I'm battling some insomnia. I've mentioned this before. It's been a lifelong affliction. It comes and goes and when it goes, I forget I ever had a problem. But when it returns, I then recall all the eras of my life I just could not get my sorry ass to sleep.
I'm getting about four hours a night. I'm doing my best not to nap, so I'll be tied at night. But then something strange happens to me around 11:30 or so. I get this amazing second wind and I feel like staying up is very, very important. I don't intellectually agree, but a deep-seeded urge to stay up takes over. Then around 2:00 I want to sleep. Sometime around 4:00 I get there, sometimes later.
It's quite literally exhausting.
Over time the things I've discovered that will help me sleep have always changed. Sometimes it was another person in the room for comfort. Then it was being alone to have total silence. The door open. The door closed. Total darkness. A light on from the bathroom. Music playing. A fan blowing. A glass of milk. No fluids for hours before bed. Watching a subtitled movie. Not watching anything.
The formula for falling sleep is as elusive and ever-changing for me as how to stimulate the clitoris is for the average teenage boy.
Bloody hell on a stick.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Iceland
I want to go to Iceland.
I was working on a show about Iceland and I got interested and jazzed about the idea of going there. It's not that far away and it's totally different than anywhere else I've ever been. They're descendants of Vikings. Their farming is purer and more ecologically sound than our farming, which means better food. They are living on volcanoes. They have a restaurant that heats everything with volcano steam and they have volcano hot springs. They have geysers and one highway that goes around the whole island, and they have killer whales and puffins.
Neat, right? Apparently it's not that expensive to go either. It would still be really ambitious, though. I'm planning a trip to Vancouver to see my family at Easter. I'm planning to go to a wedding in California in May. My cousin who just got engaged has informed me she wants a destination wedding somewhere like Mexico. So yeah. It'd be an act of extreme frugality to be able to make all these trips.
But I went practically nowhere in 2009 and that was a little depressing. Travel has long been my thing that I do. I'm no globetrotter or extreme backpacker, but I do like to get out there. I like to change things up temporary-like. Some people change jobs or relationships or go back to school or whathaveyou. I like being in new locations.
Huh. Maybe that's why I am constantly moving. Like, every one or sometimes two years. I hate doing it. But I do enjoy growing into a new home. I make so little progress everywhere else in my life, maybe moving and travel keep things fresh. Thinking on it, it's a little easier to feel like you're moving forward in life and not just aging and accumulating if you're focusing on where you're physically going to be next.
I'd like the traditional things in life: marriage, my own home and children. And ironically all of those things don't lend themselves too well to packing up and moving and travelling around. But if I had those things or at least was moving in the direction of those things, maybe I'd feel less wanderlust. I already have a job I like and friends who matter and a relationship that makes me happy. I just feel ready for more. And without that more to focus on in my present, it is enjoyable to think about where I want to go next.
And right now it's Iceland. McPal and his boyfriend brought it up last time I saw them. Might be a golden opportunity.
I was working on a show about Iceland and I got interested and jazzed about the idea of going there. It's not that far away and it's totally different than anywhere else I've ever been. They're descendants of Vikings. Their farming is purer and more ecologically sound than our farming, which means better food. They are living on volcanoes. They have a restaurant that heats everything with volcano steam and they have volcano hot springs. They have geysers and one highway that goes around the whole island, and they have killer whales and puffins.
Neat, right? Apparently it's not that expensive to go either. It would still be really ambitious, though. I'm planning a trip to Vancouver to see my family at Easter. I'm planning to go to a wedding in California in May. My cousin who just got engaged has informed me she wants a destination wedding somewhere like Mexico. So yeah. It'd be an act of extreme frugality to be able to make all these trips.
But I went practically nowhere in 2009 and that was a little depressing. Travel has long been my thing that I do. I'm no globetrotter or extreme backpacker, but I do like to get out there. I like to change things up temporary-like. Some people change jobs or relationships or go back to school or whathaveyou. I like being in new locations.
