home again, home again, jiggity jig

I absolutely adore the mountains. And sunshine. I'm a little bit more freckled now, but my goggle tan has subsided a bit (thankfully!). Taking a snowboarding breather half way down the mountain, goggles on, backs warmed by the sun, was bliss. I needed it. I needed daily soaks in the hot tub and giggles until my face hurt. I needed to drink wine with my best friend in Calgary and take a break from school and from work; no obligations for just one week.
This is a baby. It consists of lemons, sugar and vodka. Seriously, that's all. It's deadly. We drank three of them. There were eight of us, so it was okay. We also curled it, you know, to mix it up Olympic style.

It was weird to come back to school work and laundry. I'm trying to push through this course and this year, but there are exciting things that I don't want to rush past too quickly (like vacations!). I recently found out that my convocation date has been pushed (pulled?) from November 2011 to June 2011, which means I'll have to complete my requirements, including my research paper, much more quickly. Don't get me wrong, convocating in Victoria, B.C. in June > than a rainy weekend in November, but it just seems like I'm spinning too fast.

heart-shaped

After my essay was completed, it was just the two of us.

In our home. With a make-shift antenna made from bunny ears, our broom, and duct tape. I swear my wine glass lacked fingerprints until the men's moguls. Maybe it was because we were on bottle number two and I have a fear of breaking the Riedel.

I'm thankful to live with my best friend. Someone who makes killer breakfast and pretends to watch Grey's Anatomy with me and the old roomie while we eat. Someone who tries to teach me guitar chords after he serenades me. Someone who keeps playing games with me, no matter how cranky I get when he [cheats] wins. Someone who suggests words games, even though he knows his chances of victory are slim (maybe that's why he suggests them, now that think about it). Someone who supports crack-pot ideas like getting my Masters. I'm glad we travel well together and get to explore new places. That we have the most wonderful friends that anyone could hope for. I'm glad for the soccer team that brought us together. That we both have such wonderful families and that we're taking time this year to travel to destinations other than their homes.

I'm glad that at the end of the day, everything else melts away and it's just the two of us.

Girltalk

"My therapist has put you in my web," she explained with a glass of wine in her hand. We were alternating handfuls from the giant bowl of popcorn in front of us, post-Grey's Anatomy. "She told me that I need some normal friends, and I said I have one -- you!" Her big smile always lifts my spirits.

We've been stuck together for almost four years; hard to believe. I rented a room from a boy I occassionally made out with, and she sublet from his sister. I had job applications out across the country, but somehow I ended up here and she followed. We've had our moments, as most roomates have, but she's one of those people that you just can't shake (and don't want to). She's fiercely loyal, gives her entire being to everyone she loves and everything she does, and she's got a great rack.

We went out dancing, pre-PJs, popcorn, and Grey's Anatomy. It felt like the old days in our new city, but the crowd was a bit creepier. I had to fight the urge to yell "Leggings are not pants!" and we contemplated whether the girl in the crochet dress was wearing lace panties, or if there was a word pasted across her behind. We tried out the latin beats and happily danced to some 90's hits before heading back to my place for a girly sleepover.

Weekends like this cement the importance of old friends. There was also a phone call from four of my highschool ladies that left my brain buzzing with memories and an exercise letting new friends move away -- but Calgary is only a short roadtrip away.

currently coveting

This camera bag from Ketti Handbags is incredible. I already have one cute camera bag, but this one is way cuter. Oh, to be able to stuff my camera in a protected bag like this instead of lugging it around shoved in my regular purse (terrible, I know). I just hate how I have to take a bag for gear and a bag for my wallet and miscellany; I could throw all of my things in here no problem!

victorious

[via lizzybethness on Flickr]

I feel six years old with loose leaf papers held tight in my hand, and knobby knees banging into one another as I sprint from the bus up the lane to the house. Out of breath from all that hard work, I merely raise my paper-filled fist in victory.

One small victory mind you, but it is my first A+ in graduate school. Days like this one remind me that the hundreds of pages I read each week and the thousands of words I type in response will all be worth it. I only have to soldier through until that stack of papers in my tiny fist is replaced with that one big sheet of paper in November 2011.

Oh, I love technology...

This weekend, the dishes were done in a timely manner, loads of laundry were completed, sheets changed, clothes put away. Obviously there's something wrong here. Oh right, procrastination is my best friend.

