Lately I've become wholly obsessed with Erik Larson's "The devil in the White City." There isn't enough time in the day for me to get through it as quickly as I'd like, but every time I get the chance to read it I fall deeper for Chicago. In part the documented process of mounting the World's Fair to mark the 400th anniversary of Columbus' landing in the US, partly the (seemingly) untold story of one of the worst mass murderers in Chicago history, it is proving an engaging read.
The book is meticulously researched, with fascinating references to correspondences of the major players involved in the 1893 World's Columbian Exposition, as well as letters and documented interviews from families and friends of various women murdered by the serial killer that honed his skills at the same time. It really puts into perspective how important that Expo was to the advancement of the US's, and more specifically Chicago's, stature in architecture and engineering. The chaos of the endeavour to get it all done in less than 3 years is astonishing.
The pledge of allegiance that school children had to recite (and maybe still do?) came from the dedication of the Expo. The Ferris wheel was developed for the Expo. GE incandescent lighting was used for the first time in major public buildings. The first female graduate of the architecture school at MIT designed a major building for the fair on her own entirely, something previously never allowed in architecture. Cracker Jack, Aunt Jemima syrup, Juicy Fruit, hamburgers and soda pop, and (a personal favourite trivial note) Pabst beer were all introduced at the Expo.
The serial killer parts are more shocking than anything. This was around the time of Jack the Ripper, who is known to have killed 5 women. Have you ever heard of Dr. H.H. Holmes? I'm halfway through and he's already murdered at least 10 people by name, with the implication that he murdered potentially hordes of unnamed women he hired to work in his businesses who simply disappeared. Where I am the Exposition hasn't even begun, which is presumably the height of his murder spree.
The 13-page index and 32 pages of sources make my nerd heart squeal.
I'm beginning to wonder if I would feel so passionately about a different city if it were as well-documented as Chicago. The next time I visit (hopefully this year yet) I believe I have a date with the Graceland Cemetery and will stop into the bookstore at the Chicago History Museum to stock my personal library with more Chicago propaganda.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Saturday, June 28, 2008
c'mon dover! move your bloomin' arse!
Last weekend I met up with friends from school to check out the ponies. Since I missed the last time Rich went, I thought I'd better make efforts to get there this time, especially since my friend Sam's days were numbered in Vancouver and she said she'd be there.
Coincidentally, a "hipster" brigade was also there, including a few people I knew. So strange that we'd all think to go to the track the same day.
I got there around Rich's appointed time of noon, but we discovered the races didn't start until 1:25pm. What else could we do but drink caesars, which were on special? Finally the races got underway and I watched the process before I threw my money on a horse (not literally).
I liked checking out the horses' strides and decorations before the race and made mental notes on who I thought would win. I wasn't very good at this the first couple of races, but by the 3rd race I could pick the winner, or the horse that would place in the top 3, consistently. Sadly, I didn't bet on the ones I thought would win. We wound up doing group betting, but there was some confusion on which horses we agreed on, resulting in two of our group members having a minor throwdown.
The track is a pretty fun way to spend the day, though sunscreen is absolutely necessary. I got my first (and hopefully only) sunburn of the year from the 4 hours I was out there. I got to watch Joe tackle the hugest amount of poutine ever created, catch up with Sam before she moves to Halifax (she's moving today!) and Rich & Christy's (differing) instructions on how to pick a good horse. If I gained nothing else from library school, I'm glad I got to become friends with these friends.
Horse racing on Canada Day starts at 1:25. I'll be there with the drink special in my hand and a pocketful of twonies in my pocket for betting on the exactor.
Coincidentally, a "hipster" brigade was also there, including a few people I knew. So strange that we'd all think to go to the track the same day.
I got there around Rich's appointed time of noon, but we discovered the races didn't start until 1:25pm. What else could we do but drink caesars, which were on special? Finally the races got underway and I watched the process before I threw my money on a horse (not literally).
I liked checking out the horses' strides and decorations before the race and made mental notes on who I thought would win. I wasn't very good at this the first couple of races, but by the 3rd race I could pick the winner, or the horse that would place in the top 3, consistently. Sadly, I didn't bet on the ones I thought would win. We wound up doing group betting, but there was some confusion on which horses we agreed on, resulting in two of our group members having a minor throwdown.
The track is a pretty fun way to spend the day, though sunscreen is absolutely necessary. I got my first (and hopefully only) sunburn of the year from the 4 hours I was out there. I got to watch Joe tackle the hugest amount of poutine ever created, catch up with Sam before she moves to Halifax (she's moving today!) and Rich & Christy's (differing) instructions on how to pick a good horse. If I gained nothing else from library school, I'm glad I got to become friends with these friends.
