Inarticulate Speech of the Heart

COMMENT-GG Post

2008-08-31T09:30:00.006-04:00

I know I'm going in the right direction when I get a reaction from a reader... LOL!

P.S. I am so tired of idiots who use U and UR instead of taking the time to spell it out. Comment as you would like... but please attempt to do it intelligently!

Anonymous said...

duh. u think ur gossip girl? stop copying it. u don't have originality and that means you don't have a talent.

August 09, 2008 4:07 AM

Gypsy In My Soul said...

Hey dumbass... this duplicating of style is meant to be satirical... If you were intelligent you would understand that.

BIRTH OF A NEWIN

2008-08-31T08:46:00.003-04:00

The first Newin grandchild came into the world at 7:50am a week ago. My brother Mike, is now the proud father of a 7lb baby bundle. Which will eventually make him the anxious father of a teenage girl and the worrisome father of a twenty-something woman... and so on. But I'll not flash too far ahead and let him enjoy this moment of pure newborn bliss.

This little girl is all cotton candy and rainbows, everything that one would expect from a delicious newborn. Fortunate smiled upon her, as she came out healthy, beautiful, cuddly... (Stark reality: not all babies are cute... some look like old men and never really progress from there) ...photogenic and camera ready. The first picture I ever took of her she already smiling.

Keira Mai Anh is my kind of girl... Intelligent: born on a Sunday morning, ensuring all principle players in her life will witness her first few hours on earth. Considerate: born on a Sunday morning, ensuring all principle players in her life are available for her first few hours on earth. A Starlet: born on a Sunday morning, ensuring all principle players in her life will document her first few hours on earth.

A wonderful addition to the Newin dynasty!

REALITY?! TV

2008-04-30T10:47:00.010-04:00

Since I've been one month jobless, I've become a TV whore. Specifically reality (I use this term very lightly) TV: Dancing with the Stars, Big Brother, America's Next Top Model, The Hills,The Bachelor...

In every scene, with every interaction and with every reaction I find myself questioning the legitimacy of the "narrative".

I know first hand and I am aware second hand the effects editing has on manipulating a show/story's outcome. Frequently, facts, truths and reality lay abandoned on the cutting room floor in exchange for glamourous, amourous and outrageous results.

I say this, with my mind on and in anticipation of, an old friend's participation in a new reality show. I know she's chosen her words carefully and monitored her reactions conscientiously, but as I understand television requires a story and every story requires a cast of characters. I wonder how her "character" will play out on TV.

FOLLOW THE INSTRUCTIONS

2008-04-26T21:49:00.004-04:00

My youngest brother and I enrolled in an all day silk screening workshop. I am very excited for the lesson. Here is one of the silk screen prints I've been working on.

If you see me wearing this t-shirt, please, for your own safety, follow the instructions.

EMOTIONAL ROLLERCOASTER

2008-04-26T21:14:00.006-04:00

I’ve been working in my home office for the better part of the day and my mind is on overdrive.

Frequently, to clear my head I allow my brain a recess. Window staring is a favourite pastime of mine to clear an active mind. Fortunately, I am blessed with a bucolic view immediately across the street. Ironically, towards the left end of the serene forested field lies a large amusement park. Hideous.

Over the winter season this park has erected a new ride. Protruding from the landscape (adding to the hideousness) is a monstrosity with neon yellow tracks called the Behemoth. I hate this eye soar. I curse its existence every time I briefly gaze upon it.

However, today, I cannot tear my eyes away from the rise and fall of the coaster cars. I’ve seen this ride do at least fifty rotations on its tracks today. It’s mesmerizing. Watching it drop from its highest peak I am reminded of the sensation 'fear-excitement', a feeling that’s been absent from my rolodex of emotional recall for a long time.

I go through all the routine emotions I believe are required for a healthy and stable psyche… but I can’t remember the evocation of ‘fear-excitement’ as a routinely required emotion in my daily life.

This makes me wonder about the state of my emotional well-being. Should I be actively looking to bring about this emotion? Will I eventually become numb with the lost of this feeling? Is this why people turn to drugs or extreme sports or using drugs while participating in extreme sports?

I’m not really the sporty type (I’m petite and fragile) and I am too vain to start using drugs (accelerated aging, loss of teeth, destruction of body and all).

So what’s a girl to do? Ride the Behemoth? Did I mention rollercoasters are my sworn enemy? Help.

GOSSIP GIRL HERE....

2008-04-17T09:19:00.005-04:00

Hey upper east-sider, This Girl here, and I have the biggest news ever!

Spotted --- hitched to transit rides all over the city, OMFG Gossip Girl ads, creating a blush on the faces of the prudish, the elderly and the parental. Unfortunately, for ma and pa, the NC-17 ads are directed at their youngin’. These sexy pictures paint a thousand words, and in this land of privilege the words are all together: engaging, entertaining and empty. What was it we say about appearances? Yes, they can be deceiving.

The designer knock off ad campaign, This Girl labels, ‘Sex in the teenage City’, would induce such raised eyebrows, even a botox patient could muster. But, can SEX save this sinking ship stocked with super-wealthy, scandalous and salacious storylines? (That’s enough S’ to keep my speech therapist orgasmic for the year.)

This self proclaimed, highly rated show is fighting the reality of a rating low. FYI Upper East Siders, the waterlogged acting and overboard storylines require creator Josh Schwartz to throw out a lifejacket wrapped in expensive duds and erotic imagery.

Did we think J.S’ precious G.G. would go down without a fight? Can this show beat out other fledgling freshman show in the ratings battle? There's nothing This Girl likes more than a good fight. And this could be a classic rumble in the upper elite jungle.

After all, Upper East Side Queens aren't born at the top. They climb their way up, in designer stilettos, with no concern for who they have to trample on and whore out to get there.

Here’s a little inquiry, who’s doing the pimping and who’s doing the whoring? That's one secret I'll never tell...

You know you love me. XOXO, This Girl.

P.S. This just in; Spotted ---This Girl drawing moustaches on the OMFG ad faces. Could she be hoping that the couplings generate so much heat the show will eventually burn itself out! Keep your fire tents ready and be prepared to take cover.

IN SUMMATION

2007-11-08T16:42:00.000-05:00

Due to laziness, lack of motivation and a busy life schedule, blog updating has been sacrificed. I've even missed blogging on the one year anniversary of this blog... (I am slapping my own wrist as I type.)

Please be forewarned young readers, enthusiasm does not accompany this post. I will summarize, the past few months in point form and will endeavour to elaborate at a later date:

- One week LA vacation... not what I expected.
- Celebrating another birth year... not what I expected.
- Adopted a new puppy... not what I expected.
- Started a new show... not what I expected.

So the lesson here would be... not to have any expectations? Not sure I'm liking that lesson.

EST. 1975

2007-07-03T23:01:00.000-04:00

The boy is 32! Happy Birthday to a wonderful man!

INFALLIBLE FUNDAMENTALS

2007-07-01T10:54:00.000-04:00

In conversation with a coworker, my attention was drawn to a short essay: "ALL I REALLY NEED TO KNOW I LEARNED IN KINDERGARTEN" by Robert Fulghum. My coworker and I concurred with Mr. Fulghum.

Veritably, in kindergarten we were given the best talisman to live a life of contentment. Inspired by Fulghum's list, I've edited items on his to reflect my own conclusions for elementary conducts:

"A Kindergarten Application on Modern Principles" by A.N.H. (Influenced by Robert Fulghum's article)

* Share your most special things.
* Be fair.
* Play well with others.
* Always say "Please" and "Thank You".
* Put things back where you found them.
* Take care of other people's things the way you would your own things.
* Clean up your own mess.
* Don't take things that aren't yours.
* Say you're sorry when you hurt somebody.
* Smiling attracts more friends than frowning.
* Wash your hands.
* Don't be afraid to be silly.
* Flush.
* Wear underwear.
* Everyone needs a time-out every now and then.
* Don't pick your nose in public (this goes for anything else you have to pick).
* Eat your vegetables... it really is good for you.
* Learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work every day some - Live a balanced life.
* Take a nap every afternoon.
* Read a story every day.
* Be a fairy princess... or a cowboy.
* Don't be afraid to try new things.
* Believe in magic and fairy tales.
* When you go out in the world, watch out for traffic, hold hands and stick together.
* Goldfish and hamsters and white mice and even the little seed in the Styrofoam cup - they all die. So do we.

Imagine what a kinder, gentler, decent world this would be if all bodies (government, corporations and self) adhere to these elementary rules.

SOCIAL CALENDAR FLOOD

2007-06-30T11:40:00.000-04:00

I've taken this last week to detoxify.

The two weeks prior to this one, have been a whirlwind of activity... the first week reserved in preparation for my brother's wedding and the second wind storm came packaged as a 5'1 female from SoCal: my cousin Al.

Addressing the first event: It was wonderful to see the first of my two brothers, Mike, getting married. He looked both happy and handsome. Witnessing my youngest brother up at the alter standing beside Mike as his best man was heart stirring and tear jerking.

As expected for special occasions such as this, our extended family poured into town to help Mike and his new wife celebrate their day. I love grand family events, especially the kind where I get to play dress-up. (Of course it's all about me... afterall these are my thoughts on my life... Would you expect anything different?) I wore this ~~bridesmaid~~, err... brides matron dress and I was HOT... literally, 30° weather HOT. But I did have a fabulous glow about me, mainly due to an extensive morning in hair and make-up... so worthwhile.

My cousins and I organized our own morning make-up preparations. Separate from the wedding party's... I like to use my own people... I'm a diva that way. Our make-up artist does wonders with a brush and face paints. Gin, an addition to the "Newin" girls, was gracious enough to work on our hair; she does wonders with a hairbrush and a blow dryer. All in all, we looked gorgeous (unbiased opinion) and had a wild time getting our glam on.

The "Newin" girls partied into the night! (Some harder than others...)

Now, in reference to hard partiers...

Week two: The tornado that swept into town... Al "Newin". Her week here reminded me of two things: 1. It doesn't matter how many close friends you have, nothing beats family friendships. 2. I am too old to be out and about town every night and still function appropriately at work.

Unfortunately for Al, I had my cranky pants on for her week here... dealing with work personnel (who, to my great gratification, is gone). But we made the best of her short stay up in T.O. packing an event into everyday! An Evening with the new bride and groom -shopping and dinner, Karaoke Night, Spa Night, Club Night... so exhausted just reminiscing about it.

On my one night off, I convinced my cousin Lux to join me in a downtown walk after work... 3 hrs and two pairs of throbbing feet later, we were glad for a chauffeured ride home.

Thankfully, my hiatus was scheduled for the week following my social calendar flood.

I've taken this last week to detoxify.

IDLE MINDS...

2007-06-09T18:01:00.000-04:00

... are the devil's playground. For the past month I've had a massive amount of time on my hands at work, allowing me to do extensive research on my new script.

I can say, with great conviction, that I could murder my husband in five ways without suspicion. Although, I do bounce the scenarios and storyline off him... I need to gage his reaction under certain conditions, afterall, believability is still key, even in my fictional world.

I need to start writing a romantic comedy, pronto.

DO YOU REMEMBER...

2007-05-25T09:15:00.000-04:00

Last night I spent five and a half side splitting hours with an old friend, someone who I hadn’t been in contact with in 16 years. No, not a typo… I wrote 16.

It was a two person high school reunion.

I am aware that as a post-modern cynic, I'm supposed to lampoon high school reunions, in any shape, and at all cost, avert re-connecting with people I haven't seen for more than a decade. Honestly, the possibility that the friend I once cherished could have grown into an appallingly bitter adult, did enter my mind. However, the sentimental me, bulldozed the cynical me aside and ran to this reunion with open arms.

Reconnecting with M set forth flashbacks, in brilliant memory-saturated colour. Images of my drama filled fifteenth and sixteenth year swirled about, waiting to be released. The retelling of memories and laughter filled the evening air and nostalgia flowed for a past relived through rose-coloured memories. Luckily, my memories were easier to extract, as I was fortunate enough to have kept my teenage stories, bound between the covers of inexpensive diaries.

The dramatic, life-stopping, whisper-inducing, diary-worthy, occurrences that once generated hours of phone conversations and produced tissues full of tears, were now caricaturized and mocked. Truly, I laughed so earnestly my eyes filled with tears and my stomach muscles ached.

I wished M had kept her diaries; it would have been a very worthwhile read. She had the roller-coaster existence, I was the grounded one.

She and I, for most of our grade ten and eleventh year, were a part of the most cohesive group of high school friends I’ve ever maintained. After M left our high school, the close friendships I developed subsequently sprung from differing cliques. (In my later high school career, I needed an assortment of friends to suit all aspects of my multiple personalities.) M and I did keep in contact after her departure, as promised. However, geography and time eventually ravished the ties that bind. What were left behind are memories of places and incidents, conversations and sentiments, old-lovers and old-friends.

Having grown up in an era without e-mail, cell phones and modern social technology, I never would have thought we’d ever see each other again. As the internet became a part of my daily existence, I did try to search for her through the years, but to no avail. However, Facebook stepped in to intervene (this is the second time it has proven its worth by reconnecting me with worthy long lost friends). It was so wonderful to catch-up with her and to know that she is happy.

'NUFF SAID

2007-05-07T20:04:00.000-04:00

5.7km in 1hr, 14 songs on the ipod, 1 adult tricycle coverd in flowers and 1 Urban Asian cowboy.

Need I say more?

EARLY DISMISSAL

2007-05-04T17:32:00.000-04:00

Gorgeous weather and an early work dismissal prompted another walk through the downtown streets; from work to Queens Park subway, I completed a distance of 3.5km.

I am loving the atmosphere in the city. The fruit trees in full blossom are a mesmerizing sight and the perfume of spring flowers spread a deliciously enticing smell. After a seemingly long and uninteresting day, sensory stimulating was a welcomed condition.

Behind darkend sunglasses I indulged in my favorite passtime: people watching. Torontonian, on the whole, are quite pleasant looking people.

My route du jour, lead me pass the University. Walking by UofT campus I realized, although I am at least 10yrs their senior, I could easily be mistake for a student. Camouflaged against the backdrop of white earphone wearing, backpack carrying collegiates, I strolled through the grounds reminiscing about my own University days. Where has the time gone.