I spent much time huddled over articles and texts reading about computer-mediated communication and the command line, thanking my lucky stars I was born into a world where I don't have to write out notebooks full of code. This class is intense, but its intensity actually ensures that students read all of the materials that are piled high into our outreached, trembling arms. If you don't read and understand the material enough to write thousands of words about it, you'll probably cry yourself to sleep. Then, you'll fail.

In "In the beginning was the command line," Neal Stephensen, pompous fellow that he is, mentions that in the past writers have kept a skull on their desk as they write to remind them of their own mortality. He suggests that something should also serve as a reminder that technology, and how we interact with it now, may also be fleeting. I was reminded of this as the sad orange light blinked on our wireless router to show us that the modem wasn't allowing us to access the Internet. "HOW CAN THEY DO THIS TO US!" I cried out, on the verge of tears. "If I can't access the program for our very web-reliant course, I can't submit my essay and I will FAIL!" Drama.

Thankfully, B is more patient than I. After unplugging the modem for hours at a time (to punish it for what it has done?), we were finally given the green light. Literally. I'm thankful that I grew up with graphic user interfaces and operating systems. I remember trying to run things through DOS on our first home computer, and that was frustrating enough -- no way would I ever have the patience for the command line.

It's interesting to read about the humble beginnings of Netville. To think that once, this genius group of individuals was sheltered by the US military and academic institutions to share knowledge on the cutting-edge of technology as homeland security. When interest in the Internet grew, the values of technological advancement and sharing were overtaken by society's desire for entertainment and fluff. Oh, and marketing.

On another note: I started subscribing to This American Life's podcasts this weekend, and the National with Peter Mansbridge. I am now one happy little transit rider.

I've taken off more time than I should. I've taken time to reconnect in the offline world. I've knit B a hat and crocheted many granny squares. I've been visiting with old friends and rocking out. I've been on the phone and communicating via email with people I've missed; hopefully, I'll keep this up.

There are too many lovely people in my life that I don't want these friendships to slide. School is important, but so is my support network.

I need to make time to connect with people, crochet, bake cookies and beat B at Scrabble. Otherwise, it's not worth it.

Not that long ago, when someone hosted a party there would be jello shots and keg stands. Taxi numbers would be programmed into cell phones in advance or alternate sleeping arrangements would be made.

Now, we're getting to a point where parties consist of gathering around a newborn and oooh-ing and aaah-ing over a tiny dimpled cheek or miniature fingernails. "I hope I was allowed to bring beer to this party," says a friend as he sets down four cans of brew.

Talk turns to law school, masters programs, wedding plans and babies. New moms hover over the baby monitor, pushing buttons. "We're so exciting," one giggles.

Combating the winter blahs

As I mentioned in my last post, I was a disaster last week. I was stressed out and cried a lot and surprisingly, but coming to work on Friday actually made me feel better. I share an office with a girl who I absolutely love. She may have started out as a coworker, but she's become a real outside-of-work friend.

We've recently made our office a bit more homey and colourful. Our whole office, from the walls to the cabinets, is this terrible boring beige.

We hung silver and red balls of various shapes from the ceiling with various lenths of ribbon. Then we realized that from this one ball in the centre, we can see our whole office! People comment how it finally looks like Christmas in here, but we needed colour. And we'll add more colours as we come across them.

On Thursday, we were having a crap day at work. We went to the grocery store at lunch and purchased fancy cheese and crackers (best work pick-me-up ever) and this $2 pot of tulips. They're now three times the size they were on Thursday and they've bloomed -- it's crazy. We have many plants in our office but they're all just green; it's fun to have some flowers.

Our boss was off on stress leave for a little bit, and my darling office mate asked her if she was happy to be back the other day. Boss thought for a second, closed our door behind her, and said, "Truthfully, I didn't want to come back, but I've missed you guys so much! I almost emailed you on Christmas..." It's how I feel somedays. I love my job, but even on days I don't, I work with such incredible, happy, inspiring people that I still enjoy coming here.

Twenty-ten

[Peggy's Cove via The.Rohit on Twitter]

Last week I was in a real funk. I don't like to whine and complain, but it seems like all I did was cry last week. I was stressed over school, the hormones were raging, and it seemed like stupid people were popping up in every aspect of my life. On top of all of that, messages of breakups kept rolling in about friends who were previously engaged and/or living with their men. One of these in particular managed to completely break my heart. I was so sure that [the now ex]Roomie had managed to find something spectacular; I even wrote him a love letter!

