I can't decide if it's sad or not that I'm proud of myself when I get through a serious conversation -- or one that deals with things of import to me -- without crying. It's not that the subject matter itself is upsetting to me, I just have a difficult time sometimes getting through serious conversations without crying. It's frustrating, because I feel it takes away from my message or what I'm saying, and I feel weak as a result.

It seems to vary depending on who I'm talking to, too; I was never able to fight with my dad as a kid, 'cause I'd end up crying. My mom? No problem -- although if we're talking about something that's upsetting to me, like people or pet death or something, then the waterworks will happen, too.

I guess sometimes I'm just more of a girl than I want to acknowledge. :P

Well, the default crab mode I've been in is somewhat improving, but slowly. I have days where I feel fine; then I have days where I'm just frustrated and upset by everything. I try not to get too upset, but I know comments have snuck out here and there.

I'm frustrated with our housing company, for one. They have requested showings of our place a few times during day hours; fortunately they seem to have gotten the hint that the DB and I WORK during STANDARD WORK hours, and are not available before 6 p.m. Sure, there are days that the DB is off during the week, but because they wouldn't let us out of our lease early (that is, if we gave notice September 15th, they would keep us in our lease until November 30th), our attitude is screw 'em.

So, they scheduled a showing while I was out of town; the tenant was a no-show, though the agent did turn up. No worries, it happens. They requested another showing last Friday at noon; when I said that wasn't possible, they offered up 7:30, and said the same agent would be present, and apologized for the no-show.

We did some cleaning and basic tidying up, and held off on dinner since we weren't starving. At 7:15, the doorbell rings, and it's the agent with a prospective tenant. The agent clearly knows nothing about our place -- I'm having to identify the fixtures and features that come with the house, she doesn't know where light switches are (understandable), but seems really ... not competent.

Then she mentions she has another appointment coming -- and a couple shows up to look around. Okay, no problem, I chatted with them about the house, the neighbourhood and so on. Then another woman comes, and looks fairly comfortable with the agent, so I assumed she was another employee of the housing company -- no, she was another prospective tenant. Away she goes with the agent... and then another couple comes for the tour.

In all, there were four appointments when we were only told of one, the agent was 15 minutes early (which to me was rude -- what if we had a prior engagement or went out to run an errand and weren't there when she arrived? Would she simply have let herself in, as the housing company had previous verified that the agent wouldn't need keys, since we were going to be present?), and she didn't know what was going on. She just struck me as ill-prepared and unprofessional.

For the record, we pretty much sat on the couch and kept to ourselves while everyone was wandering around. I kept watch over Thena and kept prompting people to push on the front door to shut it; it doesn't latch properly, and I didn't want it popping open. The agent tried to tell me that the final couple who came in had shut it behind them, when I could clearly see it was still open. I would have felt quite comfortable showing the place off myself, and when we looked at it it was the tenant who showed it to us -- I don't know why the need for an agent, but whatever.

The final couple to come through had a baby, and we offered to let them leave her downstairs with us while they explored (she was in a car seat, and they can be somewhat cumbersome). They declined, saying she'd cry (and I said that we'd understand if they preferred not to). The agent then asked where our little one was, saying that she noticed toys around the house.

For the record, the toys are clearly cat toys; catnip bags, balls with bells in them, feathers with a stick on them, and so on. Not to mention, there is no nursery in our townhouse: there is a master bedroom, office with two computer desks, and a spare bedroom with a double bed and a shelving unit. There are no cribs, playpens, diaper pails, changing tables, plastic children toys, or anything that would appear to indicate the presence of a child... and having been through the house with prospective tenants *three* times already, she should have realized this fact.

And finally... the other thing I discovered about our house that cheezed me off about our rental company involves our rent. When we started leasing the place, rent was $1295/month plus utilities. A few months before I lease was up for renewal, we got a lease renewal package that showed our rent was due to go up to $1313/month (plus utilities). I was nosy and checked out the listing on the rental company's website for our place -- new tenants come in at $1295/month plus utilities.

Struck me as awfully douche-y of them...

Okay, so in the end I didn't end up posting anything to LJ. Maybe I shall, but my mood appears to have improved somewhat for now. I still have issues that will need to be addressed, but there's an awful lot going on in the meantime already.

I've definitely enjoyed having things be quiet for the last while at work, what with the election and all. I was working on analyzing a lot of the coverage, so for a change I felt moderately informed as to all of the party platforms. Of course, that got somewhat derailed when I took off for a week for the funeral stuff, but for the most part, I felt good heading into the polling stations.

It's completely predictable how your priorities change when you're going in to vote at various periods in your life. Even when I was a full-time undergrad, I rolled my eyes a little at the students protesting tuition hikes; after all, it's that much worse if you're attending school in an unsubsidized place (like the U.S.), and every student is poor, broke, and so on. Students that aren't working or paying their own way only have so much of a leg to stand on, in my judgemental opinion.

Now that I'm old and crabby, my priorities have turned more towards household taxes and the cost of living in my city. The DB and I were lying in bed the other night, talking politics, and he pointed out how we were showing our age.

Anyhow, in lieu of actually continuing this stalled train of thought, I'm going to post another picture. This image is the one my housing management company uses to showcase the master bedroom in our current place. As you can see, it really helps show you the dimensions of the room, the features such as the ceiling fan, walk-in closet and window overlooking the street (and no, I don't know why this file name includes 'wince'):

I needed that.

Yesterday was rough. I was morose, I was annoyed, I was frustrated, I was definitely not wanting to spend the night hanging around the house.

I had to return some DVDs and the weather was good, so shortly after I got home, I went out on the motorcycle. I planned on just cruising around afterwards, maybe stopping someplace for dinner -- no real plans. When I finished my errand, I found a text message from JR telling me about plans to go out and celebrate RJ's last day in the city. The weather held out, so I joined up with everyone and had fun.

It was a small group, but contained people whose company I enjoy and hadn't seen in awhile, so it was perfect, and I left in better spirits.

