tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32744012024-03-07T19:17:38.526-05:00I Chase BoysSometimes they let themselves get caughtJenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08249972066135148788noreply@blogger.comBlogger1884125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274401.post-8983688225128590582011-08-02T11:56:00.001-04:002011-08-02T12:04:52.271-04:00Just to let you know - the blog has moved to <a href="http://eiram.wordpress.com">eiram.wordpress.com</a>. Also still reachable by <a href="http://ichaseboys.com">ichaseboys.com</a>, provided I don't let the domain expire. :)Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08249972066135148788noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274401.post-11551936889582798232011-04-15T21:20:00.001-04:002011-04-15T21:21:01.945-04:00I live in fear of putting words on a page now – except I can do it without thinking when it’s for work. A former coworker once warned me of the dangers of getting too comfortable with government writing; he said that if you do, you lose your ability to be creative. I fear that may have happened.<br /><br />One advantage I can say I’ve gained is a better ability to edit my own work. Even the course I took recently reinforced that – I can go back through my own words and tighten here or adjust there, instead of on the fly like I used to do.<br /><br />But still… what I want is to have a story to tell, a story that doesn’t involve something goofy one of my cats did today or yesterday. In the mornings, Thena likes to come and cuddle with me after my shower. Sometimes when she’s getting her head rubbed or she’s licking my arm, she’ll look at me with her tongue sticking out. Some mornings, it’s as much as half her tongue – and it never fails to make me laugh. <br />Sure, it’s a story that amuses my husband, since he knows and loves the cats and finds their antics as amusing as I do, but it’s a two-second story to tell that doesn’t interest anyone else. Even if I had a picture to share, I doubt many of you would be too concerned.<br /><br />And really, that isn’t the kind of story I want to have to tell. What I want is a novel, an actual story that people want to read and want to continue reading. I read authors like Jim Butcher, Karen Chance, Terry Pratchett (and of course many many more), and I can see the genius behind their words leaking off the page. Sure, with Butcher and Pratchett I can sense the growth behind the stories, but with Butcher and Chance there are hints that are dropped in their first or second books that only come to play many books later. I can’t emulate that kind of genius, and that intimidates the crap out of me. And I don’t feel as though I have a gift for description.<br /><br />But then again… writing isn’t something that’s supposed to be easy, the way I expect everything to be. I don’t trust my writing when it doesn’t flow, but you know what? Writing is work, just like anything else. Sure, it may come easier to me than to others, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t still effort. And it’s a skill that needs to be practiced. <br /><br />I’m lucky; I write every day for work, so I can sit down and bang out media lines or even a speech without effort. I read pieces written by other people and they don’t make sense, or there are grammatical flaws, or they’re hugely negative in tone – and it’s a gift to be able to edit those pieces so that they don’t have those flaws. And I’m constantly learning from my bosses as to how to write even better.<br /><br />I sound like I’m bragging, which isn’t my intention at all. It’s really just a brain dump to give myself the courage to try something more than just confessional writing – which I find ridiculously easy to do. <br /><br />Maybe I’ll never be able to write stories, only derivative short stories and essays or confessional pieces. I don’t really know, but I know I’m going to try. It’s just a matter of making the time to do the work – and it is work. But ultimately, it will be rewarding.Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08249972066135148788noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274401.post-56038994636300299392011-03-31T13:05:00.002-04:002011-03-31T13:07:54.622-04:00So every now and again I write something of which I'm proud. <br /><br />I'm currently taking a writing course as part of my work training (and it's the only one I've been able to get away from the office to take this month). We were given an assignment that asked us to turn the intro from the text below to something more entertaining and engaging.<br /><br />The first paragraph was originally this:<br /><br />An extremely large number of people enjoy reading murder mysteries regularly. As a rule, these people are not themselves murderers, nor would these people really ever enjoy seeing someone commit an actual murder, nor would most of them actually enjoy trying to solve an actual murder. They probably enjoy reading murder mysteries because of this reason: they have found a way to escape from the monotonous, boring routine of dull everyday existence.<br /><br />I wrote this:<br /><br />Last night, I sat back and did nothing as before my very eyes, a man was murdered.<br /><br />And I wasn’t alone. Dozens of us witnessed the death of this man, whose name we never knew. Around me, I could hear the odd intake of breath as one at a time, we came to the same place on the page – for it was within the pages of the latest Richard Castle novel that we got to vicariously enjoy watching the life of a nameless stranger end.<br /><br /><br />The teacher said I blew it out of the water, and a few other classmates praised it as well. Now if only the writing assignment we've been given called "Where I sit" holds us half as well...Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08249972066135148788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274401.post-35808432795386790602011-01-27T10:56:00.001-05:002011-01-27T10:57:07.977-05:00For lack of anything more exciting to write about off the top of my head, I’m going to steal from a meme and use it to create several exciting postings. And by exciting, I mean I aim to disappoint with how not-exciting these will be.<br /><br />Day One: Ten things you want to do some day.<br /><br />I always seem to have a long list of things I want to do some day:<br /><br />1. Take dance lessons.<br />2. Take horse-back riding lessons.<br />3. Go back to school for another degree or two.<br />4. Finish a sweater.<br />5. Learn to sew.<br />6. Write something for publication.<br />7. Finish the games I have.<br />8. Finish the books I have.<br />9. Own a house with a huge kitchen that meets my needs.<br />10. Get braver.<br /><br />Pretty sure I can set up date stamps on the next rounds of these, so I can even set them to publish over the next few days!Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08249972066135148788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274401.post-81139941269278503992011-01-06T11:21:00.002-05:002011-01-06T16:00:54.732-05:00The other day after work, I undertook the fun that is returning clothing -- some that I had bought myself, some that I had received for Christmas.<br /><br />First order of frustration -- a few weeks before Christmas, I went in to the Gap with the intention of buying a pair of jeans. I had recently bought jeans at the Gap, and found the style and length that I liked and that fit me fairly well. Of course, by some awesome stroke of luck, everyone in the world with my short stature and wide hips had been in the Gap that week and had bought up my size.<br /><br />So, I had no less than three different employees encourage me to order the jeans online. This was after the last clerk who helped me in my original jeans rampage encouraged me to try on all the pants I picked out, even if they were the same size and style, as there can be variations. This is not my anger issue.<br /><br />I found a pair of jeans that worked and later went online to browse the sales. I found some overdyed dark jeans in the same style and size as what I'd had before, ordered them and a t-shirt, and went on my merry way.