Roomie is someone who deserves so much good, and I thought she finally had found a piece of that. She's so sweet, always puts everyone else first, is smokin' hot, and she's a domestic goddess; she's been through a lot of crap in her life, brushes it off, picks herself back up and moves on with a smile. Tonight I'm pouring the wine and hearing the full tale. I only hope I can provide a fraction of the support that she gives to everyone else in her life.

When the sadness rolls in, I've got to try to see the bright side of things. I also need to remember that I signed up for school; essays aren't something horrible being done to me.

Every year becomes the best one yet and this one is no exception. Twenty-ten will be full of fun things like concerts (Muse and U2), shows (Chicago and Sweeny Todd), and cross-Canada journeys (so far: Fernie, B.C. for a week of snowboarding and mountains in February; Halifax, N.S. for a week in June -- I'll get to see the lovely Andrea!; home to Ontario for my cousin's wedding in August; and Victoria, B.C. for three more weeks of intensive learning in October). This year is literally a Canadian coast-to-coast adventure! This year I'll complete more than half of my Masters and I'll have logged over 3 years with my Love.

I just hope that all my friends get to be this blissful.

What are you looking forward to in 2010?

I:
a) take pictures of myself in front of the kitchen,
b) apparently look a little cross-eyed at 6 a.m., and
c) crochet things.

Resolute

I don't do new year's resolutions. I've found there are so many little things that pop up that I want to do, or changes I want to make, that it's best if I just adopt new things when the mood hits.

Weird things, too. For example, so far, I've curled my hair 3 out of 4 days in 2010.

I've made a kick-ass scarf that I absolutely love (really that was back in 2009, when we were at home in Ontario with no Internet) and I'm making B a hat. With cables. And I taught myself how to make mittens with cables. The way I make mittens is so easy, but they're also made the same way for the right and the left hand... so unless someone wanted a cable on the back of one hand and the palm of the other, I really had to think about this one. I love yarn crafts and I want to do more of them. This year I may or may not go through my yarn stash and a) figure out what I shall use each skein for (I see more socks in my knitting future) or b) get rid of it.

I want to not procrastinate so much, but this is an ongoing thing for me. I have to work harder at it. It was so easy to get assignments done days in advance when I was in Victoria; now, not so much. I'm facing three 2,000 word essays due in four days and I'm freaking out a little bit (but probably not as much as I should be... there's still time!).

I want to wake up early. I make this goal every night before bed. And usually I fail. I've learned that breakfast helps. And coffee. Lots of coffee. I've adapted my work schedule, effective today, that I get to work a half-hour early and bank that time to take days off every now and then for school. Motivation!

I also always want to be a better blogger, write more letters to my far away friends (email me your address!), and remember to wear lip gloss/lipstick.

I didn't get to talk to my boyfriend today and it nearly killed me.

I went to eat sushi with two darling boys; one of which is gay, the other has been happily married for ten years. I drank wine and I studied. It feels like we've been on campus for weeks. There were six peacocks frolicking around the picnic tables and the rain let up for nearly a full day.

I love learning. I'm questioning my idea for a research paper only in that I think I may need to do a thesis instead. I love talking about communications and things we've done at work so they show a positive example to others. I love that my fabulous colleague (and boss) has so well prepared me for anything I could encounter here.

I get less sleep than I do back home. I go to bed hours later and wake up earlier.

I often find myself bringing those I love into my conversations. "Oh yes, the drive through Brooks is the smelliest drive ever. We do it whenever we drive to my boyfriend's parent's place in Cypress Hills."

I love school, but I didn't get to talk to my boyfriend today and it nearly killed me.

New beginnings

I'm sitting in a dorm room with a light that is just not bright enough.

I was thankful to meet a fellow Edmontonian waiting in the line for a taxi to campus, it makes me feel less badly about ignoring the voices outside my door. I'd feel weird just opening it to join in the conversation. I'm terrified of new people -- they make me nervous.

I'm looking ahead to three weeks of school, ensuring my readings are done for tomorrow's class (don't want to get behind already), and thinking of the things I didn't bring and should have -- my CP style book, the alarm clock I've had since I was eight years old, and some more courage (perhaps in the form of wine). Somebody call the Wizard.