On a separate note... I understand people who become stressed from school, work, home life, etc. I suffer from it as well (although apparently my body likes to demonstrate its stress through things like acne breakouts -- thanks body!). Sometimes I have a shorter temper and snap at people, but I do try to apologize when it happens. Most of the time, I get told not to worry about it.

That said... if you spend literally months on end snapping at people, being short-tempered and drinking to deal with your stress? Maybe you need to re-evaluate your coping mechanisms. It's not fair to put your issues on others' shoulders, and people will quickly get fed up and possibly cut you out of their lives, stop inviting you out, whatever, as a result.

Just a complaint I've been holding on to for awhile. I have some relationship-related stuff to post, but I think that's going to be saved for LJ. Though as an amusing side-note (okay, amusing to me):

I wore my cupcake underwear for the wedding we attended in Wawa. The DB gave me a hard time about it, saying I could've worn my fancy-lacy underwear or some such -- 'cause after all, everyone's underwear gets examined at a wedding for appropriateness (also, I should point out that the only time he says or used to say anything about my underwear is when the bra and underwear don't match -- which they never do, as I'm a rebel like that).

So, not only did I wear my cupcake underwear to the wedding, but I wore them as well to my grandfather's funeral (and yes, I washed them in between this) -- and after the funeral and the condolence-line, I discovered that my fly had been open the whole time. I'm the model of appropriate behaviour at funerals... flipping off my dad at Puppy's funeral, telling my mom to stop hitting on me at this one... I'm awesome.

I wish it were possible for me to just turn off my brain and/or get over things, I really do. I'm not much of one for astrology, but there are certain aspects to both of my signs (I'm born on the cusp, and have traits from both Leo and Virgo) that seem to affect my brain sometimes -- and seem to apply to a friend of mine, R, that shares my Virgo side as well.

It seems to get worse as I get older; either that, or the many years of being on the pill have affected me. Quite possibly it's a combination of the two.

It's almost funny to me how I can practically chart what issues will arise and overtake my brain and when. Oh look! It's approximately a week before I come off this cycle of pills, time to obsess over issue X.

And the greater challenge to all of this? Dating someone who feels that discussing issue X once or twice means that it has been covered and since there's really nothing new to say about it, we don't need to keep talking about it.

But my style is different. I talk things through to understand them, or I write about them (publicly or privately) to figure them out, either through the input of another or just through reasoning it through on my own. From my perspective, if there hasn't been a solution or an explanation for issue X that I can understand, then it's not resolved and it's going to keep nagging at me.

Sure, sometimes even if there has been a resolution it may come up again, but I can either recant that resolution for myself and move on, or if something new has arisen, I can return to the issue and hopefully resolve it once more.

And yes, I overthink things and I keep thinking of things after they've possibly been concluded for their other party(/ies). That's just how I am, unfortunately. Sometimes it works to my advantage, but sometimes it just means I dwell on things longer than perhaps I ought. See above: I'd love to just dismiss it and move on, but for some issues, particularly if I haven't seen a resolution to them, voilà, I can't.

*sigh* Add in a healthy dose of insecurity that likes to crop up now and again, and you have a great party in my head.

And so I resolve to myself to just not bring it up anymore, but that doesn't really work, either. Sometimes I'll bring it up, hoping for an explanation I can understand, but get nothing in return -- because of course, we've talked about it previously, and there's nothing new to say. I know in the past I've been frustrated by conversations that keep coming up and have no new aspects (hell, I still go through some of those with exes), but at the same time, I feel sometimes as though the answer I'm getting is nothing more than, 'Just because,' which really doesn't help me any -- and at least I try to provide more than that.

Maybe I don't succeed, I don't know. Sometimes, certainly, we can't give any better answer than 'it just is' -- but sometimes that's all the answer I've given to someone because I didn't want to chance hurting their feelings by saying more. I guess I fear that that's the case in this situation, even if 99 of the other 100 clues are saying otherwise.

It's a great party in my head, I'm telling you.

Well, I'm now back from the funeral and associated joys that such an occasion brings.

Observations? Well, at several times during the trip down and time there, I could've cheerfully tossed various family members out of moving cars or available windows. Ah, how stress benefits us all.

Otherwise, life carries on as per usual. I have nothing really to report -- I did have some ideas for a posting earlier today or yesterday, but now I've forgotten it completely. As usual, my cats are adorable, my boyfriend is pretty solid (when he isn't driving me nuts), and I haven't had nearly enough sleep to be coherent in any way, shape or form.

Not to mention, I appear to be riding a full-out babble lately. Fun for everyone around me, I'm sure.

I also appear to have developed narcolepsy, or I'm having a delayed reaction to the fun of the last week. Saturday I passed out on the plane immediately after finishing a cup of coffee, Sunday I passed out mid-can of pop, and yesterday I passed out before dinner... but after a few glasses of wine, so I can be forgiven.

The DB and I made the trip to lascivious Wawa, Ontario last weekend, a trip to rival the debauchery to be had in Las Vegas, for the wedding of one of his good friends from high school and thereafter. I keep raving about how nice and friendly everyone was, and what a good time I had, and it's true. Sure, I was a tad extra-goofy because of the full bottle of wine I had with my meal and the reception, but for the most part, I geniunely wasn't horrendously drunk, just happily so -- but it lead to gems such as the following:



Oh, I am indeed one classy broad.

2003:

End of May, Greg and Madeleine get married. I find out at the wedding that a good family friend died. That week, I graduate university, attend his funeral, and then go to my cousin Sally's wedding. (So that makes two weddings and a funeral in one week).

2008:

Beginning of October, DB's friends get married. I find out on the way home from the wedding that my (paternal) grandfather has died. This weekend, my cousin Colleen, Sally's younger sister, is getting married. So if I hadn't already declined to attend Colleen's wedding (for other reasons), I could once again be going to two weddings and a funeral in one week.

If either of those cousins divorces and remarries, I'm not going to the second marriage.

Either my mom or dad seemed to be saying that I could still choose to go to the wedding, but since I've already changed my attendance from "yes" to "no," I don't think it would be kind of me to say "yes" again.

