Today I put up a profile for online dating. It's terrifying and, after writing and re-writing the "about me" about a dozen times, I'm still not particularly happy with it. You probably have to be in the mood to do it and, apparently, I wasn't in the mood. I'm still not sure if I'll even leave it up. I'm afraid the sorts of hits I will (or won't) get with it as-is.
Maybe I secretly don't want to be successful at this because the thought of serial dating makes my stomach knotty. That's a lot of exposing oneself to the possibility of rejection. I am not a fan of rejection. I'm also not a fan of not making out with someone on a semi-regular basis, so...
Makeout sessions require effort. Drastic effort.
This means I might also have to stop dressing like a 12-year-old boy.
Being a shy and single girl is really the worst thing you can be in this city. Vancouver is not a very friendly city and the last few conversations I've had with stangers have been more or less insane, larely because the people I talked to seemed to be unmedicated or suffering from some sort of extreme unrightness. I need to branch out in the hopes of talking to people who are moderately sane.
The newest form of social networking: OK Social Vancouver. One of my co-workers told me about it. You can order a free pin that has a little "OK" caption on it and, when you wear the pin in public, it means you are open to being talked to. I like the concept in principle, but know I will be the one the freaks latch onto. It's inevitable. And I'm not sure what sorts of friends you can meet randomly on the street and if said friends know any boys who like twee.
Seriously, where is the J-psychic's predicted guy at work that is supposed to be my match? Because he doesn't seem to be doing anything that would indicate that he's into me and I'm pretty sure I don't even know who he is.
OMG, I took a personality test today and was a little freaked out that the test says I have ESP because I often DO have ESP. It also targeted the dreaded empathy that has been my nemesis as of late. It's uncanny how correct it was and disappointing that I can be understood in 70 questions. It makes my exes that much stupider.
Currently reading :
The Blonde Geisha
By Jina Bacarr
Release date: 01 August, 2006
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Friday, February 9, 2007
the swing
Sometimes I worry that I'm minorly bipolar.
Last night I was out with my school chums, having a good laugh and some beer, and all was well. I saw a guy I always see at shows and he gave me the eye. I went to bed feeling pretty OK with nothing to complain about. This morning, however, I woke up sullen and sad for no apparent reason. I saw my friend on the street as I approached work and couldn't even pretend to be cheerful. I admitted that I feel like I'm really close to falling apart. This was a surprise to him because he seems to think I'm so together, mainly because of all the stuff I've got going on at any given time. I reiterated that this morning felt weirder than usual. Eventually we went for a coffee and had a good talk about what the fuck is wrong with me. And I seriously don't know.
I mean, it could be seasonal depression. That makes sense. I get it almost every year around the same time. But I thought I had shaken it because I felt like I was doing pretty well and hadn't been really overwhelmed to this point since last year around the same time, just before I cut out the toxic friend who was a jackass and went to therapy. Maybe being busy hid it better this time around.
At lunch I went to Finch's and saw Tangiene (who is, seriously, the sweetest girl ever and I totally love her; I kept saying it to my friend and he kept saying, "Ya, I got that the first time you said it.") and was feeling less terrible. My friend questioned if everything was alright, that I seemed to be feeling better than in the morning. At this point I wondered why, as I often do, my mood could swing so rapidly. Nothing really changed. Nothing was resolved. Yet I was feeling a bit less sad that two hours previous.
As an aside: my friend tried to communicate with me telepathically and claims I did the things he willed me to do. I suggested that would be a fantastic skill, the ability to will people to do what you want them to do. He asked what I would will people to do and i thought it would be awesome to be able to will people to makeout with me whenever I felt like it. Wouldn't that be a great skill?
This evening I was meant to play poker, but it fell through. I think I might have guilted my friend into hanging out with me, but I am not so concerned about the impostion. I was tired, he was tired, collectively we were tired and neither of us was going to do anything at 6pm anyway, sleep included. We had a good conversation and he made a yummy salad and I curled up under the comforter while we talked about dating strategies. It was just nice.
