At work, we were discussing bike riding in the summer, and someone said that no matter what sort of seat, no matter what height of adjustment, no matter how long or short the ride, she could NEVER find bike riding comfortable. Of course I commented:
"Maybe you don't have a bike-friendly crotch."
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Song of the Moment: "Stay With Me (Always)" - Dru
baby you don't know what you're doin to me
got me countin' down the minutes right to the seconds
till the next time i see your face
you know that i can hardly wait
bright eyes, lips so fine
you are my sunshine
and i need you for life
like flowers meet the sun, girl your the one that i run to
you lift me up, can't live without your love
stay with me cuz without you girl i'm incomplete
i'm addicted to your love and i can't get enough
say you'll stay always
yeaah, like jodeci got me feelin for you
got me believin' in love and i ain't never leavin
girl you got me open wide
guess who's running through my mind
it's you, girl you know it's you
and i need you for life baby
you got me like an addict baby, i just got to have it
your love is like a magnet, you keep pulling me in pulling me in
and when your not around me, i just don't know what to do
so say, you'll never leave
so stay with me cuz without you girl im incomplete
im addicted to your love and i can't get enough
say you'll stay always
...
Addendum
when i'm with you
I'll make every second count
cause i miss you, whenever you're not around
when i kiss you, i still get butterflies years from now
i'll make every second count
when i'm with you
when i'm with you
--"When I'm With You," Faber Drive
got me countin' down the minutes right to the seconds
till the next time i see your face
you know that i can hardly wait
bright eyes, lips so fine
you are my sunshine
and i need you for life
like flowers meet the sun, girl your the one that i run to
you lift me up, can't live without your love
stay with me cuz without you girl i'm incomplete
i'm addicted to your love and i can't get enough
say you'll stay always
yeaah, like jodeci got me feelin for you
got me believin' in love and i ain't never leavin
girl you got me open wide
guess who's running through my mind
it's you, girl you know it's you
and i need you for life baby
you got me like an addict baby, i just got to have it
your love is like a magnet, you keep pulling me in pulling me in
and when your not around me, i just don't know what to do
so say, you'll never leave
so stay with me cuz without you girl im incomplete
im addicted to your love and i can't get enough
say you'll stay always
...
Addendum
when i'm with you
I'll make every second count
cause i miss you, whenever you're not around
when i kiss you, i still get butterflies years from now
i'll make every second count
when i'm with you
when i'm with you
--"When I'm With You," Faber Drive
Monday, April 28, 2008
Piece of cake
My mother filled out an order form for a cake to be made and inscribed for what I believe was to be an anniversary party for friends. The form was simple enough:
Type of cake: Double Chocolate Butter Cream Layer Cake
Size: 10"
Inscription: Two Hearts, overlapping
A sweet gesture (no pun intended) with something subtly romantic for decoration. My mother picked up the cakes (there were two of the same), left the bakery, and went back to the office to take a peek at her desserts. Once the boxes were opened, she could only shake her head in disbelief and laugh.
Type of cake: Double Chocolate Butter Cream Layer Cake
Size: 10"
Inscription: Two Hearts, overlapping
A sweet gesture (no pun intended) with something subtly romantic for decoration. My mother picked up the cakes (there were two of the same), left the bakery, and went back to the office to take a peek at her desserts. Once the boxes were opened, she could only shake her head in disbelief and laugh.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Quote of the Moment:
"They're just frozen balls that melt in your mouth."
--Avril, about something she didn't mean to be talking about
...
Aren't we all unimpressed when that happens?
...
Saw We Will Rock You last night with my girls. L-O-V-E-D I-T!!! While during the performance we were all convinced that our favourite was the Frenchie-Leading male, he was trumped in all of 30 seconds at the end when the guitarist came out and rocked his solo. hoTT.
I briefly heard on the radio the other day, an interesting position that they were trying to prove or disprove with listeners' feedback; Guitar-guy gets all the girls. I vote...TRUE. Absolutely.
--Avril, about something she didn't mean to be talking about
...
Aren't we all unimpressed when that happens?
...
Saw We Will Rock You last night with my girls. L-O-V-E-D I-T!!! While during the performance we were all convinced that our favourite was the Frenchie-Leading male, he was trumped in all of 30 seconds at the end when the guitarist came out and rocked his solo. hoTT.
I briefly heard on the radio the other day, an interesting position that they were trying to prove or disprove with listeners' feedback; Guitar-guy gets all the girls. I vote...TRUE. Absolutely.
A few off the list
Holding Hands
In the winter, they would take off their gloves to hold hands. Regardless of the bitter cold of some nights, nothing could compare to the warmth from the touch of his skin against hers.
...
The photo reveals how comfortable they were together, despite being near perfect strangers. While a nerve-wrackingly impromptu pairing, her arm is slung naturally around him; his temple touches hers. Neither ever suspected love, but in hindsight, their bodies already knew.
Irrational Fear of a broken A/C unit
Isn't this one obvious?
Lately, it's been getting warmer and warmer, and consequently someone at work has pre-maturely turned on the air-conditioning. Without knowing someone had jacked the A/C, it was suggested that perhaps the thermostat and system were broken and that we call the repair company. I froze: ACG is the repair company. Needless to say, I got to the bottom of the matter very quickly, and then hid in my office for the rest of the day, just in case someone had called without letting me know.
