I feel as though I should have been born in 1905. I wasn't. I wonder if that was supposed to happen. Maybe it's a lesson of some kind. Let's see how we can put this to practical use, like math.
I will say this: Travelling must have been much easier in 1905. I'm not a terrorist. I never have been, nor do I plan to become, a terrorist. Yet I cannot evade all kinds of necessary paperwork and ulcer-causing problems. It makes me want to talk like a pirate; "Aaaaargh!" (just as an example).
1905. When women were strong, but not obvious; nurturing, yet itching to create scandal. When women were filled with an explosive desire to break out of the box that society confined them to, and nearly ready to. Must have been infuriating and amazing to be a part of it. Now that the work is done we often take our boxless existences for granted. Which is too bad.
1905. To be around when original Picassos were cheap, when Hollywood was crowned the movie capital of the world, when food was always fresh and water always clean. Around when rules of etiquette slowly began to unravel, when skirts became shorter, and when music became art. This I would have liked to experience.
Not that IPods and Wiis aren't really really neat.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Monday, January 28, 2008
Monday, January 21, 2008
on grammar and indecency
i work in a photo lab. i am often shocked by the pictures people are brave enough to share, even though they are only sharing them with me, an impartial, silent stranger whom they will never encounter again. the rest of the time, i am relieved that i am the one to see them rather than some unknown person who might make copies and post them on the internet, for example, one of my co-workers. "that would be so worth getting fired!" he says to me. part of me is inclined to agree, while the other part is shaking my head in disbelief.
still, think twice next time you take your dirty photos in.
facebook is ridiculous. not to sound like a hater, but it is just way too popular for its own good. i went to mine today, you know, routine checkup, to find it telling me to put all my applications on a second page. because, of course, under the assumption that i will add four or five hundred more applications per week, i should keep my main page "less cluttered." so i deleted them all. ha.
you won't find it unless you go look for it.
enough said.
lunch break today. as i was drinking my tea, squeezing in that last bit of chill time before i returned to confront the crazies and the photos, i started an argument. i didn't mean to. somebody mentioned that she had a hard time keeping track of time, and therefore stated that "whoever invented clocks suck." i couldn't help it. i corrected, "sucks." which i'm sure is right. "whoever invented clocks sucks." but suddenly, i was lost in a sea of opposition. it started out as "it's plural, so it's suck," briefly became "clocks is plural, so it's suck," then was settled at "whoever is plural, so it's suck." i said, "whoever is singular." but of the ten or so people in the room, 3 were strongly against my absurd ideas, 2 were practically over the fence, and the rest just couldn't make up their minds. i, of course, was on my side. well, the squabble hadn't faded ten minutes later. i didn't know what to do. i announced my withdrawal from the conversation, which was dramatically met with sighs of relief and a shout of comprimise: "whoever invented clocks is dead, so it should be "sucked."" good nuff.
still, think twice next time you take your dirty photos in.
facebook is ridiculous. not to sound like a hater, but it is just way too popular for its own good. i went to mine today, you know, routine checkup, to find it telling me to put all my applications on a second page. because, of course, under the assumption that i will add four or five hundred more applications per week, i should keep my main page "less cluttered." so i deleted them all. ha.
you won't find it unless you go look for it.
enough said.
lunch break today. as i was drinking my tea, squeezing in that last bit of chill time before i returned to confront the crazies and the photos, i started an argument. i didn't mean to. somebody mentioned that she had a hard time keeping track of time, and therefore stated that "whoever invented clocks suck." i couldn't help it. i corrected, "sucks." which i'm sure is right. "whoever invented clocks sucks." but suddenly, i was lost in a sea of opposition. it started out as "it's plural, so it's suck," briefly became "clocks is plural, so it's suck," then was settled at "whoever is plural, so it's suck." i said, "whoever is singular." but of the ten or so people in the room, 3 were strongly against my absurd ideas, 2 were practically over the fence, and the rest just couldn't make up their minds. i, of course, was on my side. well, the squabble hadn't faded ten minutes later. i didn't know what to do. i announced my withdrawal from the conversation, which was dramatically met with sighs of relief and a shout of comprimise: "whoever invented clocks is dead, so it should be "sucked."" good nuff.
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
on champagne and crazies.
happy 2008! that means my twentieth year. holy ancients, batman!
i had a fantabulous new year's week... not necessarily including night/morning of. not that it didn't have it's good points too, but looking back, the bar might be leaning slightly badways.
i spent the week at sun peaks, skiing and drinking and commiting heinous sins. not to mention spending all those dimes i've worked so hard to attain. might have spent someone else's dimes too, but i just don't remember.
people are so crazy. so very very crazy. on the eve of 2008, there was a party in the lodge. live music. nice bar. shortage of chairs, crowded dance floor. tons of foreign countriers. one in particular, an austrian. traditional garb, even. he floated over to our group when he heard a german/swiss-german conversation, as my travelling buddies are native to that language, to europe even. and then it was 12. complimentary champagne and kisses. and here is herr lederhosen, with a secret... "follow me." he had smuggled in two bottles of the finest champagne, "from frawnce!" pushing the first towards me, he urged, "you are very beautiful... you must open it!" as it was not mine, i thought it not overly proper to do so, and respectfully declined. he insisted. i declined once more. he insisted again. and so on, and so forth. long story short, i popped the cork and poured away. it was a very exhilerating experience (it was my first time). we clinked glasses, and that was that. literally. you see, i have a weakness called champagne. i'll stop there.
