Boo! Hiss!

So, I'm a horrible person. I was tired and closed my eyes for a few minutes earlier, and then fell asleep. Tragically, I overslept for my movie date-type thing and now there's some guy sitting in some theatre fuming that I'm some thoughtless bitch that stood him up.

Whups. That sucks. It happens, but that sucks. We'll see how things shake down. A great start to my "new era of dating", though, no? I need a drink.

Remembering Oneself After the Great Forgetting

I don't know when the actual forgetting of myself began. I think I consciously knew I was sort of neglecting myself for a long time, but a lot of that began with what had to become a "new" normal after major changes in my life. My life different, I found myself doing different things under the guise of "me" time.

Once upon a world, though, the best kind of "me" day I could have would have included a hike, bike ride, or gym visit, followed by a cafe for some writing, possibly haunting a couple bookshops, and ending the day with groceries before presumably cooking myself a pretty good meal.

These days, those days are few and far between. Today, though, I've put the brakes on and that's precisely the day I'm having.

I honestly can't tell you the last time I regularly went to coffee shops to write. I just don't know. Years, probably. Years. That's likely the biggest change for the negative my life's taken these past few years. I've gotten away from the act of coffee shop writing. I'm the kind of person that once sat down with a coffee and a 400-page book. I started and finished the whole book in one day at a coffee shop. That was a pretty good day, too.

I don't know if I mentioned it, but I've decided to write a book. About what, well, trust me when I say it's going to be a huge journey for me. Today's coffee shop visit is for writing the bones of the book, as Anne Lamott would say. Realistically, I see this book consuming the next year to 18 months of my life.

To tell the truth, it scares the living hell out of me.

To write this book means I have to finally come to terms with a lot of the areas I've been trying to pretend don't afflict my life... like living out loud, embracing the inner vixen, saying what you think. Truth is, I've been trying to be all the things I've wanted to be, but it's been obvious I've been trying. Meaning, it's an effort, an act, a show. It's not really me because I don't believe it. I don't buy it, and to the more astute observer in my life, right now, I don't think I can sell it.

But that's what 2008's for. It's one thing to sit around quietly suspecting something about yourself, but it's another thing entirely to turn the lights on, point, and shout at it. Everything about myself has felt like a bad-fitting pair of jeans for a few years now. On the right person, it might do wonders, but on me it's needing a lot of work and just doesn't cut it.

And instead of sitting around thinking about it and letting it eat me up, I'm getting out there and doing something about it. I'm trying to change every area of my life in the next 12 months. From finance and fitness to sex and shopping, everything is getting an overhaul, and it starts today.

I've been sitting here taking deep breaths and feeling a little emotionally overwhelmed after just having a moment of realizing just how true the statement about my life feeling like bad jeans really happens to be, because I asked myself "Why does that bother you so much?" as I was writing, and then I actually heard myself answering "Because I know how good I can be." Having that moment, just realizing that that's the answer is a pretty beautiful and powerful moment.

I know how good I can be. And it's not about being good for you or her or him or them, it's about being that good for the person I plan to have a lifelong romance with. Myself.

It's about letting go of all the bullshit that's come my way in the last few years, the negative people, the misfortune, the bad timing, and realizing that life is infinitely bigger than this stupid soap operaesque corner of it I inhabit, and all I need to do is knock down a couple walls and I'll be right back in the beautiful swirl of it all:

Life. That mystery of all mysteries, the original all-you-can-eat buffet. Life. Fill me up and watch me burst with life.

It's like this nightmare I had once. You'll love my version of the nightmare, it's like Einstein and Dali getting together over beers, but I can't convey the Fincher-esque editing in my head that gives my dreams some crazy visuals. There I am, a sunny, beautiful day, walking along tall oceanside cliffs in PEI or Dover. There's a long fenceline over the top of the cliff, as far as the eye can see, and right behind me's a large sign reading "Point A". Off in the distance is a beautiful summit and spotting scope, and a sign that reads "Point B". Somehow I understand that my only goal is to get to Point B from Point A. I set off on my merry way. A few moments later, some old guy stops and asks me directions. I cheerily tell him how to get wherever, and then mosey on only to look up and see that Point B now seems a little farther away. Almost right away, someone else stops me to ask me to break a five. Grudgingly, I do. I continue walking. Point B is now twice as far away. The cycle continues. I start, someone stops me, and then I'm further and further away from what I really want until it seems I'm completely out of sight of Point B with a lineup of people wanting me, literally.

That's when, in real life, I woke up and wrote on a page next to bed. "Fuck off! It's my life! Let me live it. Solve your own problems!" I went back to sleep, and the next person that stopped me, I simply said no. Then I almost immediately reached Point B around a previously unseen bend.

The point is, life distracts us and takes us away from what it is we know deep down inside makes us happy. For whatever reason, we tell ourselves our unhappiness is part of what comes from being a good citizen and doing what needs doing. Life's not bad, it's not great, but it's not bad, right? Until one day "not bad" changes definitions and the realization hits that it's just not good enough any more.

So that's where I am. I'm there, realizing that all my fears about Point B being so far off in the distance just aren't true. It's right there for the taking, and deciding I want it? The biggest step I need to take. Now it's about enjoying what journey is ahead of me as I start getting where I want to be.

Anyhow. I thought I might share a little on that since it's the weekend afore New Year's eve and I'm betting I'm not the only person who'll be doing a little reflecting on where they're at today versus where they might be a year from now. 365 days of opportunities. How lucky are we?

We're drinking mulled wine and watching A Christmas Story on Christmas day. :) "You'll shoot your eye out, kid!"

The funniest pics I've taken in a long time both were back-to-back on the same walk to work:

Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas, everyone. :)

The tree's up, the lights and wooden garland and lace strung nicely around it. We'll put the ornaments on tonight. The turkey's misbehaving in the fridge, laundry's getting finished, and I'm about to enjoy some breakfast.. which I of course have to make, first. I should hang back and have granola, but it's Christmas eve and I'd kill for eggs. So I'm having eggs.

So... have a wonderful night tonight. And, if you're alone, I hope you find some meaning and solace in your day. Here's my Christmas card I made last year. (My picture, too, in my neighbourhood. :)

Christmas and Resolutions

This Christmas comes with an interesting sensation. I have been having a silent conversation with myself since August, filled with promises that I'd give myself until Christmas to get my shit together and get myself into the headspace of being ready to take on the world in every area of my life.