Horse racing on Canada Day starts at 1:25. I'll be there with the drink special in my hand and a pocketful of twonies in my pocket for betting on the exactor.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
hit 'em where they ain't
The weather is confusing. When I wake up and do a weather check (which generally involves me sticking a bare leg out the door and peeking through the shades) it is almost always slightly cool and the sky is white grey. This is not weather that inspires confidence that the humidity won't morph into a downpour. Yet the humidity almost never turns to rain, the air starts to feel uncomfortably warm because the moisture sticks to you and it's hard to tell if you're hot or just wet and no matter what you wear you're not going to dress correctly.
Yesterday the weather was meh. Not really that warm but not that cool. Meh.
Plans to go to my first Canadians game would not be affected by this sort of weather. Really, plans wouldn't be affected by any sort of weather unless the game was rained out. By the time I left work the weather was starting to change.
So I hightailed it to Nat Bailey after work yesterday and the weather was greatly improved from the morning assessment. The sun was out and short sleeves were the uniform, fitting since it was the longest day of the year. At the stadium I discovered various things:
1) They did some sprucing up of the stadium, including some small historic displays in the lobby(? What do you call that area anyway? Concession area?). The blue stripe is gone.
2) All tickets are now assigned seating, which means going with a group of friends is more challenging if you all have tickets in different areas and try to sit with each other, and wind up getting kicked out by obsessive types who have to sit in their assigned seating.
3) Men enjoy getting fall-down drunk at baseball games. We sat in Section 10, past 3rd base, and drunk men gathered there to bond and prop themselves up against the small wall. Watching one man literally fall down because he was so drunk added to the drama of the game. Watching seemingly random drunk guys take care of him by carrying him around (think "Weekend at Bernie's") so he wouldn't get kicked out just added to the drama. The beer is $6.75 per plastic cup, which is slightly less than hockey games, but still not very economical.
4) The Canadians seem to suck this year. They were trounced 7-1 and have a 1-4 start this season, the worst start of any team in the league. This does not bode well for them if I continue to go to games this summer. I really turn on teams that consistently lose.
We chose to leave before the fireworks. Instead, we headed to the Reef for eating, since the Nat Bailey concession doesn't really have many non-beef options for food and one in our party doesn't eat cows. It was surprisingly busy at 10pm, almost completely full with a number of tables starting even as we were leaving. I just can't bring myself to pay for buses if I can walk, so walked home to chat with my friend and to walk off the plantain chips I had eaten (which are so yummy; Mmmmmm....).
I've got just one little 4 hour training shift on Tuesday and then I'm free for Sled Island next weekend. Pretty exciting!
Thursday, June 19, 2008
pythonating
On various occasions I've mentioned my sister's love of both food fairs and buffets. Tonight she got both.
Using the thinly veiled excuse that she hasn't taken me for a graduation dinner, I met up at her house and discussed where we should go. Her work day starts quite a bit earlier than mine (which, often, doesn't technically start at all), so was not the most energetic. I suggested a few places, all of which she nixed, and we sat quietly while I thought and she struggled to stay awake. She suggested going across the street to Tinseltown to go to the Japanese buffet that just opened beside the food fair. I pointed out it was her dream place: a mall buffet!
We decided to take a look, just because it was so close and didn't require much effort. These are the main factors when dealing with my sister. She isn't very interested in either.
As it turned out, the buffet was actually pretty good and I could have eaten my body weight in sashimi and crab legs if I wanted to. We scoffed at the small rectangular plates, yet couldn't believe how full our bellies were after a few trips. At some point we stopped eating and watched how many times other tables went to the buffet, which I think is one of the main reasons to go to buffets. The high school girls beside us went between 4 and 5 times; the pregnant couple went at least 6 times and we left at that point and didn't see how many additional times they went. I felt less bad about the 3 times we went. Midway through the third plate we both wished we hadn't gotten the current plate; our bellies were starting to strain against our pants (though mine actually didn't feel uncomfortable because not having a bus pass seems to be minimising parts of my body).
I convinced Anita to drive me home, partly because I didn't think I could comfortably walk home, partly because it started to rain, and partly because I had a blister from a new pair of sneakers. (I decided to buy sneakers after my interview on Tuesday because, either way, I needed to mark the occasion.) Thank cripes she was slightly sleepy; I think she would have challenged me if she were more conscious.
Prior to dinner I took a lemon meringue pie and an upside-down pineapple cake to my old jobplace for one of my co-worker/friend's last day before her wedding and honeymoon (she'll be gone until September). It's just lucky I didn't eat lunch because it was important to try all four desserts.
The only thing to do tonight is to pythonate on my couch.
