you may, or may not, remember my bland declaration that my father has only nine fingers. well, as of seven o’clock last night, my co-worker’s husband is now a member of that illustrious club. the ring finger of his right hand is now gone. poor rhonda is just beside herself. mike is actually fine and joking about it all. he is still trying to sort out in his mind if he could have done anything differently to avoid the machine eating his digit, otherwise he’s coping very well with his new situation. it’s still early, but he’s confident it will one day be very cool.
this makes three serious events which have deeply affected people i care about (dale earnhart’s death and tom’s apartment fire being the other two). sometimes i don’t know how fucking easy my life is. this is just the universe’s way of reminding me to be grateful for all the plenty i’ve been lucky to receive. how can these things not shift your perspective?
what would you do if you lost a finger or a toe? what about your hand or your foot? taking it one step further: would you rather be killed or wheelchair bound for the rest of your life?

while driving into work this morning, i was thinking about how much i’d like to write. i really do think that i should be writing. what, i don’t know. my problem is that as soon as i decide i want to write something, i can’t think of anything interesting. i’m consumed with the dread that i’m only stealing from the genius to which i’ve been exposed by others. when i write poetry, there’s a voice in the back of my head which whispers “this isn’t yours. you stole it from that blink 182 song.”
alternately, when i write fiction, i have yet to get past the introduction of my characters and plot. i worry that my development will be formulaic and dull. i am hindered by my own expectations of greatness. i want to be good so badly that i’m scared to be bad even for a moment. i can’t let go of the worry that i am unoriginal. i’d rather be mute than re-write what’s already been written.
when it comes to this forum for my text, i am both grateful and intimidated by it. i love that having it encourages me to create something on a daily basis. whether it’s good or not, inspiring or not, original or not. just the fact that it is here and i know, thanks to sitemeter, that at least twenty people a day read it nudges me towards the keyboard. i’ve come to look at my life and thoughts differently because of it. i pay more attention to the passing details that colour my existance. when i get a random thought, i hang onto it for at least a heartbeat longer. “how can i write about this?” i think. i hope it’s helped me to see the mundane in a slightly more unique way and will, one day, enable me to write without fear.

i wonder if my co-workers notice that i’m rhythmically clenching my asscheeks in a futile effort to prevent “secretary’s spread” or if they just think i’m chair-dancing to the music in my head.

kim cattrall (actress)
roy brown (royal navy pilot — shot down the red baron, 1918)
bass is base (music group)
phoebe cates (actress)
james doohan (actor – scotty of star trek)
robert goulet (actor/singer)
monty hall (game show host)
jack kerouac (literary leader of the “beetnic” movement )
joni mitchell (singer-composer)
morley safer (60 minutes journalist)
fay wray (actress – king kong)
[thanks to the anti-canada website]

i ran into meghan at the supermarket last night. she asked how sunday night with dean went. i told her. she said “oh, no love match then?” i said no, and told her that i thought maybe there was one dean’s part. she said she’d try to find out from him. she also said that she had been thinking about it and thought it would be better if he and i didn’t hook up, ’cause if we broke up, then our foursome for cards would be screwed up. that’s my meg, always worried about cards. i also told her i’m going to the island this weekend, which means no cards.
other than that, i’m fairly contentless. i’ve been having a lot of weird phonecalls, though. that hangup from dean the other night. and the weirdest yet: i had a message on my voice mail, so i listened to it and it was two minutes of “living years” by mike & the mechanics. what the…? so i *69’d and did a reverse lookup on the number and it was a real estate agency. i guess it’s their hold music or something. but why someone from there would phone me at 3:18pm and then put my voicemail on hold i have no idea.
then later, while in the middle of making dinner, the phone rings again and i just managed to pick it up at the very last second and i get the annoying *beep* of a bloody fax machine. argh. you mean i spilled vegan ground round all over my stove for a fax machine? sometimes i hate my phone. and people wonder why i will never get a cell phone. which, incidentally, was thinking about on the drive into work this morning.
if i accept the unit rep nomination and am elected, i’ll have to get a cell phone, or at the very least a pager. i don’t think i’d like that. but, i would get business cards and i do miss having cards. not that i ever had anyone to give them to, it’s just that somehow you feel more important if you have them. little pieces of 100lb cardstock with your name printed on them. makes me think of american psycho actually.
can you say “stream of consciousness”? i knew you could.