THE 4TH

2007-05-04T13:04:00.000-04:00

"May the 4th be with you!"

No, I am not a Star Wars geek... I do not wear a gold lamé bikini, I do not have any scenes from the series embedded in my memory and I do not spend hours on message boards discussing the virtues and subtext of Lucas' greatest masterpiece.

I just get a big kick from hearing those words, formed in that way, on this exact day!

CITY ROMANCE

2007-05-03T21:00:00.000-04:00

Under the dominating death hold of winter, Toronto became a spiritless suitor. As the frost set in, I readily abandoned my relationship with this city. Its wares could no longer woo me. Each day after work, in an effort to avoid the pitiful glares of the beckoning city lights, I ran away as fast as I could, taking comfort in the warm embrace of my home.

However, with warmer temperatures looming, I am destined to fall in love with the city all over again.

In an early bid to rekindling my romance with Toronto, I decided to walk from College & Yonge to Union station, a total of 2.2km. Each block brought reminders of the charm and attraction that this city holds. Its eagerness to embrace an entire hoard of warm-weather-shoe-jockeys onto its walkway was invigorating.

I have resolved to spend more quality time with Toronto. I know I’ve said this before, but this time I really mean it. I am going to make this relationship work for me!

The First AD

2007-04-23T07:31:00.000-04:00

It's funny... because it could be TRUE!

FUN TIMES TO FOLLOW

2007-04-17T12:51:00.000-04:00

Commencing tomorrow I have my husband to myself for five whole days. It's been stressful around here as of late, therefore we have decided to take this time out to be together... no phones, no friends and no family.

Since we were unable to make our trip out West, we are going to be backyard tourists. We will be attending WE WILL ROCK YOU; we will be going to Collingwood, to Kingston, to Niagara Falls and Niagara-on-the-Lake. We will be out and about in Southern Ontario.

FUN TIMES TO FOLLOW!

MY NEXT BREATH

2007-04-17T12:23:00.000-04:00

I'm in bed infected with the cold virus and am spending a lot of time with the television on. For the past four days the news has been inundated with sadness, death and misery.

Two news events weigh heavily on my heart.

The first, the death of fourth grader John Pham, the child killed in a Brampton school bus accident. The pain visible on his parents face is heartbreaking. (Why aren't there seatbelts on school buses?)

The second, the Virginia Tech Massacre, where some Asshole has taking his life’s pain and frustration violently out on others.

Watching this latter event unfold before me on the tube, I face my own frustration and pain. As more information unravels about the mass murderer, it is obvious that the event was premeditated and his intention was to massacre and inflict pain on as many people as the bullets allow. It is disheartening to me how a person can let anger and hatred intensify to a point where it creates feeling of righteousness, power and moral superiority; where it becomes justifiable to alter and seize the lives of others.

It’s extremely troubling to witness a person who permits anguish and despair to consume them, allowing their burden to result in a horrific infliction on humanity. I struggle to empathize with a person so desperate with life that they can not see light beyond the shadows.

We all suffer through life, but it is up to us to pick ourselves up at the moment of great despair and move on; for it is our greatest attribute as human beings to acknowledge the issue, accept the outcome and adapt to our surroundings.

Negativity has such a detrimental effect on life. Thoughts of anger and sorrow flood my own head eliciting various responses occasionally. However, I choose to stand firm in my positive life affirmation. I will not let thoughts dictated by anger become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

I have recently taken action in my life to block out negativity and negative elements. I am better for it. I am fully aware that I can not change horrific events and can not control the actions of others, but I can control how I feel, what I do and how I project my own thoughts into the world. I will not live my life influenced by other’s defeatist doctrine.

I wake up thankful for every breath that propels me to the next.

VACATION PLANS, ALTERED

2007-04-01T08:49:00.000-04:00

David and I were contemplating a one-week getaway mid April. We were going to Alberta: Banff, Lake Louise and Lethbridge.... YES, Lethbridge... What? You've never heard of it? You don't know what you're missing.

In great anticipation for the trip, I had everything researched, every day planned and every minute mapped out.

Alas, strenuating circumstances arise and it appears the pause button has been pushed on our vacation plans. (Heavy sigh...)

I am now concentrating my research effort on developing the method and means for coercing LIFE into cooperating with my agenda. It's going to be a long and expensive endeavour. I'm going to need funding. Any backers??

LIGHTNING IS FUN

2007-03-26T19:01:00.000-04:00

I seemed to have been the only person thrilled by this morning's lightning show. It was definitely not appreciated by our cast and crew, as lightning struck the set parking lot today, causing immense problems. While most members were praying for the electrically charged sky to hurry past, I found myself reverted back to childish aspirations...

I was hoping for a black out. I wanted an early work dismissal.

It's a dreary rainy Monday. Can you blame me for wanting to be back at home, under the covers of my soft warm bed?

ABOUT FACE

2007-03-21T19:38:00.000-04:00

Facebook has stolen my precious blogging time.

Initially, I thought I was too mature (a nicer word for old) to be on this site. After all, it’s demographic is 17 to 25 year olds, and I am growing further and further away from the intended target age, as my younger brothers repeatedly remind me. However, having logged on, I was inundated with friend requests… those whom I worked with and, much to my surprise, a large number of people I knew in high school.

Being on Facebook was like having a mini high school reunion. I was transported back thirteen years, reconnecting with people who otherwise would not be a part of my life. It gave me permission to be apart of that high school community again. Nostalgia quickly took over and I found myself searching through my friend’s “friend list” looking for people from my past. I’d spend hours reading people’s profile and wall messages, browsing through their photos, satisfying my voyeuristic compulsion. I felt great affection and detachment towards my old friends.

So much time has gone by. I don't speak to anyone I went to high school with (until Facebook). The Memories of these “friends” live in the recesses of my mind, brought to light, only as a triggered reflex to a present image or incident. At times I look at them and yearn only to remember them as teenagers, un-aged by time, marriage and children.

I am not the type of person who would go to my high school reunion. I wouldn’t want to sit and reminisce about a past life, and I do not care to prove my worth by embellishing my life’s stories to old friends who have become complete strangers.

One-up-man-ship is rampant on Facebook. It’s evident even in the accumulation of friends. I, in my infinite rebellion, have rejected and deleted people on my friends list that I have not messaged or do not care to think about. Initially, I let some in because I was drunk on Facebook enthusiasm. But now I refuse to participate. I am NOT a Facebook whore, padding my list in an attempt to appear popular. In fact, if I could I’d delete more people, but frustratingly, some I must keep for political reason.

However, despite my negative skew on reconnecting with old friends and acquaintances, there are a few that I am surprisingly glad to be in touch with and it’s fantastic to know that they are doing well.

I have grown bored of Facebook. I have returned from my blogging hiatus renewed and refreshed!

M.I.A.

2007-03-18T11:04:00.000-04:00

Can't write... Facebooking. More on that later... must get back to Facebook. Am wasting precious Facbooking time writing this post.

Oh, did I mentioned I just recently joined Facebook?

THE CURIO(US) TRANSFORMATION

2007-02-27T18:33:00.000-05:00

Delivered to my home, last Saturday, were two pieces of grown up furniture.

1. A Large leather sectional
2. A Curio cabinet

I sit on the sectional staring at the curio, wondering when I became so grown up.

NHU LOVE

2007-02-20T17:43:00.000-05:00

The most wonderful of all things in life, I believe, is the discovery of another human being with whom one's relationship has a glowing depth, beauty, and joy as the years increase. This inner progressiveness of love between two human beings is a most marvelous thing, it cannot be found by looking for it or by passionately wishing for it. It is a sort of Divine accident.
~ Sir Hugh Walpoe

Nhu-An and Jorge, congratulations on your engagement!

SOAPBOX DIATRIBE PT.II

2007-02-14T19:28:00.000-05:00

Dear Faithful Readers,

Prepare yourselves for an onry oration. Subject: Valentine's Day (of course).

I have never been fanatical about V-Day. I do not harbour bitter irate resentment towards this day because of some deep psychologically scarring event from my past. In fact, I've received my fair share of hearts, chocolates and flowers. However, I have made a conscious decision, at nineteen, to ignore the holiday.

It's not because I'm hostile and madden by the outpouring of people's romantic displays. I'm all for whatever helps folks spread more love in the world. But I feel that capitalizing on this movement tarnishes its effect.

The significance and pressure of the holiday was ingrained in our prepubescent hearts and minds, before we become cognisant of the freedom surrounding love, society swooped in and took our minds hostage and brainwashed us with all the formalities surrounding love. Must buy, must receive, must state in the most opulent fashion: LOVE.

It's the concept behind the holiday, the idea that love doesn’t count unless it’s grand, expensive and romantic. It's the perfect commercial cash grab: Romance by Guilt.

In addition, I refuse to support a psychologically damaging holiday, where one is left to feel unimportant and unloved.

1. Elementary School: the one with the least Valentine's card from classmates equals unloved?
2. Junior/High School: the one without the heart-o-grams/flower-o-grams equals unloved?
3. Adulthood: the one not struck by Cupid's arrow equals unloved?

Love gifts should not validate our existence. Our ability to give love freely validates our existence.

I believe in hugs, kisses and kind gestures on a daily basis. I partake in the romance of small simple acts and whispered words of adoration at the most unexpected moments. I believe in saying "I Love You" often and to everyone whom I care for.

If we need a holiday to remind us to love others... should we be loved?

WHITE MATTERS

2007-02-10T17:03:00.000-05:00

“Some people have an edge up on others in their ability to tell lies,” says Adrian Raine, a psychologist at the University of Southern California in Los Angeles. “They are better wired for the complex computations involved in sophisticated lies.”

He found that pathological liars have on average more white matter in their prefrontal cortex, the area of the brain that is active during lying, and less grey matter than people who are not serial fibbers. White matter enables quick, complex thinking while grey matter mediates inhibitions. These are the first biological differences to be discovered between pathological liars and the general population.

Hypocrites, Manipulators and Liars. Game on.

I've witnessed your antics, I've observed your strategies, I've noted your tell-tale signs and I say "Game On!"

Physically, I may appear agreeable and demure, but mentally, I am feisty and potent. I am on the defensive and am two steps ahead, blocking your every move. Rest assured, I will only use my faculties for the greater good. However, you won't like playing by my rules because I play for keeps.

Game On.

PROGNOSTICATING CRITTERS

2007-02-02T19:15:00.001-05:00

Happy Groundhog Day, everybody!

Ontario's own Albino Groundhog, Wierton Willy ~~predicts~~ promises a prompt spring.

However, the fortunate forecast is not just for overjoyed Ontarians. This year there appears to be a consecutive consensus for warmer weather throughout Eastern and Central Canada (plus Pennsylvania), confirmed by Willy's critter cousins: Manitoba Merv, Shubenacadie Sam, of the Nova Scotian Shubenacadies and Punxsutawney Phil, of the Pennsylvania Punxsutawnies.

Weather woodchucks, what a wonder!
*

FOR M&A

2007-01-31T23:46:00.000-05:00

“Laughter is the shock absorber that eases the blows of life.”

GET MY VISA, STAT!

2007-01-28T08:22:00.000-05:00

The cold and bitterness of winter has brought the need for crucial retail therapy. It is not enough that I window-shop and throw covetous glances at store displays. I MUST PURCHASE.

I am not in need of anything in particular. I just want to wrap the old me with new nonessentials. I want to be asked, "Would you like the receipt in the bag?" I want to power walk around the mall with bundles dangling from my arms.

"My moniker is Gypsy In My Soul, and I am a Shopaholic."

ALPHA FEMALE, ME?

2007-01-27T10:34:00.000-05:00

It's a girl thing.

I use to love taking all those silly questionnaires in YM, Cosmo and Seventeen magazines.

Now I can do it online when I'm bored at work. Here's my result from two.

Me?

You Are an Alpha Female

Powerful, confident, and successful - you are definitely a dominant force.

You control social and dating situations. It's clear that you're always in charge.

Your Power Color Is Gold

You're dependable and hard working. You never miss a deadline - and you're never late.

You have a clear sense of right and wrong. You're very detail oriented.

You get frustrated when your friends are sloppy - or when they don't follow through.

You're on top of things, and you wish that everyone else was!

Are You an Alpha Female?

What's Your Power Color?

BRING BACK SPRING

2007-01-27T09:35:00.001-05:00

Two weeks is just about all I can stand of winter. I want the warmer weather back!

What happened to global warming?

What a tease. Flirting with us the way it did in December, showing us all the forbidden pleasures it possessed, letting us think we had a chance with it's warm wintery goodness and then snatching it away from us... leaving us all with fridgid blue balls... er, umm... that is if we had any.

In any case, here are some spring flowers to help you bring a little spring your way. I took these at the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens, last May.

THEY'RE NOT HICKIES

2007-01-25T20:23:00.000-05:00

For the past week, I live with these hateful hives on my neck. I attempt to conceal them with scarves and turtlenecks, but they peek out from behind their veil to brazenly mock me.

Coworkers are starting to wonder and comment on my kerchief du jour. They think I'm hiding love-bites. (sigh) Alas, the pinkness on my neck bears a less scandalous tale.

To be honest, I'm not sure how the hives came to be. I have my theories, but no concrete evidence.

Theory #1 - Strawberry smoothies.
In David’s and my quest to eat healthier, he has been making smoothies for us in the mornings. Lately, (by request) there's a heavier dose of strawberries in mine. YUMMM... I mean... Hmmm?

Theory #2 - Vitamin E Facial Moisturizer, with SPF 15.
In my quest for softer and wrinkle free skin. I've started using a new moisturizer on my face... I've been using it for weeks... but have recently lathered its silky goodness on my neck. After all, no one wants to own a crepe-paper neck. EWWW... I mean... Hmmm?

Theory #3 - Sawdust, paint fumes and a slew of toxins.
Set building is in full gear to make a Monday shooting deadline at work. All toxins confined inside the building, as old man winter makes it impossible to open doors for air circulation. ECCKK... I mean... Hmmm?