I'm not afraid of him, I just feel bad for having to fess up to my non-feelings. ACG was really sweet; as sweet as a 25 year-old, company-truck driving, non-passport owning, non-coffee drinking, never travelled, aspiring for Whitby-living, shy and quiet young man could be.
"If you are chilly, here take my sweater..." No, really, take it. I'll even start a fire for you in the office--just don't call the A/C guys.
Sticking
In addition to my original "Stuck" masterpiece, I've had to spend a few more days at the office, signing and un-tabbing documents until my hand/wrist have cramped. However, I'd kept myself sane in much the same manner as before:
The Rest
My secret crush will just have to stay a secret a little longer (though I do have all intentions of a full confession), and Gina's Adventures will just have to continue on a little longer before posting...
In the winter, they would take off their gloves to hold hands. Regardless of the bitter cold of some nights, nothing could compare to the warmth from the touch of his skin against hers.
...
The photo reveals how comfortable they were together, despite being near perfect strangers. While a nerve-wrackingly impromptu pairing, her arm is slung naturally around him; his temple touches hers. Neither ever suspected love, but in hindsight, their bodies already knew.
Irrational Fear of a broken A/C unit
Isn't this one obvious?
Lately, it's been getting warmer and warmer, and consequently someone at work has pre-maturely turned on the air-conditioning. Without knowing someone had jacked the A/C, it was suggested that perhaps the thermostat and system were broken and that we call the repair company. I froze: ACG is the repair company. Needless to say, I got to the bottom of the matter very quickly, and then hid in my office for the rest of the day, just in case someone had called without letting me know.
I'm not afraid of him, I just feel bad for having to fess up to my non-feelings. ACG was really sweet; as sweet as a 25 year-old, company-truck driving, non-passport owning, non-coffee drinking, never travelled, aspiring for Whitby-living, shy and quiet young man could be.
"If you are chilly, here take my sweater..." No, really, take it. I'll even start a fire for you in the office--just don't call the A/C guys.
Sticking
In addition to my original "Stuck" masterpiece, I've had to spend a few more days at the office, signing and un-tabbing documents until my hand/wrist have cramped. However, I'd kept myself sane in much the same manner as before:
The Rest
My secret crush will just have to stay a secret a little longer (though I do have all intentions of a full confession), and Gina's Adventures will just have to continue on a little longer before posting...
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
At SFO
Originally written April 20, 2008
How could I not remember to tell you that my Head Flight Attendant’s name was Boom-boom? Regardless of how she (yes, she) spells it, that’s what she announced over the speaker system—there was no mistaking it. Of course there was a snicker at the back of the plane, but thank goodness—after hearing someone snicker out loud, I didn’t feel so bad that my eyes had betrayed my surprise and amusement.
I do believe that I did my good deed when boarding the plane the second time this morning (yes, I boarded twice—engine problems and then testing had us deplane). Getting comfy for take-off, I noticed that the girl that had been sitting next to me was still missing, but her bags still on board. They had told us to leave our carry-ons as we were not going to be deplaned for long, so I knew she’d be back, but from the looks of it, the attendants were preparing to leave. Shy as I can be (especially at early hours of the morning, dealing with second bouts of morning breath) I managed to signal one of the attendants and drew her attention to the empty seat. It was only then that they decided to do a head count of passengers. Turns out my aisle-mate wasn’t the only one missing. Everyone arrived shortly afterwards, and while I’m sure someone would have noticed before take-off, I was content to believe that I had saved some travellers a little grief of being excluded from our flight.
...
While some may dream of discovering the love of their life sitting next to them on the plane, I have come to dream of discovering an empty seat next to me on the plane. When is it ever sexy to snore on a stranger’s shoulder, future love or not?
...
I want to write so much more. It's only 11pm Santa Barbara time, but my body's not fooled--it's really 2am at home. I spent the evening stuffing my face full of oh-so-yummy Italian food (best bruschetta e.v.e.r.!) and then came back to the hotel to do a bit of work, pack my bags, and respond to email.
One of my emails tonight--which is a little why I'm so mentally drained--was a break-up email. It was hard to write, and every word felt like it hurt. I can only hope that there can be understanding, if not support.
This is a new direction, but I will miss the Tigers Organization dearly--I'm really always going to be a Tiger at heart.
How could I not remember to tell you that my Head Flight Attendant’s name was Boom-boom? Regardless of how she (yes, she) spells it, that’s what she announced over the speaker system—there was no mistaking it. Of course there was a snicker at the back of the plane, but thank goodness—after hearing someone snicker out loud, I didn’t feel so bad that my eyes had betrayed my surprise and amusement.
I do believe that I did my good deed when boarding the plane the second time this morning (yes, I boarded twice—engine problems and then testing had us deplane). Getting comfy for take-off, I noticed that the girl that had been sitting next to me was still missing, but her bags still on board. They had told us to leave our carry-ons as we were not going to be deplaned for long, so I knew she’d be back, but from the looks of it, the attendants were preparing to leave. Shy as I can be (especially at early hours of the morning, dealing with second bouts of morning breath) I managed to signal one of the attendants and drew her attention to the empty seat. It was only then that they decided to do a head count of passengers. Turns out my aisle-mate wasn’t the only one missing. Everyone arrived shortly afterwards, and while I’m sure someone would have noticed before take-off, I was content to believe that I had saved some travellers a little grief of being excluded from our flight.
