm in the winter. Some days it feels like my mother and I have nothing in common, other days it feels like it's only a few years difference, that we could have been friends were we the same age.
I feel trapped by time right now. I'm giving in my notice at work, but I still don't have the 3000$. I should have it by Monday, but the idea of being trapped at that job an extra week makes me ill. As soon as I have the money, I get a letter from the bank, drop my application in the mail, and wait impatiently for 2 weeks for it to come back. In those two weeks, I finish off everything I need to do, visit my friends and family back in Vancouver, say good bye to everyone here, so I can purchase my plane ticket and be gone, and spend the rest of my life missing Edmonton in the spring, when the river valley is more beautiful than anything I've ever seen.
I was asked in an email from an old friend: "What is so wrong with Canada that you don't want to be here anymore?" I struggled with that, because some days I feel like this choice is a running away, a refusal to deal with life in the long term. And not too long after receiving that email, I went to see Pier 21, which is where so many people came to start their new lives in Canada, some dying with the need to get here, and I want to run away?
But it's not that.
Canada is beautiful, and I love it here. But it's easy to say your country is beautiful and wonderful if you've never experienced life anywhere else. I remember, still, thinking Manitoba was the most wonderful place in the world, until I fell in love with Alberta. It's easy to think some place or some person is perfect if you've never experience anywhere else. And I came back to Alberta after going to school in BC.
I want to see the world. I want to see it all. I want to touch the pyramids, walk along the Great Wall, go shopping in some out of the way place in Scotland, see the Parthenon with my own eyes. There are so many things in this world, and it's only miles and time that's keeping me from them. I can come back. Canada isn't going anywhere. And although I've been living with the knowledge that Edmonton isn't home anymore, that it hasn't been for some time, I know I can come back here, walk in the River Valley late at night and look up at the stars.
For me, at least, home only comes after a struggle, and I want to see where that struggle is going to take me.
Number of jokes I heard (per day) about pirates over the past week: 8
Percentage of these jokes that were some varation of the line "We just need to get you a parrot": 92
Heck, even my eye doctor said that to me.
The whole thing is, of course, incredibly funny. A lot of people figured I was just wearing the patch to be cute, but I just patiently explained to each one that I had been tuning my friend's harp and one of the string's broke and whapped me in the eye, leaving it damaged. Or I had a crossbow accident. Or I was running with scissors. I think my favorite was that I sent it away for cleaning, because one person went "Oh, I didn't know you had a glass eye!"
People are fun. *grin*
Anyway, the point is that I can look at a computer again without going cross eyed, so my life is a lot better. My glasses make me look like a librarian, which wasn't quite the look I was going for, but whatever. I can see, and they aren't terribly heavy.
Life, like people, is fun.
It's been a great week. I saw Hitchhiker's with Scarecrow and actually liked it. I also saw the Rocky Horror Picture Show with Crash and Linette and Don, and we had a great time people watching.
As for the whole eye patch thing, it goes like this: My right eye, the useless one, got an eye infection. I can see okay without the patch, as long as I don't intend to move my head in any way. By, say, walking. Or talking to people. So, it's good for watching movies. I grabbed an eye patch while I was out with Scarecrow (who tells me I'd look more sexy if it was white), carefully followed the directions, and now I look "sinister" according to a friend of mine.
Then I threw on a beret and became a sinister member of the French Resistance! A sinister scarred member of the French Resistance! With a mysterious past!
Right up until I hooked up with Crash, who informed me I look like a soap opera villian, determined to ruin his business so that I can buy it out from under him, and steal his woman.
I love Crash.
I am now wearing an eyepatch, and will be for the next little while at least.
"Oh! I have a clever idea! I'll get contacts! Tee hee hee!"
*sigh* Will post more when I get used to staring at a computer screen with only one eye.
{Edited to Add: Will take comments back off blog once a suitable application has been received.}
Which is really just an interesting opening for me to explain that lately I have loathed work, and am just dialing it in. I really feel that I'm losing my interest in the whole idea of working at this place anymore. Part of that is the whole "Going to Scotland and leaving this place behind forEVAR!", but a lot of that is just the sheer boredom and tedium of my job. I add things, then write the numbers down on a piece of paper. All night. Sometimes it's even the same number over and over again.
I just think the whole thing is part of a greater symptom, though. I'm alternately anxious about going to Scotland (which includes such gems coming from my mouth as "But... but... I don't speak like Scottish people, no one will understand me!) and counting down t