Hahahahaha!

In this post over at Lemondrop, they're talking about wedding proposals. Nothing too out of the ordinary...except this bit, which made me almost choke with laughter:

Second, she likes to believe that you know her intimately -- and no, we're not talking the carnal sense. We mean that you know, after all this time, how she takes her coffee, whether she likes to sleep with her socks off or on, and what her all-time favorite movie is. Pay close attention to that last one, guys, because no matter how deeply you loathe it, and even if she doesn't realize it, she is hoping that when she finally meets the man of her dreams, and he professes his intentions, he'll recreate a scene that's like something straight out of that.*

My favourite movie of all time? Aliens.

I think I can safely say that there is no way that a recreation of any scene from my favourite movie is going to get me in a proposal-accepting frame of mind.

Unless you're proposing to me while teaching me how to shoot a high-powered pulse rifle with a grenade launcher. That just might work.


*Emphasis most emphatically mine

Belonging

There is a quotation I found on a community planning website shortly after I came North. It reached into my chest and touched my heart. It seemed to encapsulate my feeling toward this new place in which I had found myself, and it spoke to me of hope.

"When people feel they 'belong' to a neighbourhood which is theirs through their own efforts, then it will become a place which is worth struggling to retain and develop. People will safeguard what they have helped to create."*

I feel that way about this place most of the time - I want this town to continue, I want this town to thrive. I want to promote this town to the world outside, to say, "I came here, and look! I became part of something - not because I want to take over and tell people what to do, but because I want us all to develop and retain this place to which we all belong!"

It's a bit lofty, I know, but it keeps me going.


*Lord Scarman and Tony Gibson, The Guardian, 11 December 1991 [emphasis mine]

Paint paint paint

Yesterday, Heather helped me pick out colours for the living room and bedroom of the house I am moving into at the end of August. My new landlord gave me the okay to paint, and he is actually paying for the paint, so woohoo! I can go in whenever I want between now and move-in day, so things will be nice and painted before I move my masses of junk in.

The bedroom is going to be a warm yellowish colour, with a slightly darker 'feature wall' behind my headboard. The living room is ... I can't even describe it - kind of a brown, with a darker brown on the chimney. My choices were kind of limited by the crazy hideous burnt orange carpet that is all over the house. I don't know if the landlord plans to take that out when he moves back to town in two years, but I am definitely not up to the task at present. So no red walls for me ^_^

I will be jazzing the place up with exotic curtains made of sari silk and perhaps some decorative throw pillows. Hooray for eBay.

It's funny - I am becoming so totally bushed. Being in Whitehorse for more than three hours gets me on edge. Today was particularly bad - everyone was grocery shopping, there were only two cashiers, and the lines were heinous. I only managed to keep from going postal by reciting "Grow from love, accept from love," every time some kid who shouldn't have been in control of cart cut me off.

Now I'm going to eat licorice and watch movies.

Soooo

I just saw the guy from college, the one from a few entries back, as an extra on Supernatural, and you know what? I was happy. No pangs, no sadness. No tugs at my heartstrings.

It didn't hurt that he was playing a patient in a mental hospital and just looked crazy.

Things are looking up.

Dear schmo,

When going over to someone's house for "a glass of wine," be sure that their glasses are not approximately the size of decorative fishbowls.

I'm just sayin', there's a reason you're so slow today.

Heartburn...

So many delicious pancakes for dinner + delicious chocolate cake = heartburn that won't end.

Such a sad ending to a delicious meal chez Went. They're getting ready to go away for two weeks, and I will be on my own again. I will have to occupy myself with painting the new house ^_^

In other news, there's a big public meeting in town tomorrow, and guess who gets to take the minutes? The girl who plans on getting all dolled up for it and wearing her stompy red sandals, that's who! Red skirt, black sweetheart-neck t-shirt, and crazy shoes - they'll have to pass a bylaw to get me dressed down!

I'm kind of tempted to buy these gold platform shoes with red rhinestone flame decals, just so I can wear them to meetings. It would be a kick, really ^_^

Deliciously Dorky

I have an idea...an idea that melds my love of quilting and my newfound love of Supernatural into a glorious, harmonious whole.