...
While some may dream of discovering the love of their life sitting next to them on the plane, I have come to dream of discovering an empty seat next to me on the plane. When is it ever sexy to snore on a stranger’s shoulder, future love or not?
...
I want to write so much more. It's only 11pm Santa Barbara time, but my body's not fooled--it's really 2am at home. I spent the evening stuffing my face full of oh-so-yummy Italian food (best bruschetta e.v.e.r.!) and then came back to the hotel to do a bit of work, pack my bags, and respond to email.
One of my emails tonight--which is a little why I'm so mentally drained--was a break-up email. It was hard to write, and every word felt like it hurt. I can only hope that there can be understanding, if not support.
This is a new direction, but I will miss the Tigers Organization dearly--I'm really always going to be a Tiger at heart.
Monday, April 21, 2008
The Kiss
Even though I'm slightly intoxicated in Santa Barbara on business (believe it or not) I wanted to share this with you; I found it either during my 1.5 hour delay at Pearson, or during my 2 hour lay-over in San Fran. It was unsurprisingly dated just after a friend's wedding reception in November.
Even reading it back now, I feel so lonely.
...
Fuck. I want the kiss. The kiss that means something. I might have had a kiss or two lately, but I want one from someone that WANTS to kiss me. I want the kiss. The unnecessary kiss. And then I want the flurry of extra little ones that cover me in the places that haven’t been kissed in so long.
I want to be kissed like the way the kiss in the movies that makes me scream at the screen “that doesn’t happen in real life!” Those sweet, gentle, emotionally charged kisses.
If I really think about that, I haven’t had a kiss like that in a long time. And I mean a LONG time. The kind of kiss that just lasts and lasts long after our lips have parted, but lasts because whenever I think about it in the slightest, I melt and melt again and again. THAT’S excitement. It doesn’t even have to be love. It just has to be and good.
I want to be enveloped in arms that are reluctant to ever let me go. I want to be touched by a hand that wants to drink in my curves, my bumps, my flaws. I want to feel the breath of someone on my shoulder as he holds me from behind. I want to be led by someone that wants to show me the way.
I want to escape.
I want to fly.
I want to fall.
Even reading it back now, I feel so lonely.
...
Fuck. I want the kiss. The kiss that means something. I might have had a kiss or two lately, but I want one from someone that WANTS to kiss me. I want the kiss. The unnecessary kiss. And then I want the flurry of extra little ones that cover me in the places that haven’t been kissed in so long.
I want to be kissed like the way the kiss in the movies that makes me scream at the screen “that doesn’t happen in real life!” Those sweet, gentle, emotionally charged kisses.
If I really think about that, I haven’t had a kiss like that in a long time. And I mean a LONG time. The kind of kiss that just lasts and lasts long after our lips have parted, but lasts because whenever I think about it in the slightest, I melt and melt again and again. THAT’S excitement. It doesn’t even have to be love. It just has to be and good.
I want to be enveloped in arms that are reluctant to ever let me go. I want to be touched by a hand that wants to drink in my curves, my bumps, my flaws. I want to feel the breath of someone on my shoulder as he holds me from behind. I want to be led by someone that wants to show me the way.
I want to escape.
I want to fly.
I want to fall.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Hope the String Works This Time
It feels like a while since I've blogged, but that's not that I haven't had anything to say. Sometimes (like at 2 in the morning) I'll want to write but I can't think of what to write or remember any ideas for posts that I might have had earlier.
SO...
This shall be my cheat sheet.
- my secret crush
- the adventures of Gina
- holding hands
- my irrational fear of the air conditioning at work breaking
- sticking
SO...
This shall be my cheat sheet.
- my secret crush
- the adventures of Gina
- holding hands
- my irrational fear of the air conditioning at work breaking
- sticking
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Too Early to Say Goodnight
There are words here that want to come out. I'm exhausted and want to sleep, but they just won't go away. I don't even know what I want to say, but it seems I'm holding onto a little bit of guilt for not having posted (and lamely so) since Tuesday. Had I not been so cozy in bed already, I'd upload pictures of the mischeif that I get up to at work, but alas, my $23473874925293l.00 bed that I bought all by myself (even though it appeared on daddy's credit card) is just soooo comfortable and beckoning.
...
"Oh right, your non-fight fight."
"Exactly."
...
Trust is like a tube of toothpaste. You start off with a full tube, but everytime you give that tube of trust a test, a squeeze, some of that trust comes out and is lost--have you ever tried to put toothpaste back into the tube? Point is, as much time as you may take with what you've squeezed out, you might get something back into the tube, but that tube will never be full again.
I learned that in grade 10. At Bishop Allen Academy. From my OSSSA team leader and weekend fiance that I shared with one other. He proposed to me with a wire string of sparkly hearts from a Valentine's decoration, and agreed to be married while skydiving. I think he proposed to the one other girl that I shared him with the same way, but they were to be married while scuba diving. But because we had an open relationship and her and I were great friends, our trust-tube remained full the whole weekend. Funny who you learn lessons from.
