The mint brownie is gone. I gave it to my downstairs neighbour. I just ate the lemon loaf. A little stale, but not bad.
So: I'm pretty stressed out. And lots of the people I know seem to be stressed out. But we really shouldn't be. I mean, if we miss a deadline, it's not as if anyone will die. They'll just be, y'know. Pissed off that we missed a deadline.
Maybe I should take up meditation. Or start doing yoga again.
See? Now I'm stressed about not doing enough yoga. Damn it all.
Ran into some boys from the Arbour Lake Sghool tonight, and was recommended a drink: a stout beer with a shot of Wild Turkey and a shot of... dammit, I've forgotten the last ingredient. I shall have to try every possible variety of liquor until something tastes good.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Oh, and...
Fabulous linguistic discoveries of the day:
"Don't they know that smoking's a gamble? They can gamble on any streetcorner!"
- Jason Long, in a discussion of smoking in casinos
"The unceasing onslaught of fresh musical delights can overwhelm even the most devoted music fan."
- on the back of Have You Heard, a Starbucks-exclusive compilation CD
"Don't they know that smoking's a gamble? They can gamble on any streetcorner!"
- Jason Long, in a discussion of smoking in casinos
"The unceasing onslaught of fresh musical delights can overwhelm even the most devoted music fan."
- on the back of Have You Heard, a Starbucks-exclusive compilation CD
Caffeine Nation
I learned a lot about Starbucks tonight.
I learned that their big bucket 'o coffee is not called a "Travel Kit", but rather a "Coffee Traveller".
After confusing the barista at the Memorial Drive Starbucks by asking for a "Travel Kit", I learned that the Memorial Drive Starbucks was out of "Coffee Travellers".
I learned that, near my home, there are (at least) three Starbucks in a ten-block radius: the Memorial Drive, Bridgeland and Centre Street locations.
I learned that these three locations are buddies. Upon discovering they were out of "Coffee Travellers", Memorial Drive called Bridgeland to get the phone number for Centre Street, to ask Centre Street to prepare a "Coffee Traveller" full of "Home Brew" (which is more popular than "Dark Roast") so it would be ready when I arrived.
I learned that cute young baristas will take pity on a hapless non-coffee drinker and tell him that, yes, people do generally appreciate the inclusion of cream and sugar.
I learned that cute young baristas will accept the request for a "small but delicious variety of pastries" as a personal challenge. They will select, among others items, a slice of lemon loaf, a mint brownie and a raspberry-triangle-thing.
I learned that a "Coffee Traveller" and seven pastries cost $28 and change.
I learned that a "Coffee Traveller" contains more than enough coffee for five board members, who, despite the public announcement, were the only people who showed up for CYPT's Annual General Meeting.
I learned that caffeine and sugar greatly enhance the entertainment value of an AGM.
Those are the things I learned about Starbucks tonight. I have a slice of lemon loaf and a mint brownie in my kitchen, if anyone's interested.
I learned that their big bucket 'o coffee is not called a "Travel Kit", but rather a "Coffee Traveller".
After confusing the barista at the Memorial Drive Starbucks by asking for a "Travel Kit", I learned that the Memorial Drive Starbucks was out of "Coffee Travellers".
I learned that, near my home, there are (at least) three Starbucks in a ten-block radius: the Memorial Drive, Bridgeland and Centre Street locations.
I learned that these three locations are buddies. Upon discovering they were out of "Coffee Travellers", Memorial Drive called Bridgeland to get the phone number for Centre Street, to ask Centre Street to prepare a "Coffee Traveller" full of "Home Brew" (which is more popular than "Dark Roast") so it would be ready when I arrived.
I learned that cute young baristas will take pity on a hapless non-coffee drinker and tell him that, yes, people do generally appreciate the inclusion of cream and sugar.
I learned that cute young baristas will accept the request for a "small but delicious variety of pastries" as a personal challenge. They will select, among others items, a slice of lemon loaf, a mint brownie and a raspberry-triangle-thing.
I learned that a "Coffee Traveller" and seven pastries cost $28 and change.
