Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Merry Christmas vs. Happy Holidays

You know what?
I’m happy for you, that you believe in Christ, and understand the true meaning of Christmas. That’s great.

But what really gets my goat is when one of these Christians gets all uppity about the phrase “Happy Holidays”. I can semi-understand them getting offended when people want to call the “Christmas Tree” a holiday tree. Semi, mind you. If these people knew the actual origins of a lot of their beloved Christmas rituals, perhaps they would stop doing them. And maybe that would be for the better. I could certainly think of a few things that would be better than cutting down hundreds of pine trees each winter (hmm, like let them grow and thrive and even produce oxygen).

But I digress. No matter how interesting the origins of the Christmas tree are, I’m blogging to discuss the Christian stubbornness to say “Happy Holidays” to people, instead of Merry Christmas. And I realize not all Christians do this, but there are a certain amount that do.

First and foremost, the actual religious leaders admit that Christ was not born on Christmas Day. Christmas Day was chosen because it’s in the middle of the winter and people needed something to look forward to during those cold, dark nights. And what better way to choose a religious holiday then by stealing one from the pagans? You know, winter solstice. It was celebrated by pagans long before Christmas Day became a holiday.

When I was a child, and still to this day, I watched the original Christmas Eve on Sesame Street movie. Do you remember it? Ernie and Bert exchange presents, and by so doing give away their most prized possessions. Everyone plays crack-the-whip and Oscar goes flying through not one, but two walls (oh, how I remember rewinding the tape over and over when he said, “Let’s go back and do that again!”). Big Bird learns to skate, and then goes in search of Santa, because Oscar said Santa wouldn’t be able to fit down those itty bitty chimneys. Ah, but it was such a wonderful movie.

Now, the one thing in the entire movie that actually speaks to me today takes all of two seconds. Back in the day, it was probably lost on me, but every time I see it now, I kinda feel warm and fuzzy and know that some people out there are aware that there is more than one religion and that we should respect them all.

I’m talking about Bob.

Yah, I don’t know who I’m talking about either. But Bob is a special character. As Bob was walking through the streets, he ran into Mr. Hooper. Does anyone recall who Mr. Hooper is? The man who played Hooper died in 1982, and they never did replace his character. Either way, Mr. Hooper was the corner store owner, and he was on his way over to Bert and Ernie’s (I think) to bring them Christmas gifts.

Bob and Mr. Hooper ran into each other, and as they made some small talk, Mr. Hooper said, “Merry Christmas” to Bob. It was, after all, Christmas Eve. But do you know what Bob said in return? No, he didn’t say “Merry Christmas” back, as is the generally correct response to such a saying. No, Bob respected Mr. Hooper’s own religious beliefs, and said, “Happy Hanukah” instead.

Huzzah! What’s this?! Acknowledging a religion that is not his own?! How dare he!! Well, if you look at it from the other perspective, Mr. Hooper was also acknowledging Bob’s beliefs, and respecting them. One can only hope Bob would return the favour. And he did!! This is probably my second favourite moment in the entire movie (the first being Oscar crashing through two walls and enjoying it), because it shows children that respect is a two-way street, and that we all have remember this when issuing forth holiday greetings. And to think this movie was made in 1978, long before today!

I’m not trying to say that people would be offended by the words “Merry Christmas”. I’m just saying I’d love to see more respect for the other religions. Happy Holidays is just a way to encompass all of the religious holidays that are being celebrated this time of year, and I think that’s a great idea.

Look at it this way:

If I knew you were Christian, I would say “Merry Christmas” to you. But if you knew I was not Christian but say, Jewish, would you give me the same respect, and wish me a “Happy Hanukah,”?

Hmm… food for thought.

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

I don’t talk about you very much. I’ve never really dwelled upon you in my blogs and journals. Every now and then you show interest in me, and I always feel it back. I’ve come to learn to not actually express the interest back, because every time I do, you seem to lose interest. It’s beyond me. It’s to the point that the last time you did show interest, I got fed up, put a firm foot down, and told myself, “No. Don’t even think about pursuing this, Kogo.”

I don’t enjoy the games you play.

I’d say you’re back to doing it again, I really would. Because it’s so obvious that you are. But I can’t lay the blame on you this time. I really can’t. Because this time… this time I started it.

My fault entirely.

I feel it though. I always do. No matter how many times I move on, and completely forget about ever being attracted to you (physically, emotionally, or any other way) I always am reminded when I open my mind’s eye again.

There’s just something about you that I can relate to, and that I feel comfortable around. I’m not scared of being rejected by you – perhaps because in your own way you’ve done it a few times, but always change your mind. I’m not certain what to make of all this, in all honesty.

When I was asked to compile a list of the things I look for in a mate, I thought about a few things and was shocked to realize you certainly fall under a lot of categories.

Just damn you. Damn you for being something I admire, no matter if you are unattainable.

But when I told you I was making a charm bag to attract a lover (as is what I am looking for), and you said, “Great. Tell me how it goes. Or maybe I’ll find out myself.”


Thanks for that.


Thursday, November 5, 2009

What I don't understand about people who are against the sealhunt is why they throw so much effort into saving a species that is in no way endangered, when there are other species' out there that could use there help. Like, I don't know... the 400 Northern Right Whales that are left in the entire world. Seems to me like their case is more... vital, than that of the 4.7 million Harp seals.

Just a thought.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Dear True Blood makeup artists.

Please fix the following problem:


Monday, August 10, 2009

True Blood Obsession

It's funny how obsessed I've become with the show True Blood, and with the books by Charlaine Harris, not to mention the characters themselves.

I didn't think I'd get to watch the new episode last night, but I did! I was officially 3 minutes late getting to the tv, and I even left all of my stuff in the trunk of the car until after I finished watching True Blood (and getting all gooey over every Eric Northman scene). However, even if I missed those first few minutes, last night's episode blew me away. It was amazing in so many aspects. And while I'm watching Eric on television try to deny his attraction and affection for Sookie Stackhouse, in the book, I'm reading Eric explain the curse the witch put over him, "The curse contained within the witch, the curse that activated when Clancy killed her... it was that I would be close to my heart's desire without ever realizing it."

Seriously. I think Eric and Sookie should just admit they're in love, and just BE TOGETHER instead of just denying it to themselves. Grr.

Every Monday I come into work and my coworker Adèle without a doubt will come over to my desk and wish to discuss the previous night's episode. This week we were both equally happy. We both notice how much Eric is definitely interested in Sookie. Poor Eric actually did try to save her, and still she goes running to Bill, who really only just walked in. If anything, it was Jason who saved the day, what with his being human and having a paintgun and all.

So, in my excitement for this show, I decided to start creating wallpapers for the different characters. I am in no way finished yet, but I want to show off SOME of my work. :D








I saved the best for last, of course. :)

PS - it looks like the graphics won't fit the blog, so it's being cut off. Just click on them to get to the original source. :)

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

I Dreamt of You

I dreamt about you last night.

It’s not quite clear what my dream was about. It seemed a bit lost in the past. As if I were leaving Scotland again, or something.

All I know is that I was leaving a place – a house, Japanese style walls – and ahead of me was someone I kinda new. I was heading down a path that led into the woods. As I looked back, I saw you, striding along, as you always did. I don’t remember what you were wearing, but I do know you at least had a bag on your back.

I quickly faced forward again, not wanting you to know that I had spotted you. I feared the reaction I would get if you recognized me, and so I quickened my steps, as I continued forward along the path. Vaguely, I recall I was heading toward a beach, but I did not plan on staying at the beach. I think it was just on the way to my destination. But perhaps you were heading for the beach.

My strides were no match for your long ones, and soon I could hear you behind me.

As you began to pass me I looked up – just as you were looking down to see who you were passing. Instant recognition crossed your face, and then you were smiling, the smile slowly getting larger.

“Hi,” I said timidly, not knowing what else to say.

And your grin got larger, as you replied, “Hi. How have you been?”

And so we bantered back and forth as I blushed in your presence, and then you hinted at wanting to see me later that night. And that I knew where to find you.

Our arms brushed, and my heart skipped a beat, and you continued along down the path. You looked back once, your blue eyes crinkling with your perfect smile. And then you were gone and I had butterflies in my stomach when I realized that you wanted to see me, you wanted to be with me that night. I felt accepted.

Sporatic Musings

It's good to be home.

I missed being the loner I am.

What I did not miss was the huge stack of papers I needed to file when I got back to work on Monday. Nor did I appreciate that no one even tried to file the stuff. They just decided I could do it when I got back. I've been working on the pile ever since I got it at around 9 in the morning on Monday. It's almost gone. All that I have left are copies of notes that do not make sense. Sigh.