...
"I'm not weird, I'm special."
...
The Nons
- non-fight fight
- non-fling fling
- non-relationship relationship
- non-word word
- non-cuddle cuddle
...
AG
JEON
SI
SALIVAS
...
Señorita and I caught up tonight. She asked me about one of my posts and I told her. She told me that her friend, RedSash, was a reader too, and sometimes didn't get what I wrote either. I told her to tell her to comment me, and I'd comment back. I write to share, if I wanted this all to myself, I wouldn't have a public site. Besides, comments/messages make me feel popular; it never ceases to amaze me when I learn that anyone comes here at all. Regardless of what Señorita told me, I still think I'm my own biggest fan.
...
I think I've dozed for more time that it took me to put words to this post. There's still more, but they'll have to find me tomorrow.
...
This morning was excruciatingly early, but worth every second of wakefulness.
...
"You have stolen my heart..."
--Stolen, Dashboard Confessionals
...
"Oh right, your non-fight fight."
"Exactly."
...
Trust is like a tube of toothpaste. You start off with a full tube, but everytime you give that tube of trust a test, a squeeze, some of that trust comes out and is lost--have you ever tried to put toothpaste back into the tube? Point is, as much time as you may take with what you've squeezed out, you might get something back into the tube, but that tube will never be full again.
I learned that in grade 10. At Bishop Allen Academy. From my OSSSA team leader and weekend fiance that I shared with one other. He proposed to me with a wire string of sparkly hearts from a Valentine's decoration, and agreed to be married while skydiving. I think he proposed to the one other girl that I shared him with the same way, but they were to be married while scuba diving. But because we had an open relationship and her and I were great friends, our trust-tube remained full the whole weekend. Funny who you learn lessons from.
...
"I'm not weird, I'm special."
...
The Nons
- non-fight fight
- non-fling fling
- non-relationship relationship
- non-word word
- non-cuddle cuddle
...
AG
JEON
SI
SALIVAS
...
Señorita and I caught up tonight. She asked me about one of my posts and I told her. She told me that her friend, RedSash, was a reader too, and sometimes didn't get what I wrote either. I told her to tell her to comment me, and I'd comment back. I write to share, if I wanted this all to myself, I wouldn't have a public site. Besides, comments/messages make me feel popular; it never ceases to amaze me when I learn that anyone comes here at all. Regardless of what Señorita told me, I still think I'm my own biggest fan.
...
I think I've dozed for more time that it took me to put words to this post. There's still more, but they'll have to find me tomorrow.
...
This morning was excruciatingly early, but worth every second of wakefulness.
...
"You have stolen my heart..."
--Stolen, Dashboard Confessionals
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Monday, April 14, 2008
Quote of the Moment:
"I used to feel so alone in the city. All those gazillions of people and then me, on the outside. Because how do you meet a new person? I was very stumped by this for many years. And then I realized, you just say, 'hi.' They may ignore you. Or you may marry them. And that possibility is worth that one word."
--Augusten Burroughs
...
I didn't write it down, but the other quote of today that stuck to me for different reasons came from the financial advisor that came into work today to do a presentation on RRSPs. He basically said that "[when it comes to finances] you can't rely on anyone else but yourself. Not your parents, not your friends, not your husband or wife." There were a chorus of nods in the boardroom, but I'm not sure that I want to agree.
While it's true that you can't rely on anyone to take care of you, I like to know that I DO have people that I can lean on when melancholy finds me on a sunny afternoon. Someone no farther than a phone call away, someone who will come when I cry out. Someone who may have a million other responsibilities, but who will find a way to drop all of them in order to wipe what single tears I may shed.
What's left of my $5 cup isn't lovely enough tonight.
--Augusten Burroughs
...
I didn't write it down, but the other quote of today that stuck to me for different reasons came from the financial advisor that came into work today to do a presentation on RRSPs. He basically said that "[when it comes to finances] you can't rely on anyone else but yourself. Not your parents, not your friends, not your husband or wife." There were a chorus of nods in the boardroom, but I'm not sure that I want to agree.
While it's true that you can't rely on anyone to take care of you, I like to know that I DO have people that I can lean on when melancholy finds me on a sunny afternoon. Someone no farther than a phone call away, someone who will come when I cry out. Someone who may have a million other responsibilities, but who will find a way to drop all of them in order to wipe what single tears I may shed.
What's left of my $5 cup isn't lovely enough tonight.
In the Loo
I learned this weekend just HOW dependent I am on the internet. I missed you dearly, blog. I had so much to share, but I know that now that I'm back, slim chances are that it'll make it up. So sorry. However, I at least have ONE new friend on FB, even if it's just so he can see the picture of his own ass that I took...
...what a weekend. :)
...what a weekend. :)
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Song of the Moment: "Secret" - Maroon 5
Watch the sunrise
Say your goodbyes
Off we go
Some conversation
No contemplation
Hit the road
Car overheats
Jump out of my seat
On the side of the highway baby
Our road is long
Your hold is strong
Please don't ever let go
Oh no
I know I don't know you
But I want you so bad
Everyone has a secret
Oh can they keep it
Oh no they can't
I'm driving fast now
Don't think I know how to go slow
Oh where are you at now
I feel around
There you are
Cool these engines
Calm these jets
I ask you how hot can it get
And as you wipe off beads of sweat
Slowly you say "I'm not there yet"
I know I don't know you
But I want you so bad
Everyone has a secret
Oh can they keep it
Oh no they can't
...