Using the thinly veiled excuse that she hasn't taken me for a graduation dinner, I met up at her house and discussed where we should go. Her work day starts quite a bit earlier than mine (which, often, doesn't technically start at all), so was not the most energetic. I suggested a few places, all of which she nixed, and we sat quietly while I thought and she struggled to stay awake. She suggested going across the street to Tinseltown to go to the Japanese buffet that just opened beside the food fair. I pointed out it was her dream place: a mall buffet!
We decided to take a look, just because it was so close and didn't require much effort. These are the main factors when dealing with my sister. She isn't very interested in either.
As it turned out, the buffet was actually pretty good and I could have eaten my body weight in sashimi and crab legs if I wanted to. We scoffed at the small rectangular plates, yet couldn't believe how full our bellies were after a few trips. At some point we stopped eating and watched how many times other tables went to the buffet, which I think is one of the main reasons to go to buffets. The high school girls beside us went between 4 and 5 times; the pregnant couple went at least 6 times and we left at that point and didn't see how many additional times they went. I felt less bad about the 3 times we went. Midway through the third plate we both wished we hadn't gotten the current plate; our bellies were starting to strain against our pants (though mine actually didn't feel uncomfortable because not having a bus pass seems to be minimising parts of my body).
I convinced Anita to drive me home, partly because I didn't think I could comfortably walk home, partly because it started to rain, and partly because I had a blister from a new pair of sneakers. (I decided to buy sneakers after my interview on Tuesday because, either way, I needed to mark the occasion.) Thank cripes she was slightly sleepy; I think she would have challenged me if she were more conscious.
Prior to dinner I took a lemon meringue pie and an upside-down pineapple cake to my old jobplace for one of my co-worker/friend's last day before her wedding and honeymoon (she'll be gone until September). It's just lucky I didn't eat lunch because it was important to try all four desserts.
The only thing to do tonight is to pythonate on my couch.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Pimms Cup is #1, the aftermath is penultimate
Tipsy drunk on #1 Pimms Cups, I can't help but think this is the best it gets.
After making claims that missing a ride to YVR equals a drunken night, I finally cashed in on the results and find myself more tipsy/drunk than I care to admit. A bottle of wine and 3/4 of the way through a 26er of Pimms, I'm struggling to spell in a manner worthy of my drinking companion. I know grammar and spelling gets me extra cred.
A compilation of drink-worthy songs keeps me company as I write. The struggle to reach grammatical perfection in an appropriate manner is of paramount challenge right now.
Were I a better woman, I would look to how this day has gone and declare it a success. I interviewed for a job I may be qualified for and lived through a presentation that seemed to please viewers, but left the interview feeling somewhat indifferent, that there is little chance they will chose me over other interviewees. This is part of why I wanted to get trashed this evening: to drown my sorrows over my imperfections and inability to land a job. And through the course of the evening, I began to think "fuck it," that the committee's inability to recognise my potential will be their own downfall. But, really, I am disappointed that I am unable to close the deal, that I am unable to close anything in my life right now.
That someone else will be chosen over me is heartbreaking. No amount of alcohol can hide that fact.
That I can't numb the isolation I feel is another overwhelming fact.
And so, listening to a teenage girl squeal about her independence, I find myself wondering why I even bother. Why apply to jobs that will never result in employment? Why interview for jobs that will never be offered to me? Why bother with anything?
I cannot accept that I have these doubts after Pimms, a gin-based drink. Gin has been a kind companion on various occasions, giving me comfort and clarity at times that it doesn't really need to. Were I stronger-willed, I would take the experience as a chance to learn, to grow, to know that the next interview will go better. But the reality is that I have little opportunity right now, that I am trapped within my limitations and cannot see the light to lead me to the way out.
Alcohol really gives me a clarity I would rather be ignorant of. I would rather be stupid than understand the situation I am in.
While talking to my friend about relationships, I realised that I shouldn't expect anything, that I am not even a blip on the radar of anyone. It is not something to mourn and be sad of; it's just a fact. And the sooner I get used to this fact, the sooner I can concentrate on things I can have a say in, like hobbies or general awesomeness. I just wish I didn't lack the gene to make people be interested in me on some level, whether for work or for relationships.
Honestly, I need to get the fuck away from this place. If I stay, my heart will die. And I'm just not sure I can deal with that right now. It's too much that my hope is dead; I don't think I can stand the death of much else.
After making claims that missing a ride to YVR equals a drunken night, I finally cashed in on the results and find myself more tipsy/drunk than I care to admit. A bottle of wine and 3/4 of the way through a 26er of Pimms, I'm struggling to spell in a manner worthy of my drinking companion. I know grammar and spelling gets me extra cred.
A compilation of drink-worthy songs keeps me company as I write. The struggle to reach grammatical perfection in an appropriate manner is of paramount challenge right now.