Theory #4 - The Ravage of Winter.
The temperature drops and snow nestles permanently on the ground. Cold air on skin… BRRR... I mean... Hmmm?

Theory #5 - Stress, Lack of Sleep.
Can't get to sleep. Fear of Atcra strike shutting down the industry. Plagued with coworker nightmares.... or nightmarish coworkers... or both. UGH... I mean... Hmmm?

Any one, or a combination of these theories might be the culprit.

Whatever is making me breakout is keeping me from a good night's rest, a decent ensemble and a regular blogging schedule! Hmmm!

Hmmm, indeed!

WOKEN BY GUILT

2007-01-16T20:33:00.000-05:00

I am plagued with kissing dreams.

NOT the wonderful salacious dreams about participating in a game of tonsil hockey with Paul Walker or Max Greenfield. (The kind of dreams where, should you awake before the fantasy finishes, you pray for the Sandman to transport you back to dreamland.) No, rather I am afflicted with coworker kissing dreams. (The kind of dream where, should you see said coworker the very next day, you pray for memory block or turn red with utter embarrassment.)

Last night, while involved in a make out dream with my hot coworker, I was startled awake by profound guilt.

I told David, he laughed.

I should have prayed for the Sandman.

TRAFFIC HELL

2007-01-15T21:35:00.000-05:00

Today I spent a total of 6 1/2hrs sitting in traffic.

7:30AM-10:30AM (HOME-WORK)
Weather conditions: Ice pellets and slick roads.

5:00-8:30PM (WORK-HOME)
Hwy Accident: Tractor Trailer roll over resulting in liquid oxygen spillage all West end Northbound routes JAMMED. 1hr to move 5km on Hwy 400.

Weather conditions: slippery, slushy streets.

No long bloggs today... I'm drained. I just wanted to commiserate over today's painful driving conditions with my fellow GTA drivers.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MIKE!

2007-01-14T09:33:00.000-05:00

For your belated Birthday viewing pleasure! Happy 28th!

EMPLOYMENT ROLLERCOASTER

2007-01-13T09:53:00.002-05:00

Returning to work on Monday, I failed to predict my adventures on the employment roller coaster.

The excitement of starting a new series with a familiar crew quickly dissipated with the news of an ACTRA strike.

The TV Series and Films that have not signed agreements to proceed with the Actor's union before the strike deadline are paralyzed. A few BIG Hollywood features have abandoned the city, in search of calmer waters. However, an olive branch has been extended to shows that have made it under the wire, such as the one I am working on, Actra offers CONTINUANCE LETTERS.

BUT.... and it's a big one:

"Canadian and U.S. producer associations have urged their members not to sign the continuance letters on offer from ACTRA. The letters promise producers no disruption by ACTRA picket lines if they guarantee performers a 5% wage increase.

John Barrack, chief negotiator for the Canadian Film and Television Production Assn., representing English-language Canadian producers, on Thursday said that ACTRA's continuance letters were "unlawful," and will provoke a legal battle in the event of an industry shutdown."

While most shows in production have chosen to sign the letter, regardless of it's legality. Our parent company has advised us against this action.

What does it all mean? Unemployment line waits with open arms.

However, at the eleventh hour... (yesterday, as we all prepared our good-bye speeches) with the realization that a production shut down for our show = BUDGET INCREASES, "The powers that be" have thrown caution to the wind and placed pen to paper.

We proceed with caution. Should the letters be deemed illegal in court, production of all major cinematic and television greatness in this province and possibly across the nation comes to an end.

Pending court date: January 24th.

********

A major silver lining in this whole mess: The short delay in our Production has afforded my dear friend Alison the time needed to join the show as our shiny new Assistant Production Coordinator.

(Please stand by while I dance around the room......)

The concept for this has taken months to engineer, with disappointment and finally with GREAT PAYOFF! (Always willing to go to the Mats for you Ali B.) I love it when a plan comes together.

LESS ABOUT YOU

2007-01-07T17:08:00.000-05:00

Him: "You can't lay like that, you're choking me."

Me: "But I'm comfortable."

Him: "I'm not. Move over."

Me: "When are you going to learn, this marriage is less about you and more about me."

Did you know, recent scientific studies have found that sharing a bed makes men temporarily stupid.

125 ME

2007-01-06T11:29:00.002-05:00

I was born in Saigon, a city that no longer exists
I am Buddhist by birth and by choice
I am the eldest of three siblings and the only girl
I’ve never lived alone
I am a writer, a director, and a voyeur (and a production Accountaant to pay the bills)
I like sleeping with my head under the covers
I occasionally feel like a sixteen year old and I never feel like a thirty-two year old
I met my husband in high school
I am poet like my mom and an essayist like my dad
I am the happiest when I am vacationing
I am an over thinker
In junior high, two friends and I made up boyfriends for ourselves... mine was called, Matt Preston
I backpacked through five European countries and one principality in two months when I was 22
Some days I have an overwhelming sense of fear and dread…but I think I hide it well with a smile
I am my grandma’s favorite
I have a tested I.Q of 143
I was a mean to boys who professed their love/infatuation to me in school
My husband and I sleep with separate blankets because I cocoon myself in my covers leaving very little for him... UPDATE (05/02/08): He refuse to let me have my own blanket, insisting that I learn to share.
I am 5'0 and take up 3/4 of the bed
I have very low tolerance for stupid people
My favourite flowers are Gardenias
I have very good work ethics, inherited from my mom
I own shoes that I don’t remember buying
I’ve been to a NEW KIDS concert… twice in one day
I typically enjoy the company of men or non-girly women
I sometimes cross that fine line between assertive and aggressive
I don’t shave my legs during the winter
I am afraid of dark water
I don’t like chocolate
I’ve do not drink coffee. The smell makes me nauseous. I drink tea, without sugar or milk
I love to read
I underline passages in books that inspire me
When I was younger I wanted to be a spy
I think my dog is a reincarnation of someone I knew
I’m always “fashionably” late
The first boy I ever frenched kissed was named Colin
House cleaning makes me angry
I love to laugh
I was school patrol captain in grade four and let the power go to my head
I dance in the shower
I enjoy fruity things: drinks, ice cream, men
I use to be a bank teller and would spy on the account activities of people I knew
Jasmine is my favorite scent
I think farts are funny
I am a perfectionist; I demand it in myself and in others around me
I have two deep dark secrets that I refuse to share
I wanted to name our dog, Pepper or Poet, but my husband named her Misha UPDATE (05/02/08): We adopted another dog, I named her POET!!!
I have Psychic dreams, I dreamed about my husband before I knew him
I am extremely calm under pressure
Barcelona and San Francisco are my two favourite cities
The lyrics, not the beat, dictate whether I like a song
I prefer savory to sweet
I prefer grape juice to wine
I hope to raise intellectually sharp-witted children
I hardly drink
When I drink, I prefer champagne and Vodka drinks, never beer
I secretly wished that I had a British accent
Manners matter to me, it's important to be polite to people
When I was fifteen, a member of the duo Bros kissed me and told me I was gorgeous (I have the picture to prove it)
I hate cheese fondue, but endured it for six Christmases with my in-laws, until my husband informed my mother in-law
I've shoplifted stickers when I was eight and got caught
I’ve never tried smoking (anything)
I think ladybugs are lucky
I’ve flown off my ten-speed bike scraping my face along a stranger’s driveway (I have the scars to prove it)
I’ve broken my right arm doing #64
I'm extremely superstitious
I could change a diaper at eight years old
People who play acoustic guitar and sing impress me
I carry a change purse
I worked for a day in a bagel shop and burnt all my fingers
I use to hide in my closet when I cried
The musical RENT forced me to enroll in film school instead of law school
My parents have finally forgiven me for not going to law school (even though their money was wasted on LSAT prep study and the Law school applications)
I talk very, very loudly when something matters to me
I am opinionated, and quite vocal about those opinions
I love a good love story
I didn’t cry when I got married, but my husband did
Photography was my first artistic love
I played the violin and the piano… I don't anymore
I have a weird phobia about washing lettuce
I wanted to be a Behavioral Scientist. Psychology, criminology, and sociology facinate me. I was a Psych major in first year University. I took two Criminology courses, where the most important thing I learned was to never call anyone a "goof" in jail... that word has dire consequences
I am a dreamer and a realist
I have a tattoo on my left ankle, I'd like another one on my right ankle
My favourite gemstone is a sapphire
I am an amateur gemologist; I think all women should have a basic knowledge of gems. My mother taught me how to evaluate diamonds; I taught her diamonds are a relatively common and worthless gem.
Tyler Hamilton was my first crush. I was six. I went to his house, knocked on the door and ran away
I always dream, and I always dream in colour
I wish I were fluent in seven languages (Spanish, French, German, Italian, Japanese). I am only fluent in two (English and Vietnamese) (I have basic comprehension of French and Spanish)
I am fascinated by etymology – word origins intrigue me
I enjoy learning
I'm a fast talker
I have exquisite (read expensive) taste
I know a little bit about a lot of things (trivial knowledge, my specialty)
Thunderstorms delight me
I hide from my elderly neighbour, who attempts to teach/speak to me in Spanish
When I am in between jobs, I go to my University Alma matre and audit classes (without the professor's knowledge)
Teleporting would be my first super power, duplication would be my second
I love eating soup, all kinds of soup
Ethan Hawke was my longest celebrity crush (age 13 to 29)
At nine, I rode my bike to my teacher's house and was disappointed by her lifestyle. I thought teachers lived glamorously
I eavesdrop on conversations around me
At night, I like looking into people's open window
I'd like bigger breasts, but am afraid of plastic surgery
My favorite specialty foods are raw oysters, lobster, crab legs, fois gras, artichokes, olives, avocados, rambutan, mangos and sweet potato
I am a humanitarian
I love dirty talk during sex
My favourite number is 25
I never turn down sushi
Inconsequential things I am good at: shopping, eating, baking cupcakes, navigating, silkscreening, whistling through a blade of grass, and flying kites
I believe in Karma
I love Grover from Seasame Street and Gonzo from The Muppets seeing them puts me heart at ease
I have extreme hostility towards Birkenstocks and Crocs
I have one earlobe pierced, the other one has closed. One day I'll be brave enough to re-pierce it.
I love garlic, raw and cooked
I think it's tragic that people are afraid to sing or dance, everyone should sing even if they are tone deaf and dance even if they don't have rhythm.
Toe sucking makes me cringe
I am petrified of rodents, especially rats
I am a great packer
Public toilets give me anxiety, I always hover over the bowl without touching anything and use my feet to flush
I change the buttons on my clothes for fun, interest and originality
I can spend hours skipping rocks
I enjoy road trips, I enjoy driving
I swear loads when I drive, I try not to swear elsewhere... I use kid appropriate profanity instead
I obsessively wear sunblock, I use nothing less than 30spf... I prefer 60spf. If it didn't look stupid, I'd carry a parasol
I can be brutally honest, don’t ask if you don’t want to know the truth

THEY'RE HANDS NOT WANDS

2007-01-04T19:15:00.000-05:00

I woke up this morning intent on pounding out an outline for a short story I have swirling around my head… but the momentum seems to have faded. I fight with writer’s block.

I will my fingers to relay a stream of magical brilliance onto the keyboard… ...waiting… ... ...still waiting....

Nothing.

“WE'RE HANDS, NOT WANDS!!!” They shout at my disappointment.

I am mentally bruised and battered. Left in solitude to regenerate lost brain cells. I look to the dog for sympathy, but the only time that dog shows any interest in how I’m doing is when I break for a snack.

*BREAK*

I sit and eat my favorite ghetto dessert/meal, sugared butter toast, while staring at the blank page before me.

Nothing.

So in lieu of script writing, I do what comes natural: I eat and blog.

BLK PEPPER SOUP

2007-01-04T11:20:00.000-05:00

Last night, hunger defeated sleep and insisted I stagger into the kitchen and concoct a "midnight snack" (literally).

In my daze, I foraged through the cabinets and found a can of tomato soup: easy, warm and satisfying. My culinary pursuit was moving along masterfully, until I heavy-handedly added the pepper (an equivalent of 3 heaping table spoons).

Flavour: Pungently spicy pepper with a hint of tomato

Verdict: Unpalatable

Lessons: Do not cook when groggy AND Do not attempt to eat culinary mistakes.

This meal provoked bizarre and disconcerting dreams about: 1.decaying tuna fish in my high school locker 2. Senior high school Lodge trip with eerie Stephen King sensation 3. Biding old high school mates farewell, carried out by an adult recognition that I will NEVER see these people again.

NOT INTERESTED

2007-01-04T10:09:00.000-05:00

I'm in a list making mood.

On today's list: WORDS THAT I AM NOT PRETENTIOUS ENOUGH TO USE

tergiversation (tuhr-jiv-uhr-SAY-shuhn), n.
1. to change repeatedly one's attitude or opinions with respect to a cause, subject.
2. falsification by means of vague or ambiguous language.

Tergiversation comes from Latin tergiversatus, past participle of tergiversari, "to turn one's back, to shift," from tergum, "back" + versare, frequentative of vertere, "to turn." The verb form is tergiversate.

bloviate (BLOH-vee-ayt), intransitive v.
to speak or write at length in a pompous or boastful manner.

fecund (FEE-kuhnd; FEK-uhnd), adj.
1. Capable of producing offspring or vegetation; fruitful; prolific.
2. Intellectually productive or inventive.

Fecund comes from Latin fecundus, "fruitful, prolific." The noun form is fecundity.

tintinnabulation (tin-tih-nab-yuh-LAY-shuhn), n.
a tinkling sound, as of a bell or bells.

diaphanous (dy-AF-uh-nuhs), adj.
1. Of such fine texture as to allow light to pass through; translucent or transparent.
2. Vague; insubstantial.

Diaphanous ultimately derives from Greek diaphanes, "showing through," from diaphainein, "to show through, to be transparent," from dia-, "though" + phainein, "to show, to appear." It is related to phantom, something apparently sensed but having no physical reality.

lissom (LISS-uhm), adj. (also lissome)
1. Limber; supple; flexible.
2. Light and quick in action; nimble; agile; active.

punctilio (punk-TIL-ee-oh), n.
1. A fine point of exactness in conduct, ceremony, or procedure.
2. Strictness or exactness in the observance of formalities; as, "the punctilios of a public ceremony."