THE line: And as you wipe off beads of sweat / slowly you say "I'm not there yet"
My mini epiphany on the drive home last night that Maroon 5 has some dirty lyrics (see "Kiwi") was only strengthened today by this song...but I knew that already. I like.
Say your goodbyes
Off we go
Some conversation
No contemplation
Hit the road
Car overheats
Jump out of my seat
On the side of the highway baby
Our road is long
Your hold is strong
Please don't ever let go
Oh no
I know I don't know you
But I want you so bad
Everyone has a secret
Oh can they keep it
Oh no they can't
I'm driving fast now
Don't think I know how to go slow
Oh where are you at now
I feel around
There you are
Cool these engines
Calm these jets
I ask you how hot can it get
And as you wipe off beads of sweat
Slowly you say "I'm not there yet"
I know I don't know you
But I want you so bad
Everyone has a secret
Oh can they keep it
Oh no they can't
...
THE line: And as you wipe off beads of sweat / slowly you say "I'm not there yet"
My mini epiphany on the drive home last night that Maroon 5 has some dirty lyrics (see "Kiwi") was only strengthened today by this song...but I knew that already. I like.
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
Stuck
Despite running the risk of having my work discovered here before K-mart gets to work tomorrow, I'm still posting the proud picture of how I spent my late night at the office.
I think the thought process behind this scheme when something like this:
"I don't know why, but I have the biggest urge to put all of these sticky tabs all over K-mart's monitor."
"Ah do it. She of all people will laugh about it tomorrow."
"Done."
It doesn't take much to encourage me into goofiness when I'm stuck with one of the most repetitive tasks for three straight hours.
I think the thought process behind this scheme when something like this:
"I don't know why, but I have the biggest urge to put all of these sticky tabs all over K-mart's monitor."
"Ah do it. She of all people will laugh about it tomorrow."
"Done."
It doesn't take much to encourage me into goofiness when I'm stuck with one of the most repetitive tasks for three straight hours.
Human
“I’ve been thinking about ---. I can’t help it. And I can’t help but find myself feeling a little bad. I know it wasn’t my fault and I shouldn’t need to look back, but I still do. I feel like I should say something. I mean, what happened sucked, and I feel for ---. Is that weird?”
“No, not at all. You’re human. You’re feeling compassion; what’s so weird about that?”
...
There's nothing weird about that. There's nothing weird about wanting to say "I'm sorry," about wanting to say "I understand," about wanting to say "I'm here for you," about wanting to make amends.
Things don't always turn out the way you want them to, but things happen for a reason, and you won't ever learn that reason if you don't move forward. I am moving forward, but that doesn't mean that I don't want to stop and help those I've left behind to catch up.
...
I went for a drive tonight. While what was at the destination was wonderful, for me, it was all about the journey.
“No, not at all. You’re human. You’re feeling compassion; what’s so weird about that?”
...
There's nothing weird about that. There's nothing weird about wanting to say "I'm sorry," about wanting to say "I understand," about wanting to say "I'm here for you," about wanting to make amends.
Things don't always turn out the way you want them to, but things happen for a reason, and you won't ever learn that reason if you don't move forward. I am moving forward, but that doesn't mean that I don't want to stop and help those I've left behind to catch up.
...
I went for a drive tonight. While what was at the destination was wonderful, for me, it was all about the journey.
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
It all goes to the same place anyway
Having not really begun to enjoy eating eggs until recently in life, it turns out that I suck at cooking them. But I gotta admit, while it don't look pretty, it smells GREAT in here!
Monday, April 07, 2008
Tingles
"Twas good seeing you again. I'm still tingly from the head you gave me."
...
It was sent to me in a email. There was more, but this is all I'll share, and I'm not going to explain myself because I don't have to. But for the record, I enjoyed the head you gave me too. ;)
...
It was sent to me in a email. There was more, but this is all I'll share, and I'm not going to explain myself because I don't have to. But for the record, I enjoyed the head you gave me too. ;)
Flames Rekindled
Written--on paper--April 5th, 2008
An irresistibly late morning after an absolutely amazingly late night; after finally resisting the craving to climb back between the sheets, I found myself strolling down a beautifully sunlit street in the Annex towards brunch at my old haunt--Over Easy.
On the flip-side of the service coin, I stood in line, waiting to be seated. Not having been back in what could be years, I was admittedly a little nervous of what sort of welcome I would receive, if there was anyone left to recognize me at all. My nerves were quelled moments later when a familiar face picked me out of the crowd and I found myself enthusiastically greeted--kisses on both cheeks--and swiftly ushered to a table.
Old acquaintances surrounded me and after some quick introductions, I was showered with question after question in an attempt to quickly catch up in the moments to spare between taking orders and running food. Things had changed ("You've lost weight!"), things hadn't changed ("Yup, still with the lady."), and of course, things had happened ("Congratulations!").