I'm glad to be back though. I'm glad to have my birds, and I think it's a bit more comical now that they have their wings clipped. I went to Pet Smart yesterday after dropping off my CDs of pictures (let's not talk about the price I spent on them), and purchased a few ladders for them. The one ladder was almost long enough to reach to the ground from the cage, and I just added a smaller one to the end. So now when they decided to divebomb from their cage they have the opportunity to climb the ladder back up, instead of wander around and wish they could get back to their cage. Luvy figured it out all by himself this morning, and I'm quite proud of him!

I've started to catch up on the show Californication. Always an interesting ride.

And I've run out of things to say.

Back to fanfiction. *wanders off*

Thursday, July 2, 2009

Musings on Batty People

We all know how obsessed I can get with things I love.

I… love to obsess.

It keeps me sane (well, one could debate that I suppose), and I guess it’s a security blanket of sorts.

The things I tend to obsess about will never affect me like a real person could. Therefore, my obsessions can never hurt me – unlike a few choice people in my life.

But my obsessions only go so far.

I don’t believe in stalking people, and I don’t believe in going out of my way to find information on my favourite celebrities. If the information is to be had, I can find it on Google, or at a handful of message boards and websites.

Nor do I act like I’m the only person in the world who knows what they’re talking about when it comes to my obsessions. Unless someone is clearly stating a false fact (that I know to be false because I have researched the topic properly and know the exact correct fact), I will take everything a person says at face value. Because maybe I am wrong and they are right. There is always that issue.

Recently, a certain person, has finally removed her mask and has proven that she’s just as batty and extremely fanatical as I thought. And not only is she batty and fanatical, but she tried making jabs at me. She tried her damndest to make me out to be the bad guy in our little argument.

I’d love to quote some of the tweets she put up about “taking the higher road” and “being the mature one”, but upon inspection, she seems to have deleted all of said remarks. In fact, she’s deleted the entire fight. Gee, I wonder why. Perhaps because it really did make her seem like she was not the one taking the higher road?

I hate to break it to her, but I’m the one who refrained from showing precisely how much her insulting behaviour on Twitter affected me. I did not ban her from my board. I did not let her behaviour outside my message board affect my judgment of her membership to the board. So tell me, how does that reflect upon me?

I would like to think I was the one being fair. I like to think I’m the one who actually reads what people write, and do not interrupt conversations with my own topics. It’s unfair, it’s rude, and it’s downright annoying. But I certainly don’t do that. Thank goodness.

Not only did we have an out-and-out brawl on Twitter, but this woman truly is batty. She had a little spat with my wonderful friend, and it really got him wound up, and I don’t like seeing him in that state.

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

My Trip to Montréal

I don’t often have as much fun as I did this past weekend.

I had planned a weekend trip to Montréal to officially get my season pass to La Ronde and to use that pass. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to let some rain ruin my fun.

I left work at 2:30, and headed back to my place where I quickly packed up my things, took a shower, and hit the road. I made a pit stop in St Albert to pick up some cheese for everyone I was going to be seeing, and headed back to Casselman and filled up the tank with gas (I’ve been living in Ottawa for a year and have yet to fill my car up IN Ottawa – I wonder how long I can continue this). I had a brief Chrysler moment when another Cirrus pulled up behind me at the gas station, and when I crossed the road to stop at McDonald’s to use the washroom and grab some fries I ended up parking next to a Dodge Stratus.

Good omens abound when you see more than one Cirrus/Stratus/Breese in a 1 kilometre radius.

Unfortunately the wait in the McDonald’s washroom was horrible. It took ten minutes for me to just be able to pee. I bought a medium fry after I was finished emptying my screaming bladder, and then I was finally on my way to Montréal.

The drive was completely uneventful, and in fact there was less traffic this time than there was when I drove up in March to see Great Big Sea. I made it to Chantal’s, where she came out and parked my car in her itty-bitty overgrown driveway. We then proceeded to get ready, and then headed out.

Chantal introduced me to a pub called Hurley’s. It’s an Irish pub downtown, where the majority of the people seemed to be English-speaking customers. The band playing that night was Salty Dog, a Celtic/Newfoundland folk rock band. Apparently Celtic rock brings out the Newfies, for there was a table full of ‘em! And not just any Newfies. Newfies in the army! *sighs*

I knew they were army guys, but y’know… I’m certainly not going to go over there and try and weasel my way into any conversations. Not to mention I was with Chantal. We had a big supper together (I had steak, she had chicken) and both had half-pints of black velvet. After the supper, we stuck to coke, and clapping along and singing to the music Salty Dog was playing. We knew it all, of course.

During the break between sets, two of the band members came over and hung out with us. Awesomesauce!

They eventually went to talk to a few more people, and during that time two of the army guys decided to play fight or something across the room and almost fall into our table. My radar was up. This was no accident – the two of them had done this on purpose! So I smiled at them and said, “Having fun, are ya?” and they immediately sat down at our table and the cuter one started flirting with me! Yay for army boys (no, scratch that… army MEN!) flirting with Kogo! He bought me a drink, we talked for a bit, but the guys eventually left, dragging him with them. And I didn’t even manage to give him my phone number. Oh, poo! But it was fun, nonetheless, and I felt great having flirted with a soldier. Haven’t done that in a few months!

We made it home after midnight, and were both falling asleep before one. I awoke at 7:30 and got dressed and packed my things and folded blankets neatly, and read for a bit until Chantal awoke at 8:00. She got ready to go and we skipped out the door to find ourselves a big hearty breakfast. After breakfast, we stopped and bought a postcard which I sent off to an X-Files friend in New Zealand.

She then dropped me off at the Metro station, and I made my way down to wait for James who showed up at exactly 10:00am. Which means the subway system in Montreal is freaking fantastic. We hopped on the Metro and made our way to La Ronde! Mind you, we also had to grab a bus for a short 3 minute bus ride that takes you straight to the front gates.

We were at La Ronde by ten-thirty. James bought his season pass while there, and we headed over to the gates in the pouring rain to wait with what seemed like hundreds of teenagers. I felt quite old, really, I did.

At eleven, the gates were rolled up, and James and I made our way to the line where we would set up our season pass cards. I got to skip the line as I already filled out my information online and all I needed was my picture to be taken.

While waiting for James I got to watch three baby starlings waiting for their mother to return to the nest with food. They were noisy little brats, but they were so adorable to watch. The wait finally over, we turn to the park before us and find that the rain has stopped, it’s warmed up, and the water is drying up quickly. Hurrah!

We hit the pavement, and the first ride we go on is the Toboggan Nordique, which is a baby rollercoaster. And it sucked. Horribly. I don’t think we’ll ever go on that ride again.

While waiting in line for the Orbite, James embarrassed the hell out of me. A sign basically said not to touch other people while on the ride. James turned to me and said, “Lynne, this means you can’t molest any gingers on this ride.”

Thanks, James.

Funny how you didn’t notice the ginger wigger standing in front of us, eh James? Because guess what? He certainly heard you say that! He immediately turned around and caught himself a glimpse of me. I didn’t mention to James that this guy was a ginger (hat covered his hair) until we were finally out of earshot. And then James thought it was great. And he had plans for the day. Find the ginger wigger again.

The ginger wigger is an almost ginger. He most certainly was a ginger for most of his adolescent life, no doubt. But as he grew older his hair grew darker until it became almost a shade of brown. But upon removing his white wigger hat, you will notice that it is indeed a deep red. And this white wigger hat? It’s placed crookedly upon his wigger head in the wigger fashion of 10 years ago. He is wearing white wigger shoes and oddly enough a white belt which most probably came from Moore’s. He is wearing wigger jeans, and they seem oddly new. And his wigger shirt seems to have a wigger vest over it. Interesting. The ginger wigger is very intrigued by me. Because apparently I like to molest gingers – or so my fellow “ride warrior” says. This intrigues him very much. He might have a chance to be molested!

We run into him in line yet again – on The Vampire. I see him first, and immediately spit out, “Ah fuck,” to which James says, “What?” and I clam up. Unfortunately, this display of disappointment and resentment was proof enough that the ginger wigger (or gigger for short) was nearby. James sees him, he finally sees us and James begins to jump up and down pointing at me. The ginger wigger eyes me once more. I feel a cold chill down my spine, as I realize he is probably undressing me with his wigger eyes. We end up getting on the ride the same time as gigger and his friends. I am three rows back and directly behind gigger. We ride the ride, we have fun, and finally get off. Upon getting off, James magically turns to the left instead of exiting the ride. As I get off, he yells, “Lynne, over here!” and as I turn back, the ginger wigger is directly behind me! We make eye contact and I know precisely that he knows I like gingers. I shudder, because while I do like gingers, I detest wiggers.

We both seem to walk across the park in the same general direction, but I finally am able to steer James in a different direction. And for some time we are safe from the gigger. Until later, after getting off the Monster. As we walk away from the coaster, James looks back at the line waiting to get on and sees him. I run away before the gigger can spot me (while James is shouting and pointing me out).