I'm sure tomorrow will be another rollercoaster day, full of ups and downs. Seems de rigeur. It's probably time to try to get my head straightened out for real. I mean, listening to the perkiness of Lilys can only get you so far before realising Kurt Heasley probably isn't all there, either.
Currently listening :
The 3-Way
By Lilys
Release date: 20 April, 1999
Last night I was out with my school chums, having a good laugh and some beer, and all was well. I saw a guy I always see at shows and he gave me the eye. I went to bed feeling pretty OK with nothing to complain about. This morning, however, I woke up sullen and sad for no apparent reason. I saw my friend on the street as I approached work and couldn't even pretend to be cheerful. I admitted that I feel like I'm really close to falling apart. This was a surprise to him because he seems to think I'm so together, mainly because of all the stuff I've got going on at any given time. I reiterated that this morning felt weirder than usual. Eventually we went for a coffee and had a good talk about what the fuck is wrong with me. And I seriously don't know.
I mean, it could be seasonal depression. That makes sense. I get it almost every year around the same time. But I thought I had shaken it because I felt like I was doing pretty well and hadn't been really overwhelmed to this point since last year around the same time, just before I cut out the toxic friend who was a jackass and went to therapy. Maybe being busy hid it better this time around.
At lunch I went to Finch's and saw Tangiene (who is, seriously, the sweetest girl ever and I totally love her; I kept saying it to my friend and he kept saying, "Ya, I got that the first time you said it.") and was feeling less terrible. My friend questioned if everything was alright, that I seemed to be feeling better than in the morning. At this point I wondered why, as I often do, my mood could swing so rapidly. Nothing really changed. Nothing was resolved. Yet I was feeling a bit less sad that two hours previous.
As an aside: my friend tried to communicate with me telepathically and claims I did the things he willed me to do. I suggested that would be a fantastic skill, the ability to will people to do what you want them to do. He asked what I would will people to do and i thought it would be awesome to be able to will people to makeout with me whenever I felt like it. Wouldn't that be a great skill?
This evening I was meant to play poker, but it fell through. I think I might have guilted my friend into hanging out with me, but I am not so concerned about the impostion. I was tired, he was tired, collectively we were tired and neither of us was going to do anything at 6pm anyway, sleep included. We had a good conversation and he made a yummy salad and I curled up under the comforter while we talked about dating strategies. It was just nice.
I'm sure tomorrow will be another rollercoaster day, full of ups and downs. Seems de rigeur. It's probably time to try to get my head straightened out for real. I mean, listening to the perkiness of Lilys can only get you so far before realising Kurt Heasley probably isn't all there, either.
Currently listening :
The 3-Way
By Lilys
Release date: 20 April, 1999
Wednesday, February 7, 2007
neither here nor there
Seriously, I am beginning to wonder if I have some weird magical power that temporarily traps boys within my gaze, but only for a fleeting moment. They quickly regain their senses and forget I ever existed.
At some point today, I saw and talked to a boy that I had a weird relationship with (which, really, is every relationship I've ever had with every boy) and, after him not calling me for ages, he decided to call tonight to talk for no real reason. He had nothing to really say; just wanted to hear my voice again. I think this wholly odd, but also somewhat annoying because it brings up a whole new set of issues to fixate on. I mean, I knew I was a fantastic transition (I've got the track record to prove it), but now I've become space filler as well.
A gap in your schedule? I'm your gal. Waiting for the bus and bored? Call me. Had your heart crushed and just want someone, anyone, nearby? Oh right, that's my job. I need to stop applying for these shitty placements. I'm a terrible temp... Or really great, which is the problem.
It is possible I just need a good night's sleep. I think I might have slept 3 hours last night with no napping today, and I also neglected to eat more than a packet of Thai noodle soup, two gingersnaps and some Smartfood. I'm waiting for my body to really start fucking me over. I'm trying to get back at it for all the headaches it's been throwing at me lately. Believe me, the headaches started before last night's stupidness, so there's no direct correlation. Probably.
