under pressure

It’s that time of year, the barometer goes all wonky and my head feels like it’s going to explode.

I love fall, but not on days like this. Today I actually lost vision in my left eye from the onset of a migraine and had to go to the hospital.

It was kind of scary only being able to see out of one eye…

Rethinking that pirate costume for Hallowe’en.

I’ve spent the rest of the day in bed (thank goodness for black-out curtains), and I guess I have no choice but to take this medication the doctor prescribed last time I was at home, although it’s quite serious. I can’t keep hulling up in my room every time the atmospheric pressure changes.

Although I am getting really good at watching tv with my eyes closed.

Shh. I’m listening to How I Met Your Mother.

I hope everyone else is having a better Monday.

it was perfect till…he came along and wrecked it

Her: “{insert my full name}!”

Me: “What?”

Her: “I can’t believe you just said that. When did this happen?”

Me: “Nothing happened, just thoughts, lofty thoughts…you know.”

Her: “Oh, I do…they are dangerous.”

Me: “Don’t tell anyone, but check your email.”

(waits)

Her: *shrieks into phone* “Wow. You’ve changed. What happened to the plan?”

Me: “I’m in it currently…the end results may have shifted, to an earlier date, tis all.”

Her: “I love it. You never talk like this.”

Me: “Hey, we’re both happy at the same time. That never happens.”

Her: “I know.”

Me: “Makes you nervous doesn’t?”

Her: “Yes.”

Me: “But excited nervous. Feels like we’re a long way from the bridge doesn’t?”

Her: “It does.”

Me: “I still smell the vinegar and taste the salt though.”

***

I lick my lips in anticipation every time I cross water. Suspended, rolling along the pavement, the vibrations from the car tires hitting the grooves and the sound pumping out of the stereo….I like how the hills are lined with white houses, and multi coloured roofs like woven squares on a perfectly sewn quilt.

I think if I can see the water, ride over bridges and see the sun descend behind the hill, I’ll always have a bit of home with me.

And that’ll tie me over till you’re here.

Just.

corn is the devil

Is what my friend Mel jokingly yelled at the market on Friday night, her thoughts after being told to watch the documentary King of Corn by the Boy.

Fast forward to last night, we’re sitting down at the cinema to watch The Informant! the latest Soderbergh film. I hadn’t even seen a trailer, so I knew nothing about it. The first words of the film are along the lines of, corn is in everything, it’s everywhere.

I couldn’t help but chuckle, and continued to for the rest of the picture. I recommend this film for its brilliant cast of characters, and its amusing voice over dialogue.

Polar bears cover their noses before they pounce on a seal. How do polar bears know their noses are black? Did they look in the water one day, see their reflection and say, “Man, I’d be invisible if it wasn’t for that thing.”

limestone

I can’t believe the over blown media coverage Queen’s University homecoming still gets. Read it here.

In my opinion that is most of the problem. The masses do not have good memories, however if you keep bringing up these stories it just adds more fuel. When I was attending uni there, the majority of the people attending this event were not actually Queen’s students, but people coming from other universities to attend the “legendary festivities.”

I know people reading this might disagree, and I’m not condoning the actions, from previous years at all, but fuck the coverage of all the shenanigans is just ridiculous, and most of it has been blown out of portion. The best part about the article was the map, and the descriptions.

“On any given night, Queen’s students flock to a handful of bars and clubs at the Corner of Princess and Division street. Fights and rampant intoxication are commonplace.”

The worse fight I ever witnessed at Queen’s were two pop collars yelling at each over who cut in line at a Starbucks.

I used to live in the “Hub” a few blocks from Aberdeen street.

here comes a regular

I live in the ground floor of a house, and my landlord and her family live above.

She reminds me of someone from my past. So much so its kind of scary. The same physical attributes, mannerisms, even the same clothing style.

I didn’t notice it fully until last night when I was leaving for the evening, and she was standing in the driveway watching the children play on the lawn, while attempting to train their new dog (who I am stealing for my own, they just don’t know it yet). She saw me coming, smiled and gave me a somewhat exasperated look towards the kids and dog and it was something in that look that made me stop in my tracks, and I saw my old friend so clearly it was almost blinding, and that just wasn’t because the sun was setting.

I stopped and chatted with her and played with the dog and listen as she vented a bit, and again attempted to figure out again what exactly it is that I do for a living. Her expressions and references make me smile, I feel so at home whenever we chat, and I think she enjoys that I am a bit of a puzzle to her. She offers me tidbits of advice on the long distance relationship and we talk 90s music.