<br /><br />When everything arrived, big surprise -- shirt was too small (acceptable), and seemed of cheap quality (less acceptable), and the damn pants were too small and too long. I take ownership of the too long, but the too small pissed me off. Had I tried the damn things on in the store, I wouldn't have had had to either return them by mail, or toddle off to the store to return them in person. <br /><br />However, since I had to do another return -- this one from Christmas -- it was no problem to me to go to the store. Especially since that way, I know the return is being processed immediately and nothing can get lost en route. <br /><br />Now, pause break in this boring narrative to explain why this second part bothers me the irrational way it does. For as long as I can remember, I have hated returning gifts. Even as a kid, when my grandmother would buy me something I didn't like, it pained me to go to the store with my mom and find something to substitute in its place. And my grandma saw me once a year, so it's not like she was super-dialed in to the vagaries of the 8-year old me's so-called "tastes" in clothes.<br /><br />Furthermore, I am fairly loyal to particular stores when I consistently find clothing items there that I like and that fit me well. I like Laura, Reitmans, Smart Set for some thing, Gap for some things (which is really only a recent addition to the shopping list) -- and that's usually about it. I have a very hard time finding clothes that I like and/or are willing to spend money on in most of the other stores, so I don't waste my time.<br /><br />Now bear in mind again that this next part is irrational and I realize that completely. This makes no sense to me, so I don't expect it to make any sense to anyone else.<br /><br />But I get really irrationally upset when people buy me clothes that aren't my style (and to some extent my size, though that's more forgiveable by far) but especially when they come from stores I *never* shop at. <br /><br />Several years ago my other grandmother bought me some dress pants from the Gap. In a size 14 - when at the time I think I was still in 8/10s. Not only did these pants not fit, but when I belted them on in an attempt to make them work, I somehow had a giant square butt. Fortunately I was able to return them, but I was then left with a gift card for a big chunk of change to a store that I never shopped at that took me about two years to eventually spend, if memory serves. And that was only when my mom basically dragged me in to get new jeans, which I balked at spending $60-$70 on.<br /><br />My mom is also guilty of this; she's bought me clothes at Mexx, which I never shopped at -- I did manage to make one work and returned another, but I still have on hand a sweater I have yet to wear, because the other half of my neurosis is an inability to throw out or give away clothes that someone gave me as a gift, that I didn't return because I thought I'd wear it, that I never wear for whatever reason (too fitted, weird style, too bright a colour, something).<br /><br />I got hit with this again this year -- for some reason lately, my sister has been insistent on trying to buy clothes for the DH and me for Christmas. She bought me two "sweaters" (I call them that because though they seem to be made from some sweater-like material, they are lighter and thinner than t-shirts, not to mention incredibly shapeless), and a blouse. The blouse worked well enough, but the sweaters were simply not going to be worn, so I had to go and return them. Because of the nature of Jacob stores (leotarded), I had to find a "boutique" one and return it there. And because of the aforementioned leotarded policies, I now have in my possession a gift card to a store that I think I've set foot in twice (now three times) in my lifetime.<br /><br />Joy.<br /><br />My family likes to give gag gifts on occasion, and they're all well and good, but the frustration I run is the neurosis about hating to give away gifts, coupled with the loud voice of my DH about how much junk I own. He focuses mainly on my books, but I feel that way when I look at the things I've received as gag gifts -- at what point is it acceptable to get rid of something for which I have absolutely no use? I can appreciate the sentiment and the humour behind it, and not everything I receive is useless, but sometimes it just is. <br /><br />Sometimes I get gifts because someone felt they had to give me a gift (like a family friend I happened to see on my birthday, who gave me something very generic that would've been old 20 years ago). I appreciate the thought behind it, but it went into the donation bin that same day -- and my DH gave me a hard time about it. Huzzah.<br /><br />So sometimes the same people who give me a hard time about owning too much stuff or being too sentimental about things are a) contributing to it, and b) being just as guilty of hanging on to things out of sentimentality as I am. I do make some harsh calls sometimes – like throwing out the needlepoint wall-hangings my aunt made for me when I was a baby – but it needs to be done. I still have the teddy bear that she made me when I was a baby, and that’s more important to me. <br /><br />Anyhow, I know so much of this sounds so very ungrateful of me – but I’d really rather get nothing as a gift than something that was just purchased because you couldn’t find anything else (like the etch-a-sketch). Really, I’m not that materialistic, and I don’t think I’m that terribly difficult to buy for. Especially when I had a short list of DVDs I’d have liked. <br /><br />Just watch; next year I’ll be lucky to get a “Merry Christmas” after all of this whining!Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08249972066135148788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274401.post-75829760505282532202011-01-04T00:11:00.003-05:002011-01-05T09:21:52.476-05:00Welcome, interwebs.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEo_KDvzsteJ9T5Pd0kRCOKx7eF9_RW5TrR9NH6Cj02DJNHmoXisVh0IyfoW7mzVS7WM4SP4evV9d81Q8LDoatoPspwaPHWAbEr9rjy3wzK8WzzqTej1-ZRIEsHCOqHvN2aQOs/s1600/J%2526M_021.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEo_KDvzsteJ9T5Pd0kRCOKx7eF9_RW5TrR9NH6Cj02DJNHmoXisVh0IyfoW7mzVS7WM4SP4evV9d81Q8LDoatoPspwaPHWAbEr9rjy3wzK8WzzqTej1-ZRIEsHCOqHvN2aQOs/s320/J%2526M_021.jpg" border="0" alt="My red shoes - I won!"id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558706393101637378" /></a><br /><br />I have written so many posts in my head over the last bazillion or so years, but somehow sitting down in front of a screen and keyboard to make them come to life for you has just not happened. I have so many excuses, but the one that seems to stand out as the strongest was a vignette I saw on one of the Castle DVDs from season 1 -- short version, that what often creates writer's block is the fear that what you put down on paper won't be perfect.<br /><br />It's a feeling I can understand all too well. When I'm at work, I'm not afraid to write -- I know that whatever I put down will be vetted and reviewed by many different sets of eyes, so if it's not perfect, someone along the way will catch it and change it. And I have no ego attached to that -- I'm completely fine with it. Admittedly, there I'm not writing for myself and putting my thoughts and feelings out there, so it in some ways carries much less risk, but at the same time, it's my career and there is a great deal of risk associated with being a constant screw-up. Fortunately for me, I'm not one (at least not at work), so there you go.<br /><br />Anyhow -- I thought about sitting down at the keyboard on January 1st to make some big poignant retrospective and make it somehow more meaningful, and as you can see, that didn't happen. So here we are.<br /><br />I know it's common for people to write their looking-back pieces, so I thought I might do the same. <br /><br />The year 2010 brought for me marriage and turning 30 -- in that order, thankfully. Maybe just barely, but it still counts.