deathly

"Glam God" fascinates me because a bunch of stylists wind up crying on a weekly basis, saying that fashion saved their lives or other such blather. Hmm... I probably shouldn't find this funny; it seems cruel to laugh at them. Tonight two of them cried: one because his partner was a drunk and he thought he was going to be eliminated and blubbered about only having $10 left and he wouldn't spend it on food, he'd spend it on fabric for a dress; the other was a preview for next week's episode.

Unrelated, today a hold I've been looking forward to came in. "The American resting place" is 400 years of cemetery history. The author was raised in Chicago, so I'm kind of excited to see how much is about Chicago cemeteries. The plates show a decent number from Chicago, with a few specifically from Graceland, which is tops on my to-do list when I visit next. A random flipping through the index allowed a glimpse of the Haymarket Riot's inclusion. I've been obsessed with cemeteries since I was a little kid. I remember attending funerals a lot when I was a kid, starting from when I was 3, and had to help the church clean the plots every fall in preparation for winter. I like cities I visit much more if I can visit the cemetery.

raindrops keep falling on my head

I might only have work until the end of October. The position I was supposed to fill, the one people keep giving me work to do for, is almost certainly going to be a lateral transfer. This means someone who already has a job will get the position. It is highly likely the person is a children's librarian, which means I can't apply. Currently I have 8 hours booked for November; I need to work 45 hours to break even.

The rejection letters from the jobs I've applied for are getting more cruel. I'm almost afraid to apply anywhere because I've grown tired of being told I have no qualifications that would allow me to get an interview.

Bad day, go away.

solitaire

Nice days make me sad. On days that are nice, it is near impossible to find someone to do something with. By the 4th or 5th rejection I tend to give up, choosing instead to curl up on the futon watching PBS instead of making more effort or leaving my house on my own.

"Alone in the wilderness" is on right now. I've seen it 9 or 10 times in full, multiple more times in sections. There are two reasons I like watching it. 1) I'm impressed by his skills, how he made everything he needed to survive for 35 years in the middle of nowhere in Alaska. 2) I'm jealous that he was able to live alone with himself for so long, content to find joy in his solitary everyday life.

I'm finding it increasingly difficult to be alone. The more friends who partner the more alone I realise I am. This is punctuated by the fact that I can't find anyone to go for a walk with in the middle of the day on a weekend. And then I discover I've been left out of plans by people who are coupled, which no one ever tells me about, but unfortunately Facebook declares on a constant basis. "So-and-so and so-and-so are now friends" points out that I am off the invitation list, never considered to be included, never to meet the people I know other friends are invited to meet. Guess it's a good thing I barely have days off. Work is becoming my closest friend.

This week I'm going to apply for two more jobs, if only to take up what remaining free time I still have. If I have no time maybe I'll forget I'm solitary.

coping methods, part 2

I haven't been feeling particularly well the last while and advice from others has been, almost exclusively, to do things I like to combat the Mean Reds. Lately I've been most interested in matching, which is a sad interest, but it's the truth. To assist with this, I picked up a couple pairs of shoes today. It's probably bad to spend money on stuff that I don't really need, but it's either buy shoes or buy drugs and I'm still not sold on the whole drug thing. Besides, they're from Winners and were half what they would have retailed at. And I'm kind of cheap lately or in general, so you can assume they really were cheap.

The purple ones are Liz Claiborne and are quite possibly one of the highest pairs of shoes I've ever owned, including my fancy shoes that I only wear for special occasions. And they're meant for work! But I like them a great deal and am wearing them around the house now, to get used to them and to see if they need to be broken in before wearing them all day around the office. The green ones are some random brand I've never heard of, but they're ultra comfy and I love the colour. I can't really tell how librarian they are, but I suspect that anything is librarianish if a librarian is wearing it.

What's funny is that when I arrived back at work I mentioned to one of the librarians that I had just gotten a couple of pairs of sensible shoes. She wanted to see them (earlier in the week she showed off her newly purchased red suede boots that made me jealous for her tiny calves) and laughed at my description because she didn't see how 3 inch purple shoes and green flats were sensible. Maybe I should have said school marmish; that description seems more apt.