I learned that a "Coffee Traveller" contains more than enough coffee for five board members, who, despite the public announcement, were the only people who showed up for CYPT's Annual General Meeting.
I learned that caffeine and sugar greatly enhance the entertainment value of an AGM.
Those are the things I learned about Starbucks tonight. I have a slice of lemon loaf and a mint brownie in my kitchen, if anyone's interested.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
bold art and hard sex
Somebody wrote that on my fridge with magnetic poetry. Two very admirable goals for life.
I went to see Dance Montage 2008 tonight (and arrived twenty minutes early - YES!), which is an annual showcase of short choreography. It was a mixed bag of performances, though lovely Léda Davies kicked some serious ass as both a dancer (in N'Bara Ta-Gan) and choreographer (for Wanderlust). Yay Léda!
Flipping through the program, I noticed that several dancers were pulling double-duty, performing in different pieces. And then I noticed that some dancers were pulling triple-duty. And then I noticed that a woman named Chelsey Higdon was performing in FIVE out of eleven pieces. Damn, girl, that's a lot of rehearsals.
Unsurprisingly, from where I was sitting, Chelsey was gorgeous. The pieces she performed ranged from belly dance to hip-hop to contemporary to ballet, and she figured prominently in each of them.
After Resistance (a pretty badass piece choreographed by Annalisa Whittle, in which the dancers were wrapped in elastics and manipulated them to great effect), I overheard the young woman next to me say, "Wasn't Chelsey great?"
I leaned over. "Is Chelsey the one who's dancing in, like, five pieces?"
"Yeah," she replied, with just a tiny note of jealousy in her voice. "And she's a first-year."
In the ballet piece, Aejopstux (again, quite good, choreographed by Carla French), there's a moment where Ms. Higdon is spirited away by the two male dancers, Joel Hathaway and Michael Myroniuk. The remaining nine female dancers bunch together in the corner and watch (again, with a hint of longing) as the pair of toned men vie for the attention of the lithe first-year pivoting between them.
Meta-Dance Montage? Hm.
I went to see Dance Montage 2008 tonight (and arrived twenty minutes early - YES!), which is an annual showcase of short choreography. It was a mixed bag of performances, though lovely Léda Davies kicked some serious ass as both a dancer (in N'Bara Ta-Gan) and choreographer (for Wanderlust). Yay Léda!
Flipping through the program, I noticed that several dancers were pulling double-duty, performing in different pieces. And then I noticed that some dancers were pulling triple-duty. And then I noticed that a woman named Chelsey Higdon was performing in FIVE out of eleven pieces. Damn, girl, that's a lot of rehearsals.
Unsurprisingly, from where I was sitting, Chelsey was gorgeous. The pieces she performed ranged from belly dance to hip-hop to contemporary to ballet, and she figured prominently in each of them.
After Resistance (a pretty badass piece choreographed by Annalisa Whittle, in which the dancers were wrapped in elastics and manipulated them to great effect), I overheard the young woman next to me say, "Wasn't Chelsey great?"
I leaned over. "Is Chelsey the one who's dancing in, like, five pieces?"
"Yeah," she replied, with just a tiny note of jealousy in her voice. "And she's a first-year."
In the ballet piece, Aejopstux (again, quite good, choreographed by Carla French), there's a moment where Ms. Higdon is spirited away by the two male dancers, Joel Hathaway and Michael Myroniuk. The remaining nine female dancers bunch together in the corner and watch (again, with a hint of longing) as the pair of toned men vie for the attention of the lithe first-year pivoting between them.
Meta-Dance Montage? Hm.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Mark Tardy Hopkins
Forgiveness is paramount!
---
I'm often late for things. Despite the fact that I usually get away with it, it's a problem.
Last night, I headed up to birds & stone to check out Amber Lights (written/produced by Simone Saunders and directed by Jennifer Roberts!). The show started at 8:00, and I left the house around 7:48 because... why? I think I was playing Spider-Man: Web of Shadows (a game that runs at a crawl on my poor computer) and forgot to eat dinner, so when I noticed the time, I paused to shove something down my throat on the way out the door.