For the rest of the day the gigger blessedly keeps his distance from us. We hit up the Goliath (the best rollercoaster in the park) about four times. We went on the Vampire twice, the Cobra once (it huuurts), the Monstre twice, the Boomerang, and yes, even the teacups. The teacups sound like dying whales.

We went on le Pitoune and Le Splash. If you want to be soaked to the bone, I suggest getting on Le Splash. Not only do you get a Le Splash, but people can pay 2 bucks to fire waterguns at you.

We rode the coasters up until closing then got on the bus to take us back to the subway station. The lines inside were huge, so we decided to wait for a bit at a very interesting park. The park had these water fountains that would sporadically burst out, and during the warmer months I think it will be a lot of fun to run through them. But in late May, it is still a bit too cold. Didn’t stop us from having fun, however. There was trance/dance/techno music being played a bit away, and we figure this place would be great to have a party. We danced through the fountains, took some silly pictures, and then finally got on the subway and had the fun of stopping at Chantal’s to get my stuff and then heading to James’ place where Sarah was waiting for us. We had an extremely late supper, and then I passed out on their recliner. We awoke the next day, went to Tim Hortons for breakfast, and then we all piled onto the subway. Sarah left us to head downtown while James and I continued on to our favourite pastime – hitting the rollercoasters.

Ginger Wigger was nowhere to be found that day. However, we did see one ginger getting on the Goliath was epically excited. And when I say epically excited, I’m serious. He was front row on the Goliath, and when he sat down and got settled in, he turned to his friends with this huge smile on his face and clapped his hands excitedly. Now, he would have been a gorgeous ginger, except he had a faux-hawk. That sort of ruined his look. But otherwise… very beautiful for a ginger.

On Sunday we recorded the Goliath twice. Once from midway down the train, and once from the front. I plan on making a video of it. We also recorded the monstre, and also a few other things. Around four o’clock it began to rain. While a lot of the rides began to close down, we still made our way to the Vampire, and managed to get on. Going on the Vampire in the rain may have been a bit extreme, but it was still worth it. By the end of that, we bought some Goliath sweaters, and headed in the direction of Le Dragon, one of the most lame coasters in the park.

While Le Dragon still remains to be one of our least favourites, it still is an indoor coaster. That being the reason we were heading toward it, we tramped through puddles and finally got into the very short line for Le Dragon. There was a reason the line was so short, despite it being one of the few rides that got you out of the rain. While the sound was working, the lights weren’t! So James and I went through the very short ride inside in the pitch black, listening to creepy music. We have determined that this ride is much better when you don’t get to see then dragons and creepy eyes blinking at you. We went on Le Dragon twice before we decided to go get some food.

We stopped at Rolopan and bought food wrapped in crepes. I had blueberry and custard while James decided to try a cheeseburger crepe. Mine was delicious, but I also got to try some of his. The cheeseburger crepe is amazing! We have determined that Rolopan will be our food of choice when we go to La Ronde in the following few months. Why spend ridiculous amounts of money on poutines and burgers when you can spend that same ridiculous amount of money on something you can’t get anywhere else? If I’m going to be frivolous with my earnings, the least I can do is be frivolous with rare things.

After finishing our crepes, we headed onto the Goliath again, twice in a row! There were no lines at all, so why not take advantage of the situation? After getting our Goliath fix, we headed off to play a few games and win a few toys. I ended up winning a stuffed elephant, a tiger Taz, and a bunch of flowers. James won a Batman for Sarah, a pink whale, and a penguin.

We bought some cotton candy for Sarah and headed back to the subway station, where we once again stopped in the park. Only this time, James decided to be evil and risk the poor pink whale’s life. I can only describe what happened next in a series of photos.

Ooh, a fountain!

Tehehe! Die, whale, die!

He looks so lonely and helpless!

Little whale refuses to be blown away by the water.

I am whale, hear me roar!

Right before I ran in to save him:

This is what happens when you run through a fountain to save a little pink whale.

Poor little guy is now in my hands after James traded it for one of my many flowers. All of my newly acquired stuffed animals are sitting on my recliner in my living room. After we had fun in the fountains, and I was soaked down my side, we made it back to Chantal’s where we got my car and I drove James home. And the rest is a very uneventful car ride home, although I did find someone like me who understands what cruise-control is, and we ended up driving all the way to Ottawa one behind the other. I enjoy smart drivers!

I shall now leave you with two videos I have made from the footage James got.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Sealhunt Musings Galore

You can help end Canada's annual war on seals by boycotting a product that is vital to the country's economy: maple syrup.
Canada produces approximately 85 percent of the world's maple syrup, with the U.S. as its largest consumer, and by buying this Canadian product, you are supporting Canadian cruelty. By pledging to boycott Canadian maple syrup, you'll be speaking up for baby seals in Canada, for whom life isn't so sweet, and telling Canada that you won't support its product until you can support its practices.

Does PETA honestly think that maple syrup, something that comes from trees and is harvested by regular entrepreneurs, will affect the sealhunt, something regulated by the Department of Fisheries and Oceans, a department of the federal government?

PETA seems to think that the US of A is not in an economic crisis, and that we rely only on the United States for our income. Would it not make more sense that if we lost economic gain in maple syrups sales, that we should just up the sales in furs from the seals?

I don't know... this... boycott seems mighty flawed and pointless.

One Small Blog

You know what I can't stand?

People who are against abortion but for the death penalty.

Make up your minds.

Friday, May 22, 2009

Musings on Healthy Eating

I have a diet Pepsi sitting in front of me. It’s the first bottle of pop I’ve had in over two weeks.

I’m trying to eat healthy, and I find it damn hard to do on the weekends I’m busy with friends – which seems to be almost every weekend. This past weekend I had second helpings of my mother’s chicken and potatoes. And then on Sunday we went to the Works for lunch/supper (only two meals that day) and I pigged out on a huge Sk8er Boy burger (it had peanut butter, jack cheese and bacon – and it was surprisingly good!) and sweet potato fries. On Monday we did another lunch/supper by going to Sushi Kan, an all-you-can-eat Sushi bar. Now, I don’t feel AS bad about Monday’s meal, since sushi is good for you and all… but I REALLY stuffed myself that day.

However, I have been doing better. The only junk food I have in my house right now is a small bag of Bits and Bites, and a bag of pretzels (which could be considered healthier than any other chips). I went to Farm Boys to get my groceries yesterday – and everything was healthy products except maybe the mock chicken. I bought a ready-made salad for today – it comes with a few small slices of cheese and ham and a hardboiled egg, and some ranch dressing.

It’s hard eating healthy in today’s society. For one, it seems like every other day my workplace is having some sort of party (going away, retirement, baby shower), and with a government party comes wine and food. Last week was bad as it was a baby shower – loads of cookies. Yesterday, however, was not so bad. They had chips, veggies, and various dips and things. I stuck to the veggies (mmmmCelery), but did have a few baked Lays.

But when I went to the theatre last night I ordered a small low-fat frozen yogurt (banana and strawberry) which was quite a lot of ice cream for only 110 calories AND it was healthy for me.

I find another reason it’s hard to eat healthy is socializing. When going out with friends, it’s to a theatre or for supper and it’s so easy to forget your goal to lose that 20 pounds and live a healthier lifestyle. If I become a recluse and stay at home I can stick to my meal plans.

I suppose I’m excited for the rollercoaster season. While I will be hitting up La Ronde quite a lot, it will help with my goal – I hope. I will be outside all day, possibly for a whole weekend each time. That would include walking, getting my adrenaline pumping, and quite a bit of exercise. Mind you, I will also be subjected to many a food stall selling things like poutines, nachos, and burgers. However, in an attempt to save money, I probably won’t be eating all that much. Plus I’ll be too busy standing in line for rollercoasters.

Another thing in my get-fit program. Walking. Yes. Walking. I love to walk, so it’s no hardship. But I need to walk MORE. And possibly get my bike. I tend to walk to Blockbuster and back – which is quite a long hike, even my mother said so. Last night I also did some sit-ups. OH MY! It’s not so hard on my stomach as it is on my back. I’ve got a back problem, so… yah… it’s not much of a problem, but I definitely was straining my back last night. Oh well. All in the name of being healthy, right?

I’m thankful that my new breakfast of choice is something I can enjoy. I used to eat two Eggo waffles for breakfast (strawberry flavour) each morning. Sometimes with maple syrup, sometimes without. It always depended, as strawberry waffles taste good without it. However, now I’ve started eating Special K Five Grain. It’s really good, very healthy for you, and a high source of fibre. It’s the taste I like, and the crunch. For the past week I was eating it with milk, however I’ve stopped putting milk in it as I’ve mentioned – I like the crunch.

