I wasn't sure what to expect from the new Lonelygirl15 videos now that they have officially been outed and Jessica Rose (who plays "Bree") and Yousef (who plays "Daniel" and who's last name I forget) have been interviewed on MTV. I also wasn't sure how I would react to the videos either.

I have found the production so far rather lackluster. The "My first kiss" video remained in the same category as past videos of Bree's room but that videoblog but the "Learning to drive" video have lacked the same tension/fun aspects that the first videos did. Or, perhaps in my knowledge that it is a real production and not just a girl and a boy having fun with a webcam, I've lost interest. Because, for me atleast, not really knowing, was part of the appeal.

Embalming fluid and other fun fluids

I went to ma Tante Beatrice's wake last Thursday. It was a spoonful of awkward served with a heaping side of guilt.
My godmother took my arm and showed me her dead mother: " Voici ma maman". I didn't know what to do or say, I just stared at Beatrice's dead body, thinking of all the chemicals inside of her and wondering why she didn't look more waxy. Thanks to the show Six Feet Under all I could imagine was the embalming fluid being pumped into her frail frame. I think my mother turned me away to introduce me to family members I hadn't yet met.
That image haunted me until Saturday night.
Embalming fluid. That was all I could think about.
It wasn't a useless thought process though. I found the dead body really creepy so I don't think that I would ever want to be presented as a preserved dead carcas to cry over. Except if that is what my family would want at the time.
I didn't go to the fruneral, but I did make it to the post-fruneral-meet-and-greet-in-a-church-bingo-basement. And there I met a seemingly pleasant family, who had a new baby daughter. She was 6 weeks old, and so perfect. I can't remember the last time I held a baby. She was so fragile. It was a great feeling, and for a while, I forgot about embalming fluid, and all I could think about was her life as a clean slate, her unrealised potential. I asked the mother about her newest daughter and then asked how many other children she had. She had she had had five children but 3 of them died. Inside of her. All a week or two before she gave birth to them. So that is why this daughter was so tiny, premature so assure her own umbilical cord wouldn't kill her like what had happenned with the others. I have never seen a woman carrying so much grief (no pun intended), and yet so happy. The beautiful thing was seeing how much love there was to the baby from her older brother, he kissed her and held her and played with the little hair she had.
Later, I didn't cry over Beatrice, but I did for the three unborn babies.
___________________________________________________________________
A few hours later I boarded a train to Kingston. This weekend was, after all, Homecoming weekend.
Unfortunately we didn't make it to pancake keggers or the game, but once about 4pm hit, the day got better after getting quickly drunk in a bar to ease my sorrows. Then I went shopping. Don't drink and shop y'all.
I didn't do too much damage, but I just bought anything I felt like (new Sam Roberts CD, old NIN cd, t-shirt at the GAP and a small perfume). Good thing the shops closed at 6, otherwise my bags would have no doubt multiplied.
Homecoming evening was probably the best homecoming I've had, which was unexpected surprise. There was no animosity, or flipped cars and the negative engergy of Homecoming '05 seemed far, far away. The number of cops bordered on ridiculous but I didn't see any bad behaviour on their part either. Unlike last year there seemed to be an air of respect for students, and policemen. The volunteers were polite and not pushy, and I appreciate everyone's efforts to have peaceful and successful homecoming celebrations.
I'll also make one thing clear, I didn't really drink at all during the night. Ok, so maybe Don and I stole some beer from the Queen's Bands party that we crashed, but not enough to get drunk off of. I was, along with my tag team for the night, Don and Alexis, a vision of sobriety. That didn't intrude on our fun, but probably helped us keep having fun till 4am. Alexis made a new friend by just randomly eating his poutine and we all ran into a ridiculous amount of people we all knew. Homecoming this year was basically a meet-and-greet in the street. Oh, and getting onto the roof of the JDUC and catching couples have sex in the JDUC... hahahha.
Sunday brunch I got to see Nick (who now drinks tea?) and caught up on what was going on at school, and I get the impression he's having an amazing time. I think Engineering is perfect for him. :)
I think I really needed the high that this weekend gave me after the somber tone of last week.
For someone who tries to avoid the personal in their blog, this is a remarkably personal and long post.

the issue of bad sex

A few weeks ago, a friend of mine gushed about a new guy, how much they had in common and how funny/outgoing/great he was... etc etc...
And after a recent breakup of hers that was particularly heartbreaking, I was happy for her instead of wanting to throw up a little in my mouth.