Punctilio comes from Obsolete Italian punctiglio, from Spanish puntillo, diminutive of punto, "point," from Latin punctum, from pungere, "to prick."

supernumerary (soo-puhr-NOO-muh-rair-ee; -NYOO-), n.
1. A supernumerary person or thing.
2. An actor without a speaking part, as a walk-on or an extra in a crowd scene.

adj.
1. Exceeding the stated, standard, or prescribed number.
2. Exceeding what is necessary or desired; superfluous.

Supernumerary is from Latin supernumerarius, from super, "over" + numerus, "number."

NEW YEAR'S CHALLENGE

2007-01-03T08:46:00.000-05:00

A. Learn to speak pirate
B. Learn rest of the lyrics to Auld Lang Syne
C. Learn to play air guitar, air drums air saxaphone and air cello
D. Learn to tap shuffle

E. Start all conversations with double entendre
F. Start a conga line
G. Start maneuvering downtown through underground passages only
H. Start adding Egg Nog to all recipes
I. Start an angry mob
J. Start awkward moments

K. Be Guitar Hero II champion (after perfecting art of air guitar)
L. Be friends with bran
M. Be a one woman band
N. Be cool with knowledge that parents still have romantic nights
O. Be an honest liar.... umm... storyteller.
P. Be a bigger smart-ass

LOOKING FIFTY AT SIXTY

2007-01-02T10:48:00.000-05:00

My Mother, the New Year's Baby! Born six decades ago on January 1st and still looks youthful and marvelous.

Happy Birthday Mamacita!

Thank you for the designer genes. (YES, it does always have to be about me... my blog, my thoughts, my life!) :p

TAKING STOCK

2006-12-31T12:55:00.000-05:00

It's the eve of the beginning of a brand new year. It's time to look back, to take stock, to give life a good self-evaluation.

There's a lot about myself and my life that I love... and there's a lot that I'd like to improve upon.

What perfect timing, a fresh start, a brand new year. It's time to make resolutions, to aspire to be a better person and to make the world I/we inhabit a better place.

Every New Year, since junior high school, I have written a letter addressed to my Guardian Angel. (I cringe in embarrassment having admitted that.. but I was eleven when I started this tradition. Mock if you feel compelled to do so, but remember, you are mocking a wide-eyed, optimistic, innocent, effervescent eleven year old girl... which would make you a cold-hearted, callous, grim human being.) These letters would include my hopes, dreams and desires for the New Year. It would principally be a selfish list of endeavours, but on occasion the list would include dreams, hopes and desires for others whom I felt needed assistance. The letter would be sealed, kept unopened and safe until the following year.

A past year's letter opening required a new year's letter sealing.

This has been my twenty-one year discreet tradition. Divulged to no one, not even my husband... and now exposed to all my readers. (Blogging sure has a way of eliciting secrets.)

Question: Why, share this information?

Answer: To inspire others.

1) I think that it's a great undertaking, a cathartic release of pent up desires, hopes and fears about an undefined future.

2) It's also a great method for self-evaluation, to compare your old list to the year that you've lived. Do items that you once thought important a year ago still hold the same significance? Have you achieved what you had hoped for in the past year?

3) It's fun.

I'm not going to share my 2007 Dreams, Hopes and Desire List with you, (that would be breaking tradition) but I do hope that you start your own.

CHEERS!
Happy New Year Everyone!
Here's to a joyous and promising New Year!

ROMAN KNEE HIGHS

2006-12-30T19:20:00.000-05:00

RE: My choice for the must have shoe (a reply to Alice)

I'm startng a new trend. I will endeavour to make these the shoe staple in every woman's closet. Pair these with a fab (Chanel) shift dress and you'll be set for spring 2007.

Quite apropos for S.B., unlike the regulation standard Uggs.
*

INFLUENCED BY GREATNESS

2006-12-30T10:01:00.000-05:00

I read a lot. When I'm in between shows, I spend hundreds of dollars on books. Like my father, my library over flows with reading material: Political Theory, Philosophy and Behavioural Psychology and Historical texts; books on writing, script analysis and directing, Plays, Scripts, Poetry and a few Classic Lit. There's not enough shelf space for all the books that I have acquired over the years, most remain in piles on my office floor. It's an addiction; (like shoes and purses) I buy a lot of books.

Recently, I've spent most of my money and most of my literary endeavours on Chick Lit. Books that often require only a day investment and not a lot of brain power. However, I've currently been feeling the need for greater mental stimulation.

Hence, my first New Year's resolution: Resolution #1: Spend more time reading/rereading Classic Literature

It's been quite a while since I've invested time and effort into reading the Classics. I need to revisit and reimmerse myself in literature from authors who are the benchmark for all writers who aspire towards greatness. I need to be influenced by greatness.

Here’s my 2007 reading list:

The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand
The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald
I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou
In Cold Blood by Truman Capote
On the Road by Jack Kerouac
Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut
The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner
Civil Disobedience And Other Essays by Henry David Thoreau
Catch-22 by Joseph Heller
Light In August by William Faulkner
Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy
The Children's Corner by Jackson Tippett McCrae
East of Eden by Steinbeck
The Idiot by Dostoyevsky
Poetics by Aristotle,
Leaves of Grass (poetry) by Walt Whitman
The Bark Of The Dogwood by Jackson Tippett McCrae
The Prince by Niccolo Machiavelli
I, Lucifer: Finally, the Other Side of the Story by Glen Duncan
The Odyssey by Homer
Franny and Zooey by J.D Salinger
The Stranger by Albert Camus
Paradise Lost And Paradise Regained by John Milton
The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath
As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner
Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad
One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest by Ken Kesey
For Whom the Bell Tolls by Ernest Hemingway
Cat’s Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut
1984 by George Orwell
Ulysses by James Joyce

UPDATE: Additions, courtesy of my beloved blog reader (s)

Guns, Germs, and Steel: The Fates of Human Societies by Jared M. Diamond
The Voyage of the Beagle by Charles Darwin
Glengarry Glen Ross by David Mamet
The Misanthrope by Molière

THE GOOD, THE BAD AND THE UGGS

2006-12-28T16:48:00.000-05:00

UGG [ugh] n.
1. A type of sheepskin boot, which has been made in Australia and New Zealand for nearly 200 years.

Etymology: originally called "ug boots", which is short for ugly.

I have openly denounced UGGS as one of the most deplorable fashion footwear of this or any other century. I have preached to anyone who would listen about the ridiculousness of these boots. I have sworn that I would never don those shoes on these feet (along with clear heeled stilettos).

I stand here, head down with my tail between my legs, wearing Christmas presented Uggs on my feet.

Yes, they are still ugly and ridiculous, but they are SO COZY and COMFY. (You should know. I'm a sucker for cozy and comfy.)

Head still down. However, this time not from shame, but from marveling at my new UGGS.

At least these are more "shoe" defined than the classic Uggs, which are still hideous. (I know, excuse making and straw gasping... back to shameful head hanging.)

THE NOIR SIDE

2006-12-28T09:27:00.000-05:00

I have recruited new members into the VERONICA MARS fan club. Yesterday while spending quality time baking cookies with my brother, his fiancée and my two cousins, I coerced everyone into watching the first season of Veronica Mars.

By episode two, they were hooked.

As a filmmaker and a writer I love this series. The writing is clever and powerful. The characters have such depth and complexity, such human strengths and weaknesses. I admire how the character arc (for all characters) reveals itself episode by episode, allowing the characters believability in their development. The neo-noir style is perfect for the teen detective genre. The actors are marvelous at their craft (less one, but I will not point fingers. You can judge for yourself - reference to actor only applicable to season 1&2).

As a regular TV watcher, I love the plotlines. It combines the greatest of TV narratives: the trendy serial story arc and the TV touchstone of stand alone episodes. It makes for great syndication possibilities and great "choice" episode rewatching. It's not just one of those teen dramas that quickly become dated *sneeze-90210-sneeze*. It's more like Colombo (cult classic) or Seinfeld, a good "any era" type of TV watching.

I endeavour to share good filmmaking/television making with others. I love great story telling, and I must admit VM is by far one of the best TV story telling of the past three decades. I can say this with immense conviction because I am a TV whore. I've watched a lot of TV in my lifetime; my show knowledge is vast... I even regularly watch shows that are prior to my TV viewing era, and beyond my target demographic. I am the TV trivia champion (David would be the only other person who would come close to taking my title, but it would be a hard fought battle), so trust me on this one.

I hope I have enticed you to give this show a chance.

Tuesday 9pm SunTv - in the GTA only, check you local listing elsewhere.

See you on the Noir side.

ON THE EVE

2006-12-24T13:41:00.000-05:00

"I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach."
- A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens

BE HAPPY, BE GRATEFUL, BE GOOD - OLD SAINT NICK IS COMING TONIGHT!

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!

HE DOES EXIST!

2006-12-22T07:32:00.000-05:00

Dearest Mr. Claus,

I hope all is well up there in the North Pole. I know it’s your busiest time of year and billions of other little girls and boys are writing to you, demanding gifts and such, so I will make this brief.

It is with much delight that I write to you. I would like to start by thanking you for granting a pre-Christmas wish that has been on my list since October. Thanks for ending my detention sentence a day and a half early! (Although I did ask for an earlier date than this… I’m not complaining, I’m just pointing out our miscommunication issue.) To aid in your endeavour in fulfilling the remaining portion of my wish list this year (without further mishaps) I will recap and include pictures for your reference.

I hereby tender my newly revised wish list:

1) A White Fendi Selleria handbagNOTE: An authentic one MADE IN ITALY, not a replica like last year’s Balenciaga Handbag MADE IN THE NORTH POLE. I know the elves make quality handbags, but it’s just not the same.

2) An Hermes Kelly bagNOTE: I know spending at this fiscal quarter for North Pole Inc. is at it’s maximum, but $6500.00 for a Kelly is not an unreasonable request.

3) A Gucci violet calf 'Bouvier' hoboNOTE: Yes, another handbag. There are 365 days in the year after all, and I only have a month’s worth of purses. That’s only 8.2% of what I should have.

4) Snow in Ski Resort Areas Only
NOTE: My paid lessons are going to waste without snow in the Snow Belt. Otherwise I’m very happy with the plus 7°C for winter in Toronto.

5) A Pony (the Andalusian variety... if we are being breed specific)

NOTE: I know we’ve talk about this before. But I’m much older now and I can take better care of a Pony. I won’t forget to feed it, like I forgot to feed Muffy the goldfish. I’ve been practicing my pet caring skills with a dog for two years now… and trust me, that dog has never missed a meal.

6) An open Roundtrip Business Class Plane Ticket to Fiji.
NOTE: Or any other Polynesian country.

7) Spending Money (must be given in combination with above wishes)
Note: To keep wishes 1, 2, 3 and 5 from being empty and to use as a bartering tool for wishes 4 and 6.

AND FINALLY… I wish for:

Peace on Earth, an end to world hunger and all that intangible warm hearted stuff that is on the list of all good girls and ALL Beauty Pageant contestants.

Sincerely Yours,

G.I.M.S

TREE TRIMMING

2006-12-15T22:13:00.000-05:00

Spending tonight decoration our tree. David picked it out... it's a smaller than previous years' Evergreen. But at least it's not a Charlie Brown Christmas tree (that would have made me teary).

Pine Needles everywhere. But house smeels great.

The dog is very scared. She stares at it from a distance and sniffs the pine scented air. She's not sure what to make of this coniferous creation.

THE QUEEN CITY

2006-12-15T20:53:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow, I'm going Christmas shopping in Buffalo. I'm definitely going to exceed the maximum allowance for my personal exemptions. I'll have to be creative with my purchases.

Shhhhhh! Don't tell the Canadian custom's officers.

COUNT IT DOWN!

2006-12-14T19:49:00.000-05:00

After tomorrow, I have one more week to endure... then it's over! I say my farewells and leave the misery behind me.

Ten things I have taken from this experience:

10) A year supply of Xerox paper
9) Pretty colourful Post-Its and Highlighters
8) A cold, the flu and another cold (currently battling)
7) A bottle of non-alcohol Buckley's cough suppressant (Looks like arsenic, tastes like death, DOES NOT WORK and I can't even get a buzz off it!)
6) The Director’s parking spot
5) Production swag up the Wazoo (How many Production t-shirts can a girl wear?)
4) Coal miner's lung
3) An acquired taste for foot-in-mouth
2) A sharpening of my acerbic wit
1) The delicious feeling of vindication

AN EXTREME CHRISTMAS

2006-12-12T20:40:00.001-05:00

Company Christmas parties and Gay men. These are today's topics.

Last Sunday David and I attended his company's Christmas celebration. In previous years, the company hosted a formal dinner at a lovely poshy place du jour. This year, having recently been bought out by American investors, the company decided to forsake the conventional sit down dinner and opted for a contemporary nightery finger food affair.

BIG MISTAKE!

A) Too few waiters carrying too few h'orderves.
B) One bar, three bartenders and thirty people in line for drinks.
C) Standing room only.
D) All this mayhem taking place on a Sunday night.

D MINUS!

The only glittery silver lining of the whole night was cabaret drag-travaganza, a variety of accomplished female impersonators lip syncing and dancing to lively songs. (Did I fail to mention that one of the new owners is gay?) I had my fill of eye candy with shirtless gay elves dancing around a drag Mariah Carey. It's the company's version of "The Nutcracker" with Sugar Plumb Fairies dancing about.

LOVED IT!

I love flamboyantly gay men, they appeal to my fun loving don't take yourself too seriously sensibility; and gay men adore me, clearly because I'm spunky, fiery and down right fabulous! (It's true! I've been told this on several occasions, and I believe every word of it.)

Have an EXTREME CHRISTMAS EVERYBODY!

Dear Diary... He asked me out!

2006-12-11T21:26:00.001-05:00

Today David and I celebrate our 13th year anniversary. On December 11th, 1993 we went on our first date… dessert and a movie.