Starting with the new year, I'll be dating again and taking chances in all areas, things like wanting to travel, learn to surf, and learn to snowboard. New things. New goals. New places. I began meeting new people earlier this year but all the people I met were just nice and interesting. No one has really challenged me or made me feel like I had to live up to them, you know what I mean?

I'm not sure what I'm looking for, exactly, but I do know that I'm looking.

Which brings me back to my opening. Today I have that keen sense of anticipation that the New is almost here. It's my launching-off point.

I simplified my life this week. My posting from a couple days ago, about dread and fear and complications, has been resolved. Not a problem anymore. Dread? Gone. Replaced with optimism and hope.

But I'm still here, still on the verge of that plateau. Before I get there, I've got to finish cleaning up, get over my cold, prepare a wicked, decadent dinner for friends and family on Christmas eve, get drunk on port and wine with all of my favourite people, clean up again, hang out for a couple days with my older brother, and then: Bold new life, here I come.

I heard a quote lately that I really dug: Dream as if you're gonna live forever, but live as if you're gonna die today. So, I want to try and be that, live that. If I have a New Year's Resolution, it's to really live every single day for the next year. Every single day, do something that makes that day something unto its own. It doesn't need to be huge, crazy. It will be fun sometimes to have it be huge, crazy, but other days I'd like meaningful and surprising, if small (or not).

____________

And now for something completely different. When I originally posted this, I was totally obnoxious and a bit rude, so I apologize for the obnoxious posting, and this has been edited. 

A guy emailed me something that just made me shaking my head, and I guess I should share. He asked, "feel free not to answer this but having all those car accidents and health injuries are your female parts all working can u still have a baby." Me, I thought the question was a bit much, but I guess that's the pandora's box I've opened for myself.

Okay, here's the deal. I'm a fucking disaster on legs, okay? Three car-totalling accidents (always their fault), thrown from a horse, thrown from a scooter, fallen down a flight of stairs... And on my entire body, I have 2 very small scars, neither from any of my accidents just mentioned, and one 2 cm long, the other 3/4 cm. I've never broken a bone, and I've never had any internal injuries. I've had strained and shredded muscles, blown knees, blood clots in my face, and other fun, usually ugly, injuries that have always healed flawlessly and left no marks.

And can I still have kids? Well, who cares? I don't want them. I'm sure I can, but had that been the only lasting injury, I'd probably have been a really, really happy camper.

Snippets: Quickie Bitsies for the ADHD Crowd

I framed a photo of mine tonight in a very, very nice frame for someone, and had a bit of a "wow" moment. The photo does not look out of place. I've always bought the cheapie frames for my work, but I think I've crossed that threshold where I think it really does deserve better than that.

It's nice to feel that way about my work, and I'm feeling that way about myself these days, too. We're getting there, me and my photos.

____________

Someone, in their rather blunt manner, asked in a comment "Didn't you used to write about sex?" Yeah, and I used to have it, too. Funny how these things run together, isn't it?

I've been in all the wrong headspaces of late and I've not been ready to jump back into the dating world, and for whatever reason, I've not wanted to hazard too many pokes at why that is. And I've had very little libido of late, probably because I've not wanted it. (But it's been rearing its head of late.)

I promised myself that I'd give myself to Christmas to kind of just get things in order, and then starting January the plan was to start actively pursuing things again. I don't know if I want to date someone steadily, but I bet if the right fella came wandering past, I'd be able to take that gamble.

So, soon. I'm going to take some chances and meet new people come January. It'll happen pretty quick. Always does. :)

________________

Riding home on the bus yesterday I sat facing head-on to a guy seated with his side facing my front. Across the aisle was a girl he locked onto with a vengeance. With his eyes, that is. Just a hungry, hungry, hungry stare.

I guess she noticed, because all of a sudden it was like the air hissed right out of him. Soft, sad, lonely, and rejected yet again... in the blink of an eye.

His eyes became sunken and morose and his lips pursed into a frown. He was in his late 50s, maybe his 60s, plump and haggard, wearing way-worn hightops, cruddy old misshapen sweatpants, and a dull, crumpled old winter coat. His brows were overgrown like Mark Twain's, and he was missing a canine tooth. His cheeks sagged and bounced with the bus's bumps.

And without a beat I found myself imagining what a sad and lonely, repetitive life this guy probably has, and I felt overwhelmed with sympathy for him. He just oozed loneliness. It was palpable. He got off at the next stop and I found myself thinking and wondering about him.

I guess it's just a reminder to be nice to people these days... we never know how much others might miss contact with the world, and if being nice to them for thirty seconds of your life makes their day somehow mean more, I think it's a pretty small price to pay for literally, actually making the world a better place. One lonely soul at a time. Sometimes a "how are you" means more than you'll ever know.

________________

I read an interesting study in the Washington Post the other day about self-esteem. People with negative self-esteem apparently responded better to spouses or partners when confronted with negative criticism than they would if given positive feedback.

Of course, it's infinitely more complex than that and is a little too much for me to bite off here, so I'm just going to share the link with you. But it goes to show you that if you think you're fuct because you can't accept a compliments, you're actually in the majority. Here ya go. Feed your brain with this tasy article right here.

Dilemmas, Dilemmas

Wow, am I ever in a shitty mood.

I actually got up feeling pretty good today. I got this rather toxic email from someone this morning, and it took me a bit to shake that off, but the person means nothing to me so I was able to do it. Something happened with someone else later that I've been strongly considering eliminating from my life. There's something else involved, though, and that always complicates matters. It, however, has definitely contributed to my being pretty flapped this evening.

The more I think about it, the more I'm thinking that the grief isn't worth it.

Some people, whatever you think they might be contributing to your life, how you feel every time you see them, how you feel when you speak to them or even just hear of them... that's what's important, and if the answer is "shitty", then perhaps they're just not contributing what you think.

I guess. And I guess that's my answer, and what I need to do.

I can't give you anything remotely like a hint what I'm talking about in real terms. A lot of people I know read my blogs... employers, friends, family.