Off to read the latest BUST, even though it has Gwen Stefani on the cover. I'm not sure when I hated a magazine cover more, and I have to look at shit like US and People and Locus and Romantic Times almost daily, so that's saying something. Sleep, come quickly.
Currently listening :
Totally Crushed Out!
By that dog.
Release date: 18 July, 1995
At some point today, I saw and talked to a boy that I had a weird relationship with (which, really, is every relationship I've ever had with every boy) and, after him not calling me for ages, he decided to call tonight to talk for no real reason. He had nothing to really say; just wanted to hear my voice again. I think this wholly odd, but also somewhat annoying because it brings up a whole new set of issues to fixate on. I mean, I knew I was a fantastic transition (I've got the track record to prove it), but now I've become space filler as well.
A gap in your schedule? I'm your gal. Waiting for the bus and bored? Call me. Had your heart crushed and just want someone, anyone, nearby? Oh right, that's my job. I need to stop applying for these shitty placements. I'm a terrible temp... Or really great, which is the problem.
It is possible I just need a good night's sleep. I think I might have slept 3 hours last night with no napping today, and I also neglected to eat more than a packet of Thai noodle soup, two gingersnaps and some Smartfood. I'm waiting for my body to really start fucking me over. I'm trying to get back at it for all the headaches it's been throwing at me lately. Believe me, the headaches started before last night's stupidness, so there's no direct correlation. Probably.
Off to read the latest BUST, even though it has Gwen Stefani on the cover. I'm not sure when I hated a magazine cover more, and I have to look at shit like US and People and Locus and Romantic Times almost daily, so that's saying something. Sleep, come quickly.
Currently listening :
Totally Crushed Out!
By that dog.
Release date: 18 July, 1995
Tuesday, February 6, 2007
bury it
My friend got the second season of Six Feet Under today and, since I'm trying to watch them all in sequence and I just finished season one last week, we watched for a bit. The problem is that, since we didn't get that far in, I still have hours and hours to get through, all the while trying to keep up with the regular life stuff that I seem to be neglecting. It's all I can think of right now. The problem with it being so popular at one point is that I know bits and pieces from the later seasons. It means I'll be wasting all sorts of time on this over the course of the next few weeks/months, when I should be doing homework.
I have something due on Thursday and I'm barely 1/4 through it. This is likely bad because it means it will be somewhat crappier than if I had done anything since the weekend. But it will get done, so that's about all I can hope for lately. This semester sort of sucks (have I mentioned that?) and motivation is an enormous issue. As usual.
Speaking of which, I should probably either go to bed or start watching.
Currently watching :
Six Feet Under - The Complete Second Season
Release date: 06 July, 2004
I have something due on Thursday and I'm barely 1/4 through it. This is likely bad because it means it will be somewhat crappier than if I had done anything since the weekend. But it will get done, so that's about all I can hope for lately. This semester sort of sucks (have I mentioned that?) and motivation is an enormous issue. As usual.
Speaking of which, I should probably either go to bed or start watching.
Currently watching :
Six Feet Under - The Complete Second Season
Release date: 06 July, 2004
Sunday, February 4, 2007
snakebites kick my ass
This evening I eavesdropped on a conversation where the people complained about the CBC. I wore a CBC shirt, so I took it personally. Who complains about CBC Radio? Psychos, I swear.
Rachel is rad. Seriously, the best girl friend ever. She humours my ridiculous tangents and ignores the fact that I both cut her off and forget what I was saying more often than not. And I am easily distracted by the World Championship of Poker.
We went to some Irish Snug on Granville that got stupidly busy by 10:30pm. The snakebites couldn't disguise the arm that kept hitting me in the back while I sat in my chair, a gesture that implied I was no longer welcome post-10pm. They played "I Wanna Be Sedated" and the snakebites worked their magic to make it so.