i was online last night typing to my friend rick for a couple hours before i went to sleep. it was significant for a couple reasons. one being that rick doesn’t get online very much anymore so it’s a treat when we’re able to talk like that; two, i rarely spend that much time on the computer at night anymore. there were times when that’s all i did, but of late there really hasn’t been much reason to.
when i finally logged off, i picked up my phone just to see if anyone had left a message while it was in use, not really expecting to hear the staggered beep telling me i had a message. but hear it i did, so i checked them, wondering who it was who had phoned me, somewhat hoping it was tyler. it was a hang-up. well, dammit, that sucks. so i dialed *69. if you’re going to hang up on me, i’m going to star-sixty-nine your ass.
this is what went through my brain:
it was dean. dean called me. but he didn’t leave a message. dean called me the day after our outing. oh god. he really does like me. i feel very nervous. but is it good nervous or bad nervous? what am i going to do? i don’t think i like him like that. he’s so nice, i’d hate to hurt him. it’s just… he’s not anything like any of the guys i usually fall for. yeah. they’re always the guys who won’t fall for me. maybe i do that to myself on purpose. when darrin liked me, i freaked. when paul liked me, i freaked. now when dean likes me, i’m freaking. ahhh! i can’t help it if i’m attracted to someone else! it’s not my fault! i just can’t think of dean in a physical sense. but he’s so nice… he didn’t know what masticate meant. i’ve never fallen for a guy who wasn’t smarter than me. i do this to keep myself from getting too attached. if i fall for a guy who won’t return my feelings then i don’t have to get too close. i don’t know what to do. i’m going to smoke.
i’m an awful, horrible person. i flirted falsely. i got him interested and now i’m pulling back. i suck. just kill me now.

you may or may not remember my writing about being asked to be the unit rep for the union. i had given it a lot of thought and talked to my father about it (which didn’t help as much as i thought it would. he’s terribly silent when he thinks i should make the decision myself.) and pretty much concluded that i didn’t want to do it. so i forgot about it, until yesterday.
rhonda, the secretary-treasurer, came in and held up a little, yellow piece of paper. this piece of paper was a nomination form. yup. with my name filled in for unit rep. ARGH! she spent about twenty minutes trying to talk me into it. the nominations have to be in by march 20th, so i told her i’d think about it.
this morning, before i’d even gotten my coat off or my first cup of coffee, ray, the president, cornered me in my office. i told him i’d already talked to al and rhonda about it. he said that was a good sign, that i obviously had support. i did learn something new from him, though. it’s only a one year term, because sue is resigning in the middle of her two years. that makes a slight difference. not much, but it’s definitely a pro.
i talked to debbie, my job steward and friend, on the way upstairs this morning. she, like everyone else i’ve mentioned it to, thinks i’d do a great job. she was just very clear about cautioning me about the amount of work involved. i find that interesting because everyone else has made a point of saying “nothing ever happens in admin — it shouldn’t be too hard”.
ray said, point blank, that i can only expect more pressure from the executive as it gets closer to the end of nominations. but, that if i had definitely decided against it, to let him know as soon as possible so they could recruit someone else. argh! i just don’t know what to do.
there are a lot of things about it which appeal to me. then there are the things which scare the shit out of me, too. i need to talk to susan about what exactly the job entails. maybe i can get her and debbie together to talk it over.
the weird thing is this is such a grown-up situation. i mean, i still think of myself as a teenager. i don’t feel old enough or smart enough or responsible enough to have this kind of responsibility. i find it incredible that all these people think that i can do it. either i’m just not aware of my own capabilities or i have them fooled completely.

yes, i tweaked things a little. no, i haven’t fixed goddess’ macintosh illegibility yet. i had to get this part done first. now i should go do the work i’ve been putting off all afternoon…

all good geeks know rob malda kicks ass. now the blog community finally honours him with a meme. here’s my randomly generated [blog] poetry quotes:

49 blogvoices, ptooey *sigh* most of a
quiet corner of sparklers for
you, horrible for
them a quiet corner of an email me. on getting
it seems it every chance I
feel that plan went apeshit with lyrics
you may
go grocery
shopping, so quit
asking
fucking wrong. the way . home.
this work. honestly, enjoy and
appreciate. friday, when flipping
from behind
that
explained his harmonica.
card for
being flighty are worried, I
hate it every chance I got
separated from my mind
working fine as i could get sloshed
with jason,
i could stay. away
from this becoming too
much at the worse it
felt like. slugs on sister. damn skippy.