But the scenario in question just fills me with dread every time I think I need to see this person or deal with them. If it wasn't for the complication I mentioned earlier, I'd have ripped the fucking bandage off long ago. I lose something by ending this, something with a lot of potential, and if I end it, then I need to really, really believe in myself, that this loss won't have the negative impact my fear-mongering inner-voice seems to think it'll bring.

Sigh. The only thing I know is, I'm dreading my dread. I'm dreading even the dread I'll feel when I see this person -- never mind the act of dreading them.

These are the days when I really miss being 11 and the biggest conundrum was whether or not I felt girly enough to play with dolls that day, and if I got my homework done. Ooh, the bliss of youth.

Whatever. I'm nearing the decision that I know is truly the right thing to do... just fucking walk away. There are times when braving the horrible means you're brave. And there are times when it's really fucking stupid. You know, the times you want to shout at the actor on the screen and go "What the fuck are you doing?"

Come on, readers. Do it. Shout "What the fuck are you doing!" at your screen, even if you're tucked away in a cubicle. Maybe it'll spur our heroine (ie moi) into the kind of fuck-it-all action that needs to be taken, hmm?

OH, AND: If you've emailed me in the last two weeks? Sorry, been busy. I'll be getting back to you soonish. Bear with me.

My Granola Recipe!

Well, one request is hardly the tide of popular demand, but since I aim to please, and because Lara asked me so nicely in my earlier post today, I'm posting "my" homemade granola recipe.

Now, this is a recipe I've modified quite a bit off a very popular AllRecipes.com recipe, but because I've reduced the fat content so much and added more spice, plus monkeyed with the nuts listed, I think I can go out on a limb and call it "my" recipe. :)

OH! It's an hour later and I just realized I didn't say how many servings it makes. Allrecipes says it's about 30 servings, but I'm thinking those are 1/2 cup or less. Also, I can't tell ya how many calories or fat it has, since I've modified the recipe. It's a good source of Omega 3s with all the flax and walnuts. I'd even increase the flax to 3/4 or 1 cup, myself, next time around.

Steff's Homemade "Cran-crazy" Granola

8 cups of large-flake oatmeal (not the quick-cooking kind)
1.5 cups wheat germ
1.5 cups oat or wheat bran
1/2 cup flax seeds
1.5 cups chopped almonds
1.5 cups chopped walnuts
2 teaspoons kosher salt
1/2 cup dark brown or demerara sugar
(richer-tasting than regular brown, and my preference)

Put all of the above in one huge, honking bowl. Mix it up real good. And preheat your oven to about 275 degrees F. (The original recipe calls for 325, but I found it dried too quickly and cooked unevenly, and I made three batches yesterday. 275 worked the best.)

Hang onto that bad boy for a few minutes while you get the liquids ready:

1/4 cup maple syrup
3/4 cup honey
3/4 cup unfiltered apple juice
1/4 cup safflower oil
1 tablespoon cinnamon
3/4 teaspoon cloves
1 teaspoon cardamom
1 tablespoon vanilla

Mix everything but the vanilla in a saucepan and heat it over medium to medium-high heat until it boils. Take it off the heat, mix again, add your vanilla, mix again, and then pour over your oats-filled bowl.

Mix it up really good until there's no wheat germ or oat brain lingering at the bottom of the bowl. Try to avoid large chunks because the middle won't dry and get properly crunchy during the baking.

Foil-line two cookie sheets and then divide the bowl between both sheets. Layer it out evenly, making sure the entire sheet's covered and level.

Make sure your oven racks are set in the two central slots, and slide your trays in. You want to bake it for about 20 minutes. After 20 minutes, remove your trays, mix the granola thoroughly on the tray to get all the cookied bitsies in from the outer edges, and then put 'em back in the oven -- rotating each tray 180 degrees and putting it on the opposite shelf that it was on last time.

Rinse and repeat.

No, seriously, cook 'em another 20 minutes, check for moisture, and decide if you need to cook it longer. You don't want it 100% dried and crunchy -- maybe 85%, because the cooling process will evaporate some moisture. If it's not fully cooked, use your judgment and cook it in short burts of 5-7 minutes, checking at least that often and mixing it each time.

2 cups cranberries

Once you're satisfied it's cooked-- and be careful! it burns quickly-- then pull 'em out and let 'em cool. When cooled, mix in your cranberries. When it's 100% cool (if it's at all warm, it'll steam and invite the early onslaught of mold), put in an airtight container, and get happy. Should keep a minimum of three weeks.

Lemme know whatcha think!!! :)

OMFG! One Week to Christmas! GAH! HAAAAAAAALP!

There's ONE week until Christmas! ONE WEEK. Motherfucker! I don't even have my TREE up yet, for god's sake! My home? A disaster! My gifts? Not taken care of. AND I'm supposed to take a business meeting this week, etcetcetc.

I feel so pressured. Christmas, the time for giving? No, the time for mental breakdowns, dude!

Okay. I'm going to do yoga for the first time since last Tuesday or Wednesday, when the wheels came off my life there. It's day two after the party and no trace of the hangover remains. Yay! Yesterday... oh, my god. I did finally toss my cookies last night, though. I was that ill. Someone gave me a gift bottle of wine yesterday and I looked at it for five minutes thinking, "Hmm... maybe a glass of wine will help." Then I got violently ill and decided to stick to water.

Despite all that, I spent the whole day making homemade granola for Christmas gifts. Aww. The cutest little Christmas "bucket" tins, too! :)

(Granola with cranberries, walnuts, cinnamon, and lots of goodness (ie: flax seed... very good omega-3 source, my granola!). In fact, I replaced most of the oil with apple juice, and it's still crunchy and delicious... but lowfat! If anyone wants the recipe, I can post it. I'm so excited. Should be a popular gift, I hope!)

Dear God, What Have I Done?

Oh, my freakin' head.

After all my dumb-ass bravado yesterday, despite the ridiculous amount I drank, I kept everything down and proceeded to pass out at 4:30am... then woke up in hell. Oh, my god.

I don't get hungover often, and I don't get much more than "mildly" drunk most of the time, so this just hurt. I guess I had to have had four or five glasses of wine, followed by splitting a "fishbowl" drink with two friends that was heavy on the Southern Comfort, followed by Turkish coffee with a shot of cognac on the side, followed by three or four beers when we jetted to a proper pub.

Oh, my god. What was I thinking? Most of us had never been THAT drunk at the annual party, but wow. Yeah. Good times.