When our orders arrived, we were left to eat in peace, but I couldn't help but take in the familiar surroundings; the hustle and bustle of restaurant serving life, the random passers-by, the enthusiastically social chatter between servers and patrons alike. We stayed long enough only to nourish ourselves and left without much after-meal lingering, but not before exchanging many contacts. Back outside and into the sunlight, I confessed.
"I miss it. I miss the people. I miss working there. I miss being a server."
"I can totally see why. I'd only be surprised if you said you didn't miss it."
Moving on to an office job, I thought I'd enjoy the organized routine of day-in, day-out, with a steady paycheque and a predictable schedule. But with that structure, I lost spontaneity. I lost sociability. I lost instant proof of appreciation; monetary and not. I thought I'd grown out of needing all those, but being back there even for those moments, I realized I hadn't.
I realized that my love of serving--of people, spontaneity, sociability, and organized chaos--was for a lifetime. Try to change, grow, or mature out of it as I might, it was a part of me, and at the end of brunch, I found myself hoping to go back some day.
Onward from there to Kensington Market and my next love affair. We parked the car and strolled into the heart of the market where immediately I could feel the tug on my heart strings by the vibrancy of my surroundings.
It'd been years again since my last visit, and while I suspect that back then my attraction to Kensington had been more due to conformity to the chic idea, this time it was instant and personal. The colours of wall graffiti art, the variety of merchandise, the melee of pedestrians funneling through the narrow streets and walkways, the sounds of friends meeting and music from stores, the smells of fresh food and produce. It felt as though with the appearance of the sun and warm temperatures, every pigment that painted this springtime scene in front of me had come out to stretch and shine with a vivid sort of energy that fed all who moved within the confines of that living portrait. I was mesmerized; all I wanted to do for the rest of the afternoon was find a discreet perch above, sip tea, and people watch. It felt as though when I inhaled amongst the crowd, I was inhaling life.
Having had to survive what seemed like the longest winter, I’d almost forgotten what sunshine looked like and the effect it had on me and my view of all it shone on. It was beautiful to be reminded; it was lovely to have shared the moment; it was perfect to not have been the only one to notice.
After dinner with G and company, I headed home, to feign responsibility and ensure being rested for tomorrow’s volleyball league playoffs, but my heart ached the whole ride home, longing to have been allowed to stay downtown, strolling through the nocturnal city, drinking in all the stories the spring night had to share.
I have always loved spontaneity. I have always loved people. I have always loved the city. Sometimes, it’s nice to be reminded that some loves never die.
An irresistibly late morning after an absolutely amazingly late night; after finally resisting the craving to climb back between the sheets, I found myself strolling down a beautifully sunlit street in the Annex towards brunch at my old haunt--Over Easy.
On the flip-side of the service coin, I stood in line, waiting to be seated. Not having been back in what could be years, I was admittedly a little nervous of what sort of welcome I would receive, if there was anyone left to recognize me at all. My nerves were quelled moments later when a familiar face picked me out of the crowd and I found myself enthusiastically greeted--kisses on both cheeks--and swiftly ushered to a table.
Old acquaintances surrounded me and after some quick introductions, I was showered with question after question in an attempt to quickly catch up in the moments to spare between taking orders and running food. Things had changed ("You've lost weight!"), things hadn't changed ("Yup, still with the lady."), and of course, things had happened ("Congratulations!").
When our orders arrived, we were left to eat in peace, but I couldn't help but take in the familiar surroundings; the hustle and bustle of restaurant serving life, the random passers-by, the enthusiastically social chatter between servers and patrons alike. We stayed long enough only to nourish ourselves and left without much after-meal lingering, but not before exchanging many contacts. Back outside and into the sunlight, I confessed.
"I miss it. I miss the people. I miss working there. I miss being a server."
"I can totally see why. I'd only be surprised if you said you didn't miss it."
Moving on to an office job, I thought I'd enjoy the organized routine of day-in, day-out, with a steady paycheque and a predictable schedule. But with that structure, I lost spontaneity. I lost sociability. I lost instant proof of appreciation; monetary and not. I thought I'd grown out of needing all those, but being back there even for those moments, I realized I hadn't.
I realized that my love of serving--of people, spontaneity, sociability, and organized chaos--was for a lifetime. Try to change, grow, or mature out of it as I might, it was a part of me, and at the end of brunch, I found myself hoping to go back some day.
Onward from there to Kensington Market and my next love affair. We parked the car and strolled into the heart of the market where immediately I could feel the tug on my heart strings by the vibrancy of my surroundings.
It'd been years again since my last visit, and while I suspect that back then my attraction to Kensington had been more due to conformity to the chic idea, this time it was instant and personal. The colours of wall graffiti art, the variety of merchandise, the melee of pedestrians funneling through the narrow streets and walkways, the sounds of friends meeting and music from stores, the smells of fresh food and produce. It felt as though with the appearance of the sun and warm temperatures, every pigment that painted this springtime scene in front of me had come out to stretch and shine with a vivid sort of energy that fed all who moved within the confines of that living portrait. I was mesmerized; all I wanted to do for the rest of the afternoon was find a discreet perch above, sip tea, and people watch. It felt as though when I inhaled amongst the crowd, I was inhaling life.