and then there was skiing. amazing views. wind blowing through everything. steep hills. gently rolling inclines. lifts carrying us above the trees. lifts dumping us all over each other and the strangers unfortunate enough to climb on with us. we met people from all over the world -australia, france, austria, england, south africa, coquitlam. cool cool time.
the friday after new year's my boyfriend and i spent in kamloops, a.k.a. "the big cereal." we spent hours in bookstores and music stores, and i was very content. the cereal's lower east side, however, is full of crazies. i didn't know that, as my father is a store nazi, and only ever took us to the mall when we went on daytrips. i thought, hey, we have freedom today, let's go downtown. so we did, and i discovered the reason that my father is a store nazi. literally, as soon as we get out of the car, we meet one of them. the crazies, i mean. we're just walking down the street, having a conversation, behind "her," when she turns around and jumps right in. uninvited. not so bad, you're thinking. i know. but then, eyes bulging, she starts telling us her life story, then ends with "now i live over there. i'm just walking downtown, you know, taking a walk. don't know where i'm going. you know where you're going? need directions anywhere?" i'm thinking, run away. the innocent on my right isn't. "we're looking for the library!" he says. "oh!" she says, "that's where i'm going! i'll take you!" what a strange woman. so we round the corner, and she turns right to go up a ramp, apparently with a door at the end. "come on!" she says. i tell her i want to check out a bookstore across the street, and it is all over. we hide out in the bookstore for about an hour, then head over to the ramp she has taken. we turn the corner to the door, then i reach for the doorknob. but there is no doorknob. there is no window. there is nothing. nothing else up the ramp, either. it is a down ramp, and an out door. not an in door. an out door. with no way to get in. no way to get in. i'm telling you, crazies. we go to the art gallery, which is in the same building, passing the door to the library. mr subtlety over here sees her in the library, and without thinking, pulls me away from the opening like a bomb is about to go off. "the crazy lady's in there!" i think maybe he's one too.
i had a fantabulous new year's week... not necessarily including night/morning of. not that it didn't have it's good points too, but looking back, the bar might be leaning slightly badways.
i spent the week at sun peaks, skiing and drinking and commiting heinous sins. not to mention spending all those dimes i've worked so hard to attain. might have spent someone else's dimes too, but i just don't remember.
people are so crazy. so very very crazy. on the eve of 2008, there was a party in the lodge. live music. nice bar. shortage of chairs, crowded dance floor. tons of foreign countriers. one in particular, an austrian. traditional garb, even. he floated over to our group when he heard a german/swiss-german conversation, as my travelling buddies are native to that language, to europe even. and then it was 12. complimentary champagne and kisses. and here is herr lederhosen, with a secret... "follow me." he had smuggled in two bottles of the finest champagne, "from frawnce!" pushing the first towards me, he urged, "you are very beautiful... you must open it!" as it was not mine, i thought it not overly proper to do so, and respectfully declined. he insisted. i declined once more. he insisted again. and so on, and so forth. long story short, i popped the cork and poured away. it was a very exhilerating experience (it was my first time). we clinked glasses, and that was that. literally. you see, i have a weakness called champagne. i'll stop there.
and then there was skiing. amazing views. wind blowing through everything. steep hills. gently rolling inclines. lifts carrying us above the trees. lifts dumping us all over each other and the strangers unfortunate enough to climb on with us. we met people from all over the world -australia, france, austria, england, south africa, coquitlam. cool cool time.
the friday after new year's my boyfriend and i spent in kamloops, a.k.a. "the big cereal." we spent hours in bookstores and music stores, and i was very content. the cereal's lower east side, however, is full of crazies. i didn't know that, as my father is a store nazi, and only ever took us to the mall when we went on daytrips. i thought, hey, we have freedom today, let's go downtown. so we did, and i discovered the reason that my father is a store nazi. literally, as soon as we get out of the car, we meet one of them. the crazies, i mean. we're just walking down the street, having a conversation, behind "her," when she turns around and jumps right in. uninvited. not so bad, you're thinking. i know. but then, eyes bulging, she starts telling us her life story, then ends with "now i live over there. i'm just walking downtown, you know, taking a walk. don't know where i'm going. you know where you're going? need directions anywhere?" i'm thinking, run away. the innocent on my right isn't. "we're looking for the library!" he says. "oh!" she says, "that's where i'm going! i'll take you!" what a strange woman. so we round the corner, and she turns right to go up a ramp, apparently with a door at the end. "come on!" she says. i tell her i want to check out a bookstore across the street, and it is all over. we hide out in the bookstore for about an hour, then head over to the ramp she has taken. we turn the corner to the door, then i reach for the doorknob. but there is no doorknob. there is no window. there is nothing. nothing else up the ramp, either. it is a down ramp, and an out door. not an in door. an out door. with no way to get in. no way to get in. i'm telling you, crazies. we go to the art gallery, which is in the same building, passing the door to the library. mr subtlety over here sees her in the library, and without thinking, pulls me away from the opening like a bomb is about to go off. "the crazy lady's in there!" i think maybe he's one too.
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