Energy, please!

It's finally Spring here...so good to see snow melting and brown gook surfacing.
I stood outside for 20 minutes today with my face in the sun...it was so warm!
Finally! No more freezing! And my nifty new spring coat was purchased at just the right time.

Why are changes of season so exhausting?
I'm guessing that's what's causing my general fatigue and irritability. Well, that and the fact I'm smoking again. But we're quitting Monday. Just like we quit last Monday.

I met an old friend today on the street today. It was cool to see him - but something was strange. I think I was happier to see him that he was to see me. Weird. Anyway, it's not like we have each other's phone numbers and nobody feels the pressure of giving news once in a while. Just weird.

Anyhoo, gotta go. Dinner at J & M's tonight. Yum.

Should Telepaths and Mind-Readers Be Legal?

At first I was just sitting there on the bus after work, going home, tired, next to this girl I don't know. We were making slow progress towards my getting home, having a glass of wine and taking it easy.

And then I realized that guy that was sitting across the aisle and two seats back was probably a student at my previous workplace, and that was the reason he looked so familiar. I was happy about (sort of) identifying him, because I always see him on the bus and wonder time after time why he looks so familiar.

Then something happened in my brain. Unsollicited, although not altogether disagreeable. But just the fact it happened started a whole chain of thought that prompted me to write this post.
Check it out: I could hear this very clearly in my head, music and all.

Don't just stand there let's get to it
Strike a pose there's nothing to it
Vogue (piano thingee)

That in itself was ok. I love Madonna. What was not ok was that my brain decided to loop it. So it started playing over and over - yes, just that little bit - in my head and I could not escape it. I decided to give in, and considered listening to the song when I would get home 10 minutes later just to get rid of it. That's what I usually do when I get unsollicited brain music. I listen to the song and it goes away.

That is when the weird thing happened. I started hoping the girl sitting next to me or other people on the bus were not mind-readers, because they would think I was completely off my rocker, looping Vogue in my mind. Then I thought maybe there were two kinds of people: some who could drop into anyone's brain at will and have a listen, and others who would just catch random brain noises people around them were making. I started hoping the mind-reader on the bus was one of the latter, so I could not be identified. Then it was my stop, and I happily noticed the song was gone. Then, I thought to myself 'This is one for the blog'.

And to think there are some days where I find myself too normal. Ha.

Sunday Knitty Sunday

I would like this to be Sunday Knitty Sunday.

But I can't get my arse out my office chair to get to my big green box in the living room, to pull out D's scarf and to make some significant progress. Why? I don't know. Ok, I do know. I get bored with my projects! This is why I had the idea, months ago, to start a knitted quilt - to see progress in all the little squares that took me 20 minutes to knit. But I promised D his scarf, I started it over a month ago, and I've got about one-thirds of it done.

And since I'm not faithful to one project alone, probably also because of boredom or a short attention span - come to think of it, both - I've got 3 projects on the go. Two scarves and one quilt. Must-kick-my-own-ass.

My need for structure is now forcing me to lay down the law. I will work in 30-minute blitzes. These things need to be finished! *Whip* Pull out D's scarf. Knit for 30 minutes. Put it down. Pick it up again the next day. Work on it for 30 minutes. Put it down. I can do this!

My sister will be giving birth in less than 6 months. The quilt needs to be finished. Plus I've been commissioned to paint something for baby's room. I'm thinking a tryptich in greens and yellows. Deadline number one.

Deadline number two is, well, passed. D's winter scarf cannot be worn in the springtime. Unless you're really, really cold. So his scarf will actually not be useful until next winter. But I'd like to have it done soon...maybe I can really give it a go and finish it before next Monday. I mean REALLY give it a go.

Deadline number three is extremely flexible. It's my own mohair spring scarf. Spring is here, might as well finish that too. Plus I'm almost done.

Okay, I gotta go knit now.
Next post, I will tackle the delicate issue of cleaning up the pigsty that is my office. It's scary.

Cheerio!

On Saturdays and Their Yumminess and on Being a Trucker

Saturdays Rock.

This I already knew, but this particular Saturday was better that a lot of other Saturdays.

Last weekend was pretty fun-filled and busy. Friday I went boogying with my little bro, the next day was my 30th b-day party (what a night...) and then the whole week just took forever to end and was filled with late nights, almost no sleeping, and stress. Rollercoaster of a week. Annual general meeting on Monday. Real b-day on Tuesday. Darts on Wednesday. Work thing Thursday. Drinks on Friday. And today....I got to sleep in. Looking back on the last few sentences, I now realize how I could really have it worse. I could be a heart surgeon, working 80-hour weeks and never seeing my family. I could also be a bus driver and have to do the Quebec-Montreal run every night of the week. Or a trucker. Being a girl trucker would be cool.

