Our Little Secret

We've stopped giving Z. any human food. She was getting so gassy it became a necessity.

Except I just gave her a piece of cheese, and said, "Shh. It'll be our secret."

Until she fart-alarms herself and stinks us out, anyway.

Age

My little brother is 27 today. By his next birthday he'll have a little baby.

Some people my age (29) hide their years as if getting old was something to be ashamed of. Sometimes I fall into that trap too, but mostly I try to follow my mom's lead and remember that not everyone gets a 29th birthday, so I will count it as a blessing and enjoy every year as if it were my last.

Because one year it will be.

Faucet Face

I am getting over a cold, or I have had a cold for near-on a week but in varying degrees. My nose is in the awkward dripping phase where I kinda want to just stick a wadded up Kleen-X in my nose and leave it there.

But that would be gross, so I won't.

Mirrors

Is it too cheesy if I walk down the aisle to Justin Timberlake's "Mirrors"?

Because I really like that song.

Even though I know it's probably going to be a very popular wedding song and I'd have to let go of being unique in my wedding song choice.

Hair

I've never sat under one of these hair dryers before. I feel like I should be an old lady getting my hair blued and permed.

And now I'm sleepy. It's so warm in here, with the air swirling gently around my head.

Content

I finished and mailed our taxes today.

We had a productive day.

And now we're vegging in our evening, happy in each others company, my biggest question whether "others" needs an apostrophe.

Nerves

I hate pre-audition nerves.

The end.

Confusion

"You know that bar over the stairs? Yesterday I grabbed it with my hands and put one leg over it!" He chortles at me with a goofy grin and I smile in a way that I hope doesn't look too puzzled.

Sometimes when people tell me things I get confused as to why I'm supposed to care. Had we been talking about climbing random objects in the museum? I don't think so.

Why was that anecdote so funny?

Is he the socially awkward one or am I?

Emerging

For the last month I've spent what seems like every waking moment either at work or at rehearsal/shows.  It's been fun but what a busy, hectic time!

I don't think S. and I can do another run like that - with both of us gone all the time the house kinda fell apart.  No clean dishes, no clean clothes, no-one to hang out with Z...she started moping and shaking every time we brushed our teeth, thinking we were going to leave her again.  She's pretty good at noticing our 'leaving the house' routine, although her 'cause and effect' logic is a little faulty.

But I'm glad we had the chance to do the show anyway, and I'm glad we had a chance to see what happens to us when we're both that crazy busy.

For the record, what happens is we fight a lot.  Now we know.  I think next time we get in that situation we'll be able to manage it better.

I hope.

I'm going into rehearsals for another show starting tonight.  A little part of me thinks I'm insane because I'm also trying to plan a wedding and get all of that stuff done.  Another part of me thinks it's just another month and then I'll be into a regular schedule again.

I think it'll be fine.

I've also had three different stories floating through my mine, all ones I've worked on and need to finish.  It's been impossible to find time to write - here or anywhere else - and I've noticed it.  It's pulling my brain into little pieces.  I wonder if it's been beneficial because I've put time into thinking; maybe it's been detrimental because I haven't caught all of my thoughts on the page.

So I'm going to go capture some of those thoughts.

Über Busy

I'm super tired.

I'm also super busy.

The other day my mother said, "At least you aren't stressed about all your wedding details being perfect." I said, "No, my stress is that the details happen at all."

That's how busy I've been.

But at least it's been fun stuff to be busy with.

Go see live theatre. It's a rush, and makes my extra-curricular work worth it!

A Type

This lady brings children here a few times a week. She must run a day home, as they aren't her children.

She micro manages their play. "You can't play checkers, you're too small." So don't play checkers; play with the pieces and make your own game. "Don't stand on there again." Never mind that they can't reach the games if they sit. "Tires are black, and you should colour all of the car blue." The kid is four. Let him colour a rainbow car with purple tires if he wants to!

It is thought provoking to listen to. What parts of my own life do I needlessly try to manage into perfection instead of relaxing and enjoying the beauty of "chaos"?

I don't know, but perhaps now I'll find out.

Oscar

I didn't watch the Oscars last night.  I played Far Cry 3 instead.

Does that make me a terrible actor?

In other news, my wrists hurt so much I can barely type.