Were I a better woman, I would look to how this day has gone and declare it a success. I interviewed for a job I may be qualified for and lived through a presentation that seemed to please viewers, but left the interview feeling somewhat indifferent, that there is little chance they will chose me over other interviewees. This is part of why I wanted to get trashed this evening: to drown my sorrows over my imperfections and inability to land a job. And through the course of the evening, I began to think "fuck it," that the committee's inability to recognise my potential will be their own downfall. But, really, I am disappointed that I am unable to close the deal, that I am unable to close anything in my life right now.
That someone else will be chosen over me is heartbreaking. No amount of alcohol can hide that fact.
That I can't numb the isolation I feel is another overwhelming fact.
And so, listening to a teenage girl squeal about her independence, I find myself wondering why I even bother. Why apply to jobs that will never result in employment? Why interview for jobs that will never be offered to me? Why bother with anything?
I cannot accept that I have these doubts after Pimms, a gin-based drink. Gin has been a kind companion on various occasions, giving me comfort and clarity at times that it doesn't really need to. Were I stronger-willed, I would take the experience as a chance to learn, to grow, to know that the next interview will go better. But the reality is that I have little opportunity right now, that I am trapped within my limitations and cannot see the light to lead me to the way out.
Alcohol really gives me a clarity I would rather be ignorant of. I would rather be stupid than understand the situation I am in.
While talking to my friend about relationships, I realised that I shouldn't expect anything, that I am not even a blip on the radar of anyone. It is not something to mourn and be sad of; it's just a fact. And the sooner I get used to this fact, the sooner I can concentrate on things I can have a say in, like hobbies or general awesomeness. I just wish I didn't lack the gene to make people be interested in me on some level, whether for work or for relationships.
Honestly, I need to get the fuck away from this place. If I stay, my heart will die. And I'm just not sure I can deal with that right now. It's too much that my hope is dead; I don't think I can stand the death of much else.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
on book nerdery
At work on Thursday night, one of the librarians called me over to look at an ad in a magazine. "Who does that look like?" she asked, and immediately I saw that it was a girl who used to work at the library, who moved to Edmonton to be with her manfriend. We discussed how likely it would be that it was her and decided it might be possible. It was an ad for shredded wheat and showed her all dolled up in bed and a guy sleeping beside her. The librarian made a comment about the ad not being very realistic because the guy looked too old for the girl, and she showed the other staff member who was sitting at the desk. The staff member glanced up at the picture and said, "Oh no, he looks homosexual," and continued on with her work. We started howling because it was so out of the blue, that she would immediately think the ad didn't work because the guy was gay rather than too old. It was also funny that she could assess the sexual orientation of someone so quickly despite the person in the photo being "asleep."
I've been reading Chuck Palahniuk's "Snuff" and have found a couple of things worth noting:
1) It claims Rem Koolhaas did porn before his architecture career took off.
2) It makes a reference to a type of mainstream people who made HD win over Blu-ray for high-definition technology world domination. This, of course, is not accurate, since Blu-ray is the chosen winner in that competition. It's weird he would make reference to something that wasn't yet decided at printing, choosing the one he thought might win, only to choose wrongly.
I find the book interesting, though am not quite at the Nancy Pearl limit, so could change my mind in 3 pages. I had been reading "The dirt" by Motley Crue, but found some members completely unreadable and haven't gone back to finish it yet (coincidentally, I happened to stop at page 50). It's due today, so I might have to get it again later.
The one book I have out that I'm really looking forward to is "The River Cottage cookbook" by Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall. This is the one I wrote about a month or two ago, with the instructions on when to kill your chicken. It's a massive book, almost 450 pages, 7 of those the index, and has fantastic photos. It will be a lot of reading, but I'm pretty excited about it. I have to start prioritising the books I have out, as they keep piling up and I never seem to get through all the ones I sign out. You'd think, with all this free time now, I would be reading like a mofo, but I have the odd reading day and that's about it. I think I might start reading on the walk to work; yesterday I walked and read, and got through a nice chunk of the book. The stretch between Quebec and Expo is pretty safe, so long as I can keep myself on the sidewalk.
I find it weird that I look at indexes now to see how well they're done. I still haven't gotten the 1975 edition of "The joy of cooking," which is the best cookbook index ever written, but also haven't been looking very actively. Perhaps I can put that on my summertime to-do list. Items so far on the list:
- find a good condition copy of the 1975 edition of "The joy of cooking"
- read "Infinite jest"
- have high tea in a sundress
- visit Victoria for a day trip, during rose season if possible
- plan a trip in late fall
- go to Osoyoos and eat as much fruit as possible
- make sun tea
- eat fish and chips beside the fishing boats
- walk in grass barefooted
- look at stars
- find sea glass
- sew some skirts and/or dresses
- ride the elevator up to the top of a high building
I've been reading Chuck Palahniuk's "Snuff" and have found a couple of things worth noting:
1) It claims Rem Koolhaas did porn before his architecture career took off.
