Category Archives: Words

it is without doubt or question that i will go to see this movie when it comes out in theatres. i will most likely go alone, to an evening showing, where it will be quiet and mostly empty and i will be able to lose myself in the story.
being an art history student (albeit a lackluster and of a highly classical temperment one), vermeer was, of course, one of my favourite artists. although i spent a lot of time in the renaissance with the italians, i could easily have gotten lost in the dutch masters. it’s said vermeer captured light like no other, and it’s true. his paintings are a spectacular example of perfectionism gone right. you truly can feel the light as if it were illuminating your own profile.
i wish i could compose words with enough emotion and detail to explain to you the feelings his work evokes in me and the utter, giddy excitement i’m experiencing by just knowing this movie has been made.

so, there’s this thing called biscotti. it’s rather tasty and usually crunchy and you can buy them in all those coffeeshops that are everywhere except when you really want a gingerbread latte on your way to work but there isn’t a Single Freaking Starbucks on your Entire Route To Work, but i digress. biscotti are usually almond and oranged flavoured and often dipped in chocolate. i enjoy a good biscotti every now and again. they’re like amaretto for the masticating set.
however, i did not enjoy making biscotti.
maybe it’s my inferior work space. maybe it’s my improper utensils. maybe i took them out too soon or my knife was wrongly suited. regardless, the making of the biscotti was a stressful endeavour i’m not sure i care to repeat.
just so you all know, i put away my recipe binder last night. the baking has been completed. although, i reserve the right to make just one more batch of mint chocolate chip cookies to use up the applesauce i won’t otherwise eat. now comes the sharing of the goodies. this is really my favourite part.
speaking of sharing goodies, i haven’t forgotten about my promise of the nanaimo bar recipe. here it is, unfortunately sans photographs:
nanaimo bars (my auntie bev’s recipe)
1/2 c butter
5 tbsp sugar
5 tbsp cocoa
1 tsp vanilla
1 egg
2 c graham cracker crumbs
1 c unsweetened coconut
1/2 c chopped walnuts
1/4 c butter, softened but not melted
3 tbsp milk
2 1/2 tbsp bird’s custard powder
2 c icing sugar
1 tbsp butter
175g package milk chocolate chips (approx. 1 1/2 c)
combine first five ingredients in saucepan and blend over low heat until smooth. add the graham crumbs, coconut and walnuts. mix until well incorporated. spread in an ungreased 9″x9″ square pan and press to form level, firm base. refridgerate.
combine the 1/4 c butter, milk, custard powder and icing sugar. beat until smooth. spread evenly over first layer. chill for one hour, until custard layer is firm.
melt chocolate chips and butter and spread evenly over custard layer. chill half an hour. cut into squares (i cut 25 per pan because they’re very rich and very sweet) and chill entire pan until serving time. hold at room temperature for fifteen minutes before serving. i find that inverting the pan onto a board or platter is a much easier way of extracting the squares from the pan than trying to pick them out, but your mileage may vary.
enjoy!

my perfect guy would be tall, dark-haired (whether long, short or shaved) and have deep eyes (dark brown is nice, but so are dark blue). i wouldn’t even mind if his lashes were longer than mine. he’d have clean, well-organized teeth (no tartar build-up or gums showing when he smiles, please) and a five o’clock shadow at noon. he would take off his shirt the hot way, wear only boxers or boxer briefs and never, ever wear his socks to bed. he’d smell like leather, calvin klein’s obsession for men and a little, tiny bit of tobacco.
my perfect guy would put his hand on the small of my back when he ushered me though a door before him. he would watch hockey and csi and help me through the hard bits in video games. he would laugh at my jokes and i would laugh at his. he’d be content to kiss me for three hours, with all our clothes still on. he’d be outwardly aloof, but would surprise me with tokens and gestures of affection so poignant i’d want to melt completely away. he wouldn’t mock me for being a scaredy cat in new situations, but praise me when i finally went through with what had me worried.
my perfect guy would kill the spiders and never, ever pretend to chase me around with one in his hand. he’d know that while flowers are nice, i’d be more excited by something techy or a new pen. he’d let me hold the popcorn. he’d pretend he didn’t hear me snoring. he’d come up behind me and kiss my neck or the top of my head just because he could. he’d answer all my stupid car questions. he’d reach the tall things. he’d know how i take my coffee. he’d spoon me until i fell asleep.
my perfect guy would think i’m beautiful, smart, witty and interesting. he would love my touch, my taste and my smell. he would find me challenging and liberating. he would miss me when i’m gone and treasure me while i’m with him. he would love me yet not need to smother me. he would be mine and i would be his.