I leapt into my car, slammed it into reverse and backed out of my spot, just like I've done a hundred times before. Only, this time, the parking lot was covered in ice.
Usually, I can swing out of my spot with a comfortable space between my car and its opposite, parked on the other side of the lot. This time, however, my car just kept swinging around, right toward my neighbour's rear bumper. I slammed on the brakes, and we skidded in Hollywood-style slow motion, stopping a hair's breadth before impact.
Adrenaline freshly pumping, I headed for Memorial Drive.
En route, I somehow managed to tear my right thumbnail - nothing too dramatic, just a sliver that I would have later cut off anyway, but enough that it hurt. The sliver refused to relinquish its death-grip on my thumb, and so when I pulled up to birds & stone (at what my dashboard clock told me was 7:58 pm), I spent a couple minutes resolving my thumbnail issue.
Feeling much happier about life in general, with the digital clock screaming 8:00!!! at me, I hurried over to the birds & stone entrance... and it was locked.
I was puzzled. Had I misread the showtime? Was the run over?
I mused that perhaps they had decided to use the 1st St entrance, rather than the 16th Ave, so I moseyed over. That door was unlocked, so I headed down the stairs, where I encountered a locked door right outside of where the box office should be.
I shrugged and knocked. After a moment, a young woman opened the door.
"Um," she said. "We're about to start the show."
"Great!" I replied. "Can I come in?"
She paused. "Do you have a ticket?"
"No."
"Uh," she said, glancing anxiously over her shoulder toward the theatre. "Look, I gotta be on stage. I need to lock this door."
"Oh! Okay..."
"Sorry man!"
Slam.
Belatedly, realising that I had just inadvertently stressed out one of the actors, I thought about wishing her a good show. The newly locked door didn't offer any suggestions on how, so I headed back to my car, bemused at my predictability, and drove home to write a blog post about my proclivity for tardiness. Annnnd then I got distracted and never got around to it.
Tonight, after getting my "bad-ass" haircut at Swizzlesticks, I headed up to 16th Ave for a dinner/CYPT meeting with Mat. We wrapped up around 7:05, which left me with fifty-five minutes to kill before Amber Lights, attempt #2.
Normally, in such a situation, I would either head home or order another beer, then rush for the theatre just in time to snag a seat. But I decided, no. Today I will be early.
Showed up at 7:15. Had a nice chat with Simone and her brother. Returned Downstage's projection stand to storage. Ran into some other friends. Got a seat in the front row.
Compared to my normal routine, it was pretty relaxed.
I doubt this is any kind of turning point, and I fully suspect that I'll continue to squeal out of parking lots, hoping that whoever I'm meeting is later than me. But, wow, wouldn't life be way calmer if I could start being early?
---
I'm often late for things. Despite the fact that I usually get away with it, it's a problem.
Last night, I headed up to birds & stone to check out Amber Lights (written/produced by Simone Saunders and directed by Jennifer Roberts!). The show started at 8:00, and I left the house around 7:48 because... why? I think I was playing Spider-Man: Web of Shadows (a game that runs at a crawl on my poor computer) and forgot to eat dinner, so when I noticed the time, I paused to shove something down my throat on the way out the door.
I leapt into my car, slammed it into reverse and backed out of my spot, just like I've done a hundred times before. Only, this time, the parking lot was covered in ice.
Usually, I can swing out of my spot with a comfortable space between my car and its opposite, parked on the other side of the lot. This time, however, my car just kept swinging around, right toward my neighbour's rear bumper. I slammed on the brakes, and we skidded in Hollywood-style slow motion, stopping a hair's breadth before impact.
Adrenaline freshly pumping, I headed for Memorial Drive.
En route, I somehow managed to tear my right thumbnail - nothing too dramatic, just a sliver that I would have later cut off anyway, but enough that it hurt. The sliver refused to relinquish its death-grip on my thumb, and so when I pulled up to birds & stone (at what my dashboard clock told me was 7:58 pm), I spent a couple minutes resolving my thumbnail issue.