Plus, going to a wedding after a funeral? Not fun. Did it once, don't want to do it again. Also, would rather just come home and hang out with the kitties afterwards instead of hanging around the Maritimes until my folks were done and ready to go -- especially when I don't have the time off to do the second (as it is, I'm taking this week off for the travel/funeral stuff).

*sigh* My dad's family likes to die at Thanksgiving -- my grandma died at Thanksgiving in 2001, her brother died at Thanksgiving a few years ago, and now my grandpa has died at the same time of year. Add on top of this that my Puppy (mom's dad)'s birthday is next week (and he died about a year and a half ago, not at Thanksgiving), and my aunt (dad's sister)'s birthday is also next week (she's not dead), and this is a wonky time of year for the family.

Also, I had a long car ride home from Moe's friend's wedding yesterday, feeling nauseated the whole time for reasons I don't know (though I'm blaming the Timmy's breakfast sandwich), and we're doing a long car ride to the Maritimes tomorrow, and I'm just glad I have a good boyfriend, understanding boss, and snuggly kitties -- Thena's nuzzling me as I write, or was.

So, how have you guys been? Keeping the place tidy, I hope?

For all that I'm outspoken and often confident in my beliefs, as unpopular as they may at times be, there is still so much I keep to myself and don't share.

And sometimes... I just want to yell it to the heavens.

Other times, I do say it, and I just don't seem to get heard -- so what's the point in saying it?

Though it does make me wonder just what I'm not picking up on.

As may be expected from my research for my masters' paper, I've been doing a lot of reading of articles about Spike, Spike and Buffy's relationship, and other related themes.

First, I'll acknowledge that, given the nature of the material and the sources I'm using (a lot of material from Slayage Online, the International Journal of Buffy studies), there's a very incestuous nature to that which I'm reading; authors cite one another fairly regularly, and some quotes turn up in more than a few publications. This is both a benefit and a negative -- benefit because it means I'm getting a pretty good notion that I'm doing a good job of covering the field; negative because sometimes it'd be nice to hear new voices (and I have found some as I've read more). Another positive is the possibility that I could be contributing to what is a fairly small group. This will eventually help me in my quest to become e-famous, such as it is (non-existent).

Anyhow, what has come up a few times is the idea that Spike attempted to rape Buffy in season 6 because audiences were becoming too supportive of his relationship with Buffy and were too sympathetic to him as a character. Now, I am in no way condoning, supporting, embracing or any other positive label-ing the attempted rape. I am a firm believer that even if you are at the moment of penetration, and the girl then says no, you are to respect her wishes and stop. Period, full stop, etc. Let me just get that out of the way. I will readily admit to having rape fantasies -- I think there's nothing wrong with this and it represents a healthy sexual fantasy. I was sickened and disgusted by the rape scene in Showgirls (I'll admit it, I watched it), which convinced me that I wasn't twisted or wrong with my rape fantasies, that I really was against rape.

I'm also well-aware of the murky grey area that exists in the land of, "Well, I didn't say no... but I didn't really want to" in sexual relationships, because an unfortunate number of my own experiences have fallen under that uncertain region. Would I say I was raped? No. Would I say I had sex against my will? Yes. It's a difficult distinction to make, and one I'm not always sure everyone understands (can I be potentially sexist and say men don't understand? I'm not sure; I'm guilty of not always being able to understand men in the same manner I feel I understand women, so I'll hesitate from officially making that declaration, but I'm not erasing it at the moment).

Anyhow, to get myself away from all of my conditions and caveats, my original point are as follows -- even as someone who is opposed to rape and so on, I was able to feel sympathy for Spike in the context in which the rape was presented. There've been two excellent articles I've just read by Gwyn Symonds, "Solving Problems With Sharp Objects": Female Empowerment, Sex and Violence in Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and "Playing more soul than is written: James Marsters' performance of Spike and the Ambiguity of Evil in Sunnydale, that discuss the rape scene and re-present it in ways that I was trying to mentally articulate and couldn't. (It's cases such as these that depress me as a scholar/writer). The first article illustrates how the scene is filmed and talks of the different camera cuts, angles, visuals, etc., as well as actors' deliveries and such that alternate viewers' sympathies between Buffy and Spike. As a sympathetic viewer and one who is admittedly, a Buffy/Spike Shipper (that is, supporter of the relationship), my sympathies were with Spike before, during and after the scene -- not for the actual actions, but I felt that Marsters' did such an excellent job of bringing Spike's motivations into the scene, that I couldn't help but.

That is to say, Spike was trying to show Buffy that she cared for him, and he knew that she felt it during their sex life -- so he was trying to bring back those emotions, draw them back out from her. Now, maybe it isn't fair of me to use this line of reasoning, as I'm sure that many disturbed individuals have done similarly, but as Symonds points out in her second article, viewers come to the show with a tremendous amount of media literacy, and we don't automatically condone the immoral actions of real-life people simply because we do so for characters on the screen. Certainly many viewers have felt that the murders or vengeance killings of characters in films and television shows was justified within the narrative frame of said show or film, but how many of us actively and/or routinely condone murders or vengeance kills in every day life?

And yet, my original point was not just this. My frustration in some part with the writers and producers that have gone on record about the attempted rape narrative arc, such as Marti Noxon and David Fury, because ultimately, as writers and producers, they form some of the responsibility for the growth and redemptive narrative arc of Spike. Spike was originally introduced as a disposable villain, and because of audience admiration and the talents of James Marsters, he was kept on, and continued to grow and evolve throughout the series (which forms the basis for my research paper). Now, other beloved characters that were introduced were disposed of -- Jenny Calendar, Tara, in some ways Jonathan -- and yet, even with fan complaints (as I'm sure there were), the storylines were there. I'm arguing that the writers and producers had the power to kill off Spike at any time. They could have kept him from growing as completely as they did, or evolving/reverting to a more human state. Certainly, he was the bad boy, the Big Bad, and I don't believe that someone who has spent two hundred years murdering people is necessarily good -- but we were to believe such of Angel, who did his fair share of murdering before his soul was restored to him. He certainly was merciless when his soul was once again removed.