Let's fastforward to a few weeks later.

Now their honeymoon stage is over, and they seem to be over as well. I haven't talked to her extensively about it, but the problem seems to be that "bad sex ruined everything".

I wonder what she could mean by "bad sex". Was it awkward/uncomfortable/did he come faster than a 15 year old? Was it boring? Did have sex like a jackrabbit?

I don't know. But I am very curious.

No matter what Canada's favorite grandma says about good sex and communication, I think that sometimes bad sex is unsolvable - my guess is that it is somewhat like just not getting along with someone without any particular reason. If there is no sexual chemistry, what do you do? Try again? what if you fail? Avoid sex and then break up because things are awkward?

I believe that having sex can either bring you closer to someone, it can also reveal the superficial nature of your relationship and make you realise that your relationship is probably going no where (but is the sex is atleast ok, why not just keep at it until it dies naturally?) and it can also "ruin everything". Ok, so sex can do many many more things than that, but I am generalising for the hell of it...

Although I have not had much "bad" sex (maybe thanks to never having sex with strangers either), I recognise it as a red flag. For me, it's mostly a sign of the beginnings of an emotional detachment between the two people concerned. But what if you just don't "fit" with someone? I guess that is almost more frustrating and hurtful than not finding someone you "click" with emotionally.

Then again, sex is bad for different people for various reasons. Maybe an fetish fiend thinks vanilla sex is bad (or more likely unfulfilling). Whatever the reason, it must be frustrating.

*wish list*

I don't have an ipod or a cd player...
Well I had a cd player once upon a time, but that was long long ago.
I resisted buying an ipod for a long time mostly because I thought they were way too expensive and I didn't really appreciate the design.

But times have changed:

http://www.apple.com/ipodnano/
I could totally go for a pink, green or blue one of these...

OR
this is the coolest litte accessory ever:
http://www.apple.com/ipodshuffle/


Kudos to Apple for making their ipod line more fashionable and much more affordable.

And let's hope that my parents love me this xmas.

the guilty visitation

My Grandmother's sister died yesterday. That would make her my great-aunt, my mother's aunt, and my godmother's mother.

In a strange way I was almost waiting for someone to die, it had been a year since someone I knew died and well, that is a long time for me to go without an invitation to a fruneral. At 21, I've been to more frunerals than weddings, which isn't such a bad thing. I have what some people might call a morbid fascination with frunerals. I think how people act when they are at one reveals more about their character than when they are at weddings. What is more appropriate - saying you are sorry for their loss? giving them a hug? Unlike at weddings, not everything goes. You have to be able to read the grieving person to see even if it is appropriate to say anything. And then there is the question of being sincere. It's expected to be fake at a wedding, yet if you are at a fruneral, everyone wants to kick your ass. If I ever get serious about a guy and want to see if he'd fit in my family, I'll bring him to a fruneral instead of a wedding. It's more likely that someone I'm related too will die anyways.

Right, so back to Tante Beatrice.
I'll be honest, I never liked her much. I can't avoid this visitation (tomorrow) or fruneral (friday) because it is in Ottawa. Last night I was feeling overwhelmingly guilty because I realised I didn't feel bad at all that she was dead. It didn't affect me and most of what I knew about her was negative anyways. I felt so guilty that I called my Grandma Tess at 1 am (she stays up very late) and asked her how she was doing. We stayed on the phone until about 2:30am. I felt slightly better after hearing a few positive (yet rare) stories about her sister. How are we supposed to react to someone dying that we never really liked? I didn't really expect this overwhelming guilt, but maybe it stems from the fear of being completely indifferent about someone's death. Or maybe I'm terrified because now Tess is the eldest of her siblings who are still alive?

