{...}

I can't breathe.

The Hockey Game

I went to a hockey game the other night. The Williams Lake team, the TimberWolves, against Prince George. It was intense. See, the T-Wolves were losing by two for the first two periods, but then in the third they scored two goals in like, two minutes. And then they were tied. And it went into overtime. The winning goal was scored by a TimberWolf who, after falling on his knees without losing possession of the puck, reached it with his stick, fell to the ice, and totally got it past the goalie. It was incredible. Really.

Somebody tried to ruin the game for me though. My day, even. She was just this rude, snobby, "everything goes my way or I am just not happy" kind of person. And she had bad hair.

Anyway, about twenty minutes into the game, she and her man come to the row that a couple of friends and I were sitting in. Let me just tell you now that the bleachers were not full. Not even close. You might say half-full. You might even say half-empty. Anyway, so the two of them walk down the stairs like they own the place, look at the seats next to us, look at their tickets, look at us, look at the seats again, and then say, "Uh, excuse us, you're sitting in one of our seats." Because, lets face it, they were the only seats left, and this was important. Really, this should have tipped me off right away, but, being the kind of person that I am, never doubting that everyone has the potential to be a kind, sharing person, it didn't tip me off at all.

So, first period ends. Those people who are there to keep you entertained during the intermissions appear and attempt to entertain us. Then they have a contest. "The section that makes the most noise wins pizza! Yay!" And, while the fun-wreckers next to us remained in their seats and not a sound escaped their lips, the rest of our section was working to win pizza. Which we did. Congratulations to us. Thing is though, when they brought around the pizza, they pretty much didn't have enough for everyone. So, when the guy brought the pizza box to mes amis et moi, there were two tiny pieces left. Not really enough anyway, but wait, it gets better. Psycho-chick literally jumps over us to the pizza man, scoops the two slices, and then says, "This is all that there is? Why is there only two tiny pizzas for this whole section? Look at how small these slices are! This is not a prize!" I'm thinkin, holy smack lady, sorry, insensitive bitch, let's just not talk right now. I'll show you a friggin pizza. Dear god, woman!

Second period. Yay, two goals! Yay, a fight! Yay, the wave! What an excellent game! Meanwhile, psycho-bitch has disappeared to go complain about the pizza thing. End of second period. Cal-Tire people come and assault the spectators with oversized t-shirts, hats and locks (yes, locks, as in those heavy metal things with keys). Then, onto the ice come three people who have won, somehow, a trip onto the ice to get prizes. But lo and behold, who is this person among them? Yes, that's right. It's her. She has a choice; two $50 gift certificates for vehicle repairs at Cal-Tire, or, you can have what's in this box. Of course, she assumes that what is in the box is better than engine work, because, why would she settle for that? And the other two "winners" have the same theory. So they all proceed to open their "gifts." A look of dissatisfaction appears on the woman's face. She's won a mug set. And a gift certificate to Cal-Tire. She shrugs her shoulders and exits the ice, no thank-you's or appreciation of any kind, dragging her mug set behind her. When she returns to her seat, she has the same look. Kind of, "Well, of course I won, but this prize is crap."

I am disappointed in mankind when I encounter people like that. Don't be like that.

on university and decision-making...

I'm at that point in my life where a crucial decision must be made. But I don't know how to make it. See, I have a job, but it's not very fulfilling. Honestly, I bring people food. And the thing is, they really don't appreciate me as much as they truly could. So I feel unfulfilled. My plan, now, is to go to school so that I can do something that could, potentially, make me happy. I would love to be happy.

The only flaw in my plan is unfortunately one that can't be overlooked. I have no idea what I want to do for a living. This makes the application process slightly difficult, as you can imagine.

I took a test a while back to find out what I could do, hoping that perhaps it might give me something to go on. The results? Archaeology, psychology, architecture. These are the areas it gave me. Or be a detective, it says to me. And now, I am supposed to choose one. But see, that's the trouble. I couldn't narrow it down before I took the test. And if you haven't noticed, these options aren't incredibly similar. I realize that I don't have to choose my career based on this if there is nothing there that interests me, but I guess it's easier to choose from a list of four possible careers than a blank page.

That has always been my problem. I can't really make important decisions. I always get a little frightened and don't want the responsibility of ruining my life to fall onto my shoulders, you know, if I make the wrong choice.

Everybody tells me, "Choose a career based on something you love to do. What are some of your hobbies?" To which I respond, "Hobbies? What hobbies?"

Obviously, I must have a couple of hobbies. You would think. But I really can't figure out how to make them into a career. Also, hobbies are what they are because you do them to escape the day-to-day monotony. Anyway, what are my hobbies... let me think a little... Ok. I act. I do like to act. And sing. And really, perform in general. I love performing. But hey, that market is loaded with openings, isn't it? Oh wait, no, I'm lying. It's not. So what if I'm not good enough at it to make it, and then I spend the rest of my life waitressing and trying to break into the biz? I don't think so.

So yes, I do sound very bitter and pessimistic, I know. I'm not really like that. But I'm too much of a realist on this subject I think. It's like, just do what you love, you know? I'm just too scared. Anyway, I want to have a degree in something so that I can fall back on it if necessary. And once again, it comes down to this. I thought, hey, art history could be fun, huh? Or archaeology. That does sound almost appealing.

Anyway, it's getting down to crunch time, and I'm getting a little restless. If I want to go to school this fall, applications are happening now. And I'm missing it. Because really, I'm just a scared little girl. Huh.

my fish, part II

it's true. i have, in fact, aquired for myself a fish of no distinction. congratulations to me. the thing about it is, this fish has no personality. actually, i'm lying. he has a personality. it's just very blah. this fish has no spirit, no spunk. i put a nice little shipwreck in the bowl, and all he ever does is lean on it. no, really. he's a leaner.

i haven't really been able to make friends with the fish. i tried, but he is completely uninterested in having any kind of relationship with me. and for this reason, i can't figure out how to name it. or even if i should. i'm not sure that i have his permission. i actually asked him, but he was all, leaning, playin it cool, you know? anyway, he didn't answer me.

nevertheless, i did have that poll up for a couple weeks, and at this time i would like to announce the winning name. "fiona the destroyer." go figure.

many thanks to all who participated in this poll. now i have a decision to make. do i a) respect the opinions of the fish whom all of my recent efforts on this subject have been dedicated to, or b) say "screw him" and call him fiona? the destroyer? and hope that maybe he'll grow into the name?

ah, screw it. fiona the destroyer it is.