2) It makes a reference to a type of mainstream people who made HD win over Blu-ray for high-definition technology world domination. This, of course, is not accurate, since Blu-ray is the chosen winner in that competition. It's weird he would make reference to something that wasn't yet decided at printing, choosing the one he thought might win, only to choose wrongly.
I find the book interesting, though am not quite at the Nancy Pearl limit, so could change my mind in 3 pages. I had been reading "The dirt" by Motley Crue, but found some members completely unreadable and haven't gone back to finish it yet (coincidentally, I happened to stop at page 50). It's due today, so I might have to get it again later.
The one book I have out that I'm really looking forward to is "The River Cottage cookbook" by Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall. This is the one I wrote about a month or two ago, with the instructions on when to kill your chicken. It's a massive book, almost 450 pages, 7 of those the index, and has fantastic photos. It will be a lot of reading, but I'm pretty excited about it. I have to start prioritising the books I have out, as they keep piling up and I never seem to get through all the ones I sign out. You'd think, with all this free time now, I would be reading like a mofo, but I have the odd reading day and that's about it. I think I might start reading on the walk to work; yesterday I walked and read, and got through a nice chunk of the book. The stretch between Quebec and Expo is pretty safe, so long as I can keep myself on the sidewalk.
I find it weird that I look at indexes now to see how well they're done. I still haven't gotten the 1975 edition of "The joy of cooking," which is the best cookbook index ever written, but also haven't been looking very actively. Perhaps I can put that on my summertime to-do list. Items so far on the list:
- find a good condition copy of the 1975 edition of "The joy of cooking"
- read "Infinite jest"
- have high tea in a sundress
- visit Victoria for a day trip, during rose season if possible
- plan a trip in late fall
- go to Osoyoos and eat as much fruit as possible
- make sun tea
- eat fish and chips beside the fishing boats
- walk in grass barefooted
- look at stars
- find sea glass
- sew some skirts and/or dresses
- ride the elevator up to the top of a high building
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
smrt
At some point over the last couple of years, I thought things were going to suddenly get significantly easier and everything would start to fall into place and I would know I did the right thing by going to school. Being as impatient as I am, it frustrates me that things haven't been happening faster and it makes me worry that I made a mistake.
Realistically I know I had to do something. My job was going to disappear and I would have had to go back to school to get a job in something I'm interested in anyway. And I know I've been lucky to get some shifts at the library while trying to find a job that will give me such luxuries as benefits and holiday time. But the worry...
I see people I work with who have more experience than I do who are applying for the same jobs I am and I have to wonder if I'll ever get hired anywhere. The times when I can't answer questions and have to get help from people, which feels constant, I start to wonder what I did in school because I can't figure out how to find answers on almost anything. Reassurances from co-workers that I'm just on a steep learning curve, that it could take years to be comfortable with almost any question, isn't helping quite yet; I still feel stupid for not knowing seemingly easy answers. I want to be smarter now.
This might be why I think it would be better to move away. If I get a job somewhere else, I can blame not knowing stuff on geographical differences or the like. If I stay here, I might not get a job, which means I'll never feel particularly smart, which makes me think I made a mistake, which means I wasted 2 years of my life for nothing.
I don't like this self-doubt. It is frustrating.
Discussions about moving to Chicago are still there. Not like anyone in Chicago is going to hire me, mainly because I only applied for that one sweet job at the Illinois Institute of Technology, but the idea is there. On a weekly basis I talk about it with my friend who lives there and the best reason to move this week is that I will have an instant gig partner (with a car) who will go to pretty much anything I want to go to. If that isn't reason enough to relocate to another country and start over from scratch, I don't know what is.
Realistically I know I had to do something. My job was going to disappear and I would have had to go back to school to get a job in something I'm interested in anyway. And I know I've been lucky to get some shifts at the library while trying to find a job that will give me such luxuries as benefits and holiday time. But the worry...
I see people I work with who have more experience than I do who are applying for the same jobs I am and I have to wonder if I'll ever get hired anywhere. The times when I can't answer questions and have to get help from people, which feels constant, I start to wonder what I did in school because I can't figure out how to find answers on almost anything. Reassurances from co-workers that I'm just on a steep learning curve, that it could take years to be comfortable with almost any question, isn't helping quite yet; I still feel stupid for not knowing seemingly easy answers. I want to be smarter now.
This might be why I think it would be better to move away. If I get a job somewhere else, I can blame not knowing stuff on geographical differences or the like. If I stay here, I might not get a job, which means I'll never feel particularly smart, which makes me think I made a mistake, which means I wasted 2 years of my life for nothing.