Thursday, December 9th, 1993 - G.S.H. Academy

HE ASKED ME OUT!!! He said, "Do you want to go check out a movie on Friday or Saturday?" When I got off the phone, I danced around my room. I'm so happy!

Saturday, December 11th, 1993 - G.S.H. Academy

David took me out for dessert before the movie (My Life). I had to make the first move with the handholding. He’s really shy.

When he drove me home, he didn’t even try to kiss me. I had to be aggressive and make the first move. I was determined to get a goodnight kiss out of him...

Yes, I am one of those girls, the ones who marry their high school sweetheart. Who would have predicted the outcome of a simple high school romance? Not me. At eighteen I thought, “What an antiquated notion, marrying your high school boyfriend.”

These lips wanted to kiss a number of frogs before finding price charming.

There are a lot of things that I would do differently, in retrospect, but marrying David is not one of them.

Happy “First Date” Anniversary to us!

PIXIE OR ELFIN?

2006-12-11T20:30:00.000-05:00

Last Wednesday, on a whim, I made and appointment to get my hair cut. I was in desperate need of a new style.

A month ago I volunteered myself for a free haircut, given by my brother's girlfriend (an apprentice hair stylist at FIORIO, my salon of choice). It was trimmed from shoulder length to the nape of my neck.

Now, with the holiday season upon us, I wanted my hair to be more coiffed. So off to the salon I went.

I'm very secure with my hair and I'm definitely not a timid hair client, after all it is just hair. I sat in the chair and said, “Do what you think is best.”

Well, my security and hair sensibility were tested. I came out of the salon with the shortest hair I've ever permitted (I should rethink giving stylist free reign to my hair). It's short, it's very, very short, boy cut short. It's what one would call a "Pixie Cut". Although, I do love and appreciate that my “high fashion” hair is very low maintenance, the haircut is definitely going to take some getting use to.

I'm continually surprised at my own reflection.

Now, having five days to absorb the hair, or lack there of, I'm over the initial shock… or so I thought.

On my way home from work, I stopped by a Café to buy myself a gingerbread cookie ('Tis the season). The man behind the counter asked, "Boy or Girl?" For a split second I thought he was referring to me. But common sense prevailed and I quickly realized he was asking if I wanted a boy or girl gingerbread person.

I guess I still am a little sensitive about the new style.

SCENES FROM: The Subway

2006-12-05T20:39:00.000-05:00

I have a stranger crush on "Joe". It's unrequited love, he doesn't even know I exist... BUT, I was made well aware of his existence today on the TTC.

My crush for him is not a physical one, he is not, by any stretch of imagination, beautiful. He is however, absolutely beatific and this crush is a pure metaphysical attraction. Here's why...

INT. SUBWAY CAR - MORNING RUSH HOUR

A dense throng of commuter charge into the subway car, each forced to circumvent a lone rider, JANE, who stands steadfast in the middle of the doorway.

JOE, mid-twenties. An over sized hooded sweatshirt, in lieu of a winter coat, covers his lean frame. Slouch fit jeans and heavy black boots finish off his hardened, aggressive image.

He stands among the morning commuters, watching the uncompromising Jane.

He takes two decisive steps toward her. Leaning forward, he stops his mouth a hair’s breadth away from her ear and utters sotto voce.

JOE
It’s not very helpful with you
standing there, is it?

Jane sucks in a nearly audible breath, but remains immovable.

She shifts her head to look at Joe, shooting daggers at him with her eyes. She turns away and proceeds to ignore him hovering behind her.

Joe stares at her for a moment, then returns to his FRIEND and begins whispering loudly.

JOE

It takes a certain level of conceit
and prerogative to obstruct the
doorway during rush hour.

Friend nods in agreement.

These hushed tones prick up the ears and shift the eyes of surrounding commuters, who witnessed Joe’s comment to Jane.

JOE (CONT’D)
Anyways, it’s not like I’m
insulting her for no reason.

I mean if you are not going to
remember your manners, you
shouldn’t even bother leaving
the house.

FRIEND
What if she’s on her way
to meet up with her manners.
Then she has to leave the house.

Joe and Friend laugh. Surrounding commuters smirk.

A scowl of humiliation crosses Jane’s face, but she pretends not to hear Joe and Friend.

She pulls her expensive cashmere coat tighter around herself and prepares to exit the train.

Joe, looks in her direction, determined to make a concerted effort to instill manners into Jane.

JOE
Maybe next time, you’ll remember
your manners like a big girl.

Jane exits the train, stands on the platform facing Joe and flips him “the bird”.

Joe and Friend laugh.

FADE TO BLACK.

No portion of this script may be performed or reporoduced by any means, or quoted or published in any medium without the prior consent of NEWIN FILMS INC.

I'm a stickler for manners, I grew up having it instilled in me. It's one of my finer qualities. It's also one of the qualities I find most attractive in men (once you get passed all the physical attributes, afterall, I'm not blind).

My "Joe crush" is because of this very reason, he said all the things that I was thinking and so much more. An articulate, manner-filled hard core rocker willing to disrespect the ill-mannered.

A great paradox wrapped in a boy for Christmas. Wishes do come true!

Disclaimer: The names have been changed to protect the innocent.... and the guilty... and because I never really heard any names mentioned. All dialogue remains unaltered, some actions may have been embellished for the sake of the story.

CHOOSE WISE WORDS

2006-12-03T10:55:00.000-05:00

I am a word snob, English and foreign languages alike.

I like knowing the etymology and semantics of words, its origin, interpretation and relationship to other language form. This comprehension of words makes learning new languages manageable (I'm in the process of learning Spanish, understanding the relation of Spanish words to French, Latin or English makes it easier for me to remember).

The more I write, the more I find myself in a greater search for more succinct and precise usage of words. An endless search for the absolute perfect words to convey my thoughts or images flawlessly.

"Choose your words wisely", advice taken to heart in my writing and in my conversation.

Conversation, however, is always subjective, what you mean and what is interpreted are not always one in the same. Therefore, even in speech I often choose words that leave little room for misinterpretation. I mean what I say, and I say what I mean (but this doesn't mean that I always say what I think, for THAT would definitely get me into trouble).

"What do you mean?" and "Do you know what I mean?" are questions that are often heard in my dialogue with others. Regardless of my constant usage of these phrases, dimwits, who discard my query of comprehension, have often misinterpreted me.

Speech should not be an attempt to string some random words together in hopes of being understood. Recognize what you're saying and what others say to you. If you don't "get it", for god sakes, ask for clarification.

Long blog short: I'm tired of dealing with Idiots. I give up. You try; see if you can get any further than me.

Let Sleeping Dogs Lie

2006-12-02T19:26:00.000-05:00

ON THE 1st DAY...

2006-12-01T20:25:00.000-05:00

I've been waiting for this day with great anticipation. It's been circled on my calendar for months. (Well, not physically... I would have, if I had an actual calendar. BUT I've mentally circled it, in my cranium calendar.)

Why?

Beginning today, I can officially start telling everyone who crosses my path to have a HAPPY HOLIDAY and a MERRY CHRISTMAS! Starting today, I'm allowed to sing Christmas carols at the loudest volume my voice and neighbours will allow.

Any sooner than today, people give me funny looks and refuse to reciprocate the Christmas sentiment (this is not an assumption, it is a tried and tested certainty).

I’ve already begun reacquainting myself with that warm-merry Christmas feeling via downloaded Christmas music.

Christmas, it's everything I love all rolled into one holiday. Gift giving, Friends n' Family time, gingerbread and sugar cookies, cooking (Rumours to the contrary aside, I am a VERY GOOD COOK, I just don't do it very often), over indulging, TV specials, group singing, home decorating, Holiday parties, dressing pretty and SHOPPING!

Malls are over loaded with shoppers, but I don't care. No one in my family is fanatical about getting the latest gadgets or any must have item... so I'm free of gift giving restrictions. To some, this would be an annoyance; to me this is a great challenge, an annual treasure hunt with my own lyrical accompaniment.

Dashing through the Mall
In a rush to find a gift
Through the stores we go
Spending money swift.

Loved ones on your mind
Making spirits bright
Oh, What fun it is to seek and find
A perfect gift tonight! Aaay!

HAPPY SHOPPING, ONE AND ALL!

PRIZE WINNER

2006-11-30T22:10:00.000-05:00

A few posts ago I challenged my readers with an obscure movie quote. As promised there is ten dollars awaiting the winner... but here's my dilemma... I'm not familiar with the winner and am in the process of trying to suss her out.

I'm truly flattered that she takes time to read the chronicles of my life and am considerably impressed that she's aware of GREASE II.

That's right ladies and gentlemen... GREASE II, Michelle Pfeiffer's finest work. Well, at least to a suburban kid in grade five, who believed Stephanie Zinone was the coolest chick around. The open mouth gum chewing, the tight black clothes and the satin pink greaser jacket, she was the epitome of "Bad-Ass-Cool" in my ten year old world.

I recorded Grease II on my dad's VCR and played the movie over and over until the magnetic strip wore thin. I listened to the soundtrack, walking to and from school, for two months straight. My friend Kelly and I would sing "Cool Rider" as we walked home. She boogied down the sidewalk to the Cool Rider choreography while singing at the top of her voice. I was too shy to accompany her in dancing, but not even on my very timid days could anyone stop me from joining in song.

Oh, the innocence of youth... where have you gone?

DARTH VADAR'S DAUGHTER

2006-11-29T23:32:00.000-05:00

My current position at work requires me to spend hours in the day photocopying documents.

The production office is located in an ancient building with very poor ventilation systems and unfortunately for me, the photocopier is situated in a tiny room without any ventilation at all.

Due to my diligent work ethics, I have since developed mild migraines and a hideous photocopier’s cough.

Concerned with my health, my Department Head has since ordered a Hepa mask for me, to be worn when sequestered in the copier room. The mask is great, after two hours of being in this toxic environment I resurface without a headache or hacking cough.

However, when interrupted by coworkers who need to copy a sheet or two, the atmosphere is awkward and the discourse is strained. My voice, muffled, echoy and breathy. As I attempt to maintain a carefree conversation, all I can focus on is the knowledge that I look and sound like Darth Vadar’s daughter. (Sexy only to a Star Wars Geek.)

People can only maintain eye contact for a few minutes and then they quickly shift their eyes towards the ground, because looking at me is like staring at a kid trapped in a complete braces-n-headgear ensemble. You must look away quickly before the poor kid can see the pity and stifled laughter in your eyes.

Almost everyone at the office has made an effort to come in to copy "something" so they could take a mental picture of the Hepa mask girl.

In my vivid imagination, they all assemble at the water cooler, talking and laughing about the ridiculousness of my get-up.

To my knowledge this has not yet happened, but as a preemptive strike, I have made fun of myself and the mask, allowing my coworkers to openly mock and pity me.

It’s a good thing I don’t take myself seriously and have the ability to make others laugh at my own expense, or else this would be a truly traumatic experience.

Dear Diary... About David

2006-11-28T17:39:00.000-05:00

Leading up to my 13th year "first date" anniversary with David, I will share excerpts from my diary about him, for fun and because I have a lot of time on my hands being confined to the house. (Like most girls, I don't just rely on my memory of high school , I have my diary to turn to for the cold hard FACTS - as perceived by me.)

November 12th, 1993 - G.S.H. Academy

David H., this guy from my business class, I saw him last Sunday and drove him home from the Library. We talked and now I'm totally comfortable with him...

We had an assembly on Thursday, I walked down (to the caf) with him and we ran into his friends. I assumed he'd leave to sit with them, so I quickly walked ahead to an empty bench. I heard David call from behind, "So where do you want to sit?"

That, I thought, was so sweet and unexpected of him. He's a really cute guy...
*
I got a fake telegram today, signed Peter (from Nancy and Ronny). David shouts, "Miss. popularity!"

We headed towards class and he projects such a bad attitude towards me. Strange, he's usually great and very friendly. "What's wrong?" I asked. "Tired," he replied. I totally didn't believe him, but I kept being "normal" and pretending not to notice his cold shoulder.

He finally gathered the courage to ask me about the telegram. I tell him the whole story (practical joke and backstory), he asked if there was anything going on with Peter and me. "NO WAY!"

Then all of a sudden, he became less tired...

TONIGHT, WE BOWL

2006-11-28T14:53:00.000-05:00

Paulette

What are we gonna do tonight Johnny?

Johnny
Tonight, we bowl!

(I will send ten bucks to the first person who correctly guesses what movie that quote is from.)

A couple weeks ago (before sickness took up residence in my body) I had a chance to go on a dinner/bowling double date with my friend Alison. I had a wonderful time.

After a frustrating workweek, you cannot discredit the healing power of a two-hour session at the local bowlerama.

I have several ways I like to work out my pent up frustration.

1. Write
2. Lose myself in a good movie
3. Boxing Classes (which I no longer go to since it has been scheduled at a very inconvenient time)
4. Bowl

Bowling ought to rank highly on the anger management list of things to do. A heavy ball and a lot of anger, a very dangerous combination to ten mocking pins. It definitely gets the hate out. There is something so satisfying about taking my “made for kids” eight pound ball, hurling it down the alley and rejoicing in the ball-pin contact.

Although only once did I get a strike and only twice a spare.

David said that I should work on my ball hurling technique.

I choose instead to use this opportunity to exercise and master my Psychokinesis. Willing my eight pounder not go gutter-side. Willing the pins to drop despite lack of contact. My awesome mind power worked… occasionally. (I need more practice)

While I was working on my psychical powers, David opted for mystical sorcery. He harnessed his magic into a fifteen-pound bowling ball and was unbeatable after that.

We did not divulge our little paranormal accomplishments to our double date partners. Some things are best left unspoken.

INFLUENZA

2006-11-25T12:36:00.000-05:00

Guess who didn't get her Flu shot this year?

Day 4 of Flu. Incoherent... Weak... Coughy... BLOGGING SICK DAY(S).

Will blog when body and brain begin to cooperate.

UPDATE:

I tried to go to work today (Monday, Nov 27th) and was sent home at noon. I'm tired of having the Flu, but I guess the Flu isn't tired of having me.