What I find interesting was that, unless my memory fails me, even once Spike learned he could physically hurt Buffy after her return to Earth, he only did so in the one episode prior to their first sexual encounter; he could have killed her at any time and didn't, because he loved her and because he was on his way to remembering his humanity.

But it feels as though these writers and producers who are essentially defending or justifying the attempted rape scene are almost washing their hands of it at the same time -- like, "You guys were starting to like this character too much, you didn't realize that he's supposed to be this awful guy, so we're going to have him go out and try to rape Buffy... but no no, it's not our fault that you like him, even if we're giving him lines and motivations that make him nicer and more likable. Sure, we neutered him and rendered him incapable of harming humans. Sure, we made him kind of a pathetic little puppy stuck out in the cold. Sure, we made him start to do good because he wants to be accepted, good, and be, in his mind, worthy of Buffy's love. But it's not our fault that you guys like him! We'll have to change that!"

It's just... frustrating, and I have to wonder if it wasn't ultimately a lot of PR work to keep controversy high and viewers interested in the show, or what.

And yes, as you can see, I'm extremely relevant and topical in my choice of discussions. A show that ended five years ago is totally up-to-date to analyze and get worked up about.

It’s interesting how quickly you can get up to speed on an issue when the need is there. I won’t claim at all to be an expert, but certainly, I’ve learned a lot.

About what? That information will come.

It’s also interesting getting into conversations with people and realizing that what you’re actually hearing is a lot of ignorance from sources you’d previously assumed were well-informed, or at least more so than you. I’ve learned a lot from observing people as I age, and realizing that some people I used to admire or respect for some subjects are actually not as intelligent about things or ways of going about things as I might’ve originally thought.

Which isn’t to say at all that I’m way up there in the smarty-pants realm; not by far. Just interesting to be able to go, ‘Wait a minute… you’re talking out your ass!’

Maybe I’m just crabby because I’ve been hearing my dad’s Forceful Voice a lot this past week. He seems to think that if he doesn’t use said voice, I don’t listen to him – though what he doesn’t always realize is sometimes he’s saying the exact same thing three different ways… or he’s been telling me the exact same thing every time we speak. I love my dad, and we get along well, but the fact that we have the same personality means that we tend to get frustrated with one another somewhat quickly – and probably explains why my mom sometimes seems to get frustrated with me faster than perhaps with my sister. Then again, I don’t necessarily see it first-hand, so maybe I’m just being whiny and resentful. ;)

The weather this weekend was actually rather nice for a change, so I was able to toss the cats outside. It worked well for Thena, who spent most of both afternoons out, but not as well for Venus. I spent much of Sunday bringing her feathers-on-a-stick toy, which is twice as long as her, downstairs to the DB (after she brought them from the basement to the upstairs where I was), or bringing her downstairs for him to play with, or just cuddling with her and talking to her. She was in crazy-suck mode, including flaking out on his lap while we watched television after supper.

Thena, on the other hand, was in protector mode this weekend. Sunday she had a neighbourhood cat 'trapped' under the deck; I say trapped in quotes because my two go out on harnesses and leashes, so their range is limited, and the cat wasn't at all at risk of a fight if/when she left. Saturday, I saw Thena poking at something on the deck, and when I went out to check on her later realized she had a giant dragonfly in her mouth. She wasn't actively chewing on it, but its two forward wings were a bit damaged, and she was really into poking at it and so on. I helped it escape.

Later, she was staring at what I think was a bee, and talking back to me when I was trying to explain that bees and wasps are not tasty bugs. I did tell her that spiders are quite delicious, but I'm not sure how convinced she is.

And finally, she was trying to figure out how to eat a crane fly that was on the inside of the screen door, while she was on the outside. My cats, they can be quite sweet, but aren't always that bright.

Although Thena is usually fairly well-behaved, crabby, jealous and demanding... while Venus is like dealing with a small, stubborn child.

Urgh. I hate hate hate thinking about money. I’m not worrying about it so much – just trying to come up with ways to better manage it… and I keep thinking about all of the different ‘necessary’ expenses that repeat but aren’t daily or sometimes even monthly – haircuts, cat food, cat litter, birth control pills, and so on. Back to burying my head in the sand, I guess.

I opened up a zip.ca account the other day, and got my first disc in the mail yesterday – disc 1 of season 1 of Lois & Clark. I loved it when it first aired, and I had my crush on Dean Cain. My friend Quynh (whose name I can no longer remember how to properly spell) was in love with Jonathan Brandis, of SeaQuest DSV fame. I’m so going back to my marginally embarrassing childhood days.

It’s also interesting watching the show now, contrasted with other shows that I’ve been watching in heavier rotation – House, Firefly, CSI, and so on. It definitely shows its age via the special effects and the outfits, but I’m finding that’s the case even with the pacing of the show. Granted, at this point I’ve only re-watched the pilot and a bit of the second episode, but it’s odd to be in a position to watch it with this critical eye and mind, which I never thought I had… though a classmate laughed at me when I said as much.

Anyhow, time to run, but hopefully I shall have cool news to post shortly.

Okay, short observation with an explanation.

As you may know, I'm doing my masters research paper on Buffy the Vampire Slayer; more specifically, I'm studying the bi-gendered nature of the character Spike and the hero's quest (as defined by Joseph Campbell) he undergoes throughout the series -- with possibly some observation of him as Buffy's Shadow (as defined by Carl Jung).

All of that to say, I'm reading a bunch of articles on the series, as well as some background stuff on Campbell, masculinity, etc.

All of that to say, this particular line in the article "Fan Readings of Sex and Violence on Buffy the Vampire Slayer," by Dawn Heinecken, amused me greatly:

"[Shippers, i.e., those that are fans of the Buffy/Spike relationship] interpret Spike's interaction with the Buffybot, his robot sex toy, as evidence of his concern for Buffy's pleasure, since his first act with it is to perform cunnilingus."

I'm both amused, and now that I'm thinking about going back to watch the episode again, kinda fairly aroused... My first draft of my thesis proposal involved talking about dildos; I'm wondering if I can manage to work cunnilingus into my actual research paper.

I suppose I could continue my previous day's ruminations, but at the moment, I just don't have it in me.