I don't like this self-doubt. It is frustrating.
Discussions about moving to Chicago are still there. Not like anyone in Chicago is going to hire me, mainly because I only applied for that one sweet job at the Illinois Institute of Technology, but the idea is there. On a weekly basis I talk about it with my friend who lives there and the best reason to move this week is that I will have an instant gig partner (with a car) who will go to pretty much anything I want to go to. If that isn't reason enough to relocate to another country and start over from scratch, I don't know what is.
Monday, June 9, 2008
double ill
Is it possible to have food poisoning twice in one weekend? Because I think I had it.
After finally feeling well enough to go out for some food last night (the first time since I tried to leave the house Saturday morning), I wound up being more horrifically ill last night/this morning than I was on Saturday. So ill. Extremely ill. So ill that I'm home AGAIN from work and probably won't make rent. I didn't sleep at all and spent more time leaning my head on the bathroom counter than my pillow. Bad, bad development.
It's just been a kind of bad weekend. The gum thing I had fixed last week fell off, leaving a gaping hole over my tooth, which means I'm probably going to have to get the whole replacement thing done again in a week or two. And I'm pretty sure my old insurance plans aren't going to cover any of it, which means it will come out of my pocket entirely. The thought of getting that same procedure done again... It makes me want to cry. Receding gums are nothing but trouble.
So I'm hoping the ginger ale fairy will drop some off at my house soon, along with some lemon yogurt or something soft and edible and unoffensive, so I don't wind up turning into an anorexic from fear that all food is going to make me feel like something from Alien is living in my belly.
After finally feeling well enough to go out for some food last night (the first time since I tried to leave the house Saturday morning), I wound up being more horrifically ill last night/this morning than I was on Saturday. So ill. Extremely ill. So ill that I'm home AGAIN from work and probably won't make rent. I didn't sleep at all and spent more time leaning my head on the bathroom counter than my pillow. Bad, bad development.
It's just been a kind of bad weekend. The gum thing I had fixed last week fell off, leaving a gaping hole over my tooth, which means I'm probably going to have to get the whole replacement thing done again in a week or two. And I'm pretty sure my old insurance plans aren't going to cover any of it, which means it will come out of my pocket entirely. The thought of getting that same procedure done again... It makes me want to cry. Receding gums are nothing but trouble.
So I'm hoping the ginger ale fairy will drop some off at my house soon, along with some lemon yogurt or something soft and edible and unoffensive, so I don't wind up turning into an anorexic from fear that all food is going to make me feel like something from Alien is living in my belly.
Saturday, June 7, 2008
on feeling unwell
Being one who rarely thinks anything is so bad that a doctor's visit is required, I am trying to sleep/rest off the weird malaise that has befallen my body since yesterday. I called in sick this morning despite not having sick time, so you know something is up. I desperately need to work right now.
When I woke up and felt a little off yesterday, I figured it was just because I didn't sleep enough. As my day went on, despite being so happy to spend time with friends I haven't seen for a while, I could tell that something wasn't quite right, but it was such a minimal amount that I ignored it.
By the time I met up with work people for a going away party in the early evening, I felt quite out of sorts. In these instances, it can usually be pinpointed to a possible cause: allergies, lack of sleep, poor diet, long day, or the like. The way I was feeling really didn't match how I usually feel when I don't sleep enough, so that wasn't it. I ate OK yesterday, so it wasn't that. Nothing else seemed like a possible reason. It remains a mystery.
All I know is that I was declining as the evening went on, culminating with dizziness, an unsettled stomach, a weird heaviness in my chest that was making it hard to breathe and an overwhelming need to lie down to make it all go away. Last night was meant to be my big night out for Music Waste and had plans to be out at shows until 3am; I didn't come close to that and took a taxi home from the Astoria when buses were still running.
This morning I woke after a fitful sleep, punctuated with an unusually warm head (despite kicking off the covers and the house being quite cool), feeling somewhat similar to last night. I hoped a shower would improve things. It did not. I got all dressed up for work, had my shoes on and bag packed, and walked across the street and had to come back inside to lie down because I felt horrible. I slept for most of the morning and still feel a little weird, though moderately better than before.
With such random, nondescript symptoms, is it even worth my time to go to the doctor? I tend to think no, that sleep will solve pretty much anything. If tomorrow I don't feel better, I suppose that would be another matter, but how can someone tell me what's wrong from a dizzy head, an upset stomach and a heavy chest?
One of the positives about yesterday was I went to Richmond with Heidi to buy some ridiculously cheap stuff at Superstore. I got two summer dresses for about $13 each and two pairs of flats for about the same. I feel slightly weird about wearing $13 dresses to work, especially such widely available ones that may result in wearing them the same time as someone else, but I'm willing to overlook that. I just need to find some colourful cardigans somewhere to wear with them since the weather is still so sketchy. Anyone seen any shops that have cheap cardis?