Mini-review:

The Afghan Horseman is easily one of my favourite "date" restaurants in town. You sit on the floor, which allows you to get cozy and comfy with all the pillows. The service is attentive, friendly, and patient, so you can lounge there for two or three hours, if you want to keep eating and drinking and talking. In the past, it's been nominated as one of the most romantic restaurants in Vancouver.

The food is terrific. The thing about Africa and the Middle East is that they share a lot of foods throughout the region. Afghan food served at the Horseman includes things like sambosas, which are like their Indian cousin, the samosa, but seasoned with things like cinnamon instead of curry. Their fried potatoes are just incredible. No one makes anything like it. A potato chip-thin slice of potato is battered in their seasoned batter, then, deep fried. The rice has cinnamon and other savoury seasonings. Their kebabs are tender and delicious. Everything they make there is just to die for, from their tasty hummous right up to their homemade wholewheat pita served hot from the oven. The prices are reasonable,

The website's a little out of date with pictures being of the old location, but the new place is a little ritzier but very similar and nice. Their website's here.

Bring on the Booze! The Staff Party Looms

I'm six hours away from the annual staff party at work, round eight for me. In years past we've rented a boat for drunkeness and tapas, had a great catered home party, had lobsters and oysters at the legendary Rodney's Oyster House, visited classic Vancouver restaurants like Raincity Grill, Umberto's Al Porto, and great places like Tangerine. Tonight's not an exception and is one of my favourite restaurants in the city -- one I have often chosen for dates because of its great atmosphere for conversation, awesome food, and patient, good service. I've probably never dined there in less than 2 hours because it's the kind of place in which you love to linger. (I'll share the name and a proper reviewafter the fact. Especially since it's such a great date place.)

Mm. Food! Alcohol! I haven't had a drink in two weeks -- unheard of in my world, but because it's empty calories, it's all part of the greater plan to minimize my maximized tushy. But tonight I'm going to go hard and long and over and over and over again as I get the drunkest I've been since last year's bash. Every year: Drunk.

What happens at the staff party stays at the staff party, unless it's too funny not to bring up in the future, of course. The first party I ever went to had my boss peer pressuring me to drink more. "I'm paying for your cab! Have a brandy! Have you ever had brandy? No? God! Waiter! Two snifters of Courvoisier -- and make them doubles! Make it three! Three, doubles." We split the third. I remember nothing after that, except the challenge of enduring the cab ride home.

And I've kept the track record of drinking until I vomit every single Christmas. What? They made me do it.

I think my bosses just love knowing that they invoke all the mayhem. One of those being-selfish-by-giving things that should be practiced by more people the world over. Give 'cos you feel great doing it. So, there will be bottomless drinking, endless food, and free cabrides home. No one works tomorrow, and we only have five days until we're off until the 2nd. Go hard, go long.

I will not be able to keep any of it down. No way, no how. So, it's kind of like the porcelain god will absolve me of all my boozing and eating sins as soon as I stagger into my hovel at night's end. Ah, well, it's once a year. Should be a blast. I work with great people but our jobs are highly antisocial. I sit there with headphones on in front of both a tv and a computer monitor, watching television and typing... we all do. We take no breaks aside from 30 minutes to grab food or take breathers... kinda like a really happy, low-stress, easy-living intellectual word-lover's sweatshop without the sweat and lack of elbow space. But we're all cool people who never get to chat aside from two or three minutes here or there. And tonight we party.

Today I finally gave in and spent some of my Christmas bonus before it's given to me. Bought five new shirts*, three necklaces, much needed socks, and the cutest little sneakers ever. I'll get to feel cute tonight. Still need more stuff, but it's a start. And I think I've just kicked off a new sneaker addiction. Ooh. Ooh. Dangerous.

I shall visit here tomorrow in all my hangover blahness and share with y'all. Should be a very, very good evening and I know I'll hurt tomorrow, but it's always been worth the idiocy before. :) Happy weekend, boys and girls.

*One of the shirts I bought is two sizes too small: my target shirt for working out. Really cute shirt marked down to a ridiculous $6. My last target item is almost a reality -- I'm an inch away from being able to button up my '70s-style chocolate brown suede coat that I set as my target item back in mid November. Very cool, very cute... probably the first two weeks of January for that, end of February for this new shirt, maybe.

More Ass-Kickin' and Name-Takin'

I've been waiting for this. A long, long time of waiting.

Tonight I got off the bus and stood roadside waiting for the crossing light so I could cut up the back alley home. I stood there on the curb, my left leg extended out and me standing with good form, and I noticed something new...

...I felt strong.

Like, "just try me" kinda strong. Wrestling-in-bed-and-winning kinda strong. Ooh!

You have to keep in mind, in the space of a single decade, I was thrown mid-jump from a horse in the Yukon, was in the car in no fewer than four car-totaling accidents (only one my fault), fell down a flight of stairs, nearly died after somersaulting off my scooter after crashing into a friend's ride (nevermind the list of injuries...), three blown knees, three concussions, one major, and just general all-over fuctedness from either stupid timing, bad luck, or both. 

Hey. It was a fun decade. That I can even still walk fuckin' baffles me let alone this living a life thing. I'm the original poster child for "safety first", man. When I'm getting fit, it generally involves a world of hurt. For a very long time. Inflamation, cramping, ice bags, and post-workout hell. 

Somehow, I just never get to the "strong" phase. Or never did, rather, until now. This is a new feeling. Strong. It feels good. Hot. Me likey lots. I'm a tough chick. That I feel like one? Fuckin' a.

Coming up is the exciting, fun world of buying clothes for my getting-toned body. In another week or so I'll be getting my bonus and other money, and I can finally go ahead and get some clothes. Not too many, of course, because with 20 pounds down, I'm on a roll. More ass-fab spiffying to come.

End of post. But, if yer interested...