I'm feeling a vague sense of dissatisfaction or unease or disquiet. It's hard to define it, and it's frustrating to be hit with it now, especially when I'm making some progress in other arenas. I guess as usual, I haven't had enough sleep, so I'm left with the crabby that often seems to accompany my day-to-day life.

I also learned recently that my caffeine intake has increased enough that I suffer when it decreases -- i.e., Saturday evening a migraine starts to take hold, and by Sunday it's in full-force. So Sunday I dope myself with some pills and a cup of coffee. Kinda sad, but it seems to do the trick.

Some of you may recall that I went to Vegas a little while ago. If I can give anyone advice, it's try not to go in August. It's hot there, and while I thought I could handle it, it was pretty draining. Even my feet were winding up in pain each day because they were becoming swollen from the heat and the walking, and my comfy sandals just weren't cutting it the way they usually do.

That said, it was pretty cool to go. We stayed in the Flamingo Hotel/Casino, and checked out pretty much every major casino along the Strip -- so now when I see movies or tv shows that feature the Strip, I recognize the buildings and can identify where they are and what they looked like inside.

We flew out of Toronto to save some money, and our flight down was direct -- leave around 9 a.m. EST, land around 11:30 Vegas time (I forget the time zone and I'm too lazy to check). 3 hours behind, 5 hourish flight, nothing too exciting about it. I always hate going through American customs, 'cause they make me feel like they seriously doubt I'm a government employee or something, and I feel like if I give the wrong job description, they'll toss me in a cell. That said, I passed without problems.

Flying back we had to transfer planes in Winnipeg. We left Vegas at 11 p.m. local time, landed in Winnipeg around 4:30 a.m. local time (so we're now one timezone behind Ontario), and then left Winnipeg around 6:00 a.m. to fly to Toronto for 9:30ish a.m. EST. Got that?

The DB and I did the best we could to sleep through the flight, but I kept waking up to pop my eardrums -- which are crazy sensitive to the pressure changes -- and because I was cold, uncomfortable, etc. I'm pretty zonked and feeling punchy, especially when there were only two/three customs agents processing people through (understandable, given the hour). I'm being more verbose than usual to help set the stage. Jen = tired, punchy, dumb.

I finally get up to the customs agent and present my declaration, passport, kidney, etc. The guy looks over my declarations (nothing right down the list), and asks if I have anything to declare. I say no, he asks why not.

I, in all of my brilliance and excellent sense of self-preservation, state that it's because I didn't win enough money to buy any drugs or guns.

Yes, I said it.

No, he didn't violate my bum.

Instead, he kinda laughed and said deadpan, good, I'll write that on here -- no drugs or guns. I thanked him and said that that would help me get processed faster. He said no, actually, it wouldn't.

And I'm still alive to tell the tale.

Moral? Probably not a good idea to fly with me on a red-eye. I'm dumb and I spend even less time thinking before speaking -- which is a scary thought in and of itself.

I've been told by a few people (okay, two) recently that I need to blog more. So, here's the effort to do so.

The thing is, I don't often feel I'm especially funny in text. Off-the-cuff remarks, angry rants, sure, I seem to amuse that way. But in text? Much more challenging. I don't know, some people seem to relate to what I have to say, and goodness knows I like to hear myself speak -- metaphorically speaking.

I had coffee with the girlfriend of a high school acquaintance yesterday (how's that for unwieldy explanations?). She's commented on here a few times, so I don't feel too guilty if I use her name, Sarah. I'm trying to make this as simple as possible.

Anyhow, we had a good chat, covering all kinds of topics, including but not limited to relationships. I then had another conversation about relationships with a coworker today, so suffice it to say the subject matter's on my mind. Add this to one of the songs that came up on my playlist, and I figure I have a subject to discuss.

For those who are curious, the song was Cupid's Chokehold -- the singer is telling his dad about the girl he's in love with, and there's a line to the effect of "I know you've heard me say I've met The One before, but this time it's for real"; I can relate. I do think that his saying that his girl has her very own ringtone on his cell as an example of Tru Wuv is a bit goofy, but hey -- it's a song.

So, how do you know when you've met The One? And how do you remind your fingers where the characters are on a QWERTY keyboard when you work all day on a French keyboard and your muscle memory has both stuck in there. Kinda cool, makes me wonder how I'd do on a Dvorak keyboard, and is a slight deviation from the subject at hand.

Relationships. The One. Is there really a One for anyone, or do we end up just settling? Where do the compromises get made?

I have a number of friends in committed relationships of differing types: some are married; some are married in an open relationship; some are living together but not married; some are living together, not married, and don't plan on getting married; and some are in a long-term relationship but not living together. In essence, they cover the basic spectrum of heterosexual partnerships (yes, I'm limiting myself, but I just don't have that many gay friends at the moment, curse my luck).

I've always been open about my support for all kinds of different pairings, and I try to be honest about what would work for me. In the past, I was openly dating two guys at the same time; in the past, I was also not-openly dating two guys at the same time. In the present, I'm living with someone with whom I share a committed, monogamous relationship. I've also had friends with benefits.

I have found, through trial and error, that what works best for me, provided the relationship is good, is the situation in which I now find myself. However, in the past, when I was in relationships that weren't good, it was not unknown for me to ... alter the circumstances (see above re: not-openly dating two guys at the same time). In short, yes, I cheated. I don't condone it, I don't feel it was the best course of action at the time, but it was what it was and that was that.

The motivations behind the actions were varied, and often tied to sex (duh, right?). I had a lot of bad sex in my past. Unsatisfying, boring, with partners that couldn't seem to learn regardless of the direction, and so on. Sometimes, I was just looking for something different.

At one point, I discovered that someone that I was spending time with (who shall remain nameless, unless he wants to out himself), had similar kinky interests to my own, and we explored those together. I was open with the DB about my kinky interests (without going into gory details of who and what, a policy we've kept with regards to past relationships over all), and one evening on a drive home, he basically asked me if I was going to want an open relationship to allow me to explore my kinky interests, which he doesn't share.