The suggestion of a trip to the Bosman seemed natural and it pained me slightly to wait to order, get, and pay for a drink before collecting the bathroom key. Someone refused to flush both times I visited, and I was shocked by the extreme yellowness that awaited me in the pot. Anyone with pee that bright should not be at a motor inn bar, regardless of it's position within Vancouver. It was there that the CBC was bitch-slapped.
Some guy at the bar kept looking at me. He wore a white button-down shirt and this seemed to be an odd situation. I imagined that he thought of ways to butcher me and I didn't have a problem leaving alone.
While on the bus homeward, the 12-year-old bus driver turned on Pender instead of Cordova. Nervous, I slurred a question at the girl ahead of me. "Don't worry," she cooed. "This is the Night Bus. You'll get where you need to go." Apparently the Night Bus starts at midnight. That seems wrong. I, however, went along with it, reading my smutty book about fucking around Washington, DC.
On one stretch of sidewalk near my house, I always think about what I will do when I get attacked there. It isn't dark or scary, but I assume my previous stalker will see and accost me one day, and I want to be prepared for the aftermath.
This is likely why I don't go out to drink very often. Drinking alone at home usually results in zero stories, except for the crying.
Currently reading :
The Washingtonienne: A Novel
By Jessica Cutler
Release date: 01 June, 2006
Rachel is rad. Seriously, the best girl friend ever. She humours my ridiculous tangents and ignores the fact that I both cut her off and forget what I was saying more often than not. And I am easily distracted by the World Championship of Poker.
We went to some Irish Snug on Granville that got stupidly busy by 10:30pm. The snakebites couldn't disguise the arm that kept hitting me in the back while I sat in my chair, a gesture that implied I was no longer welcome post-10pm. They played "I Wanna Be Sedated" and the snakebites worked their magic to make it so.
The suggestion of a trip to the Bosman seemed natural and it pained me slightly to wait to order, get, and pay for a drink before collecting the bathroom key. Someone refused to flush both times I visited, and I was shocked by the extreme yellowness that awaited me in the pot. Anyone with pee that bright should not be at a motor inn bar, regardless of it's position within Vancouver. It was there that the CBC was bitch-slapped.
Some guy at the bar kept looking at me. He wore a white button-down shirt and this seemed to be an odd situation. I imagined that he thought of ways to butcher me and I didn't have a problem leaving alone.
While on the bus homeward, the 12-year-old bus driver turned on Pender instead of Cordova. Nervous, I slurred a question at the girl ahead of me. "Don't worry," she cooed. "This is the Night Bus. You'll get where you need to go." Apparently the Night Bus starts at midnight. That seems wrong. I, however, went along with it, reading my smutty book about fucking around Washington, DC.
On one stretch of sidewalk near my house, I always think about what I will do when I get attacked there. It isn't dark or scary, but I assume my previous stalker will see and accost me one day, and I want to be prepared for the aftermath.
This is likely why I don't go out to drink very often. Drinking alone at home usually results in zero stories, except for the crying.
Currently reading :
The Washingtonienne: A Novel
By Jessica Cutler
Release date: 01 June, 2006
Friday, February 2, 2007
woe is my middle name
Today I am sad and angry. I suspect it's like the Mean Reds, an overly dramatic declaration from someone nowhere near as sophisticated or grande as Holly Golightly; I'm almost sure the right thing to do right now is to re-watch it for the 183rd time. It's difficult to tell if these feelings are directed at certain other people or at myself. Really, I'm tired of thinking about it and would rather punch someone in the head or roll into fetal position and cry until I fall asleep. I've got nothing good to say.
But I'm supposed to not look at everything so negatively, according to my old counsellor and the self-help book she suggested. I'm meant to take a different perspective from my standard and put a positive spin on stuff when I'm feeling bad. So here it goes:
1) I got to see a bunch of friends at the opening I just came from, some of which were a very pleasant surprise, all of which made my heart flicker with happy. Hey, did you want to come to my 33 1/3 birthday party?