Huh. Maybe that's why I am constantly moving. Like, every one or sometimes two years. I hate doing it. But I do enjoy growing into a new home. I make so little progress everywhere else in my life, maybe moving and travel keep things fresh. Thinking on it, it's a little easier to feel like you're moving forward in life and not just aging and accumulating if you're focusing on where you're physically going to be next.
I'd like the traditional things in life: marriage, my own home and children. And ironically all of those things don't lend themselves too well to packing up and moving and travelling around. But if I had those things or at least was moving in the direction of those things, maybe I'd feel less wanderlust. I already have a job I like and friends who matter and a relationship that makes me happy. I just feel ready for more. And without that more to focus on in my present, it is enjoyable to think about where I want to go next.
And right now it's Iceland. McPal and his boyfriend brought it up last time I saw them. Might be a golden opportunity.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Frustration
The Chickflickathon continues and it's on day four. It's been a really nice way to end the evening. Each night I settle happily into the couch and look forward to a movie that's going to give me an emotional experience.
I went to a massage school today and got an hour-long massage for $35. I'm pretty much going to make this a part of my life. I mean, $35? Come on. Awesomeness. It undid all the damage I did to myself hovering over my Wii controllers playing Harvest Moon.
Currently what's totally pissing me off is Stephen Harper. The guy prorogued parliament again. Like, come on. The first time was to avoid a vote of no confidence, which was lame of him. If you have a minority government, you are subject to criticisms and challenges of the opposition, who have the power to come together and give you your walking papers. Which is fair. When the majority of the country did not vote for you and your party, you don't deserve free reign to do as you like.
But he does. This time he's prorogued parliament because he doesn't want to answer to the allegations of torture against Afghan detainees. For all his hoopla about government transparency, he's now hiding. He didn't even honour Canada's traditions by going to visit the Governor General to ask permission. He called her on the phone. Anything short of a formal visit may as well be a text message.
There's also over 30 bills on the table. He's taking two months off when there is still business at hand, and worst of it is many bills will be wiped and will have to be brought up anew, which wastes time. And our taxes pay for this, pay for what is not happening.
What really grinds my goat is the fact that over 60% of Canadian voters voted for parties other than the Conservatives and our voices are supposed to be heard in parliament, in the House of Commons, and now they're not for two months while our PM sits back and watches the Olympics. Harper won't allow his party to be held accountable. It's bullshit.
There's protests planned across the country for January 23. I'll be there.
I went to a massage school today and got an hour-long massage for $35. I'm pretty much going to make this a part of my life. I mean, $35? Come on. Awesomeness. It undid all the damage I did to myself hovering over my Wii controllers playing Harvest Moon.
Currently what's totally pissing me off is Stephen Harper. The guy prorogued parliament again. Like, come on. The first time was to avoid a vote of no confidence, which was lame of him. If you have a minority government, you are subject to criticisms and challenges of the opposition, who have the power to come together and give you your walking papers. Which is fair. When the majority of the country did not vote for you and your party, you don't deserve free reign to do as you like.
But he does. This time he's prorogued parliament because he doesn't want to answer to the allegations of torture against Afghan detainees. For all his hoopla about government transparency, he's now hiding. He didn't even honour Canada's traditions by going to visit the Governor General to ask permission. He called her on the phone. Anything short of a formal visit may as well be a text message.
"Hey Michaelle
Want 2 prorogue 4 2 months.
y or n?
TTYL"
Want 2 prorogue 4 2 months.
y or n?
TTYL"
There's also over 30 bills on the table. He's taking two months off when there is still business at hand, and worst of it is many bills will be wiped and will have to be brought up anew, which wastes time. And our taxes pay for this, pay for what is not happening.
What really grinds my goat is the fact that over 60% of Canadian voters voted for parties other than the Conservatives and our voices are supposed to be heard in parliament, in the House of Commons, and now they're not for two months while our PM sits back and watches the Olympics. Harper won't allow his party to be held accountable. It's bullshit.
There's protests planned across the country for January 23. I'll be there.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
The paw print
The Dude is still on vacation time and likely will be all week. So I sent him on an errand to the vet clinic to retrieve Jerry's ashes, which had just recently arrived. I was expecting a small cardboard box with a plastic bag. I was going to scatter them somewhere or give them to my brother to scatter.