Because the DB doesn't share these interests, an acquaintance who is kinky called him boring. I guess in that regard, he could be perceived as such. However, on the grand scale of relationships, one must weigh what one's priorities are in regards to said relationship -- and even on a personal level, how highly said priorities rate.

I was a fairly curious sexual adventurer, and as such tried a lot of different things. My overarching philosophy was always one of, "how can I know I don't like it unless I try it?" -- with some limitations for things that were simply a flat-out no from the start. Through trial-and-error I learned what I find to be a turn-on, and what I feel works best in fantasy.

Now, combine fantasy with my tendency to ... romanticize, for lack of a better word, elements of sex -- leaving out the awkward parts, the uncomfortable moments, or the times when I was just plain bored -- and I can come up with some pretty hot scenarios. Maybe my more kinky tendencies would be enjoyable were they to take place with the right person, someone I feel committed to, cared for by, in love with, whatever, but my experience taught me that a lot of it was just more enjoyable in my brain than in real life.

Lots of things were still very hot in real life, in case you're wondering.

So, do I want to go elsewhere to explore my kinky side? No, I really don't. Am I unhappy with my sex life? I have my grumbles of which the DB is aware, but overall, I'm pleased.

If we return to our original subject matter, the question of The One -- how do I feel about that? Do I believe there's one special person out there for each of us? I honestly don't know. I think there are a small number of people with whom we're compatible, and therein lies individual choices about the sacrifices or priorities we have to make.

For some people, smoking is a total deal-breaker, for example. For others, it's not a selling point, but it's tolerable, and the last group, it's irrelevant to their decision. Sex lives are also like this -- some people just don't have a large sex drive, whereas others do. Individuals have to determine for themselves whether they can tolerate having more or less sex than their own personal preference.

And now I've rambled enough that I feel I can get into some more salacious information without getting into too much trouble.

I've seen a number of my friends pair up. I readily admit that the aspects of the relationship I see will a) be coloured based on my worldview and/or knowledge of the couple/individuals; b) never be the full picture, even if I'm speaking to one member of the couple about the details of said relationship.

I can say this because we do have a tendency to complain more than we praise our partners, in general. And when we do tend to gush about our partners, it generally evokes something similar to a gag or vomit reflex in those unfortunate souls subjected to said gushing. I experienced this with a new hire at one place of business -- she went on about how her and her partner were SO in love (a direct quote) and how it was just as passionate as when they first started dating, etc., etc., complete with effusive hand gestures and the clasping of the hands to her ample bosom. I wish I was kidding. She was also only one year my junior. She was later mocked fairly mercilessly by myself and another who were subject to this display -- and it was shared and reenacted for others. I've never claimed to be especially nice, particularly when I'm being egged on by others with similar opinions.

So yes, it can be challenging to speak in glowing terms on a regular basis about our chosen victims. Especially because ultimately we're all human and we do get on one another's nerves. I've lived with the DB for nearly a year now, and there are plenty of times that we piss one another off -- do notice I said that's mutual behaviour. And sometimes, we feel the need to vent about our partner's behaviour(s) to sympathetic ears. Sometimes, said sympathetic ears may get the wrong impression of our significant others, and may start to question just what it is that you, the complainer, sees in such an aggravating person -- so venting can require balance.

Or, the sympathetic ear has to weigh the complaints and the frequency of complaints if they're going to say something. Some sympathetic ears simply recognize that they're only getting one small piece of the puzzle, made grander by the immediacy of the frustration, and say nothing. That said, some people are more inclined to take sides and, especially if they are only ever hearing one side of the complaining, refuse to believe that the person being complained about has any redeeming qualities. Not that I'm bitter at all, no, of course not. Good riddance to that so-called friend, certainly.

There are some complaints that warrant action or concern -- namely, abuse. Physical, mental, emotional, even abuse of pets or children in place of the partner; these are major concerns. I have a male friend who related to me an instance when his girlfriend attempted to throw a lamp at his head -- I told him to get out and not look back. I listened to him attempt to explain the situation, tell me how his girlfriend was being overly emotional and didn't mean it, etc., etc., and I asked him what he'd tell me if this situation was playing out in reverse. Sure, maybe I was being too cut-and-dried, maybe she really was affected by medication she was on and all that, but seriously -- if someone tries to throw a lamp at your head, it may be time to rethink the relationship.

I have another male friend who used to relate to me domestic tales that were extremely overwrought and over dramatic and so on. I used to ask how things were going in crazytown, and other equally supportive questions (I'm a peach). He once told me that yes, while his partner was crazy, she wasn't as crazy as his past partners, so it was good. Again, let's change this up a little -- if someone tells me that yes, their partner is abusive, but not as abusive as their past partners, I'm not sure I'm telling them that this relationship is an improvement. And yes, here was a case where I was definitely only getting one side of the story and in select pieces, but... I've never claimed to lack for opinions. And contrary to popular belief, I share only a fraction of them.

Oh yeah, people would have trouble in my head. :/

Sometimes, opinions are formed just from exposure to or general knowledge of the couple. Even in long-term relationships, outsiders can form and share the opinion that the people in the couple either aren't meant to be together or just shouldn't be -- either because of how they interact as a couple, or maybe from genuine dislike of one half of the couple. Sometimes people stay together or take steps together because it's the next thing to do on the Grand Checklist of Life -- and not because they should take those steps together. Sometimes this results in divorce shortly after marriage; sometimes it shouldn't even result in marriage.

But once again, those are outsiders looking in. I've witnessed couples who interacted as though they were barely more than passing acquaintances -- how was I to know how they acted together in private? In this instance, they pretty much hadn't had sex together in two years (and this was maybe a 2 1/2 year relationship), but for all I knew they swung from the chandeliers the minute everyone else left. I've had boyfriends who didn't care to kiss in front of others, who didn't hold my hand, who would grab my boobs in front of my friends... I've witnessed couples who probably would've had sex in front of me if I was okay with it. I know of one couple where the guy masturbated the girl to orgasm behind their friend who was using the computer; there are couples who don't even like to acknowledge to others the frequency of their sexual encounters.

My point being, sure, I can and routinely do form opinions on relationships, and maybe I'm completely correct in my belief that said couple isn't meant to be together -- but in the end, what I know amounts to a pile of very little, no matter how verbosely I may say it.

