Muse. Ramble. Rant. Repeat


Category Archive

The following is a list of all entries from the Life category.

Oh, Hi. Sorry, forgot you were here…

Wow.

I’ve been busy.

Never one for subtle change in the past two months I got married, got a puppy, ordered new bedroom furniture, continued to be insanely busy at my job and have kept up an active social life.

I’m tired from typing all that.

So, to celebrate my return to blogging (now that I have some free time on my hands) I present my life in the past two months, in five parts.

Enjoy.

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Consider this your sign.

This past week I had a silly problem that I didn’t know what to do about. I fretted and stressed about the problem. I talked about the problem. I made lists about the problem’s cons and pros (no, really, I do that). After much thought I had decided to take the worst possible solution because I have pride (which is just a nice word for being stubborn).

Then an opportunity literally walked by me this morning.

I believe in signs and meant to be. I believe in greater purpose and I firmly believe you can fuck things up when you are trying to do your best. I don’t know what will happen to my problem but I know I had a sign this morning and chose to do the right thing with it. It’s out of my hands now but it made me think on a grander scale.

It’s my firm belief that the universe will present opportunities and it’s up to you to decide what to do with those opportunities (call this “god’s plan”, “the secret”,” karma”, etc). I believe that you can only take as much as you give otherwise bad things will happen to you (for example, take from the Earth too much *cough*fossil fuels*cough* and bad environmental things will occur).

So, now this is where you come in. You, dear readers, have been presented with several opportunities in the past week that (most of) you are walking away from.

I’m not going to lecture (much) but there are real world problems going on. They are always there and the more I get caught up in my little petty problems I more I feel compelled to think of the bigger problems. Haiti. Love Harder. Your local community problems. It doesn’t matter where you put some thought but put it there today.
Stop reading about it and do something about it.

I want you to look at your bank account right now and figure out how much you can afford to give. It doesn’t matter if it’s $5 or $500, what matters is the thought. If you really can’t afford to donate any money (hey, I’ve been there too) please consider giving some of your time away. A Saturday afternoon means nothing to you but the world to an organization that is short on people. I promise Jersey Shore will still be there when you get back.

Also, open your cupboards and give some food to your local food bank. Be thankful there are such programs in place to help. You’ll never know when you’ll need someone else’s help and you’ll be thankful that you put just a little bit out into the world when you need to get some back.

Click here to donate to Love Harder


Click here to donate to the Red Cross


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Friday night.

On the sofa with our wine and crackers; watching some bad movie.

At some point I hear a wailing from outside. Being nosy, I peek through the curtains. Instead of seeing some drunk singing the blues I see a woman lying on the road. There is a car pulled over and a man on a cell phone. Not thinking, I run outside with a blanket and throw it over the woman. My neighbour, with the same idea, comes out of her house with a winter jacket and puts it on my blanket. It’s cold tonight. Not a night for something like this.

Her face hit the pavement when she fell – nose broken, hair matted with blood. The man in the car is still on the phone talking to the 911 operator. He doesn’t know what happened. No one does. We had all just heard her and gone to help.

The ambulance arrives. She’s in a lot of pain but does remember what happened. She lives down the street and was running to the corner store – a car drove by her and they threw a snowball at her. The shock made her slip on the icy ground and she fell from the sidewalk to the road.

No, she doesn’t remember what the car looked like.

No, there are no witnesses.

The paramedics load her into the ambulance. They drive away. The cop tells us to go home – we can’t do anything if we haven’t seen anything.

It had been less than 15 minutes since I heard the woman cry out. I take my blood stained blanket inside, back to my warm safe house with my wine and crackers. It’s over now, nothing else to be done. So I sit down on the sofa and begin to cry.


A Pep Talk to Myself.

I’m in a funk.

For a variety of reasons but the main ones being my laptop blew up on Friday (and about 40 hours of client files that need to be recreated this week on top of my normal 50 hour workload); we need new tires; and we still haven’t moved into the new place.

Winter is creeping into the city and I find myself depressed at the constant grey skies. I wake up every morning with good intentions and find myself at the end of the day sitting on the sofa, head in CJ’s lap in near tears over life. I know this is irrational – my problems aren’t really problems. Oh, woo is me, the beautiful flat we are moving into needs another week of custom woodworking on it. Poor me, my laptop blew up and this is stressful because I am self employed and need to work extra hard for one week. At least I’m still employed and have job security, in comparison to so many others.  And winter! What a horrible thing, this living in a place with seasons. I would complain far more if I didn’t get to see the leaves change,  witness the first snow fall, smell the air of spring, feel the breeze on a summer day.  I have no reason to complain about my life – it’s so good in so many ways and yet here I am, sighing heavily at the thought of dealing with another hour of it.

My phone rings, I pick it up and screen the call. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I consistently bailed on my plans this past weekend. I blatantly ignored text messages. It’s taking all my willpower not to cancel every plan I made for this coming week. I don’t want to be around people celebrating, drinking, laughing, living life. I want to curl up into a ball and cry about the world. But I have commitments. Meetings, deadlines, people to please. I hate them all. I sat in a meeting this morning and I’m pretty sure I didn’t take away one ounce of information. I want to escape all my current problems and forget that they exist. Basically I want to run away and stop being me.  