I have a date for breakfast, and I'll sleep cuddled up to the Boy's pillow.

These next three weeks may very well kill me.

two

We've been sick. We've been sick with what may or may not have been H1N1 (who are we to go to the doctor?). We're not dead. Even though we didn't get our vaccinations (how can we -- we're neither at-risk nor part of the Calgary Flames). Don't say I never shared anything with you, darling.

Instead of going out for dinner on our anniversary, we were cuddled up on the couch with dinner made at home and one of our many bottles of wine. I like it even better this way. Through my raspy voice and with the cough of an 80 year old chain smoker, we talked about how our lives have changed in the past year. In the past two years.

He used to just be "moon boots", the boy with the shiniest soccer shoes on the team. The boy who I never realized I had a huge crush on, even when everyone else apparently knew it -- including him. Truth be told, I'm not sure I noticed until that Halloween party when I was fixing his black eye with my purple eyeshadow, mere seconds before I kissed him. I was always pre-occupied with bad ideas for boyfriends.

I'm no longer a downtown dweller, and he no longer lives in a peach-hued bachelor pad. There is art on the walls. And plants. Lots of plants. Dinner has gone from being hastily thrown together for one, to being one of my favourite parts of the day. We drink a lot more wine (we took a class!). I've missed one Christmas with my family, and he'll miss his first one with his this year. We compromise.

I buy bus passes, and I get to see him everyday. Even though I am back to being a student. I play more video games. Way more. I watch and read more science fiction, even though the mere thought of Lord of the Rings still puts me to sleep. But it's a beautiful movie, he argues. I know! The scenery and the music gets me every time. Instead of him hanging out with his fave guy pal, we hang out with them as a couple. It's "we" instead of "I". Instead of going out for a night at the pub, we play board games.

We play less Rock Band than we did when we started dating, and we eat in more. We've found that we travel well together. He tries not to pout too much when I take far too many photos. He doesn't stop me from drunk dialing my long distance gal pals, and we remind each other to call our families. He let my baby sister move in. I take up too much closet space and the dust bunnies are winning. We've organized, and reorganized to attempt to fit all of our stuff into one place. We've combined our pasts, our possessions, our families and our future.

I used to think all that "He/she is my best friend!" stuff at weddings was garbage. It's so lame to replace your real best friend with your significant other. But I get it now. It's not like that at all. He's become the first person I tell everything to, good or bad. He calms me down and helps me celebrate. He supports my crazy ideas (like going back to school) and runs out before work to buy me cough medicine. He dances in the living room with me and doesn't argue too much when I make him sing when he plays me the guitar. He knows how to put up with me when I get angry. Though my girly best friend can't always be there, he can be. And he is.

And that's just lovely.

It's a big weekend. A chilly football game tonight, Halloween karaoke tomorrow night, and maybe something to celebrate our anniversary on Sunday. Oh, and now that I'm a student again I have to ensure there's some reading in there somewhere. Right.

I'm so ready for the real boss lady to come back on Monday. The first two and a half weeks of doing her job were okay, but the last half a week has nearly killed me. I'm ready to rip out my super-teased 80s-style hair.

Three hundred beers

We make fun of ourselves for acting old. For enjoying a bottle of wine and playing cribbage, boggle or rummy. For making supper together and watching downloaded TV for the rest of the night.

Friday was the opposite of old and boring. It was slow dancing in the living room, a serenade while I wrote in the dust on his guitar. It was wandering over to the nearby pub, where we've never been, to watch the football game. It was being pleasantly surprised that it was also karaoke night. It was feeling popular when random girls asked if they could sing with me when my song came up -- Journey, Don't Stop Believin', of course. It was drinking three hundred beers before wrapping the night up with some Boston [More Than a Feeling]. 

Saturday was a write off. A three-hour nap before watching our Roughriders win, and watch grown men beat each other senseless at a friends' place. 

It was a whirlwind weekend of music, football, friends and a bit [maybe more than a bit] of a hangover. It was a weekend that made my heart swell and my knees go weak. A weekend where you want to say, "I love you" so many more times but it just seems like overkill. 

It's a weekend that makes the resulting week of reading worth it.