Probably because of the Far Cry playing.

Now if only I played the guitar...

I kind of wish I was a rock star.

No particular reason, I just think it would be cool.

What We Leave Behind

I've been reading my great-grandfather's autobiography.  I didn't even know he'd written one until this Christmas.  I was visiting my grandpa when his sister came by - a sister I didn't even know lived in Alberta, much less the same home as my grandparents - with seven copies of their dad's life story that she didn't know what to do with.

Needless to say I took one off her hands.

It's been interesting.  The pieces of my family history have been passed down to me in a tangled ball, some sections clear and linear and others so knotted up that I have no idea if they actually belong to the same string of history or are just a little scrap that got caught up in the mess somehow.  I've been able to sort out some of the stories now; like, Grandpa didn't work in a CO labour camp during WWII, but Great-Grandpa was a supervisor at one.  And we might not be German after all, but Prussian or Polish; thanks to the names, dates and birthplaces Great-Grandpa drops in the beginning of the book, a co-worker of mine was able to find baptism records for probable (Prussian) ancestors dating back to the 1600s.

Very cool.

It's making me wonder what I'm leaving for future generations.  What story will they be able to piece together out of the bits of yarn that make up my life?  Will it make sense?  Will it be interesting, or will it be a list of dates and names, purchases and addresses?  Will any of my thoughts be left behind or am I just leaving data?

I think, given that I've kept a fairly steady journal since I was 6, that there will be plenty of my thoughts to go around for years to come.

But it's still making me ponder my daily choices, when I realize that somebody, someday, may look back and feel pride - or regret - that they are related to me.

Smarter Than a Fourth Grader

I wonder what children learn in school these days.  Today a grade four student asked me what the word racist meant.  (I had described Adolf Hitler as a racist.)  Is it a good thing or a bad thing that she didn't know the word?

I don't know.

Is it normal for grade four students to not know what rationing is, or what the word solidarity means, or what WWII is, or what the Great Depression was?  Or that you do not actually need literal sugar to live, because blood sugar isn't created by actual sugar?  They don't know that we grow grapes in Canada or what molasses is, or what soap was made out of, or what nitroglycerin is used for.

Is it terrible that they don't know that we have sheep in Canada, or that silk comes from silk worms, but they know what allies are and what bullets are made out of?

I have no idea.

I don't know when I learned these things but it feels like I've always known them.

Sometimes I wish I remembered that moment of dawning realization that must have occurred for me when I first gained these pieces of information.

And sometimes I just wish grade four students knew more than they do so I could communicate with them more effectively.

My Day

My neck has been twinge-ing all day, as in, I move my head at all and my neck says, haha, nope.  Bad idea.

I must have slept on it funny, although I don't remember kinking my head completely over to one side at any point during the night like an exorcist's nightmare.

It didn't stop me from being productive, it just slowed me down.  As in, I only cleaned one bathroom instead of both of them.  I walked slower on the way to the dog park.  I had to take more ergonomic breaks from the computer while researching immigrant cultures (and really, who's bright idea was it to make a display about immigrant cultures?  Oh right.  Mine).

And now, when Z. wants to destroy my Stephen King novels until I get her another facecloth to ruin (she's already killed three of them), I'm going to have to compromise and get her to play with something else.  I just don't think I can play tug-of-war right now.

****

I also made delicious, delicious Vietnamese noodle bowls for supper.  I am super impressed with myself over this.  Mine had shrimp and S. had chicken - he doesn't like shrimp.  I've never bought or prepared shrimp before so I went with pre-cooked, frozen ones.  They were pretty good, speaking as an amateur shrimp eater.  The whole meal was fricken amazing, speaking as someone with a lot of experience eating food.

****

I am getting way too interested in television series on Netflix.  I've got several on the go - The 4400, Sherlock, House of Cards.  I've made a deal with myself.  If I haven't written at least one scene (or, if I'm working on my novel, if I haven't made steady progress for an hour) then I can't watch Netflix.  So far it's working.  I'll get that damn play finished yet.  The novel too.  Watching television is a strong motivator.  Who knew?

And on that note, I'm going to go write another scene.  House of Cards won't watch itself, you know.

Little Whiner

Today I learned to not go on a crying jag when I have a head cold.  My head hurts so much, and when I'm sick I'm more emotional anyway and things get blown out of proportion very, very quickly.