When I woke up and felt a little off yesterday, I figured it was just because I didn't sleep enough. As my day went on, despite being so happy to spend time with friends I haven't seen for a while, I could tell that something wasn't quite right, but it was such a minimal amount that I ignored it.
By the time I met up with work people for a going away party in the early evening, I felt quite out of sorts. In these instances, it can usually be pinpointed to a possible cause: allergies, lack of sleep, poor diet, long day, or the like. The way I was feeling really didn't match how I usually feel when I don't sleep enough, so that wasn't it. I ate OK yesterday, so it wasn't that. Nothing else seemed like a possible reason. It remains a mystery.
All I know is that I was declining as the evening went on, culminating with dizziness, an unsettled stomach, a weird heaviness in my chest that was making it hard to breathe and an overwhelming need to lie down to make it all go away. Last night was meant to be my big night out for Music Waste and had plans to be out at shows until 3am; I didn't come close to that and took a taxi home from the Astoria when buses were still running.
This morning I woke after a fitful sleep, punctuated with an unusually warm head (despite kicking off the covers and the house being quite cool), feeling somewhat similar to last night. I hoped a shower would improve things. It did not. I got all dressed up for work, had my shoes on and bag packed, and walked across the street and had to come back inside to lie down because I felt horrible. I slept for most of the morning and still feel a little weird, though moderately better than before.
With such random, nondescript symptoms, is it even worth my time to go to the doctor? I tend to think no, that sleep will solve pretty much anything. If tomorrow I don't feel better, I suppose that would be another matter, but how can someone tell me what's wrong from a dizzy head, an upset stomach and a heavy chest?
One of the positives about yesterday was I went to Richmond with Heidi to buy some ridiculously cheap stuff at Superstore. I got two summer dresses for about $13 each and two pairs of flats for about the same. I feel slightly weird about wearing $13 dresses to work, especially such widely available ones that may result in wearing them the same time as someone else, but I'm willing to overlook that. I just need to find some colourful cardigans somewhere to wear with them since the weather is still so sketchy. Anyone seen any shops that have cheap cardis?
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
frozen memories
Ice cream is on sale at the drug store near my house, so I felt I needed to get a couple of flavours, just in case. Didn't know what the gums would want.
Having blocks of ice cream in my freezer reminds me of the summer my old flatmate worked at Nestle, delivering ice cream to convenience stores. He used to "accidentally" break boxes of ice cream products because any open boxes were unsellable and it meant he could bring them back to the apartment. We had a lot of ice cream that summer; so much that, by the end, he was making deals with a guy who worked at Molson. A one-for-one deal meant Neal would get a flat of beer for a box of 24 Haagen Dazs bars.
For Canada Day my friends and I got messed up on pot and probably big bottles of Mike's Hard Lemonade on the roof of my house while avoiding wasps and ate ice cream from the box with forks on the sidewalk, listening to the fireworks down the street and on the other side of the river.
Everyone who spent any significant amount of time at our house gained weight that summer. With the addition of Nathan getting Neal to start drinking, binge eating became much more important and I often went to bed knowing there were a dozen ice cream bars in the freezer and awoke to find wrappers all over the table and the freezer empty.
The ice cream is on sale at Shopper's Drug Mart. It's Breyers.
Having blocks of ice cream in my freezer reminds me of the summer my old flatmate worked at Nestle, delivering ice cream to convenience stores. He used to "accidentally" break boxes of ice cream products because any open boxes were unsellable and it meant he could bring them back to the apartment. We had a lot of ice cream that summer; so much that, by the end, he was making deals with a guy who worked at Molson. A one-for-one deal meant Neal would get a flat of beer for a box of 24 Haagen Dazs bars.
For Canada Day my friends and I got messed up on pot and probably big bottles of Mike's Hard Lemonade on the roof of my house while avoiding wasps and ate ice cream from the box with forks on the sidewalk, listening to the fireworks down the street and on the other side of the river.
Everyone who spent any significant amount of time at our house gained weight that summer. With the addition of Nathan getting Neal to start drinking, binge eating became much more important and I often went to bed knowing there were a dozen ice cream bars in the freezer and awoke to find wrappers all over the table and the freezer empty.
The ice cream is on sale at Shopper's Drug Mart. It's Breyers.
under the knife, part 2
The gum surgery of April was finally completed (hopefully) today. I had a wee little hole in my gum where the old gum and the new transplanted gum refused to become best friends, thus resulting in potential long-term problems if it wasn't dealt with. I had to wait for the gum to finish healing and then could go back for the repair. Today was the day.