Or maybe my view of shoes is rather skewed. I look at the stuff girls hobble around in at the library and I can't believe they thought those shoes were the best choice for that outfit. Yesterday, just before the library was shut down due to toxic fumes from the CBC building construction (aiming industrial epoxy fumes toward the air intake of a public building seems retarded, but maybe that's just me), I had a discussion with an old co-worker about why high heels look sort of stupid with shorty shorts and tiny skirts. Neither of us are really big on the hooker chic look.

I'm not going to talk about the shiny red bag that also made its way home with me today.

coping methods, part 1

I was tipped-off by Sara about fun, relatively cheap tights at Winners and decided, if I wanted some, I should haul my bum over ASAP. My size tends to disappear quickly when there's a sale, especially the cute stuff. During lunch today I headed over and scored! Well, sort of scored... There were only two pairs that were both my size and cute, but more than that at one time is probably crazy.

The thing that I find so hilarious about these tights is not the complete gaudiness of them. I mean, they are totally gaudy and I can understand a little why they were on clearance, but to me they're great. They make me laugh when I wear them. The more hilarious thing is the cover images. Super tacky. What was the art director thinking? The brown pair is the most ridiculous. Well, unless the image was attached to an ad for a good time. Open leg poses? Bad idea.

My legs are naturally enormous, the calves meant for a 300-pound football player. They frighten me. They've always been huge, preventing me from enjoying boots that rise above the ankle. The calves in these tights... I'm not sure yet. And I probably won't know until I wear them out since I lack a mirror that will allow me to see anything below my chest. But I don't even care if they look ridiculous because I love them and they make me giggle when I look down at my legs. It's nice to be at the stage in my life where I don't care if I look goofy. Or don't care enough to not wear what I suspect may be goofy.

During packing for the move, I rediscovered some trouser socks/kneehighs that I haven't worn out in public ever. One is a stripey black pair of trouser socks; the other, orange opaque kneehighs. I'm not sure there is anything I own that I can match with them, but it's going to happen this winter. One way or the other. (Honestly, what other way would be the other way? I've never understood the context for that statement.) On the other hand, what was I thinking buying orange kneehighs?!

This week I'm waiting for a package of socks/stockings to arrive in the post from a sock shop in Portland. I had a mini coupon from the last time I ordered socks from them, when 4 of 5 pairs ordered were stolen somewhere between their shop and my mailbox (I suspect it was in the States, since the package has to be sealed at their postal office and the package didn't show any signs of being opened and resealed) and they gave me the coupon since I had to wait an extra month to get the order in full. The pair I'm most excited for is the fleur-de-lis stockings. They should be here any day now. Socks rock.

yes, i am that vacuous

You know what's not fair? I've been looking sort of cute the last few work days, but no one of consequence actually sees me in this state. Let me recap:

Wednesday: blue dress, pink cardi, grey tights and pink flats. (This was my fav)
Thursday: burgundy top, black trousers and the $0.94 shoes.
Friday: black top, royal purple cardi, grey trousers, stripey socks and Chuck Taylors.
today: green top, black cardi, pinstripe pencil skirt, green tights and black with green Fluevogs.

The green tights of today (I was reluctant to take them off) are super awesome, purchased at the Superhero Supply Co. in Brooklyn. I really hope to convince someone to acquire more because the colours are bright and just good, and I haven't found a place that has adequate colour selections. Any tips where to find such things in Vancouver that don't just fit anorexic girls and foreign boys wanting to show off their bits would be most appreciated.

Also, I am not trying to be a "hot" librarian; I'm not sure I ever could anyway. No, I just like matching a great deal. Matching is fun.

twinges of sun

I favour the bus over the Skytrain unless I'm super late and the train is the only way to get to work on time. The train is crowded and people seem to be more annoying on the train than on buses. It doesn't happen that I'm late too often, so I take two buses so I can get 2 or 3 blocks from work.

Today on a two-block stretch on Hastings, I saw the following, all of which made me smile for different reasons:
1) a man with faded jeans and a cut-off plaid shirt and long hair was bending over to pick something up, revealing his black thong
2) a couple pushing shopping carts stopped to share a laugh and he fed her a piece of fruit
3) signs on a development read: "Concord Pacific hates poor people."