The plus side of being sick:

1. I've caught up on all two seasons of Veronica Mars. Having the backstory all in order allows me to fully internalize season three's character motivations. (Veronica Mars, Tuesday at 9pm on SunTv - a greatly written and well executed show!)

2. I have killer stomach muscles from hurling everything I eat and from fiercely coughing every five minutes for six days straight.

(And you thought I'd be the girl who always says the glass is half empty.)

COUNTRY WASN'T COOL

2006-11-19T11:17:00.000-05:00

I would like to take this opportunity to divulge a BIG secret that I have been hiding for all these years. I LOVE COUNTRY MUSIC.

I’m not referring to the new wave cross-over country/rock n’ roll music. I’m talkin’ about the uncool old-time, backwoods, honky-tonk country.

Songs featurin’ the good ol’ boys (Waylon Jennings, Hank Williams, George Jones, Kenny Rogers and Johnny Cash) and the famous female crooners (Dolly Parton, Patsy Cline, Barbara Mandrell, Loretta Lynn, and Tammy Wynette).

How is this possible? An urban fashionista, such as myself, swayin’ to music from the Deep South?

I wasn’t always an urbanite. When my parents immigrated to Canada, the government assigned the majority of Vietnamese refugees to Alberta, the Nashville of the North.

From the age of five, I grew up watching Hee Haw, Barbara Mandrell and the Mandrell Sisters, and The Dukes of Hazzard. Even Sesame Street was a little bit country with a Muppet called Polly Darton;

the show also included a slew of notable guest appearances by Crystal Gayle, Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings and Willie Nelson.

I was young and impressionable.

At age nine, moving to Toronto, I quickly discovered “Country Music” was a pejorative term with the city slickers. I was country when country wasn’t cool. So, I relegated myself to being a closet country fan. The best thing about lovin’ old country songs is that you can put it away for years and comeback to it without ever having to update your collection.

I have a kooky knack for turning ANY song (including hip-hop songs) into a country song. I particularly like doing this when driving in the car with David, because it amuses him. Yes, we have established the fact that I am a BIG NERD; I’m just giving you more ammunition to justify calling me one to my face.

So why am I admitting this now? I don’t really know. Maybe because I vehemently denied it to a coworker who loves country (although, she likes new country), maybe because it’s safer to do it in a blog than to personally affirm my penchant for Country. It’s like a confessional, only to a lot of people (all 9 of my readers) all at once.

So now that it’s all out in the open, I’d like to acquaint you to my country and share with y’all a track list of my homemade mix tape for your researching pleasure.

Good Old Boys (Dukes of Hazzard Theme) – Waylon Jennings
I Was Country When Country Wasn't Cool – Barbara Mandrell
Sweet home Alabama – Lynard Skynard
I Never Promised You A Rose Garden – Loretta Lynn
Coward of the County – Kenny Rogers
Ghost Riders in the Sky – Johnny Cash & Willie Nelson
There’s a Tear in my Beer – Hank Williams Sr.
Jolene – Dolly Parton
Gambler – Kenny Rogers
Mamas Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Cowboys – Waylon Jennings
The Night The Lights Went Out In Georgia - Vicki Lawrence
You are my Sunshine – Hank Williams Sr.
Jackson – Johnny Cash & June Carter Cash
Crazy- Patsy Cline
A Boy Named Sue – Johnny Cash
White Lighting – George Jones
Island in the Stream – Kenny Rogers & Dolly Parton

Find the songs, listen to the songs, give it a chance. Live a little! Do it, everyone else is! It's harmless, I promise.

TODAY, WE PAINT

2006-11-18T10:10:00.000-05:00

Today I reside in D.I.Y limbo. Lots to do, not enough time in the day.

I have ended my home makeover procrastination and have commenced to convert a spare bedroom into my office. I will finally be able to get my computer and writing resources off the dinning room table.

I have guilted my youngest brother and his girlfriend into helping me with my D.I.Y projects this weekend.

1. Paint the office
2. Assemble the Ikea office furniture
3. Sand the stairs and banister
4. Paint and stain the stairs and banister

Okay, before you get on my case about "slave labour". May I inform you that this is all VERY MINOR payback for all the sleepless nights I have lost over a vast amount of brain drain from above mentioned brother.

It all started innocently with his grade six valedictorian speech. A speech that left not a dry eye in the house, written by... me, his Ghostwriter. Since then, we (I write, he submits) have been getting A's on all our writing assignments. Not only do I have a B.A. in Political Science, I also (by proxy) have a B.Comm. in ITM.

Upon his University graduation, one would assume that I have expunged my ghostwriting career. Well we all know what happens when one assumes. ASS-U-Me ('nuff said).

Hence, the guilt.

But, what about his poor innocent girlfriend? Surely the slave labour thing is a bit too much to bestow upon her.

My reply in six poignant little words: I let her cut my hair ('nuff said).

Today, we paint.

THE TRUTH SURFACES

2006-11-16T20:53:00.000-05:00

A couple posts ago I blogged about a flowery surprise. I dismissed my initial suspicion (I was saturated with pleasure at the time), but my skeptical nature reign supreme over my cheery outlook.

I questioned the motive behind my beautiful bouquet.

"Just Because" was the response.

A very unsatisfactory answer. So I dig relentlessly until I uncovered the truth.

Truth: He's leaving me for three days, at the end of November, to go to a football game in Boston. The rest of the explaination was a blur, something about Bears and Patriots, a fifty yard line and an NFL hook-up.

It appears that the tickets to the game will be my Christmas gift to him.

Moral of this story: Flowers are wonderful to receive but never take them at face value.

11th HOUR, 11th DAY, 11th MONTH

2006-11-11T08:54:00.000-05:00

As the years pass more and more of our war veterans die and with them the personal stories of the world’s most tragic events. Lest we forget.

A brief history lesson supersedes:

On the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month, Canadians are asked to stop and give thought to the thousands of war veterans, peacekeepers and civilians who sacrificed their lives fighting for freedom. The significance of the date is to highlight the end of WWI, November 11, 1918. (Imaginably, at a time when the collective commonwealth believed that this would be our first and only World War.)

On this day Canadians are also commemorating the 60th anniversary of D-Day and the Battle of Normandy, where Canadian troops suffered 18,444 casualties. Among them, 5021 were killed. Of all the divisions which formed part of the 21 Army Group, none suffered more casualties than the 3rd and 2nd Canadian.

It was a huge sacrifice – and a huge factor in turning the tide of the war against Hitler's Germany.

In Flanders Fields

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders Fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

- John McCrae, 1915

The poppies bloomed across some of the worst battlefields of Flanders in World War I. Canadian Lt.-Col. John McCrae was driven to pen the poem In Flanders Fields on sighting the poppies growing beside a grave of a close friend who had died in battle.

Today, I will be thinking of the soldiers who fought and all the Canadians continuing peacekeeping missions throughout the world.

Let us not forget their past sacrifices. Peace.

SOFTER-GENTLER MIEN

2006-11-08T23:46:00.000-05:00

This evening was one of the most mundane yet truly delightful evenings I’ve spent in the city in a long time.

In heavy mist filled night air, the city possesses a softer-gentler mien.

I chose to walk to the Union Bus Terminal from the Eaton Centre. A seven block walk, full of simple pleasures, down the longest street in the world, Yonge Street.

1. The Hudson’s Bay Company is preparing for the unveiling of their Holiday window display. I’m giddy with anticipation.
2. Sharing a smile and a dollar with a homeless person.
3. Passing by a Brasserie, observing people enjoy scrumptious food and conversation.
4. Strolling down Yonge St. on a November night with temperatures around 11 °C. (52 °F)
5. Mentally replaying the day peppered with laughter and sheer nonsensical conversation.
6. Drinking a delicious strawberry-banana smoothie for dinner.
7. Being by myself in the city, yet not feeling lonely.

Most mundane, yet truly delightful.

FLOWERS!

2006-11-08T23:44:00.000-05:00

Contributing to my delightful evening… David surprised me with flowers.

Hmm… satisfied or suspicious?

I choose satisfied!

GREAT JUMPING JEHOSAPHAT

2006-11-05T09:54:00.001-05:00

When my brother and his fiancée asked me if I wanted to be a bridesmaid, it wasn't exactly an offer I could refuse (actually, I did once, but he’s my brother and love overcame irritation). On June 16th, 2007, I will be walking down the aisle as a brides-matron (brides-matron sounds so homely, but I can’t truly call myself a bridesmaid, I’m married).

Yesterday, the plans were set in motion, bridesmaid dress shopping.

The boundaries given to me for this dress search was: one common style in the colour Purple.

This shopping expedition brought back memories of my own quest for the elusive “perfect prom dress”. Only this time, I did not get to make the sole decision; it was a hunt for a unanimous selection.

Five girls, five differing body types, seven dress styles, one affordable dress and one particular bride-to-be, the odds were stacked against us.

I wanted to choose something not hideous, and perhaps a dress that would be voluntarily wearable again on subsequent occasions.

I’m very particular in my way of formal dressing. I gravitate toward simple timeless elegance. No ruffling, no swooshing, no gathering, no unnecessary detailing and nothing too boring, in a complimentary colour. Easy right?

Seven dresses were pulled off the racks. Three girls modeled, excluding myself. None of these dresses screamed “MUST HAVE”. One dress was agreeable, but only on a must compromise and make-the-bride-happy basis (for me anyway).

Then suddenly, “THE” dress floated towards us, swaying elegantly on the hanger in the hands of a sales associate. A dress I would have chosen for myself, barring any other influences. Three girls modeled, including myself. I loved the fit on the other girls and I loved the fit on me.

Great Jumping Jehosaphat, we all agreed on one dress, at the very first store… and we were allowed to get it in BLACK!!!

Huge sigh of relief.

So now what? Now we price shop.

SPACEY & CRUELLA

2006-11-04T08:13:00.001-05:00

For a brief moment last night I was Kevin Spacey, an undercover operative posing as a Parliament Page. No fancy espionage type outfits for this undercover operative, I was camouflaged in white blouse, navy blazer, dark gray pants and ugly (yet comfortable) black shoes.

I was running, literally running, all over the Capitol complex delivering messages to MPs, assisting the Key House Speaker, Clerks and other House officers in the Chamber, all the while trying to uncover a spy (thank god for the ugly, yet comfortable, shoes).

I was transporting legislative documents and having to crawl through doggy doors (dream foreshadow) and venting shafts to get between Congressional offices.

I overheard the Minister of Natural Resources, Cruella de Vil (literally), talking about using skins of the Pages to produce fabric.

That was my mission? I was to stop Cruella de Vil from kidnapping Pages for their skin?

Hmm… I smell dream plagiarism.

Did I succeed? I don’t know… I woke up after that discovery.

I hate unresolved dreams. I’m going back to bed.

PLASTIC PRINCESS

2006-11-02T22:20:00.000-05:00

I missed out on seeing all the neighbourhood kids dressed up for Halloween. Our neighbourhood is small and secluded, so making the rounds in this area would only take an hour.

I got home at 8:30, no more children and no more candy.

I miss going out in costume, begging for candy. I love Halloween.

Being immigrants, my parents never really understood the full concept of Halloween. While other children had elaborate homemade costumes I had this…

To this day I can recall the smell of that plastic mask, the build up of breath-drawn-moisture that would collect inside, and the way that flimsy rubber band pulled at my hair. I would run door to door with my tunnel vision, mask securely encasing my face, barely audible as I shouted “Trick or Treat”.

That costume was so uncomfortable, so unsafe, yet so coveted. I was six years old and I was extremely ecstatic to be a plastic princess.

I as grew older, my brothers and I were left up to our own devices in regards to Halloween costumes. Our unoriginal Halloween dress-ups were accomplished with a quick rummage through our closets. We never had complicated costumes.

My brothers (each):

Baseball Player – 8 x
Girl – 2 x
Hobos – 6 x

Other than a princess and a witch, I don’t remember any of my other Halloween costumes… Oh wait, there was this one time when I was a 1970’s porn star… but that wasn’t until years later in the dress-up game, when slutty became the new scary.

MISSIONARY

2006-10-29T08:03:00.001-05:00

Get your mind out of the gutter. I’m blogging about the propagator not the position.

Late Thursday evening, as I was enjoying my privately chauffeured transit ride home (truthfully, there was one other passenger on the bus, but he was tucked away in the back), three young (19-20ish) men encroached on my exclusive ride. They were very well groomed and decked out in suit-n-tie.

Mormons.

Immediately, they engaged in their divide n’ conquer tactic. It’s funny how at ease I was with them commandeering the bus. Surely, I would have been put on edge by this action with any other trio of boys.

As each of the boys pursued a conversation with, the bus driver, the other passenger and myself, I couldn’t help but smile at the play that was unfolding before me.

He politely asked how I was, where I was coming from and where I was going. I openly told him, playing the part that was scripted for me. We made small talk as the bus rolled on. In between our conversational pauses I overhead segments of the other conversations, the same questions were being answered.

At this moment I decided to adlib, I wanted to deviate from the predictable script that lay before me.

“Are you Mormon?” I asked.

He was thrown, but only for a moment. He nodded.

It was my turn to control the direction of this conversation. I became the interviewer.

He was from Utah, one year into his two-year mission, the boy with the bus driver was six months in and the boy at the back was a year in. He learned Spanish for his mission. He’d been to Mexico once, on a family trip, but was not fluent in the language then. He was “called to service” after his first year of University, and he would return upon completion of his mission.

I could hear talk of scripture and God emanating from the back.

I was open to conversation, but I was not open to aggressive proselytism.

I believe that everyone has the right to freedom of thought, conscience and religion. However, I do not believe the bible (or any other Religious Resource) should be used a weapon against people's differing beliefs.

I am fully aware of my rights - The International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights Article 18 states: No one shall be subject to coercion which would impair his freedom to have or to adopt a religion or belief of his choice.

I pulled out my trump card, Elder Schulzka, my distant familial connection, through marriage, to the Mormon religion. The subtext of the Schulzka conversation was to make my new acquaintance aware that I understood his religious beliefs, respected his religious beliefs, but would not be converting to his religious beliefs.