<br /><br />The wedding day went well, with only minor hiccups -- one of the DH's uncles made our cake, and he got lost on the way to the venue, so he only just finished setting up as I was about to walk down the aisle, and therefore he missed the ceremony (as he had to return to the hotel to get his wife and daughter and also change). The hotel gave away our photographer's room, so noises were made and great concessions were received. A few people's comments about the lack of cleanliness of their rooms got back to me, but just as third- or fourth-hand comments -- not as problems to fix. One of the DH's second-cousins heckled my dad during his speech, but it would appear someone told him to shut up, as he calmed down. My mom stepped on my bustle before my first dance, but my maid of honour and my bride's man's girlfriend helped do a repair. The groomsmen didn't put the wedding favours on the tables, but the DH and I were able to use the handing out of the favours as our excuse to circulate amongst the tables and thank everyone for coming.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhofe9h4xoOaFF8_rMpk0gzaYjFp50g72tRCp4vTtT2TpTMSPqjOuRACELoaFgYH4YfTT5D6oNMfwQYVKD-jFC1MSv9ubJcsAdjxDcZaYFiqliwCCQW7vfdAO1Q5T6D9Ntxp4WX/s1600/J%2526M_068.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhofe9h4xoOaFF8_rMpk0gzaYjFp50g72tRCp4vTtT2TpTMSPqjOuRACELoaFgYH4YfTT5D6oNMfwQYVKD-jFC1MSv9ubJcsAdjxDcZaYFiqliwCCQW7vfdAO1Q5T6D9Ntxp4WX/s320/J%2526M_068.jpg" border="0" alt="Here I am, signing my life away"id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558706557849042834" /></a><br /><br />On the whole? Problem free. I spent more time socializing and less time dancing than I thought, but that wasn't exactly a bad thing. I was able to time the changing of the daughters during the father-daughter dance well -- fortunately I didn't wait for the keychange as I had considered, as that happened right towards the end of the song and wouldn't have had the same impact.<br /><br />All in all, it was a great and yet weird day. The DH and I both said that it felt as though we were at someone else's wedding, but for the fact that we were the ones wearing the fancy get-up. My dress was a huge hit with everyone. It did get somewhat uncomfortable towards the end of the night, and I loved that first big breath I got to take after I removed it -- and the even bigger one after the damn strapless bra came off.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUJ-2NDnVQ7VFdkY6RKx7FF7SlEs0CskOOFi87Hy3l27VEk4poRRxKj4Orkw9vZPAEzukAUusEt_7NNKtuEQ6yKF0m4qN0KYHOugl-LqpG6T0IVMOBS1AGtM9AmuUpps4oQcqd/s1600/J%2526M_171.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUJ-2NDnVQ7VFdkY6RKx7FF7SlEs0CskOOFi87Hy3l27VEk4poRRxKj4Orkw9vZPAEzukAUusEt_7NNKtuEQ6yKF0m4qN0KYHOugl-LqpG6T0IVMOBS1AGtM9AmuUpps4oQcqd/s320/J%2526M_171.jpg" border="0" alt="So purty"id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558706699894980946" /></a><br /><br />Weird things about wedding get-up? Spanx (or at least the set I bought and didn't wear) aren't meant to be worn with underwear, as there is simply an opening that you pull aside to do your business. Yours truly was not comfortable with that idea, and so ended up wearing a different pair of stocking-shorts that she had in stock. Oddly enough, my mom was fine with the idea of me going commando on my wedding day, but didn't like the idea that I might be braless -- it was her that insisted we go shopping for a "proper" bra. Since I don't have any strapless bras from this millennium, that wasn't a huge problem, though I'm pretty sure the damn thing had more padding than me in there. I was able to stash the hotel key in the bra and some kleenex in between, though, so that was convenient. I offered the kleenex to the DH during a tender moment in the ceremony, which changed his tears to laughter.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUqoh1nO3iFZU9DvFNxLHLu1hjT5HKGpY9nj-IgAjmSkYuu0XJiRk5iz2zalOzDG9f14F73JzJPLaE1d7Jc63tLOVHKZKZ4zKy-d8pPRTFAPFz3YQxGfs7dtjtZhTtoH_DCwWJ/s1600/J%2526M_221.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUqoh1nO3iFZU9DvFNxLHLu1hjT5HKGpY9nj-IgAjmSkYuu0XJiRk5iz2zalOzDG9f14F73JzJPLaE1d7Jc63tLOVHKZKZ4zKy-d8pPRTFAPFz3YQxGfs7dtjtZhTtoH_DCwWJ/s320/J%2526M_221.jpg" border="0" alt="Our cake topper - which I made. Fuck yeah."id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558706850423968098" /></a><br /><br />I had another moment I had in mind to mention, but it's passed now. I feel I'm racing against a clock, as my computer wants to do an automatic update that it won't allow me to postpone, and it's past my bedtime. Of course, as I've been sleeping from 2 or 3 until 11 the last many days, I doubt I'll be asleep anytime soon.<br /><br />Lots of people have asked me if I feel any different post-marriage, or how married life is compared to pre-married life. I think I've probably asked my friends that same question, as it's an ice-breaker of sorts, and the truth is, I feel no different, grand-scale. I think it's probably because I'm short and chunky and the DH, while taller than me and definitely not chunky, is still shorter-ish for a guy, and so in my head I think we're both still kids -- so many of my married friends are tall and seem grown-up, and I'm pretty sure I'm still a 16-year poser.<br /><br />In truth, I do question some more of my behaviours than I did before, which tells me I have some preconceptions about what it means to be married. I've read that where many marriages fail is where couples have expectations that things will change once they're married -- that the husband will no longer have poker nights with his buddies, or that the wife won't take girls-only overnight trips, or things of that nature. I asked the DH before we married if he had any of those expectations, and he said no, and I felt the same way -- and we both happen to like the evenings where the other is out, so it's not as though either of us would suddenly expect those activities to change. If anything, he tries to get me to leave the house more often than I do.<br /><br />But behaviours -- I do sometimes question whether I should be cuddling with this friend that I've cuddled with for the last 7 or 8 years, or whether I should stop flirting with that friend that I've flirted with for the last 10 years, or whatever. Even some of the things that I talk about or have talked about -- should that suddenly stop now that a second ring is on my finger? The truth is, I only think they need to stop if they're creating problems in my relationship with the DH, and until he tells me they are, I see no real reason to change.<br /><br />Other peoples' thoughts be damned. And I'm lucky that my friends are, on the whole, fairly open and understanding (well, the ones I'm closer to, for sure). We cuddle, we flirt, we understand one another -- and those in open relationships have their own boundaries, and don't expect those in closed relationships to change their own boundaries just because. Though all of that's another matter that came up a little while ago. Separate post for another day.<br /><br />So yes, I do sometimes look at the lines I'm approaching and try to decide for myself and my marriage if they're being overstepped or are too far, but I think that's a constant negotiation, and that's not a bad thing. <br /><br />Otherwise? I'm still the same person I was this time last year. Even the last name hasn't changed, despite what other people might want or how they might try to address me. While Mrs. DH isn't my legal name, I will generally respond to it -- it's not exactly something I feel the need to make a federal case over. But I'm still Jen X, and that's just fine with the DH -- as well as the kitties, not that they've noticed any change either.<br /><br />I'll try to edit this tomorrow with a photo or two -- I just don't have them on this computer, and I have less than a minute left on the Windows timer (not to mention it's long enough -- and not entirely what I originally meant to cover).Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08249972066135148788noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274401.post-21491139492660213302010-06-23T22:34:00.001-04:002010-06-23T22:35:57.264-04:00As you may have heard, we had an earthquake here today. As my parents are out of town, I decided to drive over to check on my mom's cat and the house in general -- plus just to visit with Big Fat Shadowcat, since she loves company and she's a complete and utter sweetheart.