When I opened the box, which was a light blue, it contained an urn. The urn was stoney and sealed with a stiff ribbon around the neck holding a sold bronzy heart with "Jerry" engraved across it. It's small, beautiful and I shed tears when I held it. I didn't think it would mean so much to me to have his ashes in such a sweet little urn with his name on it.
But that wasn't all that was in the box. Inside was a silky navy drawstring bag. I opened it up and found a flat oval terracotta imprint of Jerry's paw. That did it. If I was moved by the urn, I was weeping over the paw print. The Dude and I held it and discussed ways to keep it safe and yet somewhere we could see it. We'll think of something soon.
I don't regret my choice to cremate him, not at all. I thought it was a little expensive, but didn't want to possibly ever regret not doing it so I shrugged off the cost and forgot about it. Now I see why it was so much. But I know I'll do it again when it's Smokey's time, hopefully a really long time from now. I can see the urn from here. It gives me a little feeling of peace knowing there's something of my little Jerry still here with me. And that damn paw print. God almighty. My heart broke in a sweet way over seeing that.
Emotions are in focus around these parts lately. We started our chickflickathon yesterday with The Notebook, and today was When Harry Met Sally. Since the Dude has already seen Shakespeare in Love, we're subbing in The Piano. It really is a lovely way to end an evening with a movie that makes you feel something.
When I opened the box, which was a light blue, it contained an urn. The urn was stoney and sealed with a stiff ribbon around the neck holding a sold bronzy heart with "Jerry" engraved across it. It's small, beautiful and I shed tears when I held it. I didn't think it would mean so much to me to have his ashes in such a sweet little urn with his name on it.
But that wasn't all that was in the box. Inside was a silky navy drawstring bag. I opened it up and found a flat oval terracotta imprint of Jerry's paw. That did it. If I was moved by the urn, I was weeping over the paw print. The Dude and I held it and discussed ways to keep it safe and yet somewhere we could see it. We'll think of something soon.
I don't regret my choice to cremate him, not at all. I thought it was a little expensive, but didn't want to possibly ever regret not doing it so I shrugged off the cost and forgot about it. Now I see why it was so much. But I know I'll do it again when it's Smokey's time, hopefully a really long time from now. I can see the urn from here. It gives me a little feeling of peace knowing there's something of my little Jerry still here with me. And that damn paw print. God almighty. My heart broke in a sweet way over seeing that.
Emotions are in focus around these parts lately. We started our chickflickathon yesterday with The Notebook, and today was When Harry Met Sally. Since the Dude has already seen Shakespeare in Love, we're subbing in The Piano. It really is a lovely way to end an evening with a movie that makes you feel something.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
La fatigue
My kingdom for regular, normal sleeping patterns. I envy people who can fall asleep simply by resting their head down on a pillow. I've never had that ability. I wish I did. It's almost 2:00 a.m. now and I'm tired, but not sleepy.
The Dude is asleep beside me on the couch, Smokey is likewise in dreamland and I'm on the internet. I think my natural rhythms are funky. Back in college I had a summer job that had me up at 6:00 a.m. I was a chamber maid and the days were arduous and unforgiving (and gross). I'd be hopelessly exhausted by the end of my shift. I'd still go to bed at 11:30 or so. And once the job was over, I reverted to my 1:00 a.m. or later bedtime within days.
When I first started my job I worked the evening shift for three months, 4:00 to 12:00. I'd get home around half past midnight and stay up till 4:00, sleep in till noon and essentially live in a social-free fog where the only benefit was always being well rested.
I need to work on Tuesday. How I'm going to shock my body awake for my shift, which takes place at a decent hour, 8:00, is a concern. I'm thinking mega cups of Joe. Like, epic coffee consumption. Maybe I could induce a sugar/caffeine crash to coincide with midnight tomorrow. Maybe I'm screwed and my first day back is going to be utter ass.
Blargh.
Perhaps I'll throw on a subtitled movie. Those tend to knock me out late at night.
Sigh. Le sigh.