I phoned my mom today to check when she is coming in tomorrow etc.. and I told her about how I felt and she reassured me that she kind of felt the same way. She even laughed when I said " When an asshole is dead, I guess he's just a dead asshole ". I guess I have no reason to worry about having never cared much for someone and now are dead, because there isn't much I can do about it now.

It is much too fitting that I have been renting "Six Feet Under" recently.

Rejected/Accepted

With less than a month to go, and more than half a dozen cvs/cover letter sent... I am bracing myself for a slew of negative responses. Or, even worse, no response at all.

Applying for a job is a lot like a first date, you put your best foot forward, present yourself in a way that you think is irresistible only to get a "I'll call you, don't call me" response in both cases.

As Jerry Seinfeld put it, "A first date is like a job interview, except there is a chance that you'll be naked at the end of it".

And applying for a job can be just as tiring as going on a lot of bad dates (which are all too familiar territory). Except that I am the one more likely to reject possible candidates when I am dating. Only the most persistent actually get to the first date stage, and then it quickly tapers off of who will get to a second, third date.. etc...
I guess what I mostly don't like about applying for jobs is how powerless I am.
I didn't have this problem with my frist jobs - soccer ref, lifeguard at various places, first aid instructor, my intern position last summer... the positions were all guarenteed and I knew people who knew people so I didn't have to interview for them either.
It was more stressful trying to get volunteer positions at Queen's.

So this game of applying and waiting is all new to me!

Let's hope luck is on my side like it was this summer :)

Nietzsche's Amor Fati vs. Camus' hazard/nilhilsm

Yeah, I don't really know which one to subscribe too either.

I decided to add Alex Colville's To Prince Edward Island onto my growing list of works that I am writting about. Not knowing much about him, I picked up a book at NGC's library and started reading. In the introduction to a book about him, he stated that he liked Nietzsche's idea of Amor Fati (the love of fate) and then said that someone pointed out to him that he probably had more reason to love fate than most.
Upon reading more about him, things have turned out pretty well for Alex Colville. It doesn't seem like he was faced with much adversary for becoming an artist, he has a family, he has success. So his life experiences have led him to appreciate a certain philosopher's world view over another. Could someone who has been dealt a harder hand at life be able to appreciate Nietzsche's ideas as much as Colville seems too? My guess is, probably not.

I don't muse much about philosophy, as I hate to discuss topics of which I don't know enough about. Yet, since reading Colville's introduction I've thought about how people I know think about life, and what led them to think of it that way. It seems, in general, that our personal experiences dominate how we view the world. Yes, there is the question of religion, society and family. But aren't those all included in our "personal experiences"?

I haven't commited myself to liking one idea more than an other, as my life doesn't align well with any. When I start thinking life is nothing but random choas, I am meet with a series of undeniably fateful events. And vice-versa.

I have no conclusions.

the issues of public TP usage.

Although I appreciate their function, I hate using them.

Oh, public washrooms.

It isn't only the smell and cleaning that bothers me, but also the fact of using it at work. Running into your boss in the loo isn't the most gracious of things. Or having anyone walk in on you while you are checking out your ass in those pants you are wearing. I have even tried going to the washroom when I don't think anyone would be there so to avoid awkward talk while washing our hands. What are you supposed to talk about when this happens anyway? "Oh, by the way, your fly is still down?" or "Eww... please use soap?" Ok, maybe not, but that is usually what I feel like saying. Then there are the instances of entering the washroom at the same time as a co-worker, what do you do? No one wants to hear someone else pee.
What a headache.

I will only have had real success once I have not only an office, but my own washroom attached as to avoid this awkward washroom banter and dance.

on the wrong side of the tracks...