<br /><br />Here's the email I just sent my dad following that visit:<br /><br />Heya,<br /><br />Well, the good news is that the house seems fine and Shadowcat also seems fine. She was very happy to have some company, and barked at me from the kitchen while I patrolled the house (didn't check out your bedroom, though). She got lots of pats and that made her very kitty happy.<br /><br />The bad news is that because you have the thermostat set so high, you might come home to earwigs. I was setting up my coffee maker chez moi when an earwig fell from my shirt on to the counter, so the cats got to watch as I freaked out. By the time I'd grabbed something to kill it, it had disappeared, despite my patiently waiting for it. So now I've set my kitchen on fire and I'm not going back in there, Moe's whining be damned.<br /><br />Also there was a rabbit in your front yard, so I said hi to it and apologized for not having carrots with me.<br /><br />Later,<br />JenJenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08249972066135148788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274401.post-85102135709462196962010-06-06T23:21:00.002-04:002010-06-06T23:45:25.084-04:00I'd like to say that wedding planning is keeping me from updating, but that would be a filthy, filthy lie.<br /><br />In reality, I'm frequently intimidated by my own blog. I have all kinds of rants or other thoughts that I want to put up here, but then I get too lazy, or indecisive, or self-conscious about posting it and I don't.<br /><br />So here we are. Bah.<br /><br />Every now and again, I think back over my past relationships. Last weekend I was in Toronto, the city of much of my time with the First Big Love, and so of course he was back in the forefront of my mind. He pops up now and again -- such is the curse of him as the FBL, I guess.<br /><br />It's funny how much influence some people have had on me: my likes and dislikes, my personality, my ways of thinking. I almost think he's one of the boyfriends who's challenged me or at least pushed me the most, creatively speaking, since he himself was a very creative person. Maybe it's because much of our time together was while we were in school, which can be a very creative time, I don't know.<br /><br />I do wonder if my past boyfriends think of me, and if they do, what they think.<br /><br />I won't say I miss who I was then, but I think a part of me does. That was before I had responsibilities -- when the biggest fear was getting this or that paper or reading done in time. I guess paying for school was a fear, too.<br /><br />Oh yeah -- and I worked in there. But it was different. It was work for school money and spending money, not for house payments and cat food and internet access (what can I say, I know my priorities).<br /><br />It's taken my some time to get here. Some of my friends were here five, ten years ago. Some of them seem to have had it all figured out pretty early on. Maybe some of us come into the world more formed than others, as it were. Maybe I took awhile to get here, and I certainly took a few knocks between now and then.<br /><br />But the scars and the hurts and the smiles and the laughs... well, they've all gone into the caustic, bitchy, opinionated person that I am. And I have friends and family who like me as I am (or more or less), I have two cats who adore me, and I have a guy who drives me crazy and wants to spend the rest of his life driving me crazy.<br /><br />So yay for me, I guess.<br /><br />I want to spend more time on my hobbies. Sometimes I don't think I have work-life balance figured out. It's not like my last job, where I didn't feel guilty spending time at work writing for personal things -- here I don't always feel I can do that, even though it'd probably be easier to manage. <br /><br />I wish I had a story to tell.<br /><br />I wish I had a story to tell, instead of rants and frustrations and words that mean nothing. <br /><br />I guess it helps when people say that they agree with me, or that I've expressed something they've long felt... yet I want to write fiction. I want to tell fantastic stories -- but I don't have them to tell. <br /><br />Not that there's anything wrong with being an author of articles or even twitter snippets, but I want something more, if I can get there.<br /><br />Of course, there's a lot to do in the meantime.<br /><br />In fact, there's so much that I need two lifetimes to do it in. And there's the rub.<br /><br />I guess, like everything, I can get to it after the wedding. <br /><br />Somehow, it seems the closer I get to the day and the more I have to get done to make it happen, the less I almost want it. It's a day of everyone else's wants and needs, and I just don't care about most of it.<br /><br />If it were up to me, I'd be getting married in a zoo, with about 40 people watching, and I'd wear a pretty dress and look pretty and eat good food and dance all night. And no one would care if there were fancy doodads on the table, or who was or wasn't invited, and no one would care about bouquets and centerpieces, and favours and everything else.<br /><br />Tradition is what you make of it. Wedding traditions are bullshit, almost all of them. Flowers are important to other people, not me. Wedding programs and invitations are keepsakes for others, not me. <br /><br />And I know if I were to complain about having to do all of this planning and organizing and arranging and PAYING FOR -- I'd get told that it's because I want it. And I don't. I want to wear comfortable red shoes and maybe even keep my piercings in my ears, and have no mention of God in my ceremony and have ninjas as wedding toppers on the cake if I want. I want my recessional music to be fun and I don't want anyone's feelings to get hurt because this isn't there or that is.<br /><br />I want no children at my wedding, and I don't want to hear anyone complain about it. AT ALL.<br /><br />I want the day to be about us and what we want. And I don't care what they say -- it's not, not all of it. If it was? I wouldn't be trying to figure out how to pay for 150 invitees. I wouldn't be girding my loins for battle on things. I wouldn't be waiting to hear if so-and-so is venting to so-and-so about decisions we've made. <br /><br />And we've already sunk money into things, and we've already planned things, and it's less than 3 months away, so it's too late anyways. <br /><br />Above all... I want to enjoy the day. I wish it could be the day I wanted it to be. But I'll just have to make the best of it, I guess. Just... everyone else, stop getting your feelings hurt or involved, okay? I don't need the extra guilt. Mine is enough -- I don't need to take on yours, too.<br /><br />Mind you, there's only some peoples' guilt or upset that I'm going to let get to me. Probably just my mom's, in fact. Everyone else is a lot more easily dismissed.<br /><br />*laugh* Song lyrics that just started up. Lazy Eye, by Silversun Pickups: "I've been waiting for this moment all my life / but it's not quite right." I'd say that's as good a note to end on, especially since I ended up someplace completely unplanned from my original goal. Such is the risk of stream-of-consciousness, I suppose.Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08249972066135148788noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274401.post-54850363441149996982010-05-18T09:39:00.001-04:002010-05-18T09:39:49.828-04:00<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'>Haiku of hate:<br/><br/>Pretty hipster girl<br/>With your cute ukelele <br/>I hate you so much.<br/><br/><div class='zemanta-pixie'><img src='http://img.zemanta.com/pixy.gif?x-id=983923b3-00fd-8993-bc79-c2d98df9996b' alt='' class='zemanta-pixie-img'/></div></div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08249972066135148788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274401.post-51782142433536336422010-03-31T23:11:00.001-04:002010-03-31T23:12:27.948-04:00Apparently my response to a frustrating month at work is to get drunk on a glass and a half of merlot and follow the cats around main floor, telling them that I love them.