I’m addicted to crunchy things. I love chips, the crunchier and crisper the better. And it’s hard to find a replacement for them. Pretzels are great and all, but nothing can compare to Sun Chips or Baked Lays. I also try things like rice crackers, and other low-calorie crackers and wafers. Nothing compares, but it’ll do for now.


I miss my junk food.

Thursday, May 14, 2009

Life Musings

Life can pass you by if you aren’t looking.

In less than two months I will be getting on a plane and heading to Newark, New Jersey where I shall roam the airport and wonder which seats Jason and Grant have sat in, where they have twittered and complained about the planes constantly being late, and where they may have gotten coffee.

It’s only a short pit stop before I gather my bags and sanity, and head onto a much larger plane, and stare out over a dark, black seascape over which we shall be travelling. Even still, that small stop in Newark is incredibly exciting for me. I will only be there for two hours, but for those two hours I get to spend there, I shall reflect over these days in May where I sat at my computer and avidly watched my two favourite docu-soap stars entertain their fans in a new and personal way.

It’s been very interesting watching them twitter, and I can assure you that it’s them, and not some pretend Jay and Grant. It really is them. They take photos of each other, complain about Continental airlines, and let us know what is happening on their investigations. We get to know intimate details of the investigation months before it will ever air on tv. It’s quite exciting really.

I’ve been a fan of the show Ghost Hunters since it first debuted in the United States, on the American channel SciFi. I used to watch that channel religiously when we were able to order it (before they went digital and we lost our feed). They had all the best shows – X-Files, Sliders, Star Trek, Outer Limits, Quantum Leap, Mad Mad House. Gosh, how I loved that channel.

My whole family took an hour off of their own schedules to sit and watch the premiere of Ghost Hunters. We had all been interested in the show after watching the commercials, but I was the only one who became a fan after watching the first episode. In the end, I spent every Wednesday evening sitting in front of the tv upstairs while everyone else was in the basement watching tv on the regular dish. But not me. No, I needed to get my Grant, and later Tango fix. I loved these guys. They were real people doing something real, and catching so much unexplained evidence on tape!

I eventually had to stop watching the show when our feed got cancelled and SciFi went strictly digital. Here in Canada, we are two seasons late, so even still if I went to watch the show, I’d be watching reruns. I tried watching Ghost Hunters International but it just isn’t as good as the original show. I want to see Jay and Grant – and yes, even Tango.

So while I don’t get to watch the show anymore (although soon I shall be ordering the seasons on DVD), I am now following my two favourite plumbers/ghost hunters on Twitter. And it’s been so much fun!

So there I will be, getting off a plane in Newark, NJ and staring at everything and wondering, “Which gates have they waited at for each of their late planes?” And I will wonder, “Will my plane be late?” and I will walk the floors, and look around me, and think to myself, “They’ve done this, too.” And I will be a sort of squeeing fangirl, as I consider all the other celebrities that have probably been through this airport as well.

I don’t know what I’m going to do to pass the time while I’m on my second flight. It’s going to be a long one, I have no doubt of this. And lucky for me, I’ll be bringing my laptop in my carry-on. Perhaps I’ll be able to write some of my latest story. Or perhaps I shall read a book, take a nap, plot world domination.

And to think I have less than two months to go before I hop the pond and touch down in Glasgow. I will set foot on Scottish soil. I will, in essence, be returning to the “home land”. I am half Scottish on my mother’s side, and I embrace this heritage. I go to the Highland Games in Maxville every year, I have a kilt that I wear on special occasions, and overall, I am just so addicted to the folklore and history.

I am taking my dream vacation at the age of 23. Can you believe it? Oh sure, there are dozens of other places I wish to visit – Australia, Ireland, Germany, British Columbia, Newfoundland – but Scotland is the place I wish to go. So what are the odds that I personally know someone who lives there? Not only do I know someone who lives there, but I’ve worked with her, I know her from real life! And we have heaps in common.

To say I’m excited for this vacation is an understatement. But, you know, the thing is… time is passing by very quickly. If it weren’t for the fact that I’ve booked this year full of exciting plans, I bet the next two months would crawl by. But as it is, I’m excitedly awaiting the last weekend of May, because I will be heading off to Montreal to spend a weekend riding the rollercoasters, and getting an adrenaline buzz. And it won’t be the only weekend I do it. I have myself a season’s pass to La Ronde. So for every weekend I am free, I will be dragging my arse up to Montreal and letting the wind blow through my hair.

And that’s just one of the many things I plan on doing!

This year is so full of fun things, exciting things, once-in-a-lifetime things. It’s only May and I’ve already met George Takei, had a pick thrown to me by Bob Hallett, seen dozens butterflies fluttering around me, received well over two dozen postcards, and made loose plans to take more small and large trips for this coming year.

If you don’t make your life exciting, who will?

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Musings on People Who Complain

I can’t stand people being bitter. It’s like they want us to share in their misery, and I don’t find that very fair at all.

I’m the type of person that keeps the pain and hurt locked up inside. True enough, my blogs show a lot of venting (heartache being a key subject), but overall, I rarely whine and bitch and cry. That’s what I have my one blog for. To be able to complain, to cry, to take it all back, to wish away the hours on a thing that will never be. That way, I am able to release the pent up emotions that sometimes boil over.

But it’s to have those friends that only come to you when they aren’t happy. They come to you, and complain. About this, about that, about how unfair life is. Life is only as unfair as you make it out to be. If you choose to whine about your life instead of trying to fix it, of course it’s going to suck.

Stop wallowing in your self-pity and go out there and do something! You are stuck in Cornwall only because you choose to be stuck. Don’t give me excuses about car payments, and that the only way you can afford to live in Ottawa is if you are getting paid 25 bucks an hour. Wtf? Even I don’t get paid that much money, and I work for the goddamned government! If that’s how you see it, then you’re never going to get out of Cornwall, because you’ve set your bar much too high. And I think the only reason you’ve truly set it so high is because you’re afraid to leave that town. It’s quicksand, and it’s already got a firm grip on your ankles, and you feel as if it would be too much effort to pull yourself out. So you gripe and complain that you’re still stuck in Cornwall, but it all comes down to the same thing: Only you are stopping yourself from leaving.

Complaining about not having a relationship is a complete waste of a) my time and b) your breath. Why? Because guess what. I’m single too. I don’t give a damn if you’re older than me and still single. Perhaps it is your negative personality that scares men away. Or perhaps you believe that only men can approach women when interested in a relationship. Go out there, be active, and try to find something. That is exactly what I am doing. If someone as young as me can actively search for someone to date, why can’t someone with more years experience do that as well?

You have to be able to cope with the world, and if you can’t then you’re fucked. Stop living in the past. It’s nice to have a few pieces of the past to stick to (chivalry is indeed a nice thing to see on occasion – like when a man opens the door for me, or pays for my meal), but I certainly don’t want to see the past all the time. I agree, having to make the first move sucks ass. But I’m not puling and whining. I’m toughing up and making first moves, goddamnit. Why? Because I have to. There’s no other way to get anywhere in this society unless you go out, grab the bull by the horns (or the balls) and actually make an effort.

And I realize the redundancy of this post. After all, I’m complaining about complaining. Kind of makes no sense, right? Perhaps I’m just so sick of being the one you all come to with your problems… and then never expect to hear about mine. Well, you can certainly expect that, because only a FEW people will ever hear about my problems, and that’s because I know they’re actually there for me!


This rant is bothering the hell out of me.

Whack fall the day!

Friday, February 13, 2009

Valentine's Day Musings

I am sick and tired of people complaining about Valentine’s Day. Jesus Christ. Suck it up, you whiny little emo kids. Seriously.

What the hell is wrong with picking a day to show the person you love that “By the way, in case you forgot… I love you.”?

There is absolutely nothing wrong with it. Nothing!

Oh, but it’s not fair to the single people.

Whine whine whine. Sob sob sob. Sniffle sniffle sniffle. I’m single, poor me.

Okay, yes. I agree, it’s much too over-marketed, and that it’s mainly about spending tons of money on the one you love. But to me, that’s not what it’s supposed to be about. It’s supposed to be about love, and showing the person that you care. Whether you cook them a nice meal or buy them a diamond ring, it’s all the same. It’s doing something out of the ordinary to say, “Hey, you’re very special to me… and I don’t ever want that to change.”

And here the single people are getting their panties in a bunch because they can’t share in those feelings. And so they feel the day is more about singling out the people without a loved one. I think it’s a very childish attitude. You know the attitude. “Well, if I can’t have fun, then I won’t let anyone else have fun.”

And the damndest thing is they’ll deny, deny, deny that this has anything to do with the true meaning of Valentine’s Day, but that it has everything to do with the propaganda and the spending of money. And I swear, I’ve seen those same people turn around and become all lovey-dovey and spend money on their loved one the next time this fateful day comes rolling around and they’re finally in a relationship.

Stop feeling sorry for yourself.