nothing exciting. ordered swanky new glasses. had dinner with daddy. went to a party. got lots of nice compliments. danced. got a kiss on the cheek from a very cute boy. baked, baked, baked. talked on the phone a lot (for me). took out the trash. washed clothes. threw out another of my favourite bras because the underwire decided to make a break for freedom (this trauma is compounded by the fact it was my ralph lauren bra). listened to old cds. flossed.
yeah, i think that about covers it. what about you?

listening to my boss play guitar for us this morning has brought my craving for piano lessons to the top of my brain again. i have a guitar i could learn how to play, but i don’t think it’s for me (and not just because my hands are too little and the neck is too big and i really hate having to cut my nails so short and it just plain hurts until you get your calluses). how often do you see a guitarist reading music? i like reading music. i was awfully good at it at one point. pianists read music and i was awfully fond of playing piano. if i hadn’t had performance anxiety and judyjudyjudy the scary tennant hadn’t moved out and taken her piano with her, i might have kept on playing. then again, i might also have kept up with gymnastics and gone to the olympics, too. (i tried a lot of stuff, but i didn’t keep up with much at all.)
i’ve actually thought, occasionally, of getting a digital piano so that i could play and practice in the comfort of my own hovel and flex the creative side of my brain. luckily for me, the price has been prohibitive. that’s not to say i wouldn’t dump a thousand bucks on something i thought i’d use a lot (see: new computer and digital camera), but i know myself far too well. i’d play piano like a crazy person for a couple of months until i either became bored or overwhelmed with other committments (read: homework) and then the keyboard would sit in the corner my guitar now occupies getting dusty and making me feel guilty every time i looked at it.
there are so many things i’d love to do but i always seem to run out of time. i’ve been pretty good this past week, what with the moving and errands and baking and cleaning, but i can feel that starting to slip away already. i’m always running out of time. especially on weeknights. i like sleeping, so i tend to go to bed early by most standards. it’s not unusual for me to be in bed by 9pm on a monday-friday. unfortunately, that means i have only about four and a half hours to come home, cook/eat dinner, watch anything on the tv i want to watch and do anything else i want to do. it’s just not a lot of time. maybe i should start snorting coke or taking methamphetamines to relinquish my sleep requirement (or, like lorne on angel, get my sleep removed!). just think of all the stuff i could accomplish (if i threw my tv out)! i could become a world renowned something-or-other of this-or-that. i’d be famous for stuff or really good at other stuff what with all that extra time to hone. you’d think someone would have figured this out years ago and got something on the market. maybe that will be my claim to fame!
naw, i think i’ll go have a nap instead.

not only did i make jeremy’s nanaimo bars last night, i also baked three dozen mint chocolate chip cookies and made a huge batch of peppermint bark. i was a holiday goody making machine! just think, that’s only a third, or maybe only a quarter, of the stuff i have to do. doh.
i have a date on friday night with an older gentleman. he’s making me dinner at his place. i’m quite excited about it as i haven’t had a chance to have a meal with my dad in a long while. (hah! got you, didn’t i!)
mbna is evil. that is all.
my “talk nerdy to me” shirt arrived yesterday. if you’re at all curious, there’s a new cam shot of me in it (link to the left, under “things). the shirt looks good. i, on the other hand, look like shite. i’m really kind of pissed off that i’ve gotten this hugeoid zit on my face right before the company xmas party this saturday. i’m supposed to be beautiful and polished, not blotchy and spotted.
i can’t write for shit anymore. i have nothing to say that’s at all interesting to anyone. blah blah blah. i don’t take any photographs because i haven’t gone anywhere interesting to look at and my friends hate it when i either try to take pictures of them or stop to take pictures of something else. my site is boring and a waste of disk space, although, i still think my little squirrels are adorable.
i might get my hair chopped off this weekend, before the party. that was what i was thinking about before i fell asleep last night. i was only keeping it long through apathy and because the boy who doesn’t like me back likes longlong hair very much. sad, but true. he was probably the last reason why i didn’t get it hacked months ago. now, well, it doesn’t matter at all what the fuck he thinks of my hair since the longlong hair didn’t make him love me, the shortshort hair probably won’t make him hate me. then again, i’m broke and i don’t think i want to trust a serious head-top renovation to the $13 haircut place.
i’ve got stacie orrico’s ‘more to life‘ stuck in my head. i first heard it on the god channel a while back and now it’s being played on the mainstream pop station. it’s catchy and not too preachy and it’s not as sexually charged as that stupid nickelback song i had in my head which made the boy issues even worse. i haven’t cried in two days (unless i’m blocking something out). that’s got to mean progress, right?

i’m way too young to be this old.