<br /><br />I think I'll postpone my latest rant for now. I'm sure there's some inanimate object that needs to be told it's loved.Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08249972066135148788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274401.post-84620398005157855332010-03-28T23:57:00.002-04:002010-03-29T00:20:36.819-04:00You want, you need, you have to have.<br /><br />These, along with a number of predictable questions, are the statements I've been hearing most often when it comes to the wedding planning.<br /><br />Though to be honest, a lot of the "you want" are more likely to be "I want... so you have to have." For example, when I said that I didn't know if I was going to be carrying flowers down the aisle, I was meant with, "but I want to carry flowers!" from my sister, and "oh, but you have to have flowers at a wedding, at least a few!" from my mother.<br /><br />A former coworker of mine, before I got engaged, told me that I wanted a giant diamond engagement ring, and a traditional white dress (this was in response to my stating that I wanted to wear a purple ball gown down the aisle). She was certain she'd managed to change my mind with regards to both of these things, but here we are now -- and I don't have a giant diamond ring. In fact, I requested a smaller stone so that a) I could get the setting I liked, b) it was cheaper. And the only reason I went for a diamond was because it was a Canadian diamond. Tragically, not one of the ones with the polar bear etched on it, but ah well -- maybe a for a future anniversary present. Although I've been told I'm not getting anymore jewelry. <br /><br />Anyhow... you have to have. That's my favourite of all the wedding-related statements, because it really reinforces what people think of as traditional. To some, it's lighting a unity candle, or jumping over a broom, or smashing cake in the other's face. Not that anyone has told me I have to have any of these things, but I use them to illustrate my point. What I have to have at the wedding is simple and consists of a very short list of things: me, the fiance, and the officiant. Everything else is window dressing.<br /><br />And then there's you need. Oh, how I'm loving you need lately, especially since it's coming from people like the fiance or the future mother-in-law (though passed along to me by the fiance). You need to start getting the invitations ready, you need to update the wedding website, you need you need you need. Guess what? There are two of us, four parents, and six bridal party members that could very easily be helping with all of this crap -- it does not have to fall entirely on my shoulders.<br /><br />And don't get me wrong, of course I love the fiance when I'm not plotting his demise. But we're both admitted procrastinators, and we're both better at getting up off our asses and doing various things. He's the one that reaches the point of "it's time to clean" and will drag me along in his wake. I'm the one that sees the deadline approaching on wedding things and either goes ahead and books the appointments, or gives him a deadline by which they have to be done and then waits for him to reluctantly agree. Because yes, he knows they have to be done, but setting up the registry is definitely not as enticing as lying on the couch and watching football. <br /><br />I understand, I do. There are plenty of wedding tasks that I'm not exactly gung-ho about. That's partly why I've been the apathetic bride-to-be that I am: I'm not interested in spending days on end interviewing, researching, chasing down, whatever. If I find a dress that I like, I'm going to buy it. I know me -- I have a lot on the go, especially with work (and my coworker out on mat leave -- though now I can train her eventual replacement the way I want!), and I'm just going to run out of time. So sometimes this means that rather than ask the fiance multiple times for multiple weeks to take care of something, I just go ahead and do it. Though heaven help me if he tells me I should do things that he's perfectly capable of doing... yet at the same time, my control freak side is coming out again. I do like handling everything and knowing what's going on. I'm just a mess.<br /><br />But more than the assignment of tasks is the questions and assumptions from people that are driving me up the wall. I've had people ask to see the dress, I've had people ask me if they can come to the wedding, I've had people tell me they're available the day of the wedding. I've had (now four) people try to launch careers off my wedding -- including offering services as a wedding gift. With one person in particular, she was never on the invite list (I don't even know her last name) -- yet she offered services as her wedding gift to us. Thanks, but since you were never going to be on the guest list, there's no obligation on your part to give us a gift.<br /><br />*sigh* And the guest list is giving me more than a few conniptions. The fiance has a large family, and isn't willing to cut any of them. As I probably said before, he's said that he doesn't expect they'll all show, but they all still have to be invited -- so there's always that chance. What it means is that a) definitely no host bar (and not even a subsidized one at that), but also that I'm having to trim my side accordingly. So on the days I'm feeling crabby -- and especially at individuals in particular -- I start slashing my guest list. <br /><br />I'm trying to use fair criteria for my list -- other than my fluctuating moods. Have they been a part of our relationship? Have they met and spoken to the fiance for longer than five minutes? Are they people whose company I genuinely enjoy? Do I socialize with them outside of group situations? Would I willingly spend an evening with them? Would I buy them dinner on a normal occasion?<br /><br />But most importantly -- do I feel that they want to be here to celebrate the fiance and I taking a new step together?<br /><br />Later, I'll share my thoughts on those people who say they're going to crash the wedding, and the reasons why this semi-"traditional" wedding may feature a bride packing weapons.Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08249972066135148788noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274401.post-23170917241756837282010-03-24T23:22:00.002-04:002010-03-24T23:53:11.857-04:00It's with a certain amount of nervousness that I'm returning once more to write my boring-ass updates. I've written countless posts in my head over the last many moons, and I've always been hesitant to post them because of who I perceive as reading them -- I'm stuck in this loop of not wanting to air my true feelings out of the concern that they might hurt someone's feelings.<br /><br />But enough time has passed that any readers I might've once had are probably long gone. As well, I need a place to air my frustrations and fears. I've friends, of course, but it's not the same. Here, well... sure, there are people on the other side of the screen that are just as likely as anyone else to be judging me, but ... I've just come to a place where the need to vent is overruling the fears of who might read it.<br /><br />Granted, it's still tough to get up the urge to write after spending all day in front of a computer doing just that, but government writing lacks the creative output that this place does.<br /><br />So, without further ado, here goes. Check your sensibilities at the door -- no one said you had to read this.<br /><br />In less than five months' time, I am getting married, and the closer it gets the more scared I get.<br /><br />Not because of who I'm marrying or my fears that I'm not ready. Hell, I'll be 30 a few short days later -- if I wasn't ready by now, I probably would never be ready.<br /><br />And yes, sometimes the dear fiance (I'm writing this on my laptop, so forgive the lack of accent) drives me crazy. Some days I want nothing to do with him, and I just want to be alone with my junk and my cats and my peace and quiet. Some days I just stare at him, thinking annoyed thoughts and frustrated at his utter inability to answer a simple question with a direct answer.