Wednesday, February 22, 2012

You Forgot To Breathe

Ready to hit publish. I wrote this last summer. C.


I woke up this morning and walked down the stairs. I showered, made coffee and looked outside. The sun is beaming, so I grab my coffee and decide to sit out back. As I'm sitting there, I suddenly get the urge to revisit my blog. I'm looking for clues. I read my last post, over a year ago and got chills. This has been my week:


What do you do when your husband realizes he's never really been in love with you? Actually, he's not been interested in you for years? Me, I sit on a green metal bench and suddenly realize that I've been holding my breath. I remind myself to exhale and then I begin typing. He's not at fault. Neither am I. I can't be angry, but what do I feel? I feel strangely calm. For a second. Is that what it is? Am I calm or am I numb? This isn't a surprise. I've known this for a long time--years. I've just not ever believed it fully. Even when he had the emotional affair through our engagement and wedding and the weeks following. Even when I found out that morning sitting, on the side of the bathtub sifting through his email like a mad-woman shaking uncontrollably, hoping so hard not to find anything. Even after expecting (there's that word again) for him to suddenly feel so remorseful that he realizes the error of his ways and suddenly does everything in his power to make me believe and feel like it didn't mean anything. It meant everything. It was the day I swallowed that huge knot in my throat and allowed that flash of the truth to live and breathe for a few long minutes rather than swishing it away the second it flashed through my mind. My love was no longer in love with me. He IS no longer in love with me. I said it. Now what? Do I pull out all the stops to show him how fabulous I am? Do I turn on the charm that everyone else seems to tell me oozes from me? People think I'm cool. I think I'm cool. And that's not been an easy thing to admit to myself-ever. It came this year. My thirtieth. I think differently than most people I know (at least I think I do). I am strangely and obtrusively in tune with my emotions. Emotions in general. My emotions, other peoples emotions--its this weird gift of...-- is it empathy? Either way, its this thing I have that makes me a good journalist, it makes me a great friend and good person. But it also weighs on me. I can connect with most people on a different level. I feel it with highly media trained celebrities who let go just a little when we chat, with the sweetest old security guard in my lobby who gives me a sincere smile and words of encouragement every night I walk out of work, and especially with the street kid outside who watches my vespa every day--we spark, we connect, I feel it. I can't crack him though. And that's ok.

My biggest fear has just slapped me in the face. That was it. That's the feeling I've been squashing all these years. I fall in love with everything. I fall head over heels, for everyone and everything that I find intriguing and fascinating and good. I fell the hardest and first for him. My world has been a beautiful place because I was given that gift. I'm thankful for it. He marked my life forever and that'll never change. The fear is free to leave me. I feel empty. Step one is getting it through my brain and out my mouth, step two is facing it head on and starting this with a clear recognition that he is good--I am good, now take a small step forward and life will guide me.

Saturday, July 09, 2011

On second thought...

I just spent an hour writing a post. I put it all out there and hit publish. I turned off the laptop, (the thing starts doing a million updates on its own) and I walk away.

I panic, run back in and decide--I better not.

The commodore 64 is still updating-FUCK!!!

Pleeease--no one read this...tick tick tick.

It's done updating. A miracle.

Wrong password. Fuck.

I'm in! Do I delete? Do I save as draft? I save as draft.


Now what? Well, I owe this blog something. But not that. So on second thought, I write this.

I'm leaving on assignment tomorrow morning. Just over 24 hours from now I will be standing on top of an enormous mountain. A reflection of things to come, I hope. Personally, I'm standing at the bottom of a huge mountain right now, and all I want to do is lay on the ground and eat Doritos instead of climbing up.

I'm not packed. I have a wedding to go to in...well, now. My hair is sopping wet and all I want to do is write.

I have a new job. It's about time.

I'm now doing a morning show. It's different--more targeted at "What would my mom want to know about this" type deal. I love it. I hate it. It keeps me busy. It gave me balls (not gigantic balls, but balls nonetheless). Now it just sounds like I'm working on Maury Povich ( I still watch it too. I want to know who the baby daddy is. EVERY. TIME.).

My last post is freakishly interesting to me. Gave me the willies. I woke up this morning walked downstairs and took a shower. I made coffee and sat outside sipping. Out of nowhere, I thought I should see if my blog still exists--see if I could find some clues it it. Some perspective. It tripped me up.