And you know what? I think I'm going to continue this mental diarrhea on another occasion. While I do have a point, and I'm trying to get at it, the little bastard seems particularly elusive this evening -- and I think I want to do a bit of reading before bed.

Oh, life, how you do get in the way of things.

I’ve noticed a difference in energy or somesuch to the regular bus route vs. the express route in the morning. The days when I miss the express and have to take the regular route, I feel slightly out of sorts when I get to work, as if everything is just slightly out of whack for me. It wasn’t really the case at my previous job, where the regular route was the bus I took more often, but now… now it’s almost palpable some mornings.

I had my birthday last week, and I am now older. Woohoo. Life is going on, and in some ways it’s good and in other ways, not so much. I feel as though, career-wise, maybe I should be further ahead of where I am now, or maybe my promotion should’ve happened sooner. Well, it probably should’ve happened sooner, but I have some bad managers to thank for that. No matter, I’ve moved on and I’m in a better situation.

School-wise, I’m still dragging my ass. I’m plotting my next degree before I’ve even finished this one, and that’s not particularly wise, especially given the debtload I’m carrying; better than some, worse than others. I just hate money and stressing about money.

Lately I have had several people with whom I haven’t spoken in awhile get in touch with me to request hang-outs. I spent some time Friday night with Stefan and Matt, while the DB recovered from a mild concussion at home. No, I didn’t give it to him, though I have since threatened to poke him in the soft spot on his head when he gives me trouble.

I had an appointment today with a career counselor who told me that my values for work include security, creativity, and a good working environment. The security part comes as a bit of a surprise in a way; we never struggled for money when I was growing up (or rather, not that my parents made obvious to my sister and I), and I’ve never really had to do without, yet I’m terrified of being unemployed and would freak out if I had no idea where the next job or paycheque was coming from. It’s been that way for years, and I have no real explanation for it, but there it is.

As for the other two, they weren’t as surprising; I like to be creative in my work, and I work best within certain boundaries, which is probably where I’m struggling with the research paper work – there are almost no boundaries imposed upon me, so I’m at loose ends. When I know in advance what the expectations are, or what the need is I’m to meet, it’s easier for me. Probably in part why this poor blog languishes for periods of time. :) As far as needing to have a good working environment, well, I think that’s a pretty human trait. I don’t think anyone should have to suffer through bad working conditions, and contrary to what the Insane Narcissistic one thought, I fully believe in working for my pay, benefits, privileges, etc.

Today is one of those days that just drags on and on. It's difficult in a new position, where you don't always know how to fill your days -- or you don't always have enough to fill them -- and you feel as though your time would be better served elsewhere, studying or reading or cleaning or sleeping or exercising or whatever. Instead I'm just making plans for things to buy after work -- some more wool for some projects I'm doing and hoping to take with me to Vegas, and possibly some exercise equipment.

It's funny how set in my ways I can be on some things. I first noticed this several years ago when I moved out on my own -- sure, my place was cluttered and untidy, but I knew where everything was, and I got irritated with my then-boyfriend when he'd leave cupboards open, or stuff in places where it didn't belong.

In my second place, I got irritated with my then-boyfriend (he of Smooshy fame) for leaving dishes anywhere and everywhere in my apartment, or not cleaning up after himself, and so on. Again, sure, my place was cluttered and somewhat dirty, but at least I knew where to find things and I didn't have to worry about cats getting into dirty dishes or whatnot. I felt for his roommates; he'd leave pots, pans or whatever in his room for ages at a time, and I'm not sure how often he washed his sheets -- what *is* it with guys and not changing their bed sheets?

Anyhow, here I am in my third place, and officially leaving with someone, as in both of our names on the bills (well, wherever they allow this -- fucked up systems for some billing places), the lease, and an apparently equal division of labour, and I still have to restrain myself from taking over some tasks because I believe my way is the right way. The best part about him is that he feels that his way is the right way, so he can be just as stubborn as I about things and believe it or not, I like that.

I like someone who will stand up to me and stand up for himself. It's so refreshing to be sharing in the responsibilities and the power, because I know that I can have a steamroller personality (I've admitted as much many times on here), and I need someone that will tell me if I'm being unfair or selfish or whatever -- and he's never done any of that, because we compromise.

That said, I'm now responsible for laundry, which is how I want it. It means I have to do it a bit more often because he has fewer clothes than I (shut up, he wears a uniform 5-7 days a week, I don't), but that's fine. I'm just bad at folding/putting it away, but I don't usually fold his.

I do the bulk of the cooking, which I usually don't mind, and we take turns buying that day's groceries. It can be frustrating at times though when I'm waiting on him to cook or it's his day off so he doesn't want to go to the store and wants me to go for him -- then I can get resentful.

But again, compromise comes into play. I'm not easy to live with, and I know that; I leave things lying around a lot (because then I know where to find them again!), and I don't do the dishes the instant I dirty them (not that he does that nearly as much anymore), and I have a thousand different kinds of lotions, body washes, hair care products and books. He thinks I have too much stuff, I think he can be wasteful when it comes to food (rarely eats leftovers, bread products are often left to go bad, have thrown out meat because he didn't freeze it or cook it in time).

I get cranky when he claims I don't do something just because he doesn't notice it -- like cleaning the bathtub, which gets full of cat hair because the cats like to drink water out of it or go through it to get into the window. Or when he says I never use up the assorted hair care products or whatever that I have on hand. I have skin issues that require experimenting for what works best, and rotation based on the season and so on. I'd love to use the same thing year-round.

But hey, that's what relationships are about. As I said to K and H a few weeks ago, it's been in this relationship that I finally understood how you can be furious or insanely frustrated with someone, yet still want them around and all of that. Or maybe I'm just passive-aggressive. But it's also been the first relationship I can remember where I wasn't making a list in the back of my head of all the 'can't accept this' behaviours that eventually reaches the 'time to break up' cut-off point. It could be just because I'm growing, but I like to think it's because I'm dating someone right for me, despite his faults and frustrations.