Sorry, S.  And sorry, Z., for making you feel like you had to hide out under the couch until I got my shit under control and went and had a nap.

Of course, I'm not the one sitting in front of the bookshelf whining gently because I can't figure out how to eat the little wooden sign that says, "If you want the best seat in the house, move the dog".

Cant Spel, Need Mor Zzzzzs

I feel like crap.

I've been sick all day - not super sick, but light-headed, heart-racing-with-activity, headache, achy joints, hours of extra napping sick.

So I guess that's kinda super sick, just no puking or anything.

I wish Z. could understand why I'm not a ball of playful energy right now.  Instead, she's doing what she usually does when she feels ignored.  She's trying to remove the cushion from the couch (it's more of a love seat, really, and has one large cushion) and failing that she'll try to rip a hole in it.  Which I just spelled 'whole'.

I can't spell worth a damn when I'm under the weather.

Which yes, I almost spelled 'whether'.

I think I need another nap.

Shave It For Later

I just cut S.'s hair.  There is a reason I am not a hairdresser.

I had to shave a mohawk into his head for a show he's in.  It's a slightly crooked mohawk.  S. abhors everything not straight, not symmetrical, not organized and orderly; and now his head belongs to the dark side of chaos.  I'd insert an evil laugh but, you know, it's for a show and it probably should be straight.  I did my best!  Le sigh.

I once shaved my own head by accident.  How does one shave their head by accident, you ask?  For all I know I mentioned this incident on here already but I'll regale you once more with the horror of the experience.

I had really short hair at the time.  Or rather, I'd had really short hair, and it was starting to grow out.  I wanted it back at that inch, inch-and-a-half-tops length, but I was unemployed and didn't have the money for a visit to the salon.  I looked towards the clippers under the sink for my answer.

That was such a bad idea.

I was so naive, so unaware of how clippers work.  I thought that if you used the 1.5 inch guard, your hair would be a tidy 1.5 inches in length, and presto, I'd have my cute little hair cut back.

Yeah.  No.  That's not how clipper guards work.

I learned that almost immediately, as I cut a two-inch swath into the front of my hair and gasped in shock at the near-naked scalp that appeared.

Oh.  My.  God.  What have I done?

I had to shave the rest then, you see.  Z. was still a wee pup, watching me from in her kennel outside the bathroom.  I turned to her and said, "Well, let's hope my head doesn't have any funny lumps on it."

It doesn't.

I had to text S. and tell him I hadn't had a nervous breakdown, I just didn't know how clippers worked.

And if he talked to you about his hair tonight, he'd say I still didn't.

No Spoilers Here, Please

I have had no deep thoughts today.

I started The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers.  I got to Gandalf kicking Wormtongue out of Theoden's hall.  Sorry if that spoiled anything for anyone.  The books were published in the 50's, the movies came out ten years ago; I hope people are familiar with them by now.

When I was in my first year of theatre school, one of my classmates would freak the hell out whenever we started talking about the LoTR movies, because he hadn't seen them and was determined to read the books first.  He went the whole 8 months of school freaking out because he never 'got around' to reading the books, although I had them and offered to let him read them (which is kind of a big deal, I don't lend my books out easily).  Years later, after we'd lost touch, I ran into him again.  He said he no longer freaked out over 'spoilers' for stories that were 50 years old.  He figured he'd had his chance to discover the story, and if he hadn't yet that was just too bad for him.  (For the record, he hadn't yet, and no, I don't know what was wrong with him either.)

But I totally agree with him.  I mean, I'll try to respect stories for people who haven't experienced them yet because I like it when stories are saved for me to experience blindly the first time.  But, as science has shown, spoilers don't actually spoil your experience of something*, and quite frankly, some things I've had my chance to discover and just haven't done it.  So if it gets ruined, well, I should have been more proactive.

Or just put my hands over my ears and yelled, "Lalalalalalalalala I can't hear you" really, really loudly.

* I read about this on Cracked, and do you think I can find the article now to link to?  No.  No, I can not.  So you'll just have to go and read every single Cracked article yourself until you find it.

Or just Google something about science and spoilers and not ruining things, I guess.  Let me know if that works.  I'd like to know.