I wish this was more anonymous, but alas, I have a giant mouth and revealed too much about my identity so I'm too weirded out about telling the whole story just yet.

Give me some time. I'll hit publish when I'm ready.

Monday, June 21, 2010

Frenchies, Fetes and Fammable Objects

Last week was a bit crazy. And by crazy, I mean completely loco. A friend of mine from Paris happened to be in the city on some sort of spiritual/ professional quest and somehow, being his only link to the city I became the unofficial guide. I took him out to one of the events I mentioned last post and in about 30 minutes, he secured a few gallery spaces to show his odd photography. Great on him, but like wtf, I've been going to this stuff for 5 years now and just only started figuring out how to network. Go figure.

I asked him over for dinner on Thursday and at first I was worried it would be awkward. And it kind of was. Luckily the roomie cooked a kick ass meal and had the wine a-flowing cause in the matter of an hour, the Frenchie was shittered and talking in tangents about art, love and meditation. He gave me a 4 leaf clover (weird), he possibly told me he was in love with a boy before he married a woman (weirder) and forced me to look at his thesis that modern art is a dying breed (weirdest). Oh, and he got completely ripped on maryjane and started doing our tarot reading. Essentially my future holds doom, misery and possibly divorce. Nice. Thanks monsieur, much appreciated.

I also met up with some good old friends from rad school (typo and keeping it). You'll remember Greg and of course Hanna who had moved out to Hong-couver a few years ago. Its always such a mental time when we get together and I'm constantly in hysterics. The dudes were prepping for an outdoor concert that was held on the Toronto Island this weekend. The organizers banned booze and blankets so they were plotting to go over there and hide booze in a bear-proof bag in a tree. They also forced me to watch the trailer for the most fucked up movie I have ever heard of called "Human Centipede" . Have you heard of this? Why would anyone fund this? How am I not a rich director, but these assholes are?


And finally, we celebrated Tony's 30th bday this weekend. Obviously it tripped me out slightly, but that didn't stop me from behaving the opposite of my age. As a matter of fact, I still threw flammable things in the campfire and shouted in at least 3 people's faces that they were "stupid idiots". Yes, I'm 12.

Take that 30.

Monday, June 14, 2010

Dylsxeia, Karma and a tiny Mood Swing

Another week ahead of me with back to back events. I'm sure I've mentioned how awkward I get at these things, but this week, I'm actually looking forward to all of them! Tomorrow, the West end's new hot spot is hosting photographer Todd Selby's book launch (pumped, love etc) followed by Karen Elson's concert Wednesday, hotel opening Thursday and Top Shop launch Friday (woot!). I'll pretty much go to the opening of an envelope if there's an open bar and fancy tiny burger appetizers. Just don't try to talk to me about work-related things.

I promised myself I wouldn't drink any booze until Friday since this weekend was pure abuse to my body but there goes that. So tired this morning from this weekend. Me need sleep. I'm currently sitting at my desk staring into space pretending to brood over important matters. I'm also typing with a tinge of dyslexia. That's new. Thanks for the brain damage, weekend.
I made a resolution to myself that I would try to do more good deeds in an effort to balance out my karma. Sounds flakey, but I gotta try it. I've been feeling like a bag of shit lately and in an effort to restore positivity to my life, I've been making a very conscious effort to approach people with openness and really take a positive approach to bitchy assholes. Its hard though, cause when I actually make the effort to swallow my natural dislike for said a-hole and treat them the way I'd like to be treated, I feel a bit moronic getting their 'tude back. And so goes the story of me building walls and resentment.

In other words, I'm stuck in a cycle of taking a positive approach to jerks, getting shit on anyway, and hating myself for being a pushover and starting again. Current mood: Hate myself for trying this stupidity.