Having had to survive what seemed like the longest winter, I’d almost forgotten what sunshine looked like and the effect it had on me and my view of all it shone on. It was beautiful to be reminded; it was lovely to have shared the moment; it was perfect to not have been the only one to notice.
After dinner with G and company, I headed home, to feign responsibility and ensure being rested for tomorrow’s volleyball league playoffs, but my heart ached the whole ride home, longing to have been allowed to stay downtown, strolling through the nocturnal city, drinking in all the stories the spring night had to share.
I have always loved spontaneity. I have always loved people. I have always loved the city. Sometimes, it’s nice to be reminded that some loves never die.
Sunday, April 06, 2008
Cross my heart
He is seated, waiting for her across the room--she walks over and comes to stand in front of him. Without rising, he envelops her, reaching around her waist and extending up her back, his head coming to rest on her breast. She leans to wrap her arms around his neck and shoulders in return, her fingers tangling themselves in his hair. When he speaks, his voice is muffled into the fabric of her shirt, but she hears him.
"Promise me something."
"What?"
"Promise you'll never leave me."
"I'll never leave you."
He exhales. She breathes him in.
"Promise me something."
"What?"
"Promise you'll never leave me."
"I'll never leave you."
He exhales. She breathes him in.
Shared
There's something refreshing to me about taking a blank, unlined piece of paper, and writing big, scrawling thoughts all over it. And even further, I feel an accomplishment of some sort as the ideas fly and so do the pages until I'm left with a scattered stack of an organized chaos of thoughts, dreams, stories and words--words unencumbered--my contents poured out in fluid language on paper. Pictures that I've painted for me, and can choose to keep secret, or choose to turn around and share with those who will read; those who will listen; those who will sift through the scrawls to find a girl buried in a world where imagination too often overlaps reality. Those who will find me.
Friday, April 04, 2008
String around the finger
Triple threat: bbtea, driving, thingee
Can you look at this and tell me what you think it is?
Enthusiastically confused.
...
I'm supposed to write about these so that you may all share in the hysterical, muscle-aching laughter, but I'm just so tired. I'll spontaneously write about it...tomorrow. ;)
Can you look at this and tell me what you think it is?
Enthusiastically confused.
...
I'm supposed to write about these so that you may all share in the hysterical, muscle-aching laughter, but I'm just so tired. I'll spontaneously write about it...tomorrow. ;)
Thursday, April 03, 2008
Song of the Moment: "Sensual Woman" - The Herbaliser
To become aware of my own sensuality,
I first become fully aware of my own tactile sense.
In dim light, I close my eyes and remove my clothes.
Do I lose his respect for being so wild?
Hardly. He treats me like a rare and precious jewel.
And he goes through the day proud of the fact, that with me,
He is the world's most imaginative lover.
Men pick amazing places for sexual adventure.
The wildest adventure proposed to me was in a bathtub which was full of Jello!
All I could think of, was how many boxes it would take?
What would be the most alluring colour?
The most delicious flavour?
And how could that affect our oral explorations?
If the Jello gets firm, would I bounce?
As you look around for what's new and different,
Remember these three important weapons that should be learned to keep a man in love.
Imagination, sensitivity to his moods and desires,
And the courage to experiment with new sexual techniques,
Enticing situations and places.
Lovemaking is physical, and so is its language.
Suck, cock, fuck, and prick, are not bad words.
Used in the bedroom by lovers to describe parts of the body,
And physical activities,
They are very proper indeed, and they distinctly enhance sex.
Overhaul a prudish attitude.
Don't whistle and stick up your nose, at least, not up in the air.
...
Jenny's playing at random here at work--but thankfully just in my own office--and she pumped out this song just a second ago. The first lines caught my attention, and I had to sit and listen to the whole thing. While quite inappropriate at work, I can't deny its accuracy; they aren't bad words.
Let's not talk about it anymore. :)
I first become fully aware of my own tactile sense.
In dim light, I close my eyes and remove my clothes.
Do I lose his respect for being so wild?
Hardly. He treats me like a rare and precious jewel.
And he goes through the day proud of the fact, that with me,
He is the world's most imaginative lover.
Men pick amazing places for sexual adventure.
The wildest adventure proposed to me was in a bathtub which was full of Jello!
All I could think of, was how many boxes it would take?
What would be the most alluring colour?
The most delicious flavour?
And how could that affect our oral explorations?
If the Jello gets firm, would I bounce?
As you look around for what's new and different,
Remember these three important weapons that should be learned to keep a man in love.
Imagination, sensitivity to his moods and desires,
And the courage to experiment with new sexual techniques,
Enticing situations and places.
Lovemaking is physical, and so is its language.
Suck, cock, fuck, and prick, are not bad words.
Used in the bedroom by lovers to describe parts of the body,
And physical activities,
They are very proper indeed, and they distinctly enhance sex.
Overhaul a prudish attitude.
Don't whistle and stick up your nose, at least, not up in the air.
...
Jenny's playing at random here at work--but thankfully just in my own office--and she pumped out this song just a second ago. The first lines caught my attention, and I had to sit and listen to the whole thing. While quite inappropriate at work, I can't deny its accuracy; they aren't bad words.
Let's not talk about it anymore. :)
Kinda sorta, but lovingly so
It's just barely Thursday, but that means tomorrow is Friday. I've been looking forward to Friday since Sunday!