Feeling much happier about life in general, with the digital clock screaming 8:00!!! at me, I hurried over to the birds & stone entrance... and it was locked.
I was puzzled. Had I misread the showtime? Was the run over?
I mused that perhaps they had decided to use the 1st St entrance, rather than the 16th Ave, so I moseyed over. That door was unlocked, so I headed down the stairs, where I encountered a locked door right outside of where the box office should be.
I shrugged and knocked. After a moment, a young woman opened the door.
"Um," she said. "We're about to start the show."
"Great!" I replied. "Can I come in?"
She paused. "Do you have a ticket?"
"No."
"Uh," she said, glancing anxiously over her shoulder toward the theatre. "Look, I gotta be on stage. I need to lock this door."
"Oh! Okay..."
"Sorry man!"
Slam.
Belatedly, realising that I had just inadvertently stressed out one of the actors, I thought about wishing her a good show. The newly locked door didn't offer any suggestions on how, so I headed back to my car, bemused at my predictability, and drove home to write a blog post about my proclivity for tardiness. Annnnd then I got distracted and never got around to it.
Tonight, after getting my "bad-ass" haircut at Swizzlesticks, I headed up to 16th Ave for a dinner/CYPT meeting with Mat. We wrapped up around 7:05, which left me with fifty-five minutes to kill before Amber Lights, attempt #2.
Normally, in such a situation, I would either head home or order another beer, then rush for the theatre just in time to snag a seat. But I decided, no. Today I will be early.
Showed up at 7:15. Had a nice chat with Simone and her brother. Returned Downstage's projection stand to storage. Ran into some other friends. Got a seat in the front row.
Compared to my normal routine, it was pretty relaxed.
I doubt this is any kind of turning point, and I fully suspect that I'll continue to squeal out of parking lots, hoping that whoever I'm meeting is later than me. But, wow, wouldn't life be way calmer if I could start being early?
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Murky
Missed a day! But forgiveness is paramount.
I did not expect to end up at Ming last night, and I did not expect to stay until 1:30 in the morning. Aren't surprises neat? Note to self: the Marco Polo is a damned tasty martini.
I feel swamped these days, in the literal "being sucked below the surface, into an asphyxiating quagmire of muck" sense. All of my jobs, all at once, seem to be screaming at me with urgent deadlines. It's all a bit deafening.
The trailer for Repo! the Genetic Opera brings me joy. I'm afraid to see the movie. What if it's not as good as the trailer? Tragedy!
I did not expect to end up at Ming last night, and I did not expect to stay until 1:30 in the morning. Aren't surprises neat? Note to self: the Marco Polo is a damned tasty martini.
I feel swamped these days, in the literal "being sucked below the surface, into an asphyxiating quagmire of muck" sense. All of my jobs, all at once, seem to be screaming at me with urgent deadlines. It's all a bit deafening.
The trailer for Repo! the Genetic Opera brings me joy. I'm afraid to see the movie. What if it's not as good as the trailer? Tragedy!
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Audacious
A while ago, I wrote an article on sleep.
God, I'm optimistic sometimes. "If my work is keeping me up past midnight, it can wait until tomorrow." Pssh.
I need to stop writing articles with embedded resolutions. I don't make New Year's resolutions; why should I make promises I can't keep to an anonymous audience of magazine readers? It just makes me feel guilty when, once again, I find myself pulling an all-nighter.
Sigh.
Had a lovely evening. Caught up with various dear friends. Spoke French. Am exhausted and slightly drunk.
Should go to bed. Probably won't.
God, I'm optimistic sometimes. "If my work is keeping me up past midnight, it can wait until tomorrow." Pssh.
I need to stop writing articles with embedded resolutions. I don't make New Year's resolutions; why should I make promises I can't keep to an anonymous audience of magazine readers? It just makes me feel guilty when, once again, I find myself pulling an all-nighter.
Sigh.
Had a lovely evening. Caught up with various dear friends. Spoke French. Am exhausted and slightly drunk.
Should go to bed. Probably won't.
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