I was in Kingston, the ultimate university town, this weekend, dropping off the baby Cherry and setting him up in res a week before he begins his first engineering classes.
I think everything went smoothly, no one was really nervous - except for my brother, who claimed he was fine but I swear this is one of the first times I've ever seen him even slightly nervous and it isn't about sports. Rob T came over and even said "This a little weird, isn't it?", "Yeah" my brother replied. And that my friends, was their only vocal recognition of their feelings about their first day in res. My mother was more dramatic than usual but we've all become accustomed to that. And when we left baby Cherry he just waved his hand at us, in a manner of brushing us away and said "you may go now".

Oh, to be 17 and indifferent.

I stayed with my parents in a hotel and let them wine and dine me. Having someone else pay all the bills was a welcome change. I still met up with friends for both nights I was there and this allowed me to enjoy the best of both worlds. (ie expensive dinner out with family, then drinks with friends and still stay in a hotel and not on a ratty ghetto couch. )

One of theses evenings I stayed out rather late... got back to the hotel, promptly passed out and then woke up later with a full bladder and fully dressed.
My mother, heard me get up, but didn't bring it up that morning...

When she brought it up it was at a moment when I didn't think I'd even see her : at the train station. First I will clarify things: My parents brought up both cars so to bring up all the stuff my brother needs for his room, so evidently they went back to Toronto seperately. My dad had dropped me off, and I had already said goodbye to my mom... expecting not to see her for another 3 weeks.
The Kingston train station only has two platforms, which face each other - and I was waiting on the further one.
SO... I was surprised to see a crazy lady dancing on the other platform, trying to get peoples' attention. Then I realised it was my mother. Trying to get my attention. You'd almost think she was a middle child, not an only child.
Instead of cowering behind the newspaper, like I wanted too - I called over to her. I told her to come over, she said she didn't want to get a parking ticket, so she'd just talk to me over the train tracks. How classy. At this point I wished that I stayed behind my newspaper. So we "talk" (ie scream) back at one another with about 60 people listening/watching. I tried to end the conversation about 10 times, but she'd have none of it. I suppose it is harder than it seems to see both your "babies" (as she called me and the younger Cherry across the tracks) and leave them both in a weekend. Great, now everyone there knew that she wasn't just a crazy woman but that she had two children and was strangely posessive. And just when I thought it was over... she turned to me one last time and said "Alex, I heard you go to the washroom last night at 2am - were you OK??" I think she said this loudest of all.
For about 5 seconds I couldn't say anything, and looked around and realised that yes, everyont was listening (or pretending not too) and oh! there was the old head of Queen's Art History department. I ended up responding in French and said that I felt like knocking some sense into her and that yes, I was ok, thank you very much and now please go away.
She laughed and then a train passed by, and she was gone.

So parents will always humiliate their children, so matter what their age, or position at work, or anything for that matter. And I didn't have the chance to come from a nice WASPy family who never communicate, my mom wants to know everything. And she wants everyone else to know too.

I brought it up with her last night on the phone and again, she just laughed and mentioned other opportunities and life-moments she was looking forward too in which she could embarass me. She started talking about my wedding (which it seems she has already half planned!) and her grandchildren. I then suggested she get a job.

On grandchildren...
I told her vaguely what a guy I had met and got along with and he looked like. Then she said "Oh! Babies with orange hair! I always wants babies with orange hair! Look Alex, there is a baby over there who has orange hair!"

This went on all weekend.


I am not so sure about moving back home now.
Does anyone want to live with me (I'm thinking January 07?)
No seriously.
The pressure to have grandchildren is slowly going to kill my libido.

"It is better to wear something unflattering then something unfashionable" - Lean McLaren

Leah McLaren was writting about buying a pair of skinny jeans.

Until last Thursday I was adamently bucking this trend. I swore that it was a trend that favoured the Nicole Ritchies of the world and that it was not made for anyone heavier than 110 pounds or shorter than 5 foot 10.