Some things don't even have to happen to you in person and they make you laugh so hard your co-workers think you're strange.
"...little buddy"?! Loved it. I'm just realizing now that there exists a picture to illustrate this story, but (perhaps unluckily) I am not in possession of it.
I'm still up because I had a great conversation tonight that ended against our will; victims of a beyond-exhausted cell phone battery that for once wasn't mine. Health, travel, life, and love were the topics, and despite the time lapse since our last discourse, we conversationalists picked up right where we'd left off; just the way it should always be. Loved that too.
With so much support, how could I ever doubt in love? While the slip I bought at the store fell short, I still feel like I'm holding the winning ticket. You can't stop a girl from dreaming.
Some things don't even have to happen to you in person and they make you laugh so hard your co-workers think you're strange.
I thought I'd let you know that I'm wearing my pink shirt today. So far, the make/break button is done up and is holding...no free shows yet today.
Make/break button - make someone's day (free peek) or break someone's heart (no free peek). Hold on tight little buddy!
"...little buddy"?! Loved it. I'm just realizing now that there exists a picture to illustrate this story, but (perhaps unluckily) I am not in possession of it.
I'm still up because I had a great conversation tonight that ended against our will; victims of a beyond-exhausted cell phone battery that for once wasn't mine. Health, travel, life, and love were the topics, and despite the time lapse since our last discourse, we conversationalists picked up right where we'd left off; just the way it should always be. Loved that too.
With so much support, how could I ever doubt in love? While the slip I bought at the store fell short, I still feel like I'm holding the winning ticket. You can't stop a girl from dreaming.
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
Job titling
The couple strolls casually down the main tourist strip, hand in hand. Flashing lights and signs are everywhere, a multitude of attractions trying to lure visitors into museums, giftshops, haunted houses, restaurants, rides, and midways. The couple takes the whole scene in but doesn't fall prey to the gimmicks--they've been there before and are this time there to relax, enjoy each other's company, and people-watch.
The next picture window they come to looks into a huge candy store. The walls are lined with massive tubes filled with all sorts of sugary goodness. Cases sparkle and shine with an edible rainbow of colours; the lights reflect off of all of the sugar-coated treats. Tables and displays of chocolate line the floors; bags of sweets ready to be gifted with the area's local logo strikingly emblazoned on the packaging. However, it is the performance displayed front and centre stage in the window that the couple stop to watch.
On a thick marble table top, a man is pouring thick molten chocolate from a large vat. Dressed in white from head to toe including his apron, the man takes up a long handled paddle and as he walks around and around the table, he scoops and flips the chocolate, kneading in back into the centre of the marble. He is sure and swift; the oozing fudge continuously threatening to reach the edge and spill off, but he works fast and never lets that happen. The chocolate-soon-to-be-fudge looks smooth and delicious--he never spills a drop.
At the end of his kneading process, he deftly sweeps all of the fudge off the table into a long trough in a few strokes, then carries the trough away to further cool and then to be later cut and packaged.
The couple lingers a little longer, the woman's head having found a comfortable spot on the man's shoulder. A moment later, she stands up straight, ready to move on. She looks up him with a smile.
"What?" he asks her.
"Nothing." But her smile grows into a small chuckle.
"No, really--what are you thinking?"
"I was just thinking...what's that guy's job?" she laughs this time, shaking her head at herself.
"What's that guy's job? Well, he's a...oh...!" He joins her in laughter.
Still giggling--especially after noticing another couple that had stopped to watch the window had overheard their conversation and were laughing themselves--they link arms and head off to the midway, ready to try their luck at bowling.
The next picture window they come to looks into a huge candy store. The walls are lined with massive tubes filled with all sorts of sugary goodness. Cases sparkle and shine with an edible rainbow of colours; the lights reflect off of all of the sugar-coated treats. Tables and displays of chocolate line the floors; bags of sweets ready to be gifted with the area's local logo strikingly emblazoned on the packaging. However, it is the performance displayed front and centre stage in the window that the couple stop to watch.
On a thick marble table top, a man is pouring thick molten chocolate from a large vat. Dressed in white from head to toe including his apron, the man takes up a long handled paddle and as he walks around and around the table, he scoops and flips the chocolate, kneading in back into the centre of the marble. He is sure and swift; the oozing fudge continuously threatening to reach the edge and spill off, but he works fast and never lets that happen. The chocolate-soon-to-be-fudge looks smooth and delicious--he never spills a drop.
At the end of his kneading process, he deftly sweeps all of the fudge off the table into a long trough in a few strokes, then carries the trough away to further cool and then to be later cut and packaged.
The couple lingers a little longer, the woman's head having found a comfortable spot on the man's shoulder. A moment later, she stands up straight, ready to move on. She looks up him with a smile.
"What?" he asks her.
"Nothing." But her smile grows into a small chuckle.
"No, really--what are you thinking?"
"I was just thinking...what's that guy's job?" she laughs this time, shaking her head at herself.
"What's that guy's job? Well, he's a...oh...!" He joins her in laughter.
Still giggling--especially after noticing another couple that had stopped to watch the window had overheard their conversation and were laughing themselves--they link arms and head off to the midway, ready to try their luck at bowling.
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