well, the nanaimo bars didn’t get made. first, i got overwhelmed with the dishes and lunch-cooking i had to do and then the power kept going off and on thanks to the weather we were having (which was actually very fun. i love weather.). so, i chatted to meghan when she phoned to check the scope of the outage (which blew my plan to go hang out at her house until the lights came back on) and then i futzed about getting the kitchen ready for my bake-a-thon tonight. then, just as i was getting into bed, tyler phoned and kept me up until almost midnight in the best possible way. he makes me feel all warm inside. i’ve missed talking to him.
today i’m wearing my new steve madden shoes i bought but didn’t wear because i needed heel-liners. well, i got the liners on the weekend and today i’m three inches taller than normal. they’re really cute. i just hope i don’t fall off them.
oh, jenn, i’ll post my nanaimo bar recipe sometime this week. i mean, really, it’s almost shameful the entire world doesn’t know the goodness that is the nanaimo bar.

i’m mostly recovered from the Great Move of ’03 which is what i’m calling the pathetically unorganized and under-equipped move we made on sunday. next time, we need to borrow a truck. any truck. and invite more people to join in the lifting and carrying. it was a lot of fun! who wouldn’t be up for joining in? *cough*
seeing as i got more than my weekly allotment of walking back and forth, i decreed that there would be no need to exercise this week (not that there was much threat of it in the forecast, mind you). i happened to forget, as i made this declaration, that i am no longer in possession of the coveted personalized parking spot mere steps from the front door and elevator at my place of employment. a co-worker and department-brethren outbid me by four measley dollars. four dollars! it’s seeming a very small price to pay to not have to walk so very far and up so many stairs every morning. already this week (and it’s only tuesday, mind) i’ve walked up more stairs than i’ve climbed in a month.
oh, the humanity!
just in case you can’t tell, i am playing it up for dramatic effect. yes, i kind of miss my vanity spot. yes, it is a lot longer from my car to the inside now. but, no, i don’t think walking further and climbing stairs is a fate worth than death. god knows i could use it.
i had vivid dreams involving gas stations, car chases, houseboats and a very intimate encounter with a boy i know but haven’t met yet. i like dreaming very much.
tonight, i will make nanaimo bars.

there’s something to be said for familiar ground, i suppose.
this year has been an education for me with respect to the male species: there was the boy who loved me, whom i cared for but couldn’t commit happily-ever-after to. then there was the boy who just wanted to get naked with me, whom i thought i had a crush on but it turned out i just thought he was cute. then there was the boy-from-the-past who came back into my life and reignited a spark of holy-shit-i-think-i’m-very-nearly-in-love, who, it turns out, ain’t at all interested in me in that way.
at least i’m back to the place from which i know myself best. single, with no prospects, a lingering heartache from recent bruising and a self-preserving desire never to want to be with another boy ever again.
yes, i know it’s melodramatic, but hey, i’m a thirty-one year old woman who’s never really had a successful, healthy, long-term relationship with a stable boy. at some point, you’ve just got to give up trying or you risk the madness.
despite all that, i’m really not as hopeless as that all sounds, i’m just a wee bit spontaneously weepy today, and i could blame that on the hormones if i really wanted to. besides, who could feel bad when they look as good as i do today?

i’m going to jump to the conclusion that today is going to be a very quiet day on the internet thanks to all you south-of-the-forty-niners getting four days off to eat, shop and watch football, lucky bastards.
i used to get all annoyed that americans got four days off for thanksgiving while we, up here in canadia, only got three, then i realized that they only get one day off for xmas while we, in our lovely british wannabeism, get two thanks to the strange holiday known as the day of the boxes.
suddenly, i didn’t mind the four days of botched television programming and not talking to my absent american friends (because, really, who can understand someone with a turkey leg sticking out of their maw?). they didn’t know the joy of boxing day sales and getting to stay home for a whole TWO days in the middle of the cold and dark season. those poor bastards.
while the sweet potatoes are topped with marshmallows (diabetic special!) and the green beans sprinkled with fried onions (yay coronary!), i’m happily enjoying the knowledge that i don’t have to look at a single piece of C for an entire seven weeks.
yes, kids, my final exam has been written. i’ve received a pardon, albeit temporary, from the trauma which was C. although, if i did as badly as i predicted, i may be right back in the same class next term. i left twelve marks unanswered, so the absolute best i can hope for is 88%, but that’s like counting on running into your soulmate while sitting on the couch, eating captain crunch from the box, wearing your bunny pajamas and scratching your ass. it just ain’t gonna happen. i’ve crunched the numbers and the absolute best grade i can get is 83% the worst i can get, while still passing the course is 56%. i suppose i’ll be happy with whatever i get in between them.

hurrah! it’s gingerbread latte season at starbucks again!