Well.

It seems that my old routine that included a bi-daily walk through the mall when I was living in OttawaU Res made me a mall rat. Now I feel strange when I haven't seen the window dressings of my favorite stores or read the "must haves" section of LouLou magazine. Since moving to Ottawa I have definitely spent about 3-4 times as much on clothes as I did my whole 8 months in Kingston. My current shopping habits match what they were when I was in France. And how I have come to think echoes Leah McLaren's above quote (for the record, I've been reading her weekly article in the Globe for as long as I can remember...)

Ok, so I bought a pair of skinny jeans. At Guess. I went to Guess because, unlike most stores which cater to the ass-less/hip-less and thigh-less among us, Guess' jeans design usually recognise the existence of a woman's ass. Only until size 34 that is.

I remarkably fit into the first ones I tried on, a grey (tight, but not TOO tight like most skinny jeans) pair. The saleswoman convinced me they would stretch out a little thanks to the 2% stretch - so I indulged in an expensive dose of retail therapy and promised myself that if I doubted my purchase at all, that they'd be returned within the 30 day limit.

I am wearing them right now. Yes, at work. And yes, with high heels. I brought the jeans to Kingston this weekend to see what my mom thought and get some input. Well, I forgot that my mom is also a fashion and shopping slut (in the most non-negative way possible). And the jeans were the only full length pants I brought to a weekend in Kingston with rather horrid weather.

So I guess they are in my cupboard for good.

Oh, and I already have leggings. And a mini dress. So I'll have to wait until I get my next fashion fix.

If it makes me happy... then why do I have to give it up to quickly?

I got a call from my landlord today.
Initially, she had said that I had till September 15th to tell her if I wanted to stay... And to me, this was perfectly reasonable, because on top of applying to jobs in Toronto, I was also looking to stay in Ottawa if there was a suitable position at the gallery or otherwise. And in that case I would stay in my amazing condo. She asked me today (september 1st) to tell her if I intend to stay longer because she has someone who is willing to sign a 6 month lease.
I'll make it clear, I am in renter's heaven. I love this condo. I love the view, I love the layout, I love the price, I love that there only seems to be hot people living in the condo complex.
800 square feet which make my little piece of heaven.
I don't feel like I could ever go back to shitty apartments. Or shitty landlords. Or shitty views.
But somehow I think I will...
On October 1st it is planned that I move back home, into my parent's house. On October 1st I will give up my little piece of heaven to live with 2 parents who were empty nesters for a month. I'm slightly anxious and I wonder how they will react. Will they give me space? Will they be up in my face? Will they ask me to 'please move out so we can have fun'?
Actually, I think it will be fine. Living at home I'll be saving money faster than living in a 1200 + a month rent condo but the sacrifices will be numerous too.
I live across the street from Loeb's (think Ottawa's version of A&P with a dash of food basics flare), down the street from bars and clubs and restaurants and shops. I have a view of the market and I check the time by looking at the Peace Tower. I am a 5 min walk from the Rideau Centre, where most buses leave from, 15 min walk from the NGC (work), and 3 min walk away from Blockbuster (I don't have internet where I am so I make most nights Blockbuster nights when I don't feel like going out).
At home, I will be confined to a car/bus for transportation - a car which I don't have (or have money for... hell, who am I kidding I still need to get my full licence) - buses are reasonable but are a 10 min walk away from my house. Oh, and I don't even have a bike in Toronto because mine was stolen a year ago and I still haven't gotten a new one. (I just started renting one here at 90$ for 2 weeks... which I have to say is absolutely reasonable - Ottawa is graced with beautiful biking trails and everyone here seems to bike everywehre!)
Booo.

I'm really going to miss this place.
I've had the good fortune to make amazing friends and have one of the best summers of the past couple of years.

Hopefully my good fortune will continue when I move home - oh, and that I'll have a job!

PS
Something I'd added to my short list of life goals: buying a beautiful condo!