<br /><br />And then he'll make a ridiculous face, or he does something sweet for the cats, or he shows those qualities that made me fall for him, and he gets to live another day. Even when he wakes me up in the middle of the night holding his breath and then gasping it out again as he does, while I lie beside him and try to fall back asleep and think to myself that a pillow would do the trick quite nicely...<br /><br />But of course I exaggerate. Except on the breath holding/gasping thing -- he does do that, and it drives me crazy. But unlike some of his other quirks, that one's unintentional.<br /><br />No, it's not because of these things that I'm scared to marry him. We've been together nearly 3 years, which matches the longest relationship I've had -- which spanned from when I was 15 to 18, and set the low bar for relationships and boyfriends and mistakes. We moved in together pretty much on our 6-month anniversary, and we bough a house together 13 months later. I was asked then if I was sure I knew him well enough to buy a house with him, which I thought was a pretty ridiculous question, but no matter.<br /><br />I know him. I can predict how he'll react in most situations, and I know he's stubborn as a mule. When his coworkers were telling me I should just tell him to propose, I looked at them askance -- did they not know this man? Certainly, his stubbornness can be tied to a sense of obstinacy and general pain-in-the-assedness, but I also wanted him to propose when he was ready.<br /><br />No, it's not a fear of uncovering some deep, dark secret about him that scares me. I've had two ex-boyfriends confess to periods of incest in their pasts. I've had an ex-boyfriend confess to an interest in watersports. I do my best to keep an open mind while simultaneously making sure it's closed enough to keep at least a few brain cells in place.<br /><br />It's more the relationships around me that I see that cause me fear. I see relationships around me dissolving, turning into infidelity and divorce, and it scares me. I don't want to grow to the point where I resent this man I've chosen to spend the rest of my life and have babies and grow old with a houseful of cats. I don't want to tire of him and look for new excitement to alleviate whatever I feel is lacking in my life with him.<br /><br />But beyond that, bigger than that, I don't want him to tire of me. I see so many people online complaining about their spouses -- more often men talking about how much they hate their wives -- and I don't want that for us. I watch Mad Men and I know it's a different time and it's fiction, but the infidelity scares me. I see my coworker's relationship with her husband disintegrating and I see her talk about the on-again, off-again relationship she's had with another married man in our office, and it terrifies me. I know she's separated from her husband at this time, and so there's that circumstance, but he's not. <br /><br />And of course, it has nothing to do with him, my pain-in-the-ass dear fiance. I trust him. And our relationship is built on mutual trust and monogamy. I have friends who've chosen to open their relationships to more than just their spouses, and I wish them well. I feel sometimes as though I'm judged as lesser-than because I prefer a relationship model that features only one other person, and I get resentful of that perception. I don't feel that my friends are flawed because they've gone outside their primary relationship to find fulfillment, and so I don't want to be perceived as flawed because I don't have what it takes to do the same.<br /><br />But that's my perception, my impression, my inference based on nothing more than ... nothing, really. I've never had someone who was polygamous or polyamorous tell me their relationship model was superior to mine, and I would never say the same to them. I suppose that's just yet another insecurity of mine, along with the belief that no one really likes me, and I'm still that obnoxious kid I've always been (okay, that last one is true).<br /><br />But I'm also fortunate that I can look at relationships in my family tree and see long-lasting success. My parents, my grandparents, one aunt and uncle -- they've proven that you can be with someone for the long haul, through all the ups and downs. Not everyone becomes restless or resentful or unhappy and strays. There are people that find someone that works for them and with them and makes it work. <br /> <br />Me? Well, I've found someone that doesn't bring me flowers for no reason, and never will. He wishes I didn't have so many books in the house, and insists I'll never read them again -- despite never knowing what I'm actually reading at any given time. He makes fun of me for my inability to remember certain peoples' names, and declared a moratorium on jewelry for gifts after buying my engagement ring.<br /><br />But he's someone that slept on the couch so that the cats and I could have the whole bed when I was scared and stressed about Venus being sick. He complains about the cats hogging the bed, but won't move them because that would be unkind. He went with me when Digger had to be put down, and made sure I ate afterwards. He has witnessed a few awkward emotional moments with my family. He listened to me babble on about nothing every night when I was away for my grandfather's funeral, and he didn't make fun of me when I got upset feeling as though my cousins were making fun of my father. <br /><br />He's supportive when I'm in the right and calls me on it when I'm being unreasonable. We argue, we support one another, and above all else, we laugh. I still can't help my fears, but at least I know they have nothing to do with the person he is.Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08249972066135148788noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274401.post-9551744384502484222009-10-19T11:26:00.001-04:002009-10-19T11:26:21.455-04:00<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'>First, the backstory.<br/><br/>For those of you who don't know me in real life, I rock a pixie cut for my hair - and have for the last few years. We're talking the mini pixie that's about this long -- <img src='http://images.smarter.com/blogs/rosemarys%20baby.jpg' style='max-width: 800px;'/><br/><br/>So yeah, rather short. And with less knife.<br/><br/>I was in the grocery store yesterday, picking out some produce, when a little girl nearby said hi. So, in the interest of seeming less child-hating than usual, I said hi back. She asked what my name was, and I replied with, "Jen." She paused for a minute and asked, "Are you a girl?"<br/><br/>(I told her that yes, I am, I just have very very short hair, but the story's funnier if you stop at the line above.) <br/><br/><div class='zemanta-pixie'><img src='http://img.zemanta.com/pixy.gif?x-id=c087648a-7dc6-892a-8c3c-da8ca0251164' alt='' class='zemanta-pixie-img'/></div></div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08249972066135148788noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274401.post-81317665170053886272009-09-29T23:50:00.003-04:002009-09-29T23:57:06.467-04:00I've been trying to think of what today's deep insightful thought could be, and I'm drawing a blank. What can I say? I'm not that fascinating today.<br /><br />I made it to the gym this afternoon for my yoga/tai chi/pilates class, and I've shown some progress; once upon a time I had to help my legs forward when going from downward dog to lunge position -- today that was not the case. It was a definite, "yay me!" moment when I realized what I'd done.<br /><br />I'm trying to get to the gym more often, which is my usual refrain. I don't like what I see in the mirror, and I want to change that. Of course, that involves more work than I want to have to do, so I'm trying to figure out how to push myself and stay motivated. I have a coworker who's helping, which is nice -- but the food habits are up to me to figure out and improve upon.