I tend to avoid watching what dentists do to my mouth because I find it a little disgusting, especially watching the tongue move around to try to avoid mouth apparatuses in the reflection on the dentist's glasses. They gave me some dark sunglasses to protect me from the spotlight shining into my mouth, but I close my eyes for these sorts of long procedures anyway. I don't like watching bloody things removed from my mouth.
This wasn't as bad as last time, thankfully. He just sliced my gum a little bit, slid it up, and sutured the crap out of that area. It felt like he put 8 or 9 sutures in, but I can't really tell because it's covered by a liquid bandage. There's an annoying end poking into my tongue, but I'll just have to deal with that for 2 weeks.
What I'm most happy about is that, as of right now, most of the freezing is gone and I don't have any significant pain. But I still have to follow post-op procedures and rest for the rest of the day and stick to foods that aren't fun nor solid, which basically leaves liquids. Cold liquids. Yay.
Now I just have to see if my now-expired extended benefits plans will try to screw me out of paying for the initial procedure. And maybe eat some ice cream.
I tend to avoid watching what dentists do to my mouth because I find it a little disgusting, especially watching the tongue move around to try to avoid mouth apparatuses in the reflection on the dentist's glasses. They gave me some dark sunglasses to protect me from the spotlight shining into my mouth, but I close my eyes for these sorts of long procedures anyway. I don't like watching bloody things removed from my mouth.
This wasn't as bad as last time, thankfully. He just sliced my gum a little bit, slid it up, and sutured the crap out of that area. It felt like he put 8 or 9 sutures in, but I can't really tell because it's covered by a liquid bandage. There's an annoying end poking into my tongue, but I'll just have to deal with that for 2 weeks.
What I'm most happy about is that, as of right now, most of the freezing is gone and I don't have any significant pain. But I still have to follow post-op procedures and rest for the rest of the day and stick to foods that aren't fun nor solid, which basically leaves liquids. Cold liquids. Yay.
Now I just have to see if my now-expired extended benefits plans will try to screw me out of paying for the initial procedure. And maybe eat some ice cream.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
the downside of junipers
This morning I walked to meet my sister and bro-in-law and headed to look at books for a while. We then headed to the JapaDog stand so I could get a terimayo (without nori) before walking to the West End to meet up with my friends. Said friends and I headed to Beaver Lake to listen to a piece by R. Murray Schafer, a piece written for the outdoors. There was something particularly lovely about listening to the sounds of the forest while a clarinet, trumpet, flute and vocalist performed around the echoing lake. I closed my eyes to imprint the sounds most clearly into my brain, backing it up with visuals.
This evening I walked home from downtown and now sort of wish I hadn't. I came to a conclusion that likely I wouldn't have come to had I not walked with gin in my body. Yet, still, there it is.
I realised that I will never be worth any more than I am right now. It's a bit Jane Austen, but hear me out. It is highly unlikely friends will care more about me than they do today, family will never think more of me than they do today, I will never be loved more than I am today. In some ways it is comforting to know people care about me in their various ways, that I am somebody to some. At the same time it crushes me to know I will never be loved more, can never be loved more. Today is the measure, the maximum, the most.
In recent days a few friends have said that I should really consider dating a man known to me and to them, that we'd be a good match. And it makes me sad because I don't know what they're talking about; I know I will never be, can never be more to him than just friends. In the whole scheme of things, I know I am not what he is looking for; he, like all other single men in this city, looks over my shoulder for someone better. If someone who cares about me even a minute amount is looking for something more than me, how can I ever assume everyone won't be looking for someone better?
Ridiculously, in "The Breakfast Club" when Ali Sheedy says when you get older your heart dies... I suspect it's true.
This evening I walked home from downtown and now sort of wish I hadn't. I came to a conclusion that likely I wouldn't have come to had I not walked with gin in my body. Yet, still, there it is.
I realised that I will never be worth any more than I am right now. It's a bit Jane Austen, but hear me out. It is highly unlikely friends will care more about me than they do today, family will never think more of me than they do today, I will never be loved more than I am today. In some ways it is comforting to know people care about me in their various ways, that I am somebody to some. At the same time it crushes me to know I will never be loved more, can never be loved more. Today is the measure, the maximum, the most.
In recent days a few friends have said that I should really consider dating a man known to me and to them, that we'd be a good match. And it makes me sad because I don't know what they're talking about; I know I will never be, can never be more to him than just friends. In the whole scheme of things, I know I am not what he is looking for; he, like all other single men in this city, looks over my shoulder for someone better. If someone who cares about me even a minute amount is looking for something more than me, how can I ever assume everyone won't be looking for someone better?
Ridiculously, in "The Breakfast Club" when Ali Sheedy says when you get older your heart dies... I suspect it's true.
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