oh, btw, i’ve figured it out. i don’t really need anti-depressants to regulate my moods, i just need midol. although, i’m not sure which is worse, the moods or these fucking cramps. ugh.
here’s a link to make all the bloated, crampy girls feel better about themselves: fat girls are gorgeous.
you have to look past the typography issues and unfortunate colour scheme and the almost-naked photos of the author, but once you do, he’s got an empowering message for those of us who despair of ever being loved for being rounder than average.

i spent last night playing return of the king and being a complete recluse. i couldn’t bear to deal with anyone, so i didn’t. the tv was off, oulook was closed, trillian was unopened, and the phone was unplugged. i just hacked and slashed and tried to get past the dead king until it got too chilly to be out from under the über-blankie. once safely ensconced in feathers and poly-cotton blend, i tossed and turned, talking out imaginary conversations while the upstairs neighbour’s loud-voiced company rumbled on and on.
i woke to two inches of snow outside my window and a sudden fear of driving with my bald tires and crazy commuters. finally, i just sucked it up, made sure my cell phone and bcaa card were ready to go and headed out. piece of cake, she says after the fact, couldn’t have been easier. this is where i scoff at myself and my silliness. although, i shouldn’t scoff too much, for those two cars facing the wrong way on the highway with their bumpers ripped off obviously didn’t have such an easy time of it.
anyway, i think i’m back to level for now. i’m still a little bummed about the fact i have to spend more money on my car and boy stuff isn’t going the way i’d imagined, but hell, it’s all life. shit happens, you deal with it, then more shit happens and then you deal with that. that doesn’t mean i won’t buy a lottery ticket for tomorrow’s draw and pray i win enough to solve at least one of my current problems, though.

i’ve managed to work myself into a right foul humour by second-guessing the reasons behind the blatant avoidance of any discussion about last week’s occurances with the aforementioned boy and jumping to conclusions that this is my karmic payback for being confused and recalcitrant about telling morgan how i felt about him this summer. i get what he’s doing. i’m queen of “ignore it and maybe it’ll go away”. that doesn’t mean it’s not seriously fucking with my head, though. you see, i’m also queen of “the run-away imagination”.
it just seems as if everything is weighing me down right now. emotionally, financially, socially. i have so much to do and every one thing i accomplish, two more things either break or get added to the list. people are mostly annoying me and i can’t wait to get away from them, yet the ones i want to spend time with because they comfort me aren’t available for whatever reasons.
fuck, i hate feeling this way. i don’t know what i’m going to do to dig myself out of it, though. i don’t want to be the whiny, emotionally-unstable, self-loathing person everyone shies away from when they get “moody”. i hate being a high-maintenance friend. i wish chocolate really was a cure-all. i’m afraid to ask for help.

i feel like i’m speaking a foreign language today. it seems that no one can understand anything i’m trying to say. it’s frustrating, but when this happens, it’s best for me to just shut up and avoid everyone.
goodbye.

and she says i write what she’s thinking first. not this time. this time jodi chromey beat me to it.
the unexpected, and wholly unwelcome, $912 car repair bill i received yesterday along with some boy-related soul-searching has totally complicated my entire weekend. spending last night with the newly-returned dean and the haven’t-gone-anywhere-to-return-from m&m eating pizza and learning new card & dice games probably saved my sanity.
meghan loved her box of 26 new socks (aka her birthday present); although, now that i’m thinking of it, i should have gotten her 32, one for each year. i’m so glad. nothing gives me more pleasure than giving someone a gift i know they’ll love, especially if they’d never pick it out for themselves.
this is going to be a very long, lean, dark december. i’m not really looking forward to much other than the end of this term and the free time it will avail me (which isn’t really much more than now, but at least i won’t be thinking about the homework i’m not doing all the time; that alone should free up at least two more days per week to brood on my train wreck of a personal life). luckily, i have all these great people to bring little bits of sunshine into my life.
thank you.

car repairs suck.
boys suck.
winter sucks.
busses suck.
homework sucks.
hair sucks.
food sucks.
headaches suck.
noise sucks.
taking out the trash sucks.
money sucks.
toenails suck.
apathy sucks.

yay! we won! i also succumbed and bought myself a vintage jersey. i couldn’t say no, especially after i tried it on. i’m so weak, but in this case, it’s a very satisfying type of weak. i’ve wanted a vintage canucks jersey for as long as i can remember, but they weren’t readily available or affordable. thank you, nhl for the vintage series so i could finally realize my dream! *mwah*
otherwise, it really shouldn’t be friday today. yesterday was much too friday to have to go through it all over again. well, at least it’s payday and i’ve got a lunch date. look out pub, here we come!
for the weekend, i need to work on my last two assignments tonight and tomorrow, clean up my sty, and find some time to play cards with m&m. yeah, i think that’s quite enough. oh, and i’ll be wearing my jersey around the house the whole time!