She shares so many resemblances to my friend B, it hurts. It makes me miss my friend of yesterday who is lost in that space, you know the one? Between then and now. I wonder if this is the universe telling me that everything is cyclical. Things are reborn into other things…

Or something like that. Yeah, something like that.

I know this will be on your stereo. Even though I don’t, I know.

would it not be more interesting…

If this is what came from the Disney/Marvel merger?

More here.

peeled apples

Whilst wandering through various downtown vintage stores this weekend, my friend Mel and I found ourselves inadvertantly on a Hallowe’en costume hunt.

I’m thinking Sherlock Holmes…but I’d need to find a pipe.

Or a Ghostbuster.

Or a Cigarette/Candy Girl…because I think you could have a lot of fun with that costume.

I’m also looking to plan a Hallowe’en event at work, around storytelling. Apparently we have a few volunteers who do a lot of voice over work and have done such events in the past. Each room could have a different story theme, and a lot of fun could be had methinks. Also there are rumours that one house is haunted…Oooo. I think its just the Victorian death portraits on the wall that freak people out. Fair enough, eh?

Look forward to more tales from that place when I operate out of it more in the winter. If anyone was around 4 years ago when I worked in Vancouver its the same kind of house. If you come visit, I’ll even give you a tour in my “museum voice.” ;)

Musical Monday listening…

Devendra Banhart – Baby

been an open book, a slammed door

Its been a weird week. First weeks usually are though, I guess.

My work week is Sunday through Thursday, so I’m trying to digest everything. My old employers are still having me consult via email, which I’m happy to do actually, as there is no curator there so the responsibly falls to the admin staff, and that is a lot to deal with. I was sent off in their local paper, which was a chuckle to read, however an improvement from the last one, (which isn’t saying much). Hey, at least this time they got my name right. I was interested to read I am from “Metro Ontario” though. What does that even mean?

I just kind of feel like I’m watching my life from the other side of the room or something.

I’m not really here, and I haven’t been able to handle silence since returning.  I have music on until I turn off the lights, trying to  distract myself from thinking of the weight these next few years. Works half of the time, you know.

Feeling this tune tonight. I hear The Stills are touring with Metric this fall…

blue lights on the runway

The new job is much more of a managerial role, than I have been accustomed to in the past. So much so that I will be in charge of a half dozen employees, running two committees, event planning, and then curatorial work. It’s a perfect example of how smaller museums are understaffed.

I was venting my frustration to the Boy, and pondering if possibly I have bit off more than I could chew with this job, as its dealing with the public much more hands on, which is something I haven’t really done for a few years, and makes me nervous.

The Boy, ever the cheerleader, and who was fortunate enough to spend a few months with me up north in my last place of employment, tells me not to worry, and that everything will come together and my underlings will align because I’ll be able to use my “Museum Voice” again.

Me: What do you mean, my “Museum Voice”?

Boy: You know, the tone you get when dealing with people in a professional setting…its formal; calm, but a few pitches below annoyed with a smidge of Mr. Burns, mainly because you tap your chin a lot when pondering and squint your eyes, while still smiling.

Me: So basically you’re telling me I have the voice of an angry/evil librarian while at work? That’s horrible.

Boy: No, not all the time, mainly when dealing with the underlings. It’s just a very formal, you. It’s amusing to listen to, because normally your eyes control your voice, like when you get really excited and they turn to saucers and you go supersonic…I believe last time this happened you were excited over making a milkshake. But when you’re at work your eyes sometimes scream annoyed but your voice is very calm and you say things like “most certainly”, it’s actually kind of hypnotic…

Me: It’s the nod and smile, giving the illusion of peace and then bam! here’s more work to do -

Boy: I’m going to interrupt you before you say “Muhaha” and prove my point entirely.

Me: I’m hanging up now.

Pretty soon, I’m going to be the crazy old lady who fist shakes at squirrels, carries her shoes in her purse, collects teapots and steals sweet n’ low.

Oh wait….

ring the bells

I was only at my new post a mere three hours before I managed to make my first fumble.

While chatting with one of our part-time staff, I reached over to grab my drink off my desk while continuing our conversation, and somehow the lid had come unscrewed off the bottle of Powerade I was drinking…and then I ever so gracefully proceeded to pour out half the bottle on myself in an attempt to take a sip.

Now, this wasn’t a minor spill. Oh no. From my chest down to my knees was covered, and I had go back home and change. The drink managed to seep threw my clothes to my knickers, and even to my shoes, as I squeaked while walking.

Classy, it was.

My boss who came back from lunch after I made the trip home to change, paused looking me up and down and said, “I hope we can expect a wardrobe change at lunch everyday from you, it’ll keep things fresh.”

I’m so gonna have to buy more plaid.