My tooth chipping incident ended with $150 for 20 minutes of tooth work. I think it might have been more had the dentist not clarified my situation with dental coverage. She thought I had two plans and started to ask about other work I've had done, but I have no plan and mentioned that after she questioned why I didn't want to talk about my gum surgery. She then got straight to work, which reminds me that I should always start off all dental visits by stating that I have no coverage. It will make all appointments that much shorter and cheaper.

Today I'm wearing the $0.94 shoes I purchased from Joe Fresh (yep, 94 cents!) and a burgundy shirt that, if I shift a certain way, looks much more risque than it initially appears. I also got to see Augie, Lily, Rachel and Nathan at the library, which was a super treat. Yay!

dang, i just chipped my frickin' tooth

I just spent 40 minutes switching my fridge/freezer doors from one side to the other. You'd think this would be easy, but you'd be wrong. My fruit is half defrosted because the doors were off for ages and I'm not sure how the dill has fared. I've been holding off on getting groceries until this task was complete, so, yay! I can buy groceries now!

Honestly, this is the highlight of my week thus far. You can see how thrilling my life has become. Or maybe it was always like this...

After work today I tried to start unpacking. I figured a week was long enough to wait before getting settled in. This is the longest I've ever waited after moving. I just haven't really felt like settling in just yet. But it's starting to get sort of ridiculous, dodging boxes and eating takeaway. My eating habits have been quite sad this week, and I've only just eaten a meal prepared (sort of) in my own home: warming up a frozen prepared meal (made before I went to Edmonton) in the microwave. The sense of accomplishment is slight.

I've gotten rid of so many books that I now need to find other things to fill the empty spaces on the shelves. Currently my toolbox is dividing my cookbooks from BUST; this is amusing to me. I wanted to put my drill between pop culture books and Japanese language books, but it doesn't make sense.

The house is still a total mess, but at least it's sort of set out as I intended it to be. Minus all the boxes, of course. And with things out of the boxes and put somewhere. And my clothes out of suitcases... Crap.

One day... one day I will be settled in. One day...

the long of it

The timing of things these last couple of months has left something to be desired. First I found out that two friend couples were getting married on the same day. Then the whole moving debacle threatened the enjoyment of the one I had plans to attend, as well as one next month (since at the time of RSVPing I didn't know when I would find a place to move to). In the end, I guess things work out as they should.

The wedding in Edmonton was a lot of fun. Like, I mean so much fun that I even looked at job postings this week in Edmonton. I really miss my great friends Dulcie and Nels (and assorted other Edmonton friends, but their wedding caused the chain reaction of feelings, so they get the shout-out), and that I didn't worry about the move hardly at all while I was there indicates I should really think about where I should concentrate on being to be happy. Does that make sense?

Dulcie, never a conventional girl, wore a '40s looking fuschia suit with pale green top and super fantastic apple green heels from J.Crew, with hair styled and makeup to match. Really, she was stunning. Nels looked pretty dapper himself in a white blazer and black tux pants. Almost like the girl who sent her sweetheart off to war, only to discover the bandleader left behind because of asthma or a bum leg or something, whom she wound up fancying more. And the wedding itself was at the Aviation Museum, so pictures were beside these historic planes that lent themselves to the feeling of the '40s.

The wedding was a civil ceremony, but I don't think I've ever had to stop myself from crying so much at a wedding because it was so lovely. The vows, really, were what had the place in tears (I've never seen so many men cry at one time before) and I foolishly didn't plan ahead well enough to stuff my cardigan with tissues before the ceremony to hand off to Dulcie as she needed them (thank goodness for her mom, who slipped me tissue after the initial tears started, before the major waterworks). Were I a flatter-chested girl, perhaps I could have stuffed my bra with reinforcements.

I tried to avoid the groom's brother's attempts to document the whole affair on video, turning to wipe the ocular fluid and snot away, yet remain a vision as far as maid-of-honours go. I suspect I failed; my eyes felt pretty puffy and green.

Of course, being able to spend time specifically with Dulcie's parents (whom I adore) and other family members on both sides that I hadn't met before was a bonus. Dulcie, especially, has the sort of family that envelops you and is a lot of fun to be around. The family drink, a PVC*, causes side-splitting stories (and I love that there's a family drink) and tests strength of character. The groom's youngest brother thought he could handle the drink. He could not. His slurring words indicated the drink kicked his butt.