It’s a funny thing, us humans and our obsession with being happy. It is socially unacceptable to feel sorry for yourself. You are expected to always put on a happy face and pretend that everything is ok (You want to debate that? Go ahead, I have antidepressant sales to back me up). To sit and be in a mood, a funk, depressed state is just not ok. We, myself included, are always telling each other it’s going to be ok. That we will get through whatever we are facing. That at some point in the future the sun will come out and shine down on us. Many of us need religion* to tell us this exact message. That unexpected bumps mean something.

*I’m agnostic. So, not so much with the organized religion but I believe in universal karma and will tell anyone who asks that everything evens out in life.

It’s bullshit. Sometimes the flat tire just means the flat tire. Sometimes the feeling bad about life is justified because life has thrown you some bad things. Sometimes, no matter what you do or how much good you’ve tried to give things just break down and life sucks.

There are two things when you realize you are in this position. You can accept defeat and cry about it or you can do something about it. That bullshit that is spewed – lemons and lemonade and whatnot– actually works.

Perhaps tomorrow – or maybe the next day – even the day after that – I will wake up and the weight on my mind will have shifted. I don’t stay in self pity mode for very long. I take time to process, hate it, cry about it and then I start doing something about it. I know that I can get through this if I try hard enough. That no matter the problem I will fix it. I will return my phone calls and make a delicious dinner for those I snubbed. I will be extra nice to the clients I currently hate and go out of my way for them.  I’ve clawed back 5 hours of the 40 I lost. I’ve been price comparing winter tires. I’m badgering our landlords to let us in to the new place. I’ve googled voodoo weather dances to ward off the snow.

Ok, I lied about that last one. I know there is no way to stop the snow from coming but if I thought it would help I would totally dance naked for it.

It will get better. I know this. I just need to make it better.


Enough Makeup to Satisfy Drag Queens

It’s Monday morning and I still haven’t completely recovered from Saturday night. In the days of yore this would have meant I hadn’t stopped partying until last night some time; nowadays this means that I’m getting old and can’t handle going out like I used to. I know it’s hard to take someone seriously when they complain about getting old when they are only 24; but my ability to go without sleep is dwindling at an alarming rate every year. I used to go to work without sleeping – usually still in the clothing I had worn the night before but with a sweater thrown on top of it. Now I can barley function the next day and refuse to leave the house. I’m not sure what is happening to my youth but nothing ages me faster than going out.

The entire night was a success. I had planned to go out dancing and we did. After a mediocre dinner (I can say that because I cooked it) we consumed three bottles of wine and a little vodka. We then applied enough makeup to satisfy drag queens (I can say that because I wore the most) and slipped on our heels, which I won’t refer to as dancing shoes because clearly I ended up walking part of the way home barefoot.

The bar we went to was a little hipster joint that plays awesome music if you can contend with all of egotistical mess going on around you (please don’t get me started on hipsters). Dancing has always held a special place in my heart – I’m not particularly good at it, but dancing my drunk off is perhaps one of my favorite activities. Being able to sing at the top of your lungs while jerking your body about to a rhythm is fantastical. Anyone who says they don’t like to dance has clearly never been drunk enough.

At the end of the night, KF and I left the bar and began our slow walk up the hill (Lady, had left earlier – her tolerance for drunken hipsters is lower than mine). Halifax, for better or for worse, was chosen because of its harbour and ability to defend itself from attackers. Three hundred years later all this means is that most of the bars are on the waterfront at the bottom of a big hill and most of the late night restaurants are up this giant hill. In order for me to get pizza I need to climb said hill, in heels, while drunk. You’d be surprised at the cardiovascular workout one gets at such a late hour. KF and I made it up halfway before we found a ledge (which I swear wasn’t a gutter), sat down and took a break. We then supplied colour commentary to the passerbys.

(“NO! Don’t go home with him! He’s wearing a popped collar!”)

At this point my night gets a little foggy, but I ended up in our car with a big slice and listening to CJ lecture me on how horrible the cabs in this city are.

CJ, always the knight in shining armor, will be my designated driver when we go downtown. He’s done it for years for fear of my safety; the one time I told him not to worry about picking me up; I ended up getting five girls kicked out of a cab on the sketchiest corner in Halifax. (Look, don’t try to mess with me cabbies, I know this city like the back of my hand and I’m the cheapest person you’ll ever meet, drunk or not, you are not going to rip me off). Since then, he’s been weary of me going downtown and so will come and rescue me (and whatever girlfriends I have with me). He gets a lot of benefit from this arrangement – he has been met every single time with praise for picking us up and has even had songs composed about his awesomeness. Albeit, drunken songs that had no tune, but songs! Is your boyfriend not getting along with your friends? This is a surefire way to make them love him. And if your boyfriend won’t pick you up… well perhaps you should listen to your friends…

Anyways, I woke up Sunday morning, fully clothed, makeup smeared across my face and a big slice with three bites out of it on my bedside table. After changing and trying to wash my face (I seriously had a lot of makeup on, it didn’t finish coming off until this morning in the shower) I crawled back into bed. There I stayed for the entire day. This morning I had trouble getting up.

Thankfully, my office has a great coffee machine because I’m going to need the entire pot today.