I can’t stand it anymore!

I am single. I’ve got no one for Valentine’s Day. Do you see me whining and complaining that it’s such a horrible and over-rated day? NO! I’m standing up for it, for chrissakes! Why? Because when I am in a relationship I enjoy celebrating it with a nice home cooked meal, perhaps a single rose, a nice movie, curled up on the couch in my lover’s arms.

Sound so bad?

Sounds pretty damn romantic to me.

And even if I’ve got no one to do that with, I at least have faith that one day in the future I will!

So stop your belly-aching. Please.

Thursday, February 12, 2009

The Story of Jade Morrison

I don't normally do this; post a story on a blog.
Nor do I post one that I'm in the middle of writing. But I feel this is a necessity. I've run out of things to rant on, to be quite honest with you. I'm sure I can post about not having anything to rant, but after that rant... I'm screwed.
But I feel this could be a good learning tool for others. I also feel that some could enjoy this story.

This story is a fan fiction about the actor Max Martini. It is also a fictional tale of a character I made up - that I in no way resemble. I do not have red hair and blue eyes. I can't sing for the life of me, and I don't ride horses. However, being that I've read enough books on horses, and know a lot about musicians and how some of them tick, I feel I know enough about the professions to get away with writing about them. This is solely fiction. I do not wish to have some sort of relationship with Max, nor do I ever think I will even meet him. All I have done is taken his name and his good looks and slapped them onto a character I wanted to make.

Now that I've put up my disclaimer, please enjoy the following bits and pieces of story I am writing.


Jade sat upon the stage, acoustic guitar on her lap, and looked out at the poor excuse for a crowd. She honestly had no idea how she got roped into doing this gig. It had been more than three years since she had sat down in front of an audience (and at that time, the audience had been a huge, thriving mass of people crying out for the music), and she felt she had made a huge success in getting the public to forget she ever existed – in all of her endeavours.

But here she was, sitting on a small stage in the back of a pub, guitar in hand, a few other band members gearing up for the gig, and not a single soul paying attention to the fact that there was going to be music. Jade didn’t really mind, though. She’d prefer it that way. As she began to strum her guitar, a few more lost souls stumbled into the pub and headed for the bar.

Leaning forward toward the mike, she began to sing, “I tried to discover a little something to make me sweeter…”

Her eyes wandered back over to the bar where the three newcomers huddled, and prepared to take their shots.

“But baby refrain from breakin’ my heart,” she crooned, and the three men threw back their heads, downed the tequila, and quickly went for their lemon slices.

“I’m so in love with you, I’ll be forever blue…” As the oldest of the three men ordered probably what would be a large amount of beer, the younger men turned away from the bar, and wandered closer to the stage to find an empty table suitable for their small party.

One of the two young men caught Jade’s eye, and as she continued to sing the cover, she kept glancing back over at him. Perhaps it was the red hair (like attracts like, right?), or the stubborn stubble on his chin. Or perhaps it was –

The man looked up at her, and blue gazes crashed against each other as their eyes locked. Oh, but he was beautiful. Also, so familiar.

He grinned up at her, and she smiled back as she finished up the song. Averting her gaze from the man, she turned to her band, “What do you guys want to play next?”

“Why don’t you sing Just A Dream,” Henry said. “Well, only if you’re comfortable singing it.”

She gazed at her band mate, his bass guitar in hand, looking back at her with a small smile on his face. They were all nodding their heads in agreement. Why these fools loved her cover of this song, she didn’t know. Obviously she put a bit more feeling into it than Carrie Underwood ever could, but why this song?

She shrugged, “If that’s what you guys want…”

She turned back to the mike, but before she could begin to sing her eyes fell on the redhead again. The older man, who she definitely recognized sat down with the other fellows and began to pour a beer for each of them. The redhead turned back to the table, and all three of them began to talk animatedly.

So she began to sing, “It was two weeks after the day she turned eighteen…”

The song was about a girl whose true love, her fiancé, had gone off to war… and he did not come home. For Jade, it was something she could relate to. For she herself was a widow, and her husband had died when his fighter jet crashed in the middle east three years ago. It had been three years since she had received the letter telling her he had died, and she was only finally able to begin moving on.

After finishing the song, tears stood in her eyes, but she managed to smile thinly at her band mates. They moved into another song, and then another. Jade was very much aware that the trio sitting closest the stage were actually paying attention to her, and she could feel a blush burning her cheeks. They took a break after six songs, and Jade jumped down from the small stage and headed to the bar.

As she stood at the bar and ordered a cold one, from the corner of her eye she caught the redhead standing up and heading over. Taking a sip of the beer, she turned away from the guy, even as he came up.

“Excuse me?” he asked, and she had no other option but to turn and look at him. No matter how easily he took her breath away. His piercing blue eyes stood out even more because of the dark blue sweater he had on, and his stubble gave him a very rugged look that spoke volumes to Jade. Vivid images of running her nails down his back caused her to choke on her beer. A few moments passed before she was able to speak, “Yes?” she asked, her voice a bit hoarse.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” the man said, but Jade waved at him to continue.

“I just… I don’t know. You seem so familiar.” He said, as he scrutinized her gold-red hair, pale blue eyes, and pale complexion. “I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten my manners,” he said, coming back to his senses. “I’m Max Martini.”

Jade caught herself before she choked on her beer again. Now she knew who he was! “Max Martini!” she exclaimed, and almost slapped her forehead.

Max chuckled, “Yes, we’ve determined that. But I’m still trying to figure out who you are. What’s your name?”

Jade opted for only her first name, “Jade,” she said simply. Then began to make up an excuse, “I know, I know… my eyes aren’t green. But my parents simply adored the name…”

But Max wasn’t listening. “Jade… Jade…” he looked up, “I know! Jade Morrison, right?”

He knew who she was! “Not quite,” she said quietly, “It’s Jade MacCauley now...”

Max looked a bit crestfallen, “You’re married?”

Jade chuckled quietly, “Again, not quite. I’m a widow.”

Max was quiet for some time, “I’m sorry to hear this.”

“It’s been three years, so I’ve gotten over most of the pain, Max,” she said. For some reason, she wanted him to like her. Again, images of her fingers running down his back – this time it caused her to shiver. “How do you know who I am?” she asked, changing the subject.

Max grinned, “I followed your career when you were in racing. Sure, I listened to some of your music, but it was the horses that I was interested in. I always wondered what happened to you. It was like you had fallen off the face of the earth. What DID happen to you?”

Jade wondered how much she should tell him, “My husband didn’t like the publicity and the lack of privacy. So I stopped racing and singing.”

Max sighed, “What a shame. You have a beautiful voice and your talent on horseback is one of a kind.”

Jade could feel herself blushing. To hear such words of praise from such a man as this. Why, it almost made one want to get back up in the saddle again.

The band was beginning to set up again, so Jade threw back her beer, smiled at Max, and edged away from the bar. No such luck. The man was following her. “I have to get back, Max.” she said.

“That’s okay. Once you’re done, you should come sit with us for a bit.” He said, as he followed her back to the stage.

She grinned down at him from her spot on the stage, “I’ll think about it, Max.”

Max grinned up at her, and made her mind slide back into the gutter. “I look forward to talking with you, Jade.”

She smiled down at him, and sat down. Picking up her guitar, she tried not to let her band mates know just how flustered this man was making her.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

SealHunt Musings


It is that time of year again when there is an uproar about the killing of the overpopulated Harp seals living off the coast of Newfoundland. It's quite amazing how some people will look at pictures of a dead animal, and without learning the facts of the hunt (not the slaughter) create such an uninformed cry to put an end to it. Shamefully, I was one of those ignorant people who would take one look at a picture of a dead baby Harp seal, and cried out that this was an injustice. But I was made aware by more informed people about what is going on.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm about as big a treehugger as any other. Don't ever get me started on why whales should not be hunted.

The killing of baby Harps in Newfoundland, and ALL of Canada is ILLEGAL. The humane killing of adult Harp seals IS legal.
There are 517,900 people living in Newfoundland, and 4,700,000 Harp seals frequent the Newfoundland coastal waters, consuming 88,000 pounds of cod, which isn't even their preferred fish.

The killing of baby seals is just as illegal as the killing of whales in Canadian waters, and I am against BABY seals being killed, but the seal hunt must continue. There are too many seals, and if we do not control their numbers the whole ecosystem will be ruined, as the idiot government fools allowed other countries to fish our waters, depleting the numbers of fish. It is much like hunting deer in the Northern States, and in Canada. It is a necessity, because, as humans, we have already ruined their habitat, and to let them overpopulate what is left, will ruin it.

If we do not kill these animals (with all parts used, no doubt. From what I hear, you aren't a Newfoundlander, unless you've eaten a seal flipper pie ;)) they will overpopulate the waters, eating all of the fish, and starve themselves to death.