Finer Points on the Weightloss Approach I'm Taking:

I'd have to say the yoga's helping me get past the workout pain, and is also mentally preparing me for the mind-over-matter awareness required to really be conscious of everything I'm eating. I'm still doing MyYogaOnline in the comfort of my Joe Boxers on my living room floor. All these studies coming out saying that fat's contagious, or genetic, or whatever the fuck -- I beg to differ. I think fat's about unhappiness, a lack of fulfillment (from our shallow modern lives filled with gadgets aiming to distract us), and is emotionally based. Me, I know what drives the eating and all that. It's about 12 different kinds of fear and lack, and a lot of ignorance. Where do I begin? Yeesh. So don't fucking cop out and use the "but studies say" crap. The yoga has most definitely  been instrumental in mebeing able to flip a mental switch and say "I don't need that" and practice focusing on exactly how my stomach feels then. Empty? No. Then I don't need to eat. I keep reevaluating as the day progresses, and more often than not my stomach doesn't feel empty... now that I stop to think about it. Funny how that works.

Also, kudos to my boss, who, since I work in the film industry on one to three different shows every day, doing closed captioning, has been assigning me all the fitness shows we do. I'm learning a lot about the need for caloric consciousness and can't believe how easy the actual doing of losing weight is now that I'm better informed about my choices. The strength to do what's right, though... whew. Some days are easier than ever. And here's wishing everyone would fuck right off with the seasonal chocolates. Holy test of will on a daily basis, Batman!

Something About a Bus, A Girl, A Quandry, and a Sunset

Welcome to my world. As I mentioned, there's now a new series I plan to run on here. I've decided to call it The Evolution of the Single Girl.

I don't really want to pigeon-hole it yet. I want to kind of see where it takes me. I'm not sure this is a first posting, but it's headed in that direction. I didn't see this posting leading to where it eventually led, but maybe a few of you can relate...

______________________

I rode the bus home tonight and found myself seated in the back, opposite two affectionate couples. One worked for me, and the other didn't. The first couple consisted of an itty-bitty girl I could blow away with a huff'n'a'puff, who actually pulls off the skinny jeans she had on with her Chuck hightops, and Monster Man, who, even seated, looked like an easy 6-foot-6. They kinda paid attention to each other, had a little bit of chemistry, but it just looked like an "okay" relationship.

Then, to the right of them, was this couple, 'round the same mid-20s age, who kept making each other laugh while being affectionate the whole time. I don't know, they were just so into each other. That conversational connection you don't often get in a relationship, where they're laughing as much as they're talking... and kissing, incidentally. He had a thing for nibbling her nose, too, which sort of had my mind meandering.

There are not a lot of relationship-couple-thingies I see that make me go, "Mm, yeah, being single... wearing thin." But these guys made me think, yeah, being single... wearing thin. Tonight, anyhow.

Howver... It's unfortunate one must wade through so much bullshit to get the relationship thing happening. Dating has been a chore, and the only relationship I've known in the last long time wound up more work than fun, so. I'm all right with taking it easy while I recreate myself from the top down.

I mean, I'm at that point now where I'm realizing that losing weight and having the life I want is entirely-- entirely-- in my hands. I'm driven. I'm preparing for total lifestyle overhaul. Keep what's awesome about me and improve on the rest. Good times.

But nights like tonight leave me wondering if there is a possibility of squeezing someone into that mix. Wondering ever so briefly, though, because then the flipside plays out once more.

I remember the part of me that wants to get back to keeping a clean house because I like it that way, not because I know someone's coming over... but because I'm worth the effort and it matters. I want to get back to cooking an incredible (but now low fat) meal not because I have someone coming over, but because I'm worth the effort and it matters.

I want to know I'm that person for myself before I start being that person for someone else again, because that's what inevitably happens. It's so, so, so easy to lose yourself in the confines of a relationship. It's so easy to lose myself in a relationship. And I don't ever want to be her again.

I was disgusted with who I became when I dated you-know-who last year. Just disgusted. I became so clingy and needy, so dependent on his approval, that I just completely lost who I was. I am NOT that woman. No fuckin' way.

Because I know who I am, who I'm not, and who I have a date to be. I remember this moment late last August when I was riding my bike back home along False Creek as the sun was setting. I stopped to photograph a grandfather holding his young granddaughter's hand as she walked balancing on a concrete wall, their silhouettes against a cotton-candy sunset behind the city, on the water. This is who you are, I reminded myself. This chick who needs no one, nothing big or expensive or fancy... just a moment in a sunset and a reminder of something good in life. That's it. That's all it takes to be happy: Being able to see the moment for all it really has to offer. Being able to find that "something" that's everything at that moment in time.

And if I can't really put my finger on the pulse of that yet, alone, I don't know that I'm really ready to make the leap to having to not only find and hang onto that, but be "there" for someone else, too. It's a phase. :)

But I'm getting there. I'm really getting there. Quickly, too. And I'm open to it. If life decides to surprise me, I'm onboard. Rollin' with the flow and trying to make the best of today.

Pickton's Found Guilty: Vancouver Sighs in Relief

THIS IS A GRAPHIC POSTING ABOUT A LOCAL SERIAL KILLER. You've been warned.

It was a big day in my town yesterday. Robert "Willie" Pickton was found guilty for all six counts of murder. Second degree, but each comes with mandatory life, parole in 15-25, I think it is.

Pickton's the infamous Pig Farmer you might've heard about. Jokes have been made. It was funny in Snatch. It's not funny in Vancouver.

Pickton's being called Canada's worst serial killer. New evidence is coming out even now, just a day after the verdict, of the never-disclosed motive (as if to suggest killing prostitutes for kicks is enough of a motive) that Pickton somehow saw himself as a moral arbiter when it came to purging Vancouver's notorious Downtown Eastside...

If you don't know about Vancouver's Downtown Eastside, in a nutshell: 30 square blocks. Begins just one block east of one of Vancouver's most popular tourist areas, then ends one block west of the city's largest police station, and just a few blocks southwest of the ports of Vancouver, where all the heroin arrives in freights and gets distributed from there across North America. 30 square blocks of the highest rate of HIV infection in the western world, and an incredibly prolific meth and heroin addiction scene-- your city ain't seen nothing like this. It is, in fact, the poorest, most crime-riddled, disease-infected, drug-addicted neighbourhood in North America. Streetworkers in the DES have been disappearing here for three decades, at least, with done. No inquiry ever got launched. Pickton, now guilty of six of the 26 murders with which he's been charged, was only arrested 2 years ago. Demands for inquiries into the disappearance of these underprivileged, addicted, forgotten streetworkers have been made since 1991, and there have been several dozen women officially listed as missing, way more than Pickton's charged with. Women are still disappearing off our streets. They go unnoticed because there's no body. But they're gone.