i was watching the news friday night when i got home from work to see if seattle really had gotten the big dump of snow i’d heard they’d gotten, when flipping from an american channel back to canadian they were reporting an apartment fire which had pretty much gutted a co-op and left 43 families homeless. as the reporter stood in front of the building i was struck with a sense of familiarity and sudden dread. “i really hope that’s not julia’s parent’s building. no. it can’t be. though, i wish i knew what their address is…” then i went on my way, not giving it a second thought.
this morning, glenda asked me if i’ve talked to julia. i told her i had friday when she called to update me on her knee surgery the day before. glenda asked what time. in the morning, i answered. it seems it was, indeed, her parent’s building which had been destroyed by fire.
i feel horrible for her family. her parents are in their fifties and still have their youngest son, who is mentally handicapped, living with them. i know for a fact there are very few options for where they could stay. i will give julia a couple of days to sort things out before i give her a call. her father works here, i should find out if he’s around and go give him a hug. he’s one of the sweetest men i’ve ever met. he doesn’t deserve the shit he’s had to deal with in recent years.

i know i wasn’t at work for two days, so that probably means it was the weekend. the thing i’m not sure about is why i don’t feel like i had any time off. oh, wait. i know. i didn’t eat at home once in three nights. i didn’t spend an evening home for three nights. it is just so bloody exhausting. if this is what it’s like to have a life… i’ll have to rethink it.
i did manage to get laundry done saturday and cleaned up yesterday. i didn’t get to go shopping, so i’ll have to do that tonight on my way home. or, i may go home, have a nap and then go shopping. who knows. i certainly don’t.
so, i went out on a date last night. i’m calling it a date because that’s what it felt like. not that i have a lot of experience with “dates”; my outings with guys have usually been really casual affairs or group efforts. he picked me up, we ate dinner out and went to see traffic (excellent film, by the way). i got over my pre-date jitters fairly quickly and had a good time. i felt like i talked too much at dinner. that was probably residual nerves, though. i don’t know if i’m “into” him, but he’s a good guy and good company. at the very least we’ll still play cards and possibly go to more movies.

popcorn scented candles.

so, it’s mark and dean’s birthdays this week. i got inspired to figure out something to get them to celebrate the occasions. i mean, how often does a guy turn thirty-three?
i started thinking about what you get a carpenter and cement construction foreman. well, i know dean’s a plain kinda guy with enough money to buy himself anything he really wants. mark is a little poorer, but doesn’t really lack anything either. okay, a card and some lottery tickets. that’s nice and simple and cheap. so i headed out to the mall.
i somehow managed to end up in the dollar store i didn’t know existed, ostensibly to buy a cheap, one-dollar card for each of the boys. that plan went horribly wrong. the first thing i saw was the wall of toys. i was overcome. i spent about forty minutes picking out the perfect dollar store presents for them both. let’s list the contents of each white plastic bag i presented to them:
mark’s bag: glow-in-the-dark stars & planet stickers, a los angeles plastic suction-cup basketball net and half-deflated basketball, a squishy international flag ball (to substitute for the half-deflated basketball), and two bee-bee party favours.
dean’s bag: a yellow emergency poncho, glow-in-the-dark paint pens (sense a theme? i got them because *i* really wanted them), a harmonica, a green yo-yo and two bee-bee party favours.
oh, and i bought a package of sparklers for all of us to enjoy while outside smoking.
as they were opening them, mark said “i think you got the better bag” to dean. then dean went apeshit with his harmonica. i’m glad they liked it. there’s nothing quite like giving someone something you know they honestly enjoy and appreciate.

i’m going home. then i’m going to play cards. then i’m going to celebrate mark & dean’s birthdays. sometime during the next two days i’ll sleep, do laundry, wash dishes, go grocery shopping, watch coronation street & road rules. but i’m most excited about the cards and celebrating. the threat of snow will keep me from driving, which means i can get sloshed with a clear conscience. *hic*

i still feel really self-conscious taking personal phone calls at work. maybe it’s because my desk is right outside the boss’ office and i know he frowns on excessive phone use. maybe it’s because i really hate everyone listening in on my conversations. maybe i just got in so much shit for it at my last job i’ve learned my lesson. the funny thing is, i hardly ever initiate the calls. they phone me. it’s great, but they never pick a good time. it’s always when i’m really swamped and people keep walking in needing me to do things or my boss is in a bad mood. they never phone the days my boss is gone and i’m all caught up on my work.
honestly, i don’t even know why i have a phone at my desk. just email me. then i can ignore you if i’m not in the mood.