The Dude is asleep beside me on the couch, Smokey is likewise in dreamland and I'm on the internet. I think my natural rhythms are funky. Back in college I had a summer job that had me up at 6:00 a.m. I was a chamber maid and the days were arduous and unforgiving (and gross). I'd be hopelessly exhausted by the end of my shift. I'd still go to bed at 11:30 or so. And once the job was over, I reverted to my 1:00 a.m. or later bedtime within days.
When I first started my job I worked the evening shift for three months, 4:00 to 12:00. I'd get home around half past midnight and stay up till 4:00, sleep in till noon and essentially live in a social-free fog where the only benefit was always being well rested.
I need to work on Tuesday. How I'm going to shock my body awake for my shift, which takes place at a decent hour, 8:00, is a concern. I'm thinking mega cups of Joe. Like, epic coffee consumption. Maybe I could induce a sugar/caffeine crash to coincide with midnight tomorrow. Maybe I'm screwed and my first day back is going to be utter ass.
Blargh.
Perhaps I'll throw on a subtitled movie. Those tend to knock me out late at night.
Sigh. Le sigh.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Smokey's Perspective
Life as a house cat continues, if house cats could play Nintendo Wii. I've been wasting away my life in front of Harvest Moon and vegetating. I look like hell, the weather is too damn cold to be out in anyway, and I'm sleeping in guilt-free. I love vacation. I probably would hate myself and my life if this were my daily routine, but it being a temporary reprieve from work, it's totally rocking my socks.
The Dude is being remarkably cool with my monopolization of the TV. Which is good, because I'm pretty deeply entrenched in HM addiction right now and there's no stopping me.
I've been observing Smokey lately and he's been taking over a number of Jerry's little quirks and behaviours. One is sleeping under the covers. The Dude always let him sleep beside him under the sheets at night, and now Smokey seems to think that with Jerry gone, this is a privilege he must partake in. It kind of bums me out because this means less Smokey time at night. But I'm getting a little better sleep. Such a tough call between sleep and Smokey cuddles.
At our New Years party (more of a light gathering) he didn't pull out the stops like Jerry, though. He did grace us with his disdainful indifference periodically through the night, but was nothing the host Jerry used to be, who would travel lap to lap to accept whatever love he felt he had coming to him. It made me miss my little guy. He was a real warm kitty.
Smokey's also been burying his litter leavings less and less. Jerry used to be like that, he buried nothing, and sweet merciful hell on a stick, his shite stank. This may sound obvious, but no. You have no idea. It was uber rank, like a rotten egg took a dump in a sulfur mine. I don't know how such an adorable little kitty made something so foul. And of course this was his way of informing all of us that it was his house and we just lived there. Smokey now seems to believe this is true of him. At least his leavings aren't so objectionable. Not in comparison anyway.
So all in all I think he's adjusted to Jerry's absence. He has a new position in the house of top cat and while I think he still gets lonely, I've noticed he seems to enjoy his heightened status. He certainly likes not having to wait to eat until Jerry is done. Must be nice to be a cat in times like these. A person would have conflicted feelings about enjoying aspects of a companion's death. Not house cats, though. They miss you when they miss you, but damn if they don't enjoy your absence when it benefits them.
The Dude is being remarkably cool with my monopolization of the TV. Which is good, because I'm pretty deeply entrenched in HM addiction right now and there's no stopping me.
I've been observing Smokey lately and he's been taking over a number of Jerry's little quirks and behaviours. One is sleeping under the covers. The Dude always let him sleep beside him under the sheets at night, and now Smokey seems to think that with Jerry gone, this is a privilege he must partake in. It kind of bums me out because this means less Smokey time at night. But I'm getting a little better sleep. Such a tough call between sleep and Smokey cuddles.
At our New Years party (more of a light gathering) he didn't pull out the stops like Jerry, though. He did grace us with his disdainful indifference periodically through the night, but was nothing the host Jerry used to be, who would travel lap to lap to accept whatever love he felt he had coming to him. It made me miss my little guy. He was a real warm kitty.