For the record, I have seen two adolescent Harp seals up close, and personal, in a tank on a little island off the Quebec coast, Les Iles de la Madeleine. They are a bit... scary looking, to say the least. And from what I was told (in French, mind you) these creatures, when fully grown are actually quite dangerous. I, as a tourist, bought a necklace with a seal claw (hell yes, they have claws, what did you think they were, fish?) on it, and trust me when I say it's quite sharp. Did you know that female Harp seals do not lose their white fur until the age of twelve? It’s the age of seven for males. They only live 35 years, so I’m pretty sure it is safe to say that a 12 year old seal is not a pup.

No matter what I say, even if I start complaining about how we depleted the whale populations to a mere percent of what is used to be, therefore leaving the Harp seal with no truly visible enemy (transient orcas) other than ourselves, I can not even remotely begin to explain things the way a true Newfoundlander might be able to.

So instead, I shall get off my soap box, and give to you the words of a man who grew up with the seal hunt, unlike the rest of us. This was written in 2006 during the season the seal hunt took place, and Paul McCartney and his wife helped PETA, and the American SPCA to try and put a stop to the hunt of an overpopulated species.


March 2, 2006
Tour Diary St. John's, NL

Paul McCartney was in St. John's yesterday. Cool, eh? I bet he was in town to check out the cool musical historical connections between this worldly sea port and his own home town of Liverpool in England. Or maybe he was here to show support for struggling coastal communities near flattened by the globalization of the fishing industry.

No. Paul and his wife, Ms. Mills-McCartney were just stopping over on their way to PEI from where they will fly over the ice in search of an opportunity to hug a cute baby seal and mug for photographers. Much ado has been made in the media today about the arguments for and against the seal hunt. Many marine biologists and educated members of the fishing industry have duked, and will continue to duke, it out with members of environmental and animal rights groups that range from practical and sensible to fanatical and downright criminal. These people are much more qualified for the finer points of these debates than I, and I suspect most of us.

My opinion, I suspect, is shared by many. I think killing seals is cruel and ugly work. I think killing rabbits, moose, cows, chickens, and anything else with a pulse, is cruel and ugly work. I have never done it.

I, like many, accept that there are circumstances on Planet Earth where choosing to be a vegetarian is not an option. If you live, or certainly if you lived a few decades ago, in a coastal community in Newfoundland and Labrador, during the winter months, you'd have hard time finding an avocado salad.

I, like most, also accept that in this day and age animals are hunted and farmed for food, clothes, medicine, and a variety of commercial reasons. I, like most, expect that these industries be closely regulated and scrutinized and act in a humane and environmentally responsible fashion. Simply put, I don't want animals to suffer inhumane lives or deaths, and I don't want commercial hunting or fishing to result in the endangerment or extinction of a species.

From what I understand from respected individuals in the beef industry, the vast majority of cattle farmers act in a humane and responsible fashion and no one dares suggest anything else. Oprah was almost crucified in the US for questioning the American beef industry.

From what I understand from respected individuals in the sealing industry, the vast majority of sealers act in a humane and responsible fashion. Yet Paul McCartney is not one bit shy about throwing his considerable weight behind a campaign to have the Prime Minister put an end to the seal hunt. Moreover, he seems perfectly willing to pose for a propaganda photo with a baby seal on behalf of the Humane society of the United States no doubt aiding the organizations fundraising efforts for a long time.

Now I've got nothing against the Humane Society and I don't wish to make the lives of the inhumane easier by casting doubts towards on the Humane Society's efforts. But this photo-op will be misleading to the public and unfair to the humane and responsible sealers in small struggling communities everywhere as there has not been a cute and cuddly baby seal hunt in a long long time. Older harp seals are what the sealers are after but I'll bet these much uglier dudes won't make the final photo.

But Paul is a smart, worldly man who is well versed in Newfoundland and Labrador history and economics, right? I am sure Mr. McCartney has considered all the above before he agreed to this photo opportunity today, right? If so, lets call this what it is. Mr. McCartney has thought it through and chosen seals over sealers, regardless of whether these sealers are humane and responsible. He is voting for fundraising for the Humane Society over the continued existence of Coastal Communities of Newfoundland and Labrador.

Well, Mr. and Ms. McCartney, enjoy your trip to Atlantic Canada. If your efforts today are really successful, there may be a few less towns to see next time you stop by.

Alan Doyle
Great Big Sea

What else am I supposed to say? I know at least one friend will not support my view at all and that is fine. Her idea is to stop the slaughter of all animals, and I have a different view. Sure, we’re sort of on the same page. We both want to help save the animals… but I have chosen a road less traveled when believing in animal rights. I choose to only help those in dire need. Those who are in peril of becoming extinct.

I am not a vegetarian. I am of the belief that we, as omnivores, need to eat meat. Our incisors are proof that we were made to eat meat. Those teeth are made for ripping into flesh, not fauna. Bears are omnivores. They eat vegetables and meat. I don’t see them becoming vegetarians.

I understand the morals that go into becoming a vegetarian. Honestly, I do. I don’t agree with them, but I understand them, and respect them.

However, I do not appreciate vegetarians pulling a “Catholic” move. Yes, I said it. A Catholic move. “My religion is right, and yours is wrong so you’re going to hell. I understand not all Catholics feel this way, but most (especially the leaders of this religion) do. But that is neither here nor there. What I’m trying to get at is that some vegetarians will start “spreading the word” about veganism and why it is “wrong” to eat meat. I don’t appreciate it, just like I don’t appreciate being told I’m going to hell, or that my opinion doesn’t matter because I’m just a little girl.

And the thing that gets me the most about the arguments on the seal hunt is that these people are claiming that we’re doing it only for the fur! I agree that it’s a major reason as to why the seal hunt goes on, but it is not the only reason! Think of these: overpopulation, meat, under-population of fish stocks, fishermen who have no other option for income.

And trying to make the seal hunt illegal because of those poor white-coats? Sigh… poaching will continue whether the adults are legal to kill or not.

Don't get me wrong, please. I generally hate humans. We killed whales for nothing but the oil, and fat, and left the rest of the carcass to rot in the sand. We killed whales so that one species that was bountiful, and swam in the oceans in great numbers has been reduced to a measly 400 Northern Right Whales.

I ask you, why use your energy to help save a species that has over four million numbers alone? Why not try and make a difference with a species that's actually on the brink of extinction?

Monday, January 19, 2009

Musings about Smiling


Such an easy thing to do, and so many people don’t even think about it, or the meaning that is put into it.

Would it be surprising to say that the job I probably enjoyed the most throughout my short yet job-filled life was the one in which I smiled at people the most? I spent 8 hours of my day leaning out of a window, passing out coffee, soup, donuts, and smiles. And for every smile I passed out, I would get a smile in return. And you know, despite that I started those smiles at six in the morning on most days, I never felt more at home in a job then when I was making others smile, and brightening their day a tiny bit. I was, after all, handing to them, through a car window, the sustenance that woke them up each morning.

And the reason I was really in no mood to leave that job? I was enjoying myself. For the most part, I loved my coworkers. I still go back to visit some of them every few months when I’m in town. And most of the customers rocked. Sure there were your average pervs, assholes, and grumpy jerktrouts, but all in all, I got a smile out of each and every person when I smiled and said good morning.

A few months ago I had to drag my butt down to a shipping company to pick up a package from “ThinkGeek”, and once there had to deal with the front desk clerk. Certainly not a problem. Of course, the entire time I talked to him, I was smiling. As I was leaving the building, he told me to never lose my smile. Well, I promptly went home, and bawled my eyes out because of an entirely different reason, but we all have our moments when we feel like we have nothing to live for. Thankfully, those are few and far between for me. I can always find a reason to smile.

People need to smile more. There is not enough smiling in this day and age. Everyone complains about this, and that, and their mother-in-law. If people spent half the time they took to complain, and used that time to think happier thoughts, we’d all be a little less cranky in the morning, and we would be less likely to quip rude remarks at each other.

It’s one thing to use sarcasm. It’s another to roll your eyes at someone, and flip them the bird.

Why can’t we all just stop and be thankful for being alive, for being able to do the things we do, for being a unique individual? If we stopped taking everything for granted, we’d all realize that each and every one of us has a reason to smile.

I don’t care if your heart is breaking. And I don’t care if you’ve lost all your money. And I really don’t care if you’ve lost your job, you can’t go see the concert you want to see, your best friend moved away, you’ve broken your TV, the bus drivers are on strike, or you’ve spent all your money gambling.

Stop it.

Just… stop.

Stop. Pause. Stand still. Look around. Breathe. Blink. Touch. Feel.