Jitters

I'm a bundle of nervous energy. It may or may not be the full contents of the French press inside my stomach. It may or may not be the very exciting Skype conversation I had this morning, about a web project that rocks my political nerd world. It may or may not be the fact that my Masters program went live yesterday, and begins officially tomorrow. It may or may not be the fact that I've been so totally overwhelmed at work, both in a good way and in a not so good way, over the past week. It probably has something to do with the fact that one of my most favourite people in the world is finally following me across the country -- even if it is to Calgary. A three-hour drive is way cooler than a five-hour plane trip.

On another note: the Boy and I have been very popular lately, which is exciting after becoming hermits in September. It was necessary to have some kind of post-summer break, but now we're back out in the world... and finding out that bowling too much may make your butt hurt.

Note to self: don't consume copious amounts of Bubbles before going to Beerfest. Drunk face.

I've been wound up, uptight, stressed out. Even playing video games, I just feel the tension in my body, not willing to let go. I've been huddled over papers, correcting and rewriting others' work. People who get paid more than I do. I've been ranting and raving with my coworkers. Sighing in exasperation. I've been unable to believe that any professional would hand in this crap. I've been angry that their own boss would see the pretty version and not the lazy crap they submitted. I've been frustrated that my coworkers have to step up because they're slacking off.

And then, it all disappeared when my boss, coworker, mentor, the tap-dancing queen, sent this to me and my other fab coworker pal:

Thank you for all your hard work. I really appreciate all your thought, effort, and dedication to trying to make sure we deliver a quality product. Also, thank you for being such smart, fun, and happy people to work with. Even on days like today when crappy things happen at work, you both find the strength to bounce back and be that much more positive, and put things into perspective. I appreciate that very rare quality. In closing, I heart you both. Thank you for being such an important part of my everyday.

I'm glad to be where I am. I love my job, though I may not always love what happens at that job. I love my coworker and my boss. I love that we show up to work in unplanned matching outfits. I love that we're known for being fun and happy and smart. I love that my boss is more excited for me than I am when good things happen to me. I love that these people get me. I love that though the work is often stressful, these ladies make coming to work enjoyable.

And like that, the week's stress just melts away.

Integrity

I don't often discuss work, my profession, or anything really inside my professional sphere. However, I've increasingly been disturbed with today's journalists and their (lack of) integrity.

As a blogger, I get to share my personal views. If I was getting paid to write for someone else (as I am in my day job, for example) those views go out the window. Your job is then one of two things (depending on your gig). You are either neutral and report the facts (like journalists are supposed to do) or you write what people tell you to write.

We spent a lot of time discussing ethics when I was studying public relations (as hard as this is for some people to believe... PR professionals do have ethics). I must say, I'm a bit of an idealist when it comes to things like this. I expect fairly unbiased news, even though I realize every paper, news programme, magazine or blog has a slant. I expect news. I also expect journalists not to prey on victims of heinous crime and tragedy.

This is why I have no idea why Mark Whicker's editor even allowed him to write a sports column focusing on what Jaycee Dugard missed when she was kidnapped, raped, and held captive in a shed for 18 years of her life. He began his article as follows.

It doesn't sound as if Jaycee Dugard got to see a sports page.

Box scores were not available to her from June 10, 1991 until Aug. 31 of this year.

She never saw a highlight. Never got to the ballpark for Beach Towel Night. Probably hasn't high-fived in a while.

She was not allowed to spike a volleyball. Or pitch a softball. Or smack a forehand down the line. Or run in a 5-footer for double bogey.

Now, that's deprivation.

Let's play that again. "Now, that's deprivation." It's deprivation that a girl of 11, who was kidnapped, raped, impregnated, and held captive in a backyard shed until the age of 29 never got to read sports scores or spike a volleyball.

Making light of the terrible things people have been through, or using them to sell papers really bothers me. Mark Whicker's article makes me want to throw up, and it also irks me that the media hounds the families of victims of 9/11 to dredge up stories to sell anniversary issues. Yes, it was a terrible, terrible event and I will never forget where I was when I heard the news, or the images of the planes crashing into the towers. But as a society we need to support each other, we need to pick up those who need us, and we need to rebuild. I know I'll probably get some flack over this view, but I think news should be news. If there are new developments, report on them. If not, let people grieve on their own. If people have stories they need to get out, be that vehicle. Otherwise, let them remember their loved ones in peace.

Read Tommy Cragg's call-out of Mark Whicker here.