Smokey's also been burying his litter leavings less and less. Jerry used to be like that, he buried nothing, and sweet merciful hell on a stick, his shite stank. This may sound obvious, but no. You have no idea. It was uber rank, like a rotten egg took a dump in a sulfur mine. I don't know how such an adorable little kitty made something so foul. And of course this was his way of informing all of us that it was his house and we just lived there. Smokey now seems to believe this is true of him. At least his leavings aren't so objectionable. Not in comparison anyway.
So all in all I think he's adjusted to Jerry's absence. He has a new position in the house of top cat and while I think he still gets lonely, I've noticed he seems to enjoy his heightened status. He certainly likes not having to wait to eat until Jerry is done. Must be nice to be a cat in times like these. A person would have conflicted feelings about enjoying aspects of a companion's death. Not house cats, though. They miss you when they miss you, but damn if they don't enjoy your absence when it benefits them.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Lists
Today is a day of lists. First, a small chronological recap of 2009, as I do every New Year.
Went to Vancouver to see my family
The Dude graduated college
Performed in the spring belly dance gala
Played in charity road hockey tournament
Moved to the new apartment
Did the Ovarian Cancer Walk
Dude and I threw our first party together
Performed in the winter belly dance gala
Jerry passed
Stayed home for Christmas for the first time
2009 was also peppered with lots of movies, fun times with friends, and other people's big news, like a cousin having a baby, another cousin's wife getting pregnant, another cousin getting engaged, and the Dude's stepbrother getting engaged and buying a house. No big news like that for us, but we've been talking about 2010 being a more important year for us.
To kick off the new year, I came upon this guy via another friend's blog and the Toronto Star, and the Dude and I are taking up the challenge. This will make January plenty of fun for me. As for the Dude, time will tell. Though part of the reason I love him is he isn't a gruff emotionless man's man. I think he'll do fine. I was pretty impressed that he was willing to go along with this. Here is the current list of chick flicks we'll be partaking in starting the 14th (we're ignoring a few of the guy's rules for our own happiness. A. Better selection of movies, and B. We'll be done in time for his birthday this way).
The Time Traveller's Wife
The Notebook
The Joy Luck Club
Away From Her
Love Story
Bridges of Madison County
Beaches
The English Patient
Miss Potter
Tristan + Isolde
The Family Stone
Dear Frankie
Atonement
PS I Love You
The Way We Were
The Secret Life Of Bees
The Women
27 Dresses
New Moon
Fried Green Tomatoes
Little Women
Chocolat
Mona Lisa Smile
Steel Magnolias
White Oleander
Terms of Endearment
Say Anything
The Piano
When Harry Met Sally
Ya-Ya Sisterhood
Our main chick flick criteria is that they are movies he has never seen, otherwise there would be some changes in this list to include other well known female favourites. I think we're going to begin with Love Story. We start January 14th. Wish us luck!
Went to Vancouver to see my family
The Dude graduated college
Performed in the spring belly dance gala
Played in charity road hockey tournament
Moved to the new apartment
Did the Ovarian Cancer Walk
Dude and I threw our first party together
Performed in the winter belly dance gala
Jerry passed
Stayed home for Christmas for the first time
2009 was also peppered with lots of movies, fun times with friends, and other people's big news, like a cousin having a baby, another cousin's wife getting pregnant, another cousin getting engaged, and the Dude's stepbrother getting engaged and buying a house. No big news like that for us, but we've been talking about 2010 being a more important year for us.
To kick off the new year, I came upon this guy via another friend's blog and the Toronto Star, and the Dude and I are taking up the challenge. This will make January plenty of fun for me. As for the Dude, time will tell. Though part of the reason I love him is he isn't a gruff emotionless man's man. I think he'll do fine. I was pretty impressed that he was willing to go along with this. Here is the current list of chick flicks we'll be partaking in starting the 14th (we're ignoring a few of the guy's rules for our own happiness. A. Better selection of movies, and B. We'll be done in time for his birthday this way).
Ya-Ya Sisterhood
Our main chick flick criteria is that they are movies he has never seen, otherwise there would be some changes in this list to include other well known female favourites. I think we're going to begin with Love Story. We start January 14th. Wish us luck!
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