On a positive note, I tried bringing my sister out with me this weekend to help her meet people and build her self esteem. If you remember, she was diagnosed with breast cancer when she was 27 years old (I know, wtf). Anyways, over 5 years later she is completely better physically, but a bit fucked up mentally (obvs). Don't want to get into it, but its one of those situations where someone uses something like this as a crutch, an excuse for not getting your shit together and a reason to blame everyone for everything that did or didn't happen to/for you. I'm wishy-washy about this ordeal cause I'm always in a flux between being annoyed and feeling guilty.. But that's my own issue--the guilt thing. Either way, I guess I was feeling guilty this weekend so blah blah blah.. We went out and she made out with 3 guys. Yay! Kinda makes me feel like I did a good thing which makes all the hate a little more bearable. I need a break now though. And I shouldn't be responsible for other people's happiness. How the fuck can I be when I'm not even happy myself? So much I should be writing about, but I still feel weird airing my dirty laundry out for the world (no one reads this) to read.

Anyways, back to ignoring emails from passive aggressive a-holes.


Monday, May 31, 2010

Nectar of the Broke=A shit-talking good time (apparently)

I am sitting on my deck watching my dog lick the hell out of my brand new patio set. Brutal. Lost tons of cash at the casino yesterday and got pissed off that I didn't stop earlier. This in turn made me feel ridic amounts of guilt about the expensive chairs I bought this weekend and so I did the walk of shame back into the store and got a damn refund. Idiot! The whole time I was praying that the cute asian girl who sold them to me wasn't working. We had a thing, you know? I thought it was a legit connection. But now that I think about it, I may have gotten swindled by her charm. Happens every time. (Whatever, I have enough friends anyway.)

Don't really know what to do with myself now that I basically have the evening free (never happens) but all of a sudden the smell of cookies is wafting through the backyard from the Mr. Christie factory down the street. I want to go to there.

I feel like I should be doing something, but I cant take my eyes off of this doggie lick fest. Wrong? Nah. Maybe he smells the cookies too.

Planning a party for my work peeps on Friday. Pretty much got the boss to give us the day off to team build in my backyard. Translation: Play flip cup for hours and eventually talk shit about eachother into the wee hours of the morning. It'll be good times as long as drunk me shuts-the-hell-up and learns to listen to the shit talkers and not spew the shit. Fine line when Mr. Goose is controlling my mouth. Who am I kidding? Fine line when Mr. Smirnoff is controlling my mouth. OKAY!!!!! Fine line when Colt 45 is controlling my mouth. God, a girl can't even be classy on her own blog.

This post reeks. Time for a drink!

p.s. Just googled "shittiest drink on earth" and got "nectar of the broke" as my first result. Apparently some hard cores in India make something called Tharra that's 90% alcohol and "Unlike other spirits...tharra doesn't benefit from aging. In fact, let it sit long enough and it turns from barely consumable alcohol into full on poison."CRAY-ZAY! The things you learn from google. I hope the roommate doesn't check my search history or I'll be getting another one of those "I think you have a problem with alcohol" talks. Sigh...Just another day.

Thursday, May 27, 2010

Sex and the Shitty Number 2

I had the chance to see the Sex and the City 2 movie yesterday. It was completely horrendous. Period.

This crap pretty much took a dump on the entire premise of the series (i.e. strong women living different lives that are entwined by friendship and a common environment--also-what happened to NYC as a character?) This script also took a huge dump on Eastern cultures--complete and utter Orientalism at its best. No word of a lie, I found myself (probably the most offensive person I know) literally shaking my head at the deplorable depiction of a savage eastern 'other'. I am shocked that this film has not been banned in certain countries. One step away from actually having the actors say shit like "hey look at those backward people with their funny culture and weird clothing! They hate sex and they have to lift their veils to eat fries" this film clearly took 12 steps back in terms of cultural tolerance and respect and about 10 steps back for feminism. I can't even go there, cause I will blow the roof off this place. Costumes were meh. Plot was non-existent. Lighting was atrocious (what did those women do to the lighting tech? Someone pissed that guy off for shizzle) When the script was trying to reiterate some feminist ideas, the over the top characters had to literally spell them out for the lowest common denominator--
EXAMPLE: Miranda: "They (her male co-workers) didn't want my voice heard, just like these women (in Abu Dhabi) with veil-covered mouths" (WTFWTFWTFWTFWTF!!!!!????????). Overall, anyway, In other words, I'd rather watch that creepy PETA video where the animals get slaughtered than this shiz again.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010


Yesterday I had to say goodbye to my little guy. He was my buddy since I was 13 and I'm going to miss him. Big time. Hope you're chewing the biggest shoe in the sky baby.

Love you.