...Pickton apparently saw himself as the guy who got to rid our streets of filth. He'd pick 'em up, give them money, take them to his farm outside the city. There'd be parties. Cocaine. Every now and then someone got to die, for whatever twisted fucking reason that demented little man (and his friends, some believe) could conjure. One woman testified she saw him gutting a woman strung and kicking from chain in the slaughterhouse. Their corpses were fed to the pigs. The pigs were slaughtered for market. Hands and feet were found in buckets when the cops arrested Pickton and searched the grounds. The forensic search of his proprerty took

Some fucked up stuff has happened here. Horrible crimes. Pickton will probably never see the light of day again. The sentence comes down later this week, I think.

Three others were arrested but never charged. The creepiest thing about this saviour complex Pickton claims he has is that he refers to his "father before him" being faced with the same terrible task of the avenging angel.

Anyhow. I really don't know what to say about Pickton. Hell's too good a place for someone like that, I guess.

My worry, though, is, that many residents of this city will go to sleep thinking we got the bad guy, when Pickton may just be the tip of the iceberg. Women still go missing on the DES. We're talking an area riddled with the kind of addiction that would have its addicts literally selling their child for the money to buy drugs. (Vancouver's personal theft crime rate is higher than that of New York precisely because of our drug problems.) These streetworkers are so hooked, they'll do anything for a drug fix.

I know $10 hookers are a punchline in movies. Here in Vancouver, they're women who keep going missing and are beaten or killed because someone, somewhere seems to think society just doesn't care about those women.

And most days, they're right. Yesterday, though, for once society did care.

How about tomorrow?

Snippets on Monday

Has it really been five days since I updated? Doh, my bad.

I didn't feel like writing yesterday because my keyboard got a wee bit broken. The D key's tab broke off and now I have to see how much Apple's gonna charge me to fix the laptop keyboard. Blah. The X key, too, but not like  it's so bad. D's actually useful.

Anyhow. It was a somewhat busy weekend. Next weekend will be busier and more punitive. The annual post-company Christmas party hangover looms. Oh boy. And such good food there, too.

***

There are things I want to accomplish in the coming weeks, and I've now created a master list. On that list is something new for this blog.

I'm going to start a little series and the name's a work in progress, but I'm thinking In Search of Single is a good way to go.

The point of it? I've done a good job in the past of convincing myself I was happy single, but truth be told, I've never worn it with as much comfort as I'd like. I want to love being single. I want to love being a party of one. I've really enjoyed it in the past, but I wanna beat that and just love it.

The series, or column, if you will, would be chronicling my experiences pursuing all those little things that can make me dig madly the life of a single girl. Sky's the limit when it comes to life experiences, isn't it? A little thinking cap and the spirit of adventure behind it, and a need to tell the story... well.

I have no idea what kind of stuff will be in that bunch, yet. I'm open to experience, so we'll see what shakes out.

***

In other news, the weight thing is working again. Down 18 pounds now, and just did a great cardio session at the gym yesterday and I'm about to do yoga now before I go get adjusted at my chiro's office. Before the long, annoying busride to work.

***

Lastly, I've just asked a coworker if she wants to start carpooling again. after a couple years of not doing that. It'd mean being at work for 7am, but I see that as being a more productive life that lets me have more overall control. We'll see what she says. Could be fun.

Two weeks to Christmas and I've not done any shopping. Oh, shit. The panic's setting in. Time to do yoga and chill. Happy Monday hell, boys and girls.

Searching for Focus, Searching for Self

I'm starting to realize how difficult it is to carve out a new future when you're surrounded with your past. This blog, for me, is linked more to my past than it is my future, so I have a hard time sometimes viewing my "blogging duties" in a more positive light. I'm trying to change that, I suppose, but like I say, it's a struggle.

I picked up a copy of Eat, Pray, Love yesterday, by Elizabeth Gilbert. The reckoning the author faced with her own life, I think, is similar to the one I'm beginning in my own and it would be nice to read about what comes out the other side when one drastically reinvents themself and their life. I may find myself exasperated with how slowly the change unfolds when I'm caught in the midst of it all, but that's the way it goes when you're changing your world while still living within it. (Unlike Gilbert, who had the means and time to run away and travel in the self-discovery phase.)

It's difficult to reach that point where you understand what you don't like about yourself, what you're not happy about, and you become cognizant of how much that dissatisfaction poisons everything around you. I'm realizing how apparent my unhappiness has been to those around me, and for how long, and it's disconcerting to come to terms with just how much I've been projecting, and how many questions that coming to terms really answers in my life... some things I'm just not comfortable exploring on the page just yet. I know my heart panged when I heard Gilbert say how stunned she was that apparently Julia Robert's playing her in the movie of her book -- the darling actress everyone loves is going to play the author when the author didn't even like who she was back then. I'm realizing lately how much I don't like who I've been, and how much I believe in my ability to change that, now that I'm aware.

I feel like I'm making the ripples that need to happen before the waves of change come crashing in. Ripples... ripples are good. In every little area of my life, I'm beginning to exact change. Small change. But I'm seeing the dividends already. This yoga thing, for instance, is something I've wanted to do a long time, but for incredibly silly reasons, mostly insecurities and fear, just never made happen. It's not really the actions of yoga that I'm so after... I do a lot of stretching out of necessity, and it's not that wildly different, but yoga offers that mentality of being entirely in the now -- focusing on how everything affects the body and knowing precisely what it is you feel at all times. It's very much about being indoctrinated into the "mind over matter" power. I need that discipline, and after only three days, I'm already gaining a greater consciousness... something I haven't been dialed into for a little too long.

It's funny, you know, because it calls to mind back when I was teaching a couple friends to drive stickshift/standard transmission when I was 19 or 20. I remember saying, "It's just like sex. Whatever you do, it has a consequence, and if you're lucky, it'll like what you've done..." and explained how you needed to be at one with the engine and you'd start to tell just by the feel of the car's vibrations and the sound of the engine when it was time to shift -- you needed no gauges, you just needed to feel when it was right. Just like sex.

I have terrific intuition in life, and I have a great sense of flow and timing, and believe you me, I can drive stick. For some reason, though, I use those qualities everywhere but within my own day-to-day life. I don't live by the same principles that I act with, if that makes any sense at all. It's your typical female conundrum, I suppose... doing more and better for others than we do for ourselves, as if we're somehow going to be pegged as selfish bitches for acting on our own behalf.