2) The hot dog I got just before the opening was especially yummy.
3) Tomorrow I get to see Rachel and have some drinks and a good chat with her, which is always delightful (except when I'm a poop).
4) I only have to work a half day tomorrow.
Admittedly, number 4 is reaching.
I'm not sure why I've been writing so many lists lately. I really hate writing lists. They make me nervous.
My friend is supposed to win a bunch of money tomorrow at the casino. I asked if I could roll around in the $100s he wins and he said I probably could. I'm hoping it's a good day for him. I'm not sure why I would want to roll around in money, but I do. Where, aside from a bed, does one roll around in money? I realise it could be kind of gross, but I would, of course, wear clothes. The idea of it makes me drunk with giddiness. I also secretly hope one or two of the bills will get caught in my pants and he'll be too skiddish to notice and/or remove them and/or ask me to remove them.
The list didn't really help, so I'm going to messenger with my Chi-town friend and go to bed early. Best. Even the thoughts of rolling in cash aren't doing it for me.
Currently listening :
AGAS (Ain't Going Anywhere Soon)
By Kleenex Girl Wonder
Release date: 13 July, 1999
But I'm supposed to not look at everything so negatively, according to my old counsellor and the self-help book she suggested. I'm meant to take a different perspective from my standard and put a positive spin on stuff when I'm feeling bad. So here it goes:
1) I got to see a bunch of friends at the opening I just came from, some of which were a very pleasant surprise, all of which made my heart flicker with happy. Hey, did you want to come to my 33 1/3 birthday party?
2) The hot dog I got just before the opening was especially yummy.
3) Tomorrow I get to see Rachel and have some drinks and a good chat with her, which is always delightful (except when I'm a poop).
4) I only have to work a half day tomorrow.
Admittedly, number 4 is reaching.
I'm not sure why I've been writing so many lists lately. I really hate writing lists. They make me nervous.
My friend is supposed to win a bunch of money tomorrow at the casino. I asked if I could roll around in the $100s he wins and he said I probably could. I'm hoping it's a good day for him. I'm not sure why I would want to roll around in money, but I do. Where, aside from a bed, does one roll around in money? I realise it could be kind of gross, but I would, of course, wear clothes. The idea of it makes me drunk with giddiness. I also secretly hope one or two of the bills will get caught in my pants and he'll be too skiddish to notice and/or remove them and/or ask me to remove them.
The list didn't really help, so I'm going to messenger with my Chi-town friend and go to bed early. Best. Even the thoughts of rolling in cash aren't doing it for me.
Currently listening :
AGAS (Ain't Going Anywhere Soon)
By Kleenex Girl Wonder
Release date: 13 July, 1999
Thursday, February 1, 2007
a little this, a little that
This evening I met up with Jill to check out the Vancouver Art Gallery's current exhibits. I haven't been for quite a while, completely missing out on the Arthur Erickson exhibit last year for no really good reason (and kicking myself for it).
We started at the top and worked our way down. On the top was the BC Binning exhibit and I'm in love with his stuff from the late '40s/'50s. The geometrics and colour blocking... It's so familiar and yet I can't figure out if I've seen the pieces before or if it reminds me of something else.
The Fred Herzog photo exhibit of Vancouver from the 1950s to 1970s is amazing and we only got halfway through (another visit is in order to see the show that's opening tomorrow anyway). In talking with my city planning friend about the show afterwards, he mentioned how today the city he works for okayed the demolition of five 1930s houses, making way for larger developments with no real character. I realised that the thing that made me wistful about the Herzog photos was the abundance of houses in the dowtown core. There's something less warm/heartless about the city with monolithic apartment towers where single family homes used to reside.