I get the giggles every time I think about it.


And I'm not saying anything more at this time ^_^

Where have I been?

Let's see...lounging, having a headache, working, working, having a stomachache, taking a sick day, and that brings us to today.

One thing I like about this town? People notice if you're not where you're supposed to be. Kara noticed my truck wasn't in front of the office yesterday, deduced I was sick, and she and Matt and the kids brought me dinner (and visited briefly because it was pouring buckets outside). Back in London, no one would have noticed a thing like that. Or brought me delicious cabbage-roll things.

Unfortunately for me, my landlord had made arrangements for some guy to come look at my house yesterday - without letting me know. The guy turned up, and I'm in my sweatshirt and fuzzy pants, definitely not expecting company. I asked if he could give me half an hour, and I tidied up the kitty litter and threw several bags of garbage in the garage. The house wasn't perfect, but it was okay.

Actually, the more I think about it, the more pissed off I get with my landlord. I thought maybe he had tried to email me at work, but when I got here this morning, there was no email. I was home all Tuesday night, so I don't want to hear him say he tried calling. That is bull cookies.

Also, if I hadn't been home sick, there wouldn't have been anyone home to show the guy around. Did you think about that, landlord?

Whew. Sorry, that got a lot rage-ier than I meant it to. I need to summon back the calm of last night - headache gone, belly full, overdosing on Supernatural. Life was good then.

Storytime

I'm back again. I took a little time off from blogging...mostly because I was approaching my 100th post, and I wanted it to be something meaningful. But it's hard to squeeze meaning out of hot dog lunches and looking after a friend's cats.

This past week was kind of rough, work-wise and personally. I can't talk about the work stuff (more's the pity, although I really don't need to keep hashing it over, so I guess it's more of a blessing), but the personal stuff...Yeesh.

Here goes...

Once upon a time, there was a girl who wanted to be an actress. She studied drama all through high school, and refused to even consider any other career. After high school, she auditioned for a couple of theatrical courses at a variety of colleges, and ended up in the Nation's Capital.

When she was there, she met a guy. He was older than she by a year, and he was the most interesting guy she had ever met. He lived one floor down in the same apartment building, and they hung out a lot. She was really, really into him. And although she longed to tell him, she was shy and hoped he would figure it out.

Unfortunately, he was really, really into a girl he had known for years, and so nothing really came of the infatuation. Our heroine, though, had suffered a tragedy - she now compared every man she met to the guy from college.

This had a negative impact on her relationship life. A few years later, she dated a guy for a few months, but after they broke up (because he was in love with a girl he had known for years) she never dated again. Not that she didn't want to, but circumstances just didn't work in her favour.

Flash forward to Monday, July 5th.

Our heroine was watching a great Canadian comedy show, and who should she spot as an extra in most of the scenes but the guy from college. In addition to all her "oh, why didn't I tell him how I felt" angst, there was a great big dollop of "why was I such a coward that I let people talk me out of following my dream?" woe. That was enough to cue a low-level funk.

Work interefered with her attempts to feel better. And then, on Facebook, she saw photos of the guy from college with his girlfriend...and her pregnant belly. They, naturally, were thrilled about their soon-to-be-born progeny. And our heroine felt sad, because she was alone and had two incredibly noisy cats instead of babies. She felt bad because her first reaction to their happy news had been to be miserable. She was happy for them - she was just a lot more unhappy for herself, because it felt like her life was going downhill.

So, Friday, after a shitty week, she went to a neighbour's house for coffee, and after that she came home to drink vodka coolers and eat shrimp noodles. And she feels a bit better for having shared her tale with the Internet. Where anyone and everyone can read it. Because, honestly, her life isn't over just because she isn't doing what she originally planned. It's just different.

In the words of Marcus Aurelius, "Everything that happens happens as it should, and if you observe carefully, you will find this to be so." You just have to get over the feeling sad part.

Happy 100th Post!