I also discovered that Guitar Hero II causes RSI. My hands hurt so much after a couple of hours of playing that I swore I wouldn't play ever again.

During the trip I also managed to visit my grandparents. Talking with my mom ahead of time, I wasn't sure I wanted to go because their health has declined to the point that I thought I might not recognise them anymore, but she thought it would be a good idea. Still, the sense of obligation and the fact that I love my grandparents made me go. I kind of feel like a terrible granddaughter because I stayed for just an hour-and-a-half, talking with my grandfather while my grandmother mostly rested. I was sort of OK talking with him, despite him telling me they want to die (he'll be 99 in January, she will be 96), but when she woke up and looked at me I kind of lost it. She doesn't remember me at all and it's hard for me to hide my emotions. I didn't want to just sit there and cry, so instead I made a hasty retreat, giving them both kisses, knowing it would be the last time I see them.

I know why my mom wanted me to visit: they don't socialise at all anymore, no one visits them, and because of my grandmother's state my grandfather spends his days looking out the window with no one to talk to and no chance to do more than just sit. Any contact with the outside world might lift their spirits if only for a short time. And I just blew it by tearing up. I hate that they are suffering, that they've both been kept alive when their hearts have stopped and they were ready to die. People should have a say in their quality of life.

Sorry for the tangent. I'm just feeling a little emotional about it all. And I miss my grandparents, the ones I got to know when I lived in Edmonton and up to even two years ago.

*A PVC was originally founded by Dulcie, MaryAnne and Dulcie's mom Norma at Vi's Pies' little lounge, overlooking the river valley. Tweaked to its current state, it's a shot of vodka, a shot of Cointreau, and Grower's pear cider as the mix. The newly updated version substitutes the pear cider for Grower's fantastic pomegranate cider. A few of these will make you crawl and pass out on a park bench; they're so easy to drink. Yum!

halfway (between) house

Boxes surround me and I'd be concerned of being trapped under toppling boxes if I didn't secretly hope for it, if only to have a few days of forced rest.

The move went OK. I landed around 2:34pm, caught the bus and arrived at the new apartment by 3:30. Unfortunately I had to wait until 4 for my landlord to come, and by the time we finished the walk through I had to hustle to the car rental place to pick up the van. I collected my friend and his girlfriend to get a start on packing the remaining bits that I didn't get to before my trip; we managed to get a fair chunk done.

People started arriving shortly after 5:30, which wasn't such a bad thing, as it meant the apartment was half empty by the time most people showed up. We headed to the new place and unloaded fairly quickly and efficiently. We went back for another load and got pretty much everything out in 5 loads with the hands and backs of 10 people (me included). It's a good thing I didn't drink all that beer I've been storing up because it helped to smooth over the whole process. At least I think it did. People seemed happy when they left.

I was not. I still had to go back to the old house and fill up the van with all the stuff I didn't want, which thankfully didn't take as long because my friend and his girlfriend helped. They also convinced me to go for a late dinner; I realised I hadn't eaten since 11am and it was nearly 11pm. I wound up staying up until 1am anyway because I had to get stuff ready for the cable guy at 8am.

Today was a pretty long day as well. After the cable guy finished hooking up my connections, I headed out on the road. First stop was the bottle depot to get rid of the empties from my apartment and Chris' (he'd been hoarding his as well) so I could have money for gas for the van. Then I went to the Sally Ann to try to donate all the unwantables. They took most of it, but not all, which meant I had to head down to the transfer station in South Vancouver (thanks for the tip, Randi). It cost me $6 to get rid of the rest of the stuff, including all those cassettes I debated about. I didn't feel like searching around for a place to take them, so decided to dump them. Crap. Then I replaced the gas I used and drove back to the rental place to drop off the van. Thankfully I called into work in the morning to see if I could go in for just the night shift because I wouldn't have made it in.

I stopped at Liberty for baked treats to congratulate myself for getting something done.

After work tonight I went to the old apartment to start the cleaning. Frick, it's going to take forever to get it clean. I stayed until after 11pm tonight and will go over after work tomorrow to clean until it's done so I can give back the keys and not pay for the stupid hydro anymore. I can't do anything more at the new house until the old house is dealt with. Guh.

Will update on better things soon, like the last week before the moving crap. Maybe after I finish cleaning...