Here’s my motto on religion: Don’t tell me that I’m going to hell, and I won’t tell you that you’ll be reincarnated into a worm.

I shook his hand and wished him good luck on his mission. I realized how impossible being a missionary would be in a metropolis like Toronto. I’m not saying that what he is doing is fruitless, just extremely difficult.

I felt for him, he was a very nice boy.

FEEL LIKE DANCING?

2006-10-28T13:56:00.000-04:00

On a night out with the Girls, heading downtown, we were going south for some SOUTHERN HOSPITALITY. We, a DANCING QUEEN, a WILD THING, and a NAUGHTY GIRL, were ready to have some GOOD TIMES, so we called up our INFORMER and asked him, “WHERE’S THE PARTY AT?”

“Head into FUNKYTOWN”, He instructed, “You’re sure to have a WILD NIGHT, IN DA CLUB.”

WE LIKE TO PARTY, so we agreed to CHECK UP ON IT and HUNG UP. We filled the car with GASOLINA and headed off with a roar.

On our short road trip, we took a wrong turn. I’m not sure where we went wrong. Perhaps it waasss a right turn past the LONDON BRIDGES and not a left. We realized that we were in trouble when we passed a graffiti sign, which read: WELCOME TO THE JUNGLE.

Suddenly, I DON’T FEEL LIKE DANCING.

We pulled over, unaware of the danger surrounding us, I’m talking about the kind of danger that was GONNA MAKE YOU SWEAT.

The street was teaming with PROMISCUOUS girls. One of these girls approached our car. BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM! Her DIRRTY, CRAZY bony hands slammed on the window. She told us that she was, THE ROCKAFELLER SKANK, and this was her territory. “I ain’t looking for no more girls, especially a NASTY GIRL like you, so move.”

We were insulted and WE’RE NOT GONNA TAKE IT.

"Oh, IT’S GOING DOWN, ‘cause I am definitely a HOLLABACK GIRL." I got out of the car, mustered up the RED NECK WOMAN in me, shouted, “MOVE THIS,” and took a swing at her. She hit the ground hard, I won.

However, I didn’t see her sidekick come at me from the behind. Fortunately for me, my friends did. As they demonstrated their ass-kicking ability, and ANOTHER ONE BITES THE DUST. Looking around we knew that we would soon be out numbered, so we BUST A MOVE and speed off, RIDIN’ DIRTY, still determined to not let that showdown be our LAST DANCE.

We FINALLY navigated our way towards Funkytown and into the club.

Some might ask if it was worth the trauma, just to express your L.O.V.E. for dancing.

I say, there are times in your life when, GROOVE IS IN THE HEART and YOU HAVE TO FIGHT FOR YOUR RIGHT (TO PARTY).

FOUR UNCOMPLICATED WORDS

2006-10-25T22:56:00.000-04:00

I’ve been sick for the past 10 days, can’t seem to shake this cold-flu-whatever-it-is. I’m weak, I’m delirious and I’m grumpy. So, with the state of my disposition clarified I am now free to make my blogging demand (be grateful… the word is d-e-m-a-n-d, and not demand-plural).

YOU READ, YOU COMMENT!

Otherwise, you are no better than the perverted peeping tom spying on my life behind some rancid dumpster, or that degenerate who steals my underpants at the Laundromat, or the psychopath who covertly takes photos of me downblousing.

Tsk, tsk, tsk. You need serious clinical treatment. How can you live with yourself?

If this is not your intention or you are unfamiliar with my blogging rule, let me repeat it. “You read. You comment,” one very simple rule, four uncomplicated words. I’ll even make it easier for you. You don’t have to comment on every post, perhaps every other post or you could get into the habit of commenting once a week. I also read old posts’ comments, so feel free to comment on my previous publication.

Just think of it like summer camp, like the time you carved “______ (fill in the blank with your name) was here, 1988”, but instead of a knife and the wooden post of a bunk bed, you have a keyboard and the blank space on the comment link.

Don’t forget to leave your name, or your moniker, so I can rescind you from the pervert watch list.

Thanks for reading my delirious ramblings and indulging my high maintenance blogging expectations. As I head to my sick bed I leave you with these nine words, together they make a phrase (gotta love linguistics).

“This is not FREE entertainment, you read, you comment.”

P.S. Massive SHOUT OUTS to those first time readers who were gracious enough to follow the rules, and to my long time readers who faithfully comment. You make a girl want to rant on for your enjoyment.

THE NEXUS

2006-10-20T20:48:00.000-04:00

A really wonderful Production Accountant once told me, "Production Accounting is the nexus between the dream and the reality."

Grateful to know I'm not the lone artist in a conservative department. Thanks Greg E.

HER SPECIAL DAY

2006-10-19T22:47:00.001-04:00

Today would have been her 63rd birthday, but she did not live long enough to see her 61st. She waved goodbye on May 14th, 2004 and departed to a place where cancer could not cling.

She was my cheerleader, my confidant and my friend. I was fortunate to have known her for the last 10yrs of her life. I love her dearly and miss her greatly.

Happy Birthday Jackie.

GOOD WITH NUMBERS

2006-10-19T22:44:00.001-04:00

“You’re good at Sudoku cause you’re Asian.” She says.

“So?”

“Your people invented it, you’re all good with numbers.” She replied.

She was racially stereotyping me because:

A) She has limited experiences with Asians
B) She is overtly racist
C) She’s incredibly ignorant
D) All of the above

I waved her off, not caring to correct her erroneous conclusions about Asians, which I’m positive she gathered from watching “my people” being portrayed in the media (huge bone of contention).

For her information: I’m good at Sudoku, because I like solving logic puzzles, not because I’m good with numbers.

Case in point: This week at work, it took the Payroll Accountant three tries on three separate occasions to get me to understand the mathematics involved in calculating the background performers’ payment. (It's really harder than it sounds. My head was spinning for hours, but I finally got it… Yay me!) Production accounting was supposed to be logical, not mathematical… someone lied to me!

I hate math. In fact, there are numerous high school journal entries pleading to the Numbers God to bless me with the brains to understand math, or at least let me scrape by with a passing grade. It never happened. I hate math.

GROWING OLD...

2006-10-14T14:08:00.000-04:00

… but not grown up. On my 32nd birthday I stand unsure of where I should be seated… at the grown-up table or at the kids table. I know at age 32 I am technically a woman, but emotionally I am not ready to commit to full fledged adulthood. I live in this schizophrenic world where I am both woman and girl, at any given moment I will vacillate between both personalities.

I am a girl when I dance and sashay in bare feet, a woman when I mingle and saunter in heels.

In the mornings, my weary bones whispers woman. In the evening, my flannel pajamas screams girl.

A girl when I play, fight and cry. A woman when I work, argue and comfort. Both when I laugh, forgive and write.

I am a girl reminiscing about the past, a woman planning for the future and both living in the present.

Happy Birthday: Girl, Woman… Me.

SMART AND POLITE

2006-10-11T22:05:00.001-04:00

I work in a really seedy part of town. In the daylight it appears harmless, but under the cloak of night the creeps come out to play.

Leaving work at 7:45, I knew that I wasn’t going to escape the darkness, but I thought I’d just to keep moving to keep the darkness from getting too close. Brilliantly, I made a safety call to my brother and swiftly walked myself two blocks to a busier, well-lit intersection, where I’d be much safer… or so I thought.

I noticed a young homeless man eyeballing me and eavesdropping on my conversation. Immediately, I switched to Vietnamese (at this moment I am very thankful for knowing another language) informing my brother of this creepy man. At this point, I’m in a real panic to get on the streetcar and abandon this uneasy situation... but that would be too convenient. I continue talking to my brother, this time, telling him exactly where I am, what I’m wearing and the exact route I plan on taking home. If anything were to happen to me at least they would know where to start looking.

Creepy man initiated contact.

Social norm dictates that when a person is on the phone it’s rude to interrupt. Correct? Wrong, apparently this etiquette only exists in my Miss-Manners-World.

“Do you have a token you could give me?”

I took a mental picture: Late twenties, early thirties. Black Runners. Dark Jeans. Trench coat (OH MY GOD… isn’t a trench coat the uniform for flashers, killers and rapists), an over-sized backpack (to carry his arsenal of weapons, of course) and biking gloves (GLOVES… no finger prints… OH SHIT).

“No, I don’t. Sorry.” I did not want to encourage a relationship based on a kind act. I was not feeling kind; I was feeling scared and awkward. Yet, I was still pleasant and polite. I didn’t want to offend him. After all, I did not want to be the headline on the evening news: RUDE GIRL GETS MANGLED AND KILLED.

Streetcar arrives, phone conversation over. Creepy man can’t get on without a token. I am safe… or so I thought.

He’s on.

I sit up front close to lots of people. (Well, four plus the driver… it was late. Sane and safe people get to leave work at a decent hour.) He heads to the back. Now, I’m safe… I was wrong… again.

He returns, without backpack.

“What’s your name?

I stare at him blankly.

Internal voice: Don’t give him your real name. Quick, think of something: Ingrid, Sophie, Jane… anything, just DON’T GIVE HIM YOUR REAL NAME. “Uh… Anna.”

Internal voice: Anna? You Idiot.

“Where are you going?”

Internal voice: Answer him. Keep it general. Be smart, not rude. “North.”

Internal voice: Ha, opposite direction confusion… smart and polite.

“North? Hmm?”

Internal voice: Hmm? Hmm, what? Hmm, you can read my mind and you know I’m lying? Hmm, it doesn’t matter which way I go cause you follow me anyway, and do bad things to me in a dark cornered recess… that kind of Hmm?

“I’m going to Spadina.”

Internal voice: Is he saying that to me because I’m Asian? Does he think this will bring us closer… because he’s headed to towards Chinatown we should be friends? “That’s nice.”

“I should eat this,” He proceeds to pull out a mint from his pocket. “To keep my breath smelling good, for when I kiss the girls.”

Inwardly, I grimace.

Internal voice: OH MY GOD! I don’t like where this conversation is going… Stop this conversation.

But instead, I smiled that polite half-smile that indicates, ‘I'll humor you so you won’t kill me’ and say, “That’s nice of you.”

Internal voice: What’s up with this ‘nice’ business? There’s nothing 'nice' about this whole situation, stop saying 'NICE'.

Uncomfortable silence.

“UUGGHH, Oh shit.”

Internal voice: What, What? I was ‘nice’, no reason for him to go off like this. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! “What’s wrong?”

Internal Voice: What are you doing? Stop talking to him. Move seats. Yell out to the driver. Stop talking to him!

“My backpack, I left it back there!” And with that, he ran to the back of the streetcar and never returned.

I ran off the streetcar, happy to be safe. SAVED BY A FORGOTTEN BACKPACK!

I'M THANKFUL FOR...

2006-10-09T11:30:00.000-04:00

…my brother and his fiancé’s wonderful thanksgiving get-together. (Thanks Mike and Andrea) The dinner satisfied my turkey craving and the company was delightful. Reuniting with my brother’s friends, whom I hadn’t seen in a long time, was wonderful. I laughed so hard my face hurt. (Thanks Nancy, Morgan, Kelly, Jen, Cliff and Janet)

…holiday gatherings with my in-laws. This year’s get-together has dramatically changed, with Manny and Vidal’s marriage in July we are now a blended family. The usual six has now become nine. The abundance of food was delicious (Thanks Vida, Vanessa and Dad) and the company was lively. (Thanks Vida, Dad, Vanessa, Bijan, Dan, Cody, Mike and David)

…my mother’s strength. Even through her own turmoil she’s always able to lend an ear, a shoulder, a tissue and a warm embrace.

…my pre-birthday dinner celebration. (Thanks Mom, Dad, Chris, Jen, Mike and Andrea)

…my husband and my life.

FREE HUGS

2006-10-07T10:16:00.000-04:00

Hugs. It's the most intimate way to connect with someone platonically. I love getting and giving hugs.

Here is my free hug to all my readers.

There are days when a free hug is all you need to chase the storm clouds away. Come back here if you ever need another hug.

CANADA'S GIVING THANKS

2006-10-06T21:08:00.000-04:00

Thanksgiving, Canadian style.
(early October, not late November)

I'm excited for turkey! However, I'm hearing whispers around town that there might not be a turkey this Thanksgiving... THE HORROR! I'm sincerely sad at the possibility of not having a turkey.

I've never been one to abandon the Thanksgiving Day tradition of turkey, but this year I'm at the mercy of others. Two dinners invites and the turkey is not guaranteed.

I have certain turkey cravings and need my cravings satisfied damn it!

My brother and I once announced a craving for turkey one late April evening. Fortunately for us, my parents' freezer was housing the coveted turkey. Unfortunately for us, we were up until 1:30am cooking the coveted turkey. We were finally feasting on the flightless bird at two in the morning. It was, BY FAR, the best turkey I have ever eaten.

PEOPLE PERSON

2006-10-05T23:34:00.000-04:00

An open letter to my insolent coworker:

Dear Oppressive Coworker,

Your presence has poisoned my work environment and I can no longer stand idle in the mist of this pollution, muzzled by my politeness. I am writing this letter to you, in a quest to free myself of all your negative energy.

Allow me to begin by saying that I have put forth a valiant effort to tolerate your malice, but how far must I bend before I break?

You have caused me to hate my job with a loathing generally reserved for baby killers and people who kick puppies.

I see the pained expression on you face when you are giving me instructions. I apologize if my inexperience with your division is causing you such discomfort, but YES, you have to deal with training me on something you have been doing for twenty years and, YES, I ask many questions when I’m confused. The questions may seem irrelevant or elementary to you but I need to know the details to do my job more efficiently.

Your demeaning statement, “I don’t need you to understand it, I just need you photocopy it,” has truly revealed how resentful you are of my attempt to acquire knowledge and how fearful you are of being outed as a SIMPLETON. You can attempt to maintain your know-it-all charade, but I see you for what you really are, which is ignorant.

You will not change me. I see this world with eyes of a curious child, in my mind continuing questions of why's and how's. You will not crush me. I will not let you douse my flames of knowledge with your venom of ignorance. I am not the cause of your misery. If you are unhappy, YOUR conduct is the cause. So suck it up, stop treating me like the bitch who is trying to jeopardize your job, and help me learn this crap already!