I've been having this whole "I've got to give back!" mentality in my life, lately, thinking I live so selfishly that I need to begin projecting outward more in ways that benefit others. Then I realized, I'm not living as selfishly as I should be. I'm on the cusp of it, but I really need to go there and really do things for me, for the right reasons, and not because I'm feeling compelled to by whatever societal constraints being imposed on me. And when it comes to really celebrating the self, I wanna finally start being the "rockstar" I know I am. Deep down inside, that rockstar exists, and now I'm compelled to make that the external me... and that's gonna take some quality selfishness to pull off. I'm at one, now, with being a little more selfish... provided I'm doing it right.

Elizabeth Gilbert, that author of the book mentioned up there, she's on Oprah talking about her "bathroom floor" moment, that moment when the skies part and you realize how unhappy your life is making you, and the lightbulb flashes and you realize also that, "I don't need to take this shit. I can do better. I have control." I dunno. Sometimes I feel like the last 14 months of my life has been that bathroom floor moment, but that's definitely overstating things.

I guess, for a while there, I allowed myself to feel victimized by difficulties in life. It's easy to feel like someone up there's ganging up on you, like hardships are falling your way more often than they are others. I've tried hard to think about it in a few ways: One, it's a test of my mettle. How strong am I? Well, I tell ya, now I really know. Two, I'm experiencing it so that when my friends and family have to endure similar challenges, I can be there to support them and offer a voice of experience. Three, if I'm in this life to live, then I'd better just do that... so bring it on. And then I falter and just feel sorry for myself again, because, hey, I'm human, and sometimes the present seems so overwhelming and it's easy forget that today's the tomorrow we were hoping for yesterday, right?

I'm 34 now. I feel like I'm just getting started on a pretty great path. It feels like it's taking forever to get anywhere of consequence, but I know I have the rest of my life to reap the rewards of everything I sow now. I'm setting the stage for a play of experience that will last me the remainder of my days... so I'm not in the rush I thought I was. Still... getting there after being here is going to be a terrific party to be at.

Unfortunately, we live in a society of instant gratitude. We're a microwave, flash-cooking society that just doesn't grasp taking the scenic route to get anywhere, and I'm sometimes guilty of that, being a pretty impatient gal. Trouble is, most of the really great places can't be gotten to on main paths. Taking the long way, waiting and struggling, is often the only way we really get anything of value.

I'm trying to remember that these days as I work a little more on each and every day in the quest to make myself into a Better, Faster, Stronger, Smarter, Sexier, More Grounded, More Aware Steff... in New, Improved Flavours... or your money back!

But it's hard, man. It's hard. I'm reminding myself that, in Chinese superstition, the number 8 signifies abundance. We're days away from 2008... the year I have declared to be my personal year of abundance, the year when all my struggles begin to bear the fruit that are now just blossoms. So, I'm going to enjoy my struggle while it lasts, because it's times like these I know have incredible outcomes. Trouble is, I was always that kid who opened all her Christmas presents in advance and carefully taped them back up... waiting for reward's not my strong suit. :)

This and That and That and This and...

This whole becoming-a-better-person thing is much more work than they advertise, you know. I mean, this is mop-the-brow and grunt-a-little calibre of grind, my friends. And, am I better? Oh, not yet. Not by a long shot.

Still the same old flawed little me.

My weight, even, is holding steady at 14 pounds lost. I'm in psychic limbo hell. I'm working on it now, though. This yoga thing is a very good new addition to my ways. And while my weight's holding steady, I know my size is reducing 'cos my new pants are about an inch looser. I'm at the point where I really need to find the belt I've misplaced. And how do you misplace a belt, anyhow?

I'm at that point where I know I'm doing most everything right and dividends will soon start to pay.

But when I get past this weight thing and I get the new clothes I want, I'll have no more excuses, and then that means I need to put my money where my mouth is, get my life in gear, get a man, get laid, get happy. I'll need results. Results are everything.

I know this. Thus, the jackrabbit-in-headlights look I've had of late. Pity you just see type. It's really amusing. Sproing! Them's my eyes.

The thing is, I don't know if I want a man. I want the get happy, get laid, get life in gear part, it's just that I'm not sure carry-on baggage is the right fit for me at this point in my life.

I don't write about my last relationship anymore, I guess, because... I don't know. I just don't feel like reliving what was a pretty unhappy gamble with the dice. I should have fucking jumped ship when the guy broke his leg because I knew what being injured in that kind of life-altering way does to some people, did to me, and I predicted (correctly) every fucking thing that ensued. And I blew it. I had the evac option and I blew the call.

What's my point? I was doing all right, then, working on myself, then this guy came outta the woodwork, and due to a horrible Bermuda Triangle-like confluence of bad fortune within a small amount of time, I came apart at my seams. Life was hard enough at the time without being thrown the loop of being in a relationship with someone who was going through a really depressing crisis of identity. And, had I walked away when I knew I should have, I would have spared us both all the immature, pain-driven antics that followed and caused us to completely sever everything.

I'm keeping my options very, very open and I will actively pursue anything that comes up and seems promising, but I'm not going to go looking for anything. The last thing I need right now is to get involved with someone who's going to fuck with my equilibrium. And I'm tired of men who need doting and attention. I don't know what I really want...

...aside from continuing this rediscovery of self I've been on and reaching of the emotional equivalent of a far off shore.

And I'll write about that relationship at some point, I suspect. When I do, it won't be pretty. I'll have to be judgmental on both sides, because it takes two to really fuck up a relationship, and I'm adult enough to know that. I know who I think was more mature about the demise, though, and that's all I'll say about that for now.

Another thing that's been weighing on me with this whole reckoning of self bit I'm on, is, I'm noticing more now just how negative I've become in the last while. I have no idea how I got this way. Perhaps working with a chronic complainer for seven months had more of an impact than I thought. I was more negative than I wanted to be anyhow, but I think it escalated, and only now am I realizing by just how much. It's not good. I cannot be around negative people. But to have become one? Tsk.