Forget everything that is bringing you down. You are, to a point, in control of what you feel. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Stop being angry at the world. Stop blaming yourself, others, the world on your misfortune. That’s the thing, really. You’re too busy putting blame on people for why you aren’t happy. I blame you. I blame me. I blame that thing called God. I blame you for not looking at the good things in life. I blame me for not trying to make you see the good things in life. I blame God for creating you in a fashion that it makes it so damn hard for you to see the good things in life.

But you know what? I also blame no one.

It is up to you to take those steps to being happy. Stop drowning in your sorrow. I know how it feels. I’ve been there, I’ve done that. I hated it, and never want to be in that situation again. However, I know I will be. We all have to make brave first steps, and sometimes going out on a limb will cause us to fall back down to the ground. And it hurts. But once we’ve known that we can hurt, and feel better afterward, it makes the healing process a little bit easier.

I know this pain will soon end. So instead of wallowing in it, think of the better things in life. How does that song go?

“I’ve got a smile on my face, and I’ve got four walls around me.”

Not a day goes by that I don’t step out into the Ottawa air, look around me, and be thankful that I am where I am now. I would not change a thing. In time, I know I shall move on. But for now, I am just thankful I am alive, and that nature is alive all around me.

Once you are able to be thankful for the things that really matter in life, it is then that you will learn just how important smiling is.

And that with a smile you can change a world – even if it is just your world.

Friday, January 16, 2009

Musings of Anon.

It’s amazing, don’t you think?

To be incapable of thinking of someone without feeling bothered, without seeing red, without wanting to rip your hair out, and let loose a cry of despair.

Isn’t it?

Just the thought of that one person ruins your whole day. You were going along fine, and then something reminds you of them, and suddenly you can’t think straight, and you wish you had never made the mistake of even talking to them, let alone letting them into your life completely.

How can one person cause such grief in your life when they aren’t even there? It’s not fair. It simply… is not… fair.

But then one day… one day in the future… you move on.

How is it that up until November 1st, thinking about you hurt? And how is it, from November 1st until about the middle of December the thought of you produced nothing but detached thoughts? And now. Now I can think about you, smile, and remember all of the good times, without feeling sorrow?

Why is it that the thought of you is having the opposite effect on me?

Curse you and everything you stand for.

But I sit here, and I ponder. How is it that the only way I can move on from hating you is to learn to ‘love’ someone else? And when that ‘love’ ends, when I finally look back on you, I can look back with fond memories, and a small smile upon my face? Is this the only way I will ever be able to heal from such instances?

And isn’t that such a shame?

That it took almost half a year to finally get over what you did. Because there were so many good memories that I wasn’t allowing myself to think about, because when I thought about you my breathing grew rapid and shallow, and I couldn’t think straight.

Finally, I am able to think straight – and my God, I’m starting to realize that I learned so much about myself when I was with you.

Perhaps the line, “Better as a memory than as your man” rings true in this situation, but my God… the memory that you are. I will never forget you, and what you stand for. You made almost three whole months of my life crazy exciting.

Thank you.

Friday, January 9, 2009

Troll Musing

I understand trolls – to a certain extent. In fact, I’ll be the first to admit I’ve trolled a few boards in my time. I can understand how trolls tick. Most of them are just assholes. They come in, they troll a board (generally with porn), get banned, laugh mischievously because they have a floating IP, log off, log back on, and reregister to troll again. Trolls like this can be the downfall of message boards. I know. I’ve seen it happen. And this is where counter-trolls come in.

Have you ever been part of forum wars? Real forum wars? Where Bob pisses off Larry on message board A, but Larry knows Bob owns his own message board, and so he and a couple of buddies traipse on over there to troll the place up. Larry quickly bans the trolls, gathers his own elite army of counter-trolls, and goes back to board A to troll that board. It could go on forever or end in a matter of minutes.

Larry and Bob eventually make up. And then, since they’re on some sort of trolling spree, they decide to pick a random board off the internet (would a boy band message board suffice? Of course!) and off they go with their two groups of trolls and just flood the board with horrid messages.


These things do happen. I know. From first hand experience.

Now, I’m happy to say I’ve moved on from this childish behaviour. In fact, when I was doing this, I was only 18 years old. Did I really know better? Probably. But in my own defence, I was in Larry’s group. We were initially counter-trolling. I know, no excuse. But what can you do?

I say if you’re going to be a troll, you should do it uniquely. My trolling techniques were never… how do you say this? Normal… I would rarely post porn. No, not porn. Porn is so… boring, so mundane, so average.

The first time I trolled, I was silly enough. I posted random lyrics from one of my favourite bands (that is virtually unknown). I flooded the board well enough. Got a post in each forum on the board. I was banned within ten minutes. Rejoined, using the same IP, and started over again. Banned again. This time they banned my IP. Smart people.

The second time I went trolling, I had a little more fun. I had access to Kirk/Spock slash graphic manipulations, and I used them all over a board where a few members had wreaked havoc upon the board I frequented. No staff were around to stop me, and I managed to put up a fair amount of disturbing photos of Kirk and Spock making out behind trees, and Spock with his shirt off, and Kirk staring longingly at the Vulcan.

The world is a messed up place.

I do not condone trolling. In fact, I am highly against it. See? People can change! I was never a bad person. My trolling was done light-heartedly, which would explain why the topics of my trolling were not very offensive at all. Well, except to the homophobic. Or the people who detest Star Trek.

And quite honestly, the second time I trolled – they never banned me! They deleted everything we had posted, and I was back the next day able to post more! But I didn’t. Once was enough.

Okay, so I ran with the wrong crowd once upon a time. I don’t anymore. I don’t approve of trolling, I am 100% against it. It’s rude, it’s annoying, and it should not be allowed. But we’ll never stop it. And sometimes there is a reason behind it, while other times it just comes out of nowhere.

People. Stop trolling. Enough is enough.

Let’s all be adults.

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

Promotional Musings

Okay, enough with the musings already.

Please, don’t shoot me for saying that!

I love to muse, but sometimes I need to read other people’s musings, or perhaps I just need to laugh my arse off. Or perhaps I want to interact with other people. There’s certainly nothing wrong with that!

But I want to share these things with you, Constant Reader!

Customers Suck
This is by far my favourite board to lurk. It is the only message board that I go to weekly to read posts to ease my own pain, make me scowl at sucky people, and in general entertain me. I rarely post, and when I do it is generally a long-winded rant about some fool who called in when I was working at a call centre for a large phone and internet provider.

I don’t normally lurk at a board. I’m either posting or I’m not there at all. But this board is special. I no longer work in public service. I no longer have customers. So the only thing I can really complain about would be coworkers, and that’s really not what this message board (and website) is for. So I spend a lot of time reading other people’s horror stories, especially those of Gravekeeper. Gravekeeper, is by far, the best poster on this message board. I laugh, I cry, I cringe. His posts are always epic, and I can relate to many of them as he works in a call centre. And did I mention that Gravekeeper is Canadian? It only makes sense that his posts would be as epic as they are.

I strongly suggest you take a moment to go check out this message board. Almost everyone can related to the posts found there.

Who doesn’t want a great big helping of Fail?

I’ll admit that some of these pictures and videos are distasteful, but some of this stuff leaves me falling off my chair laughing. I’m not kidding! If you want to see a fail of any sort, go to this site. People walking into poles, bad translations, spelling fails. It seriously is hilarious – but only if you like seeing people embarrass themselves.

Renegades of the FBI
This is now my home away from home. It used to be another message board, but I no longer feel comfortable there. I like posting here. It is a message board dedicated to the X-Files, and shows and topics related to it. Since my favourite show is the X-Files (as if you didn’t know that) is it any surprise that I enjoy posting here?

Not only is the topic great, but the members are awesome, and remind me of an old message board I used to frequent way back in the day (2004). Everyone is friendly and helpful, and I don’t feel like I’m going to be attacked just because I don’t agree with everything they think. In fact, it kind of feels like family.

Doggett House
I hate to promote my own message boards, but I feel I must. I love going here. After the big mishap at the ‘other board’, this is one of my places to go. However, I realize that the board dies any time our beloved Luvy is not online. He truly keeps my message board alive, because everyone clamours to talk with this well-loved Duchovny and Patrick fan.

Other websites that I frequent are as follows:

Club Penguin
The Well of Creativity (some more shameless self-promotion)
The Robert Patrick Forum

And here ends my one and only Promotional Blog.

Whack fall the day!

Monday, January 5, 2009

Paranormal Musings

“Let’s just say I want to believe.”

I want to dwell on a subject that has plagued modern civilization for decades now. The Paranormal.

Is it so surprising that someone who is so obsessed with a show like the X-Files wishes to discuss this topic? Probably not.

Ghosts. Psychics. Aliens.

With technology progressing faster than the blink of an eye, is it so amazing that people are beginning to document paranormal events with useful equipment? And yet, while technological advances make it easier to document such things, it also has shown how easily we can fake such evidence. It makes everything people have discovered redundant. We’re back where we started off – seeing is believing. The best proof is hands on proof. Correct?