<br /><br />I can't believe I'll be 30 next year. Anyone know when I'll start feeling like a grownup? I just feel like I'm still playing at life, or like I'm a perpetual student. <br /><br />Speaking of which, I want to go back to school. I'm thinking of applying for classes for next September, which means I have to set aside more money. Or keep adding to the debt, which is slowly going down. Anyone rich want to swoop in and solve all of my problems?<br /><br />At least the mortgage rates are ridiculously low. <br /><br />There's been talking about the future going on lately. No conclusions, no plans, just general talking. Feels weird to discuss, given my status as the perpetual student and so on.<br /><br />I wonder sometimes if people who've known me from back in the day or who haven't seen me in awhile look at me and think, "gee, she's really chunked up." I'll confess I've had that thought about more than a few men and women I know.<br /><br />I can only hope they think I've gotten prettier through the years.Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08249972066135148788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274401.post-31637679465139889912009-09-28T23:15:00.002-04:002009-09-28T23:21:16.208-04:00I'm trying to make a commitment to update this place more regularly. I write almost all day every day for work, so sometimes the last thing I want to do when I get home is write more... or I feel as though I've run out of things to say. I want to update when I'm at work, but sometimes I just don't have the time. A blessing and a curse.<br /><br />But writing about government matters day in and day out isn't the same as blathering on about my cats or thoughts or feelings. Doesn't quite have the same boring ring to it -- nor does it smack of gossip for the lot of you.<br /><br />I'm finding myself more irritated with the company of others of late, and I'm not sure if it's due to the innate irritations that others present, or simply because I've been working fairly steadily with little to no break. Weekends don't quite seem to be the breaks they once where -- either I'm on call, I'm working, I have company (not usually my choice), or there's travel and/or errands. Last weekend, the first real weekend I had off -- I got sick. Joy.<br /><br />So needless to say, as much as I think it would be ridiculous for us to have another election at this time, there are a few of us at my office that are praying for one -- only for the break it would present. Maybe it means I'd start liking people again if that was the case, that I had some downtime and could focus a bit more on my life outside of work, and one of the fifty bazillion hobbies I have.<br /><br />Okay, so this update isn't much -- just a bunch of vague whining. Tomorrow maybe I'll complain about someone in detail and let you guess who it might be.Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08249972066135148788noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274401.post-68064827800832185962009-09-28T01:01:00.001-04:002009-09-28T01:01:06.734-04:00 <ul class="loudtwitter"><li><em>01:36</em> How do you go on knowing that you're right beyond a freaking doubt, but still pretend to see another's point of view? I'm right, damn it! <a href="http://twitter.com/Jen_X/statuses/4412111900">#</a></li></ul> Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08249972066135148788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274401.post-53068959197000090202009-09-04T16:09:00.001-04:002009-09-04T16:09:36.069-04:00<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'>The last few days, I've been unable to be heard by people when they call my cell. I can hear them, they can't hear me. Fun times. I thought about blaming the bluetooth keyboard pairing, but full resets of the phone do nothing, so doesn't seem to be the case.<br/><br/>Called Rogers yesterday, the guy talked me through doing another hard reset of the phone, didn't believe me that my contacts were saved on the SIM card (which they are, hah!), and then said they'd send me out a new phone, as mine's still under warranty. If the failure is due to water damage though, I'm on the hook for a new phone - no worries.<br/><br/>While at away from my desk, I got a missed call. No voicemail, so I googled the number: turns out it's a call centre that Rogers employs to follow up with questions on customer satisfaction after services rendered. Good idea, something I don't mind doing, only clearly they didn't realize when they issued the ticket to follow-up phone call me what it was that I had originally called about -- hardware failure rendering me unable to speak to anyone who calls me on my phone.<br/><br/>Well done on paying attention to the little things, Rogers.<br/><br/><div class='zemanta-pixie'><img src='http://img.zemanta.com/pixy.gif?x-id=b8cb439e-26fe-8bff-a3cb-20575c4e0202' alt='' class='zemanta-pixie-img'/></div></div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08249972066135148788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274401.post-55642826888950955952009-08-29T11:36:00.002-04:002009-08-29T11:52:52.367-04:00I sit in Starbucks on a rainy Saturday afternoon, typing on an apple wireless keyboard, with my phone hidden by my side. I am.... the most pretentious girl you know.<br /><br />Took three different buses with some teenage girls today; got to listen to more renditions of the word like than I can remember hearing in quite some time.<br /><br />I'm getting old.<br /><br />Well, I've been getting old my whole life; you'd think I'd be used to it by now. Not so much. <br /><br />Getting old iis planning for the future. Realizing tht you have to take into account things like your mortality, your income level, your fertility... scary and kinda cool at the same time.<br /><br />It's nice to hear someone echo reasons why you're with them. <br /><br />Tee hee - just got someone asking me questions about my keyboard. Guess the phone wasn't as hidden as I thought.<br /><br />Only really challenging thing abot this is that blogger doesn't have a nice smartphone/blackberry friendly version o fthe interface, so a lot of what i'm writing is hidden - so I can't go back and fix mistakes too easily. I'm malso very spoiled by my work blackberry's automatic rendition of certain shortcut s- so I'm not automatically capitalizing the letter I when it appears . I know someone is going to eventually read this and say something.<br /><br />I'm always surprised when people pick up on facets of my character that i never think are particularly obvious - the example i usually go back to is when a friend told someone I never use bookmarks. Recently, I had another one of those moments: one of my colleagues was saying that he figurd my luggage would be flaming neon pink -- because I'm unusual and he could see me with someone that wasn't conventional like that. My boss, by contrast, looked at him and said, "you don't know Jen, do you know"? <br /><br />I just thought it was cool that a: this colleague had picked up on the fct that I'm unconventional, and b: my boss had also picked up on that, but knew that I wasn't a girly girl, and likely wouldn't be found with hot pink.<br /><br />It's similar to when people look at my ring and say, "that's very you" -- and part of what made that last dress-shopping excursion so doubly frustrating.<br /><br />I'm trying to take advantage of the fact that I'm getting older, but also have a bit more free time and a bit more money than I did when I was younger -- so now I'm taking music lessons once more, and I'm giving some extra thought to going back to school. As I've said to my mom and to a coworker friend of mine -- I keep saying I want to do this I want to learn that, but never getting around to doing it. Well, sure, learning new things is scary and hard, and sure, it can be tougher when you're older -- but you only get one life to live, so why not go for it? why kep putting things off? <br /><br />Dear Abby has some advice for people who want to go back to school when they're older but are intimidated by the fact tht they'll be surrounded by younger people, or will be XX old when they graduate -- as she says, you'll be XX years old when that amount of time passes anyhow, so why not use the time learning? Of coures, she says it much more elegantly than I just did, but the basics are there.