We were distracted by the grumbling in our tummies and the CBC Archive videos showing in one of the little off-shoot rooms. The video we were most enamoured with was one shot of the night life in Chinatown in the 1960s. The video was only about 2 minutes, but it made an impression. One scene showed cooks flinging stuff around in woks and after we finished watching the rest of the clips we decided we needed to go for Chinese food at that exact moment.
We went to Hon's, had lettuce wraps, potstickers and Shanghai noodles with chicken and green beans, and rolled out of there fully stuffed with leftovers. Hon's is so fricking fast: it took about 10 minutes to get everything we ordered. They are a well-oiled machine there. And it was so fricking cheap! And I never feel sickly after eating there, which is a feat in itself.
For a while I felt guilty about not doing homework after school, especially since I got out an hour early, but then had a chance to go for coffee beverages with my friend instead and figured that was a decent sacrifice.
Unrelated: despite not liking pet-type animals in general (mainly an allergy thing, but also the lack of mothering/caring-for-other-living-things genes in general), I saw a puppy yesterday morning that looked like the Pokey Little Puppy and thought we could live in a happy co-existence. He padded along like he'd just learned how to walk (which is probably true. He was so tiny and adorable) and was obviously being trained. His care-giver stopped him at the corner and said something to him (maybe "wait"), which made him put up his left paw and tilt his head like he was thinking, confused or waiting to spring into action. I wasn't interested in his care-giver, but might have feigned interest just to get at the puppy.
Also, "Cat House" is an awesome song, despite my severe allergies to cats.
To bed or bust.
Currently listening :
Cloudy Cloud Calculator
By Takako Minekawa
Release date: 10 February, 1998
We started at the top and worked our way down. On the top was the BC Binning exhibit and I'm in love with his stuff from the late '40s/'50s. The geometrics and colour blocking... It's so familiar and yet I can't figure out if I've seen the pieces before or if it reminds me of something else.
The Fred Herzog photo exhibit of Vancouver from the 1950s to 1970s is amazing and we only got halfway through (another visit is in order to see the show that's opening tomorrow anyway). In talking with my city planning friend about the show afterwards, he mentioned how today the city he works for okayed the demolition of five 1930s houses, making way for larger developments with no real character. I realised that the thing that made me wistful about the Herzog photos was the abundance of houses in the dowtown core. There's something less warm/heartless about the city with monolithic apartment towers where single family homes used to reside.
We were distracted by the grumbling in our tummies and the CBC Archive videos showing in one of the little off-shoot rooms. The video we were most enamoured with was one shot of the night life in Chinatown in the 1960s. The video was only about 2 minutes, but it made an impression. One scene showed cooks flinging stuff around in woks and after we finished watching the rest of the clips we decided we needed to go for Chinese food at that exact moment.
We went to Hon's, had lettuce wraps, potstickers and Shanghai noodles with chicken and green beans, and rolled out of there fully stuffed with leftovers. Hon's is so fricking fast: it took about 10 minutes to get everything we ordered. They are a well-oiled machine there. And it was so fricking cheap! And I never feel sickly after eating there, which is a feat in itself.
For a while I felt guilty about not doing homework after school, especially since I got out an hour early, but then had a chance to go for coffee beverages with my friend instead and figured that was a decent sacrifice.
Unrelated: despite not liking pet-type animals in general (mainly an allergy thing, but also the lack of mothering/caring-for-other-living-things genes in general), I saw a puppy yesterday morning that looked like the Pokey Little Puppy and thought we could live in a happy co-existence. He padded along like he'd just learned how to walk (which is probably true. He was so tiny and adorable) and was obviously being trained. His care-giver stopped him at the corner and said something to him (maybe "wait"), which made him put up his left paw and tilt his head like he was thinking, confused or waiting to spring into action. I wasn't interested in his care-giver, but might have feigned interest just to get at the puppy.
Also, "Cat House" is an awesome song, despite my severe allergies to cats.
To bed or bust.
Currently listening :
Cloudy Cloud Calculator
By Takako Minekawa
Release date: 10 February, 1998
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