But... hey. Knowing is half the battle. From here on out, I'm starting a make-it-pay policy. If I've had a negative day, I put $2 in my sin bin, but if I've been actively bitching, I'll put $5 in my sin bin. Soon, I'll have that trip to Mexico paid for, or I'll be a better person to know. Either way, some serious mileage might come of this.

PS: To those people who left their links for me: Thanks!! I'll be updating my sidebar over the holidays for sure.

The Next Step

If you've been reading me, you know I'm looking for new ways to make my life more active. Another thing I've been wanting is meditation/relaxation. I need to learn how to shut off.

I've been interested in yoga for a while, but I'm not the buff-n-bitchin' "I'll scale three mountains this weekend and jog to work before my evening yoga session" type West Coast BC person, so I'm a bit loathe to haul my ghetto bootay ass into a yoga class any time soon with all the Lululemon hottie-bodies, thanks. Yoga, though, offers so much -- better breathing techniques, which are useful in life (and sex), control over all parts of the body, total body awareness, total toning, endurance, and more. (The guys I know who do yoga say it's the best thing they ever did for their sex lives, by the way.)

I've visited a couple places looking for DVDs lately and it's gone badly, but I was determined to find stuff that'd work for me. Then I surfed onto a local Vancouver site not too long ago and just began a membership today. MyYogaOnline.com is full of videos for all different styles of yoga, and all different levels. Looking for a no-standing beginner yoga session geared to relaxation and meditation? No problem. Want something a little tougher, keep looking through the site. There are files for Yoga at Work and even Pilates, or even Pilates and Yoga mixed. Everything comes with descriptions and helpful pointers like how to set up a space for Pilates, or that this video uses yoga props and what ones, how to set aside time to a fulfilling workout session, things like that.

Very cool shit. Now that I have a wireless laptop connection, I can do it anywhere. I'll be trying my first video tonight and hope to build this into my routine in the next little while. At $9.95 a month, it's cheaper than any yoga membership I've seen anywhere (usually about $16-25 a week here in Vancouver...). Certainly fits my budget! And yoga at work... the shortest clip is 5 minutes, the longest 13 minutes. Terrific... log in at work and spend 5 minutes rejuvenating yourself. I could get into this stuff.

...It's the next day and I just did my first yoga session by way of MyYogaOnline.com and I'm all blissed out. Work will be a challenge, but my back and shoulders should feel better throughout the day than normal. The video never skipped or jumped, the audio was clear, and the beginners' video I watched included a lot of information and awareness-building on how the body should feel throughout the process. I'm actually looking forwards to trying a new video before work tomorrow. Very cool.

Sobering Thoughts on AIDS on a Snowy Sunday

Technology and new scientific methods are causing big rewrites to the numbers long associated with AIDS. America's CDC had stated they saw some 40,000 new cases of infection every year.

Turns out, a new method of testing blood and, in essence, a way of "aging" infections present, means the folks in white coats at the CDC now believe between 55,000 and 60,000 new cases are amassing each year, not 40,000.

The big thing to remember there is that more than half of the people infected with HIV/AIDS don't actually know they are. They're still out there spreading things, unknowingly.Getting tested is a nervewracking thing. I hate the experience, personally, but I usually play things pretty smart. A friend of a friend didn't, and now has AIDS. At least he got his regular test and found out early that he'd paid the price for a night of ignorant passion.

The CDC also says the amount of new AIDS cases amongst gay men has shot up some 13%. Here in Canada they're reporting a rise in infections with teenaged girls. It continues to rise in African Americans, too, both men and women. Europe has just announced that AIDS is on the rise all over that continent. China's acknowledging a problem now, too.

Eastern Europe, for instance, says they've seen a 150% rise in AIDS cases. Since 2001. Six years. France has one of the highest levels of AIDS in Europe, and an AIDS advocacy proponent there says, "It was a mistake to think that the epidemic was [just] striking the high-risk groups. There are heterosexuals that have sex [with their own gender] and drug users that have sex. So it was a mistake to think it only concerned one part of the population."

It fucking baffles me. All the fight against AIDS needs is condoms. Abstinence is a nice little pipe dream all the religious types might want to preach about, and abstinence is the only guarantee you can have that you're not at risk. Condoms certainly help.

Condoms break, though, and people lie. You want to believe the person you're about to fuck or currently are fucking is telling the truth, but you're just being naive. People lie. All the time. About everything from how they're feeling to whether they're carrying a disease they know will send you scurrying from the bed they're about to fuck you in. Who's kidding who?

I just don't understand why we're still having discussions about whether or not to teach how to practice safer sex. I don't believe in calling it "safe sex", even though I fall into that habit too often for my liking. It's never safer. There's always an element of risk. I know that. I'm fine with that, because I know I'm pretty selective. But my judgment is far from perfect.

And, really, come on. You insist on a condom, the person you want to fuck says no? Aren't they the LAST person you then should fuck without one? Isn't that just common fucking sense, literally? If they refuse to wear one with you, they probably won't wear one with anyone, and that's how diseases spread. One guy tried the excuse of "Well, I've been in a relationship the last 13 years. Even the sight of a condom will kill my erection."

Boo-fucking-hoo. Tough luck. As the stupid cliche goes, no glove, no love, right?

My acquaintance with AIDS got it from one random night when alcohol was involved and they didn't grab a condom. It was that guy that infected him.

I mean, it goes as far as, if you even suspect your spouse/partner is sleeping around, and you're not using a condom with them, you're practicing at-risk behaviour.

These religious types may have missed out on the passion and euphoria genes, but the rest of us know how good sex and romance feels, we know how easy it is to just go ahead and have that orgasm. The trouble is, more and more youths are ignorant about all this... and the numbers are starting to prove it.

AIDS is decimating Africa. Who's to say Africa's not just the canary in the coalmine. I would think we'd need all the vigilance we can muster to ensure that not become the case. Sex education is real fuckin' imperative these days. Explicit, unpretty education, and a good luck at what dying from AIDS actually entails wouldn't hurt. The lesions, the wasting away, the endless pain and failing of organs.

Every now and then I have this little fear that some decade down the line they're going to point to this moment on the timeline and decree that all the politicians who were too fucking squeamish to really deal with this problem were guilty of crimes against humanity. AIDS is one of the only diseases that can be fought with education... that we're failing to do that is nothing less than a crime against humanity. On that, time's gonna tell.

Garfield Redux... Keep Reading.