I've certainly never felt inclined to hit him with my shoe, like with the previous guy, even when he's been driving me nuts. I just give his crabby right back at him.

Anyhow, none of this is especially important or driven by anything, just me musing and reflecting for the sake of it -- and trying to keep myself from stuffing my face. I've been feeling off the last few days, and I'm wondering if perhaps my blood sugar is out of whack.

Time for a bit more granola, I think... and only about 20 minutes until I get to go.

Well, nuts to you former manager, but my promotion came through and is official as of July 17th (yeah, I'm slow at updating).

You know what this means? This means that someone who met me once, for a 20-minute interview, was willing to make more concessions than someone who managed me for nearly 3 years (about 6 months of that was under the useless twit). I had another interview within my former organization at the same time, where they were willing to send me for french training to get my oral french up to C level -- another concession I know would never have crossed your mind in a million years, especially as I had coworkers who couldn't get sent for training despite having been on the list for years.

It's so nice to work for someone consistent and rational, someone whose decisions last longer than it takes one to fart.

Anyhow, enough about work, I have four days of work left until I'm on vacation. The DB and I are going to visit his folks for a day or two, then drive to Toronto to fly to Vegas. Yes, this trip has been announced to all and sundry for quite some time, and no, we're not going to get married -- or if we are, it's news to me. A friend of the DB's is getting married on 08/08/08, and we were invited, so we're making a roughly 5-day trip out of it.

We're staying at the Flamingo, and I was checking out the hotel online; there's a spa, a wildlife section, a pool, and a gym, so it sounds pretty good to me. You can even rent cabanas to watch tv by the pool at roughly $150/pop -- I don't understand why you'd bother, but what do I know about luxury?

I'm just looking forward to getting away. Last week was a long, brutal one, and isn't the norm for a lowly peon like myself. I'm sure there will be more of them, but it's still draining, especially when you're not really expecting it. I did have a nice mani/pedi session with K on the Monday, and though I destroyed my manicure before evening leaving the salon, it was nice at least to have a professional shape my nails for me, a task to which I am ill-suited. I make a terrible girl.

I'm stressed about school and finances, which is nothing new. My finances are in decent shape, it's not as though I'm going broke, but I do still have at least one more semester of school to pay for, and I have my bike insurance now due. Fortunately I was able to save some of my tax return to cover it -- despite the DB's attempts to spend it.

As for school, I sent in my revised paper proposal, I got comments back, I haven't read them yet. Much like checking my bank balance, I figure what I don't know can't hurt me. I never thought I'd grow up to be in denial to this extent, but there you have it. I'm a chicken.

I'm also fairly boring, though I do often think about things to post. Some of my friends are getting to be more active again in their posting, so I figure I should do the same, especially when I have friends tell me they like to read what I write because I'm blunt and honest.

I had a post on my LJ (pretty much tied to my last emo post here) that prompted a girly session a few weeks ago, which was nice and supportive. The long and short of it is that there's often stuff I don't post here because I don't want to admit to people that something's wrong, or that something's upsetting me, either because I don't want to colour how they view things, or because I don't want to admit to something that feels like failure to me, even if rationally I know it isn't.

Yesterday, I worked from 8:00 a.m. until 5:15, was getting emails on my blackberry until 7, and responded to emails until about 7:30 (I was only able to get to them as of about 7, and I only responded to a few).

Today, I was in at 8, and it's now 10 to 7 and I'm about to leave. I like being busy, but... wow. :D

I really wish I could turn off this over-analytical, paranoid mind of mine sometime. I suspect I’d be happier and better rested.

I also wish I could stick to goals I set, be they completing a knitting project, exercising more, reading for school, writing or even cleaning. At least I got through all the laundry on the weekend – so long as folding it doesn’t count.

In other news, my appointment has been posted, and barring any objections between here and the end of the week, I will have (FINALLY) been promoted. It may not be the prompt ‘nuts to you’ I had been hoping for, but it’s better than nothing – and it certainly never would have happened in my past role.

I have to say, it can be very challenging dating someone who feels that talking about an issue once or twice is sufficient, even if it’s a problem – at least for one of you – that seems to come up semi-regularly (or at least, that’s when I end up obsessing about it). There are times I don’t even bother raising my concerns anymore because I’m fairly certain all I’ll get is a “we’ve talked about this before” in response, which admittedly is a fair response, even if it doesn’t resolve anything more.

Sure, life would be easier if I just learned to let go and stop over-thinking things, but I don’t want to be unhappy, and I don’t want to go around in a delusional state thinking everything is fine until one day it’s not and it’s simply too late. So, where’s the middle ground?

Maybe it really is with therapy, like my gf M suggested, and which I’ve also considered. Goodness knows I don’t know how else to express myself, or if there are other ways of looking at it that I haven’t considered. I see things from my perspective, so automatically I’m biased. And I’m frustrated, because part of me doesn’t want to acknowledge that this is frustrating and making me unhappy, or tell others that there are problems. I also get frustrated that I have friends who’ve said in the past, “we should all be able to talk about this stuff, so that we might be able to help one another,” yet it seems as though any attempts I’ve made to bring up the subject go nowhere. And I’m sorry, but I’m not willing to have one-sided conversations of that nature – I feel there should be balance, and it should be equal or relatively equal sharing, not just me off-loading and that’s that. After all, I have the internet ether for that.

And I’m continuously frustrated by the state of my body. I am fat, and I don’t like the way I look naked, and I can’t help but think that I’m not the only one that feels that way (although I don’t think I’ve actually gained much if any weight in the last year, so yay at least on that). I keep making resolutions, and I don’t think I’m eating *that* poorly – I make a fruit smoothie for breakfast most mornings, and I often have celery and peanut butter as my afternoon snack (though I forgot to pack it this morning). I’m trying to snack on melba toasts and other reasonable snacks when I am hungry, and I know, I need more vegetables.

I also need to get moving, and I think I just need to get out of the house and get me time, so that’s what I’m going to be trying to do. I can mope about and feel the way I’ve been feeling, or I can try to do something about it, and I’m choosing the second option. I just wish I didn’t feel … all of this.

Happy Canada Day my peeps!