I would get to say Roger, Ten-Four on my radio. I think I'd bug the other truck drivers just to be able to say this. Roger would say

'Ok boys, we're meeting at the truck stop off the 40 and staying there overnight
to sleep in our cabs.'

Then I would get to say

'Roger, Roger. Ten-Four. SlikChik out.'

SlikChik would be my trucker name. Would they let me have a trucker name? They all have trucker names, right? It's lettered on the front of the cabs in italics, usually. Ti-Joe. Le Flo. Bernard 'Tiguidou' Lalancette. So I get to be SlikChik. I can do what I want, I am a girl truck driver. And they would protect me and make sure I did not get shit from other truck drivers from other provinces. We'd be hauling those giant tree trunks from one end of the country to the other and we'd stop in, like, Manitoba, and the Manitoban truckers would be all like,

'Ooooh check it out, Bill, it's SlikChik. Shush, she's coming this way'

And I'd walk up to the bar at the trucker's hangout in the middle of Nowhere, Manitoba, and order a glass of red wine. And I'd sit at the table with my crew and all the Manitobans would stare at me because I would be a legend. And my boys would get up and walk over to their tables and tell them off, high-fiving each other on the way back to our table. And I'd be the silent type. Would barely talk. The less words, the better. They would be meaningful words. And I'd have a long cowboy-type coat, all oiled and shit, and I'd have motorcycle boots. Black ones. And leather pants. And after my glass of wine, I'd retire to my truck affter saying 'Later, boys' to my crew, leave the trucker joint and walk through the parking lot, all the way to the other end (parking lots are huge in those truckstop places) climb on up into the back of my cabin and pull all the curtains for privacy.

Then I'd turn my laptop on, check out my favorite blog, turn off my laptop, pull out my knitting, have herbal tea and kiss my kitty cat.

Damn, Saturdays are cool.

Old Blog + New Blog = Retrospective

Surpriiiiise! This is a bilingual thing I'm doing. Ha! Yeah that's right.
I knew I'd get you someday. And that day, my friends, is today.

Before we move on to other things, I must mention my sadness at losing someone I didn't even know yet. I am rationalizing this right now with coldness because I am sick of crying. I know I am allowed to cry. But I've been doing it for 2 days now. I feel....dry.

Ha. That rhymes with cry. Lookadat.

I will survive. I have people around me who love me. I am choosing to be a being of light. I will not crawl into a cave and roll up into a little ball of pain. *Deep breath* Aaahhhhhh. *Stretch*. Ok. Here we go.

So as a new feature to this otherwise featureless thing I'm writing, I thought I would include in this blog entries from my first blog, which I started and maintained very unfaithfully in 2004-2005. This was in a fantastical place called Diaryland. It was not all fairies and pixies and pink marshmallow trees, nooooo. None of that. Just thousands of people, doing a writing thing. Much like Blogger. But not as cool with the templates and all that. So! Hence the title of this entry.

We are rewinding time *ooo-eee-ooo-eee-ooo* and going back to 2004. Not very interesting. But somewhat entertaining. So hang on to your berets, here's September 21, 2004:

So...hiya, world. Or whoever will read this. Or not. This is me doing something I've been wanting to do for a while: to have something I create be online. Dunno how this is going to turn out. We'll see. It's never too late. Maybe this is what I need to vent all these evil thoughts I've been having lately. God I need to eat something. Don't get me wrong, I'm not voluntarily not eating or anything. I'm just calming down from an out-of-control episode I've just had for the past...uhhhhm...4 or 5 hours. Ok. Grilled cheese sounds good.Currently listening to Dr. Greenthumb, by Cypress Hill. Very good.

Well! Phew! Not many things have changed, since that day. Let's see. I still have evil thoughts and out-of-control episodes. But I'm learning to control them, now. Okay, okay, I see where you're going - things have changed a bit. Next, I still like grilled cheese and Cypress Hill. Classics. How can you give up grilled cheese and Cypress Hill, seriously.

Okay, my readers! If you are not a figment of my imagination, I hope you enjoyed today's retrospective episode, and keep your eyes peeled for more soon. I've got better ones. And if you are a figment of my imagination, well, it's good to see you again. *Wink*

See ya.