Isn’t that such a shame? That we can prove something exists to the point of actual physical proof, visual and audio, only to be had by our own brilliant inventions? Does it not make you want to cry when you have right in front of you a video of a ghost forming and disappearing, only to find out we have the technology to fake such a thing?

Even by talking about it, people still won’t believe. You’d have to see the video for yourself.

No? Not enough? You’d rather be in the room to witness it yourself? Because even if you will agree that this is raw footage, you could still claim that it was someone running up and then fleeing, even if everyone present in the penitentiary were accounted for. You still wouldn’t believe. Not even if they couldn’t debunk this by giving an idiot a black blanket, and asking him to run back and forth in front of the camera.

Why is it we only learn to believe when we are accosted by the things we dare not believe in?

I’m certainly not one to talk. When it comes to ghosts I believe. I really do, even though I’ve never honestly seen one (although there have been a few instances where I think I might have seen one). But when it comes to things like psychics I’m a denying pessimist. No way, no how. No such thing has psychics. I won’t have it. It’s just a bunch of hogwash, and anyone who believes in them is crazy.

Or are they?

I began to have doubts about my strong belief that psychics were fake, when I viewed a thermal recording made by the Ghost Hunters. The thermal imaging is located at roughly 1:48 in to the video. This is a collection of the ten best moments in Ghost Hunters history (and I thoroughly agree with whoever chose them).

I know, I know. It’s just a bunch of fancy lights and hoo-haw. But to those of us who understand thermal imaging, it means a heck of a lot more than fancy lights and pretty things. Those bright colours signify heat, and in this instance we can not explain what is going on. Some may speculate that what Grant caught on thermal is psychic energy.

But I was still a nonbeliever. Oh sure, I admitted that there was a possibility that some people were indeed psychic, but I still believed that 99% of psychics were frauds. And then I went to one.

My friend had been oohing and ahhing over this woman she had gone to. Apparently the lady had done her life reading and her yearly reading, and had gotten things dead-on. And now my friend was clamouring for others to come visit the psychic to get their readings done, and she would accompany her friends.

So we made an appointment, and planned a day of fun around my lifetime reading. My friend came over during the day, and we headed downstairs to the ‘toy-room’ which now houses mainly books, records, and extra pieces of furniture. Come to think of it, now that I’ve moved out, that room is pretty darn empty save for a tv stand and my record player (as well as a broken electric organ). We were sitting around down there, and looking through all of my books. I have a huge collection of books, and the biggest part of the collection is my Stephen King books. I own all of his novels, and quite a few other books as well. So I lectured her on my favourite author. Haha. I’m sure she got bored, but she sure as hell was paying some attention.

How do I know she was paying attention? Because she freaked out when the psychic told me my lifetime reading. A lifetime reading consists of the basics. She tells you about your past, present, and future, but keeps it broad enough to make it last a lifetime. A yearly reading deals with the coming year, and only the coming year and goes into much more detail. This psychic focuses on many things, including relationships and sex, careers, health, travelling, and whatnot. The only thing she doesn’t talk about is death. So even if she sees one of your relatives is going to die in the near future she won’t come right out and tell you. Instead she’ll say they may get sick or get in a serious accident, and just leave it at that.

And as I write this, I stopped short as I realized she told me something and it happened – and I had totally forgotten she had told me about it! Okay, that’s a bit creepy.

Well, during my lifetime she said a few things that impressed me. She detailed my past very efficiently, right down to the fact that I generally liked to dress in guy’s clothing (however, this day I was wearing a nice tanktop and very much female flared jeans). She also told me that I would start dressing much more effeminate (uh, that’s what I was trying to do!), and that I would start to experiment with my hair (I’ve been doing that for quite a few years now, though). She then asked me if I had any friends who gave me a hard time and called me things such as ‘butch’. I promptly said no. She then told me to watch out in the very near future as someone would start spreading rumours about this. I dismissed this as hogwash.

She then told me that within five years I would find the guy for me, I would find a job I liked (that paid extremely well), but that during my entire lifetime I would be living out of a suitcase – in that I would always be on the go. She also said I would have a great sex life (this pissed my friend off to no end, as the psychic never told her such a thing), and every time I go see her she is adamant about this one fact. It helps that my sex life since then has been positively amazing.

And this is where things got creepy. She asked me what I wanted to do for a living, and I told her the truth. I don’t really know what I want to do (well, I do, but I find it is a pipe dream) but that I wanted a steady job with a nice income. She said I would find it, but that by my late 30s I would be a published author. How did this crazy lady know I loved to read and write? But that’s not all. She scared the hell out of my friend with the following: “You’re going to write a lot of stories once you get published. You’ll be writing all sorts of stuff, but a lot of it is going to be like Stephen King.” My friend literally screeched in excitement and awe, and the psychic continued, “But you’ll also write other stuff, like children’s books.”

Okay, so we also had a little chuckle. Me? Children’s books? Boy, those kids are going to be scarred for life.

She said a few more things, and we all left happy, although minus 25 dollars.

So she read me like a book. That didn’t make her psychic.

And I thought that until two weeks later when a coworker jokingly started spreading a rumour that I was a lesbian. Now my friend worked in the same place I did, and when she heard the rumour she came to me and said the words I was thinking, “She was right! She so totally saw this!”

Okay, I admit it. I believed the woman was psychic.

I went back for my yearly.

And I went back this August. Her reading from this August has been so exact that it’s creeping me out at this point. Obviously not everything she foresees is going to happen. But so far, a lot of it has. She foresaw that a man would leave me for another woman (and lo and behold my last boyfriend technically kind of did), she told me I would be going to a few weddings (I scoffed at this because I didn’t know anyone getting married – and then the aforementioned man who left me invited me to a wedding) She told me that I love my job, and enjoy being at work, but that I would start spending way too much time at work. Which I am. Bus strike means I have to hitch a ride with a fellow coworker. Said coworker works from seven until five, whereas I work from eight until four. Therefore I’m working two extra hours a day. And it’s making me go nuts.

There were other things she foresaw, but quite honestly I can’t remember it all, and the list of what she told me is on another computer.

I still stand by what I’ve said before. Most psychics are frauds. They use very open-ended answers, and leave you to believe it in order for it to come true. And I agree that a lot of what the psychic said falls under that category. If someone tells you this is going to happen in your life, and you believe it, you will start to do things in order for it to happen. It certainly doesn’t make the person psychic. But when a psychic tells you that a man is going to leave you for another woman (or because of), and your boyfriend leaves you because of his ex-girlfriend, it freaks the hell out of you.

What she said about my becoming published has only caused me to start writing once more.

One more item on my agenda.


I ask you this: What gives humanity the right to assume that they are the only sentient (not to mention living) beings in the entire universe.

Science has proven that the universe is larger than belief. How can someone sit there and claim that Earth is the only planet amongst billions of planets that could have formed life? Throwing around religious texts isn’t going to debunk anything. If anything it causes the people of today to scorn those who believe wholeheartedly that God created the Earth, and then put fancy-lookin’ stars in the sky so that we could have something to look at.

Science, nay human technology, has proven that our universe is vast, and that each star is a sun burning millions of light-years away. And with each sun comes the possibility of planets. And with each planet comes the possibility of life. And I don’t mean snails, and moss. I mean the possibility of creatures like us, of creatures like the whales, of creatures like the elephants. Shall I continue on listing the intelligent creatures that live on this planet?

Next time the people who laugh at the idea of aliens go outside at night, I ask them to do this: Look up. Begin to count the stars you see (pray that you’re looking at a sky rid of clouds, and light pollution). Each star can be considered a chance that there is other life than ours. Possibly even more than one chance! Who is to say that that sun has just one planet circling it with just the right amount of distance, atmosphere, gravitational pull, etc, to support living creatures?

Do people not see how small we truly are? That we aren’t as special as our egos want us to believe? I understand it’s your religion and you have every right to believe in it the way you wish. But sometimes I am saddened to see that humanity, as a whole, thinks that they are invincible and the top dog (aside from God). And I am saddened to see people believe that an almighty god who we can’t touch, see, or hear created the universe in just seven days, and that he created it for US. Because, to me, that is so close-minded. People ignore the facts so that their religion makes sense.

And I can understand why aliens have not made true contact with us. Why must we assume that the aliens would be much more technologically advanced? Could they not be at the same stage, or a stage lower than us? It is either we are alone or the aliens have to be superior. I’m so confused!

And yes, I do believe we’ve done a few cover-ups. No doubt about it. So I guess that means I do believe in a superior race of aliens. Some even suggest that the people who resided in Atlantis were descended from aliens.

I don’t know.

I just know they’re out there.

Whack fall the day!

PS – The psychic had the audacity to tell me that I was weird. And then she told me to never change.