they were calling for snow this morning (accurately, even — it’s snowing now) so i decided to take public transit instead of driving. the relatively cute guy who sat next to me on the bus kept looking over at me. i, of course, kept my eyes firmly planted on my book, not daring to look up until he’d gotten off the bus and i could safely gawk at him from behind the window. the man who sat in front of me on the train smelled fresh and almost sweet. the old, skanky skateborder who got on a couple of stops later smelled rotten, literally. the guy sitting accross from me was writing lists: “what means the most to me?” and “what do i want in ten years?” family means the most to him, by the way.
as a consequence, i got to work late. my boss drove in when i was about a hundred feet from the door. i was hoping i could sneak in before he’d gotten here. now i won’t be able to sneak out with dad at three-thirty. well, at least i got a nice, brisk walk in this morning.

i had a survivor-themed dream last night. mitchell, the seven-foot player who was voted off last night was ever-so nice to me. he rubbed my back and my feet, but when he started taking off my pants, i managed to squirm away from him. we had a cabin amongst the ruins where we made camp. i went upstairs to check out what was available. while i was there, i fell asleep and when i woke, i fried mushrooms and ate a baked potato.
as i was walking down the stairs, there were gobs of something greenish and gross on the pale peach plush carpet. i asked about it when i got back outside, they accused tina of it. mitchell asked me if i was feeling better, i said “yes, and i’m stuffed”. they asked what i’d eaten, i answered. “that’s not much,” they said. “it’s more than i’ve had in ages,” i replied. they all nodded in assent.
next thing i knew i was talking about numistmatics with colby, the hunky texan. we were getting right into it, all the while laughing and joking. jerri, the bartender-actress on the show, was right beside us as if to chaperone our exchange. at one point, colby grabbed me and kissed me hard, sticking his tongue into my mouth. i was shocked! jerri was tweaked and took off in a huff.
i thought that it was just a ploy on colby’s part to get rid of her and once she was gone, so were any moves towards me. i was wrong. even after she was gone and other poeple were around, he was very affectionate and tender.
then the first challenge came, i got separated from the rest of the tribe and got lost in a video game from which i couldn’t seem to escape. eventually, i got out of the mansion i’d been running around in only to fall off a cliff and into the water where i lost my last life and woke to hear the radio playing ‘tarzan boy’ by baltimora.
i wonder what it all means…

but I fear I have nothing to give
I have so much to lose here in this lonely place
tangled up in our embrace
there’s nothing I’d like better than to fall
but I fear I have nothing to give

what else was i supposed to do this afternoon? anyway, many thanks to the dozens of webpages which inspired this new layout. let me know what you think of it.

i spent most of last night on the phone with tyler. due to miscommunication with jason, i was left to my own devices for the hockey game. mike had come into town, so they were going out to the bar. he had asked if i wanted to go, but left before i could answer him one way or the other. as i sat around playing oddworld and drinking mint hot chocolate, i was half-hoping he would phone me from wherever they’d landed, but he didn’t.
tyler called to tell me his birthday package had arrived tuesday and that he really liked what i’d gotten him. he was in a very rambly mood, which suited me fine as i wasn’t very talkative. i was more than happy to just listen to him. he has a phenomenal voice.
in our last conversation he let slip what he had planned on getting me for xmas: a dvd player. i didn’t believe him at first, but he was serious. that explained his odd interest in the connections on the back of my television set. but, he ran out of money before he could get it, which is fine. i know what that’s like. he is still planning on getting it for me, though. i told him to make it a birthday present, that gives him five more months. i also told him that he had to come here and install it for me. he lives in los angeles, by the way.
i started to get weary and managed to pry him off the phone about ten-thirty or so. he always sounds so sad when i tell him i have to go to sleep. he wanted to talk me to sleep like he used to, but i didn’t let him. i don’t know why, except that i just didn’t want to feel that vulnerable.
it’s funny, i’ve known him for almost six years and we’ve never met. the strangest part is that it barely matters anymore.