<br /><br />So sure, there are 7 year olds who are better than I am on the instrument, but guess what - there's always going to be someone better than me. Can't let that stop me from trying and having fun with it.Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08249972066135148788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274401.post-71879932921718082512009-07-16T10:16:00.004-04:002009-07-16T10:20:41.178-04:00I've had this "story" of spam headlines sitting in my email account for awhile now, and I find it oddly charming.<br /><br />The first reads, "The Pobble who has no toes" and the second is "And when he came to observe his feet" -- though it's quite possible they're meant to be read in reverse, so the Pobble discovered he had no toes only after he observed his feet. <br /><br />But if I read them in the order I provided, ignoring the grammatical issues with it, I have to wonder -- what did the toe-less Pobble learn when he came to observe his feet?<br /><br />It's a puzzle. Though I like the way the Pobble looks in my mind -- a lot like <a href="http://digital.ihenson.com/FraggleRock_press/festival/GO_FR_042.jpg" target="_blank" />Junior Gorg</a>. <br />(hotlinked and pops, so who knows how long this'll last)<br /><br />I didn't even know that guy still existed in my subconcious, as Fraggle Rock was never my favourite Muppet Show -- though maybe I should just give it another watch.Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08249972066135148788noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274401.post-13076462327052752082009-07-10T08:43:00.001-04:002009-07-10T08:43:16.068-04:00<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'>Quick update (better one later): I made a word cloud of the stuff that appears on my site. Interesting that cats, feelings, and apparently my astrological signs are so large in it (so I'm guessing that it's not entirely due to frequency -- since I don't think I talk about my signs that much!):<br/><br/><a href="http://www.wordle.net/gallery/wrdl/991927/Eiram" target="_blank">See it here</a> (new window).<br/><br/></div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08249972066135148788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274401.post-14271985964739985142009-05-19T10:00:00.000-04:002009-05-19T10:01:36.520-04:00Snarfed from someone else's blog: <br /><object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" data="http://cuteanimals.todaysbigthing.com/betamax/betamax.swf?item_id=1608&fullscreen=1" width="480" height="360"><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="sameDomain" /><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true" /><param name="movie" quality="best" value="http://cuteanimals.todaysbigthing.com/betamax/betamax.swf?item_id=1608&fullscreen=1" /></object>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08249972066135148788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274401.post-90795588933677635442009-05-06T09:52:00.002-04:002009-05-06T09:54:58.602-04:00Short and not-sweet: tomorrow evening we have an appointment to have Digger put down.<br /><br />May is not a good month for family kitties, it would seem (it was May 1st, 1995 (I'm fuzzy on the year) that we had Sookie put down).<br /><br />Here are some of my favourite pictures of him from when he was a kitten (that I took, photo cred away) to share:<img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3362/3506837191_39c5ed9faf.jpg" /><br /><br /><img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3561/3507644804_98f38895c2.jpg" /><br /><br />And a more recent, cruddy camera one (I'll share some better ones later, just don't have them with me at work or online):<br /><br /><img src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1085/532035812_a291de16b0.jpg" />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08249972066135148788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274401.post-86516754926217922032009-04-22T12:12:00.001-04:002009-04-22T12:12:45.675-04:00<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'>My birthday is August 23rd, which puts me on the cusp between Leo and Virgo - and I've certainly got traits from each sign (Leo: not liking being pigeon-holder; Virgo - nitpicky worrywart). So if I go to the trouble of checking my horoscope (which I do many once every 2-3 months), I always read both. Today's MSNBC horoscope for Virgo reads:<br/><br/><span id='coppaWrapper'>"Today isn't likely to be one of your better days, dear Virgo. You feel a certain weariness, and you are very anxious and worried about someone close to you. When it comes to your loved ones, you have very strong emotions coursing through your veins. Think about your commitments, and try to drum up a little enthusiasm."</span><br/><br/>The anxious and worried applied more yesterday, I think, but on the whole, I'd say it's pretty apt.<br/><br/>The Leo part, on the other hand, is totally off the mark (which is not a bad thing for today):<br/><br/>"<span id='coppaWrapper'>If you are the kind of person who likes a quiet day, dear Leo, then today you will be disappointed! There will be a lot of tension in the air, as a close friend or a relative tries to get something from you that you are not willing to part with. You could find yourself in quite a delicate situation. Keep your cool, and you should be able to talk your way out of it with no problem."<br/></span><br/><br/><div class='zemanta-pixie'><img src='http://img.zemanta.com/pixy.gif?x-id=dde88168-ac74-8c4b-828d-42de5d6c9559' class='zemanta-pixie-img'/></div></div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08249972066135148788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274401.post-88302553628972598572009-04-21T10:46:00.001-04:002009-04-21T10:46:26.137-04:00<div xmlns='http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml'>I'm wondering if I shouldn't change the name of this site to, "I Chase Boys... but I don't update my damn blog."<br/><br/>Let's see, in a nutshell: Saturday I took the cats to the vet for their annual exam. Thena has a spot in her eye that turned up a month or so ago (I'm revising this from my original estimate of 2-3 months ago, since I always seem to overestimate time). Wasn't bothering her in the least, so I decided to wait until they were due for their exams to have it checked out.<br/><br/>Then I went to a spa appointment that I had booked for relaxing me time - facial and manicure. <br/><br/>That evening, I was up until the very wee hours with Ben, who I haven't seen in awhile. Talked until my throat was sore, good times. <br/><br/>Sunday morning wake up feeling sick, which has held over. Also woke up to my period. Awesome fun.<br/><br/>Vet called me back on Saturday saying she thought that the ophthalmologist vet should check her out. The local vet wasn't in until today, so I had to wait to get the referral and so on.<br/><br/>Now I have an appointment with the ophthalmologist vet in May (still better than my annual exam, which got booked for July), and I'm pretty much assuming the worst because that's what I do when my pets are involved and when I'm tired and sick and emotional. <br/><br/>And I just got asked to have a meeting with my manager at 1:30 with no context, so I feel like today's going from bad to worse - and that I'm in some kind of big trouble. Yay.<br/><br/><div class='zemanta-pixie'><img src='http://img.zemanta.com/pixy.gif?x-id=5a5d1dc9-ec42-8e12-a827-3c94748f795c' class='zemanta-pixie-img'/></div></div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08249972066135148788noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3274401.post-6879860134003582602009-04-19T16:36:00.001-04:002009-04-19T16:36:50.081-04:00Backyard bunnies<img src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3622/3456994308_be17d4f402_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /><br clear="all" /><p></p>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08249972066135148788noreply@blogger.com0