We are truly different creatures you and I, we do not speak the same language, causing continual misunderstandings. Clearly this is my fault, the next time that I have failed to do something you NEVER ASKED ME TO DO, I will remember to remind you that I flunked out of psychic school.

I will maintain a positive outlook and do whatever it takes to push through this undesirable working condition. I will attempt to endure my time with you a while longer, even if that means staying perfectly quiet all day while chanting to myself “I’ll be out of here soon. I’ll be out of here soon. I’ll be out of here soon.”

We only have two more months and then I can make a clean break from the rat-infested squalor housing your soul. I will smile politely and bid you farewell, secretly hoping that our paths will never cross again.

Sincerely,

Me.

P.S. When you have to ask someone if you are a “people person”, chances are the answer is a blatant NO!

"Girls are taking over!"

2006-09-30T19:30:00.000-04:00

I stumbled on this article today and am truly excited over this revelation:

"Society's pressures have created a new ideal female. Nerdiness -- caring about school -- is now mandatory for the cool female, along with the typical desired traits of attractiveness and sociability. Instead of the movies' airhead cheerleader as the popular campus queen, in the modern day, the admired female is smart, concerned about school and active in achieving her success."

Fellow Nerd Girls Kick Ass!

BLIND DATE

2006-09-30T11:24:00.000-04:00

I started my new job last week with such anxiety and trepidation.

Why, you ask? Not usually my style, you say.

Not to worry, it wasn’t the: Can’t Sleep at Night Tossing and Turning, Anx-Trepid variety, it was more like the: Butterflies in Stomach Blind Date, kind. You know the one I’m talking about, the one with the unrelenting questions swirling around your head: What’s he going to look like? Am I going to get along with him? Will this be fun?

Well…

“He” looks good, all stylish and glossy with lots of money to throw around. No more scrimpy and saving for essentials. Whatever my little heart desires to make me comfortable, he provides. He’s attractive and alluring… he’s got all the right people working for him… high caliber specialists, they are. I read his script… it was sweet and tender. He’s got talent.

He promises to put my name up in lights for all my efforts and dedication (or at least rolling credits on the big screen). How courteous. I think I’ll get along with him just fine.

And the fun bit? I intend to have fun. I’ve put in a lot of hard work and long hours on this date, but he’s made it real easy by surrounding me with interesting and lighthearted people (all but one... who was sent by SATAN). Yes, I do believe this date is headed towards Fun City.

OH...HOW NICE.

2006-09-28T21:22:00.000-04:00

Day 2 of my new job and I received some rather newsworthy information... I am working on a movie starring Ryan Gosling.

The thirty-one year old me replied, "Oh... how nice." The twelve year old me, was hollering, dancing and jumping around for hours.

SAY GOODNIGHT SADIE

2006-09-23T23:05:00.000-04:00

Good Night Sadie.

It's a wrap on our third and final season of "Naturally Sadie". To all the people whom I have had the privilege of getting to know while working on the series: I will miss you.

Deep sigh... I get completely melancholic when confronted with an ending... but on the UPSIDE (a cheerful, boisterous and inebriated upside), a few pictures from our wrap party:

By the end of the night my body was entirely made of vodka. Mmm...GOOD TIMES!

DANGER:SHARKS IN MIAMI

2006-09-19T23:42:00.000-04:00

During the past several seasons the Florida gulf began to emit a distinctive fishy odor. This smell is due to the unusual number of sharks circling the Miami waters. Is this shark activity in Miami really that unusual, you ask? Well, no. Not if a particular Miami television series has been rigorously preparing to jump the shark.

For a while now, CSI: Miami has been on the verge of shark jumping, with its unnatural characters (Horatio Caine, Eric Delko, Ryan Wolfe), unintelligent dialogue (Horatio Caine: Justice is not yours to dispense, and now you're going to pay for it), and unconvincing plotline: (is it plausible for a gorgeous girl like Marisol Delko to marry an emotionless, gingered hair, know-it-all like Horatio Caine).

Well last Monday, the show finally took the plunge with its fifth season premier episode. BIG SHARK JUMP! Commencing with a ill-plotted Brazilian storyline (to show off the show's access to foreign locales and visual treatment).

The show is beyond stylized. The colors are over-saturated and artificial, causing distracting visuals and unnatural skin texture (re: close ups of Horatio Caine’s cringe worthy face). The over use of slow motion, CSI: Miami is plagued by the irritating and ineffective use of this film technique (slow motion should be used to highlight important moments, not to highlight Horatio Caine’s facial mobility). The obtuse and unnecessary use of split screen, rupturing any illusion of reality. (CSI MIAMI is a police procedural series about forensic scientists, isn’t REALITY an important element to the show?)

But the biggest shark jump on CSI: Miami is by far the serie's emphasis on Horatio Caine (David Caruso). He is one of the most uncharismatic characters in primetime television. He has an abnormal need to wear sunglasses indoors, and a compulsive urge to rip them off and awkwardly pose mid sentence. (Blame the director) The character also imparts an incredibly uncomfortable stance with added neck bend to accentuate his laughable dialogue. (Blame the actor) Dialogue that is purely composed of clichés and bad expositions, the info-dump uttered by Horatio Caine to his subordinates is insulting. (Blame the writers) One would think that to work in a forensic lab, of the show’s caliber, one would know a little something about the crime and procedure. Apparently not!

These jump-the-shark elements have finally convince me that the show has fundamentally and permanently strayed from its original crime fighting allure. It is a desperate and futile attempt to keep viewers like me from the drifting towards more innovative and intelligent shows competing for my attention.

NOTE: To my faithful reader who do not watch CSI:MIAMI, be thankful.

PALMAE

2006-09-17T09:49:00.000-04:00

I am daydreaming, as images from my screensaver flash before my eyes, tropical island vistas.

I look at a palm tree and feel strangely at home, strange because I've lived in Canada since I was 4yrs and 11 months old.

My last Palmae visit was in November 2005, with my lovely co-workers.

I’m jonesing for another trip.

I WEEP

2006-09-10T21:56:00.000-04:00

There are events in history that are so frightfully horrifying that they have a way of stopping time. When asked five years later, what you were doing the morning of September 11, 2001, you can respond without hesitation. Most of us can’t remember what we had for breakfast yesterday, but we can remember exactly what we were doing five years ago on that date. It was early on a sunny Tuesday, I was in the CBC building, downtown Toronto, with resume in hand looking for my first big break in the film and television industry, before long, my career was the furthest thought on my mind.

Heavy Heart.

In May, David and I were in New York. Our experience at Ground Zero was overwhelming. We stood staring in silence, overcome by the sorrow that seeped into the very marrow of our being.

Laboured Breath.

I wish I could capture in words the significance of visiting ground zero, or articulate the emotions that ground zero evokes, but I cannot.

Inarticulate Speech.

In place of words, there were tears. I wept. I wept at the sight of every name I read on the memorial wall. I wept at the sight of the gaping hole, where the Towers once stood triumphantly. I wept at the sight of the cross that stands defiantly at ground zero.

Sustained Hope.

I am not a follower of Christianity, but I do believe this cross transcend religious confines. It is a symbol of hope, guiding us ALL through times of such devastation. It is not about being Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Hindu, or Buddhist; it is about being Human, and respecting the life of our fellow Human beings. It is about peace.

World Peace.

SAY IT ISN'T SO

2006-09-04T23:33:00.000-04:00

Dear Fans of Laguna Beach and The Hills,

I have sad news to report. It looks as though our favorite couple are calling it quits. Raise your hands if you are just as stunned as I am.... What? No hand raising? Hmmm.

Please click :Lauren & Jason to hear our most beloved boy explain what happened.

P.S. Laguna Beach 3 will begin airing this Wednesday on MTV Canada. New Cast, New Year, New Drama!

THAT TIME OF YEAR

2006-09-04T13:23:00.000-04:00

It’s the final hours of the Labour Day weekend… Autumn is on the horizon. I woke up this morning, cocooned in my quilt, protecting myself from the AM chill. It’s amazing how quickly fall is ushered upon us, all the other seasons timidly seep into being, but fall attacks with a great vengeance. Over night trees are literally,turning over a new leaf.

I welcome Fall with a mixed bag of emotions. I love the crispness in the air, the canopy of crimson and golden foliage, and the crunch of fallen leaves. How can anyone not love the bright pigmented leaves on the trees, after all we are living in a country famous for our fall foliage. Aside from this spectacle of colour, what I love most about autumn is the impending fall season’s new prime time line-up. I adore the unveiling of all the new TV shows and of course, the return of my old favorites. (Let’s have a moment of silence for the cancelled comedy, Arrested Development… heavy hearted, Sigh.) But I digress, I will blog about my addiction at a later date, let’s get back to the subject at hand: my mixed bag of emotions.

Fall not only brings me joy, but it also brings me heartache... for I am a Football Widow. That’s right folks, this loving marriage, comes to a screeching halt with the return of Football season. No more Sunday promenades through sun drenched streets, holding hands, looking lovingly into each other’s eyes. No more picnicking under a grand oak tree, with him reciting Byron and Keats. (The preceding events may be slightly exaggerated; anyhow, a bit of hyperbole can’t hurt to prove a point) It’s all been replaced with excursion through electronic hallways, with him looking lovingly into a big screen TV and dining under the dimly lit roof of a sports bar, with him reciting sports stats and team chants.

Who’s number 1? Who cares?

In addition to being snubbed for a stupid game, I have to endure sports chat, pro-line betting, fantasy football leagues and worst of all, football games on the X-Box. His passion for anything football related is quite overwhelming, but his affection doesn’t stop with Pro-football, it also heats up for college ball as well.

I hate “Da Bears” and I hate the “Canes”. They have hijacked my husband.

I AM NOT A STUPID WOMAN, I JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND FOOTBALL. I don’t understand the rules and I don’t understand the excitement over the game. YES, It’s just a game! On many occasion I have been coached on the conduct of the sport. I have even read 'Football for Dummies'. But somehow, all of the reading and lectures gets lost in translation. This is what I hear: blah, blah, boring, blah. This is what I read: @(*$)@#%! @#& @(&^#(*$.

What’s the point of watching a bunch of beefy men chasing after an oblong ball and then piling on top of each other? “Oh Hot!”, you say? What’s hot about spitting, black patches under the eyes (women spend loads of cash to avoid this problem) and football tights? You can’t even see if the players are good-looking, they are all hidden behind such concealing helmets.

The only good thing about football is the Super Bowl. Two things I love about Super Bowl: the million dollar commercials that air (click here to see the best commercials ever!) and the end of football season.

But for now I must endure a full season of football. I have to suppress the feelings of loneliness and the sense of betrayal. I need to fight back the tears that comes with football widowhood. I will present my bravest face to the world.

The NFL season kicks off on Thursday, September 7. (Tear)

SOAPBOX DIATRIBE

2006-08-30T17:43:00.000-04:00

Dear Faithful Readers of Inarticulate Speech,

I would like to take this opportunity to climb on my soapbox and address an issue that’s been weighing heavily on my heart. It is an issue rarely talked about, for some it’s just too shameful a subject, for others the topic is too unpleasant for everyday conversation.

My bone of contention: CRACK.

Crack, it’s not only a crime it’s a disease. The effects of crack are felt on many levels: personal, cultural and social. The initial introduction of crack into a person’s life may initially produce feelings of euphoria and excitement, after all it’s a voyage into a forbidden place. It‘s a powerful force, the effects of the first encountered can be profoundly seductive. However, prolonged exposure to crack, causes restlessness, irritability, anxiety and paranoia.

Crack is a chronic illness and we must not be enablers to the addict’s abusive behavior!

Dealing with a loved one who is abusing crack can be overwhelming and painful. While crack addicts may be good people, their actions can hurt and cause shame to those who love them. We must not be enablers to the addicts abusive behaviour, we must stop the spread of this pandemic. The challenge is to stand steadfast in our conviction to assist abusers amidst the maelstrom of these dark and aggressive forces.

But before we can help others we must completely equip ourselves with the most prevalent information on crack. In order to get crack off the streets we must acquaint ourselves with the street names given to crack: hollow haunches, keister cavity, posterior pucker, the abyss, rump ridge, cranny, rear divide, butt channel, hill-billy heinie, half moon, ass flash, backside crevice, bottom gorge, bum split, (the proceeding synonyms created by writer of this blog, not real street names for crack...but they should be) anal cleft, butt cleavage, ass crack, coin slot, and the infamous plumber’s butt.

Do you remember when we used to ridicule and laugh relentlessly at the sight of anyone caught administering crack?

Now that's considered fashionable to be a crack fanatic. Everyone is getting cheeky. Not just the Hollywood starlets and the fashion devotees, but tradesmen with their ill fitting trousers, skater boys with their droopy bottoms, and sadly, the metrosexual male with his low slung slacks. Showing off the heinous HAIRY Hill-Billy heinie is pure blasphemy. (The least male addicts can do, if they are considering committing a crime of indecent exposure, is to schedule a crack-n-sack wax. If you are cringing at this notion, then please, do not even consider wearing an ass baring ensemble.)

Despite the hairy half moon, Fashion Editors are enabling the crack epidemic by making the global proclamation: “to have a little of your body falling out is extremely sexy”.

My response to this: a vehement “OH, HELL NO!” Are we going to allow these fashion junkies to dictate our style? Before you answer, let me remind you that these are the same fashion forward thinkers that gave the green light to a) homeless “boho” look, b) elephantine sunglasses and c) orange tans.

Never one for conformity, I am taking a stand against the keister cavity.

On a daily basis I have been witness to boorish benders who brazenly expose their nether regions, a locale that previously had been the sole domain of portly plumbers and tubby tradesmen. It is neither sexy nor classy to moon unsuspecting citizens! My eyes are sore from this constant exposure to the moon!

Deep Breath.

Surely, I am not the only individual, in a sea of millions, suffering from this grotesque glimpse of the hollow haunches. Don’t get me wrong; I love my low-rise jeans as much as the next fashionista and I can't guarantee you won't EVER see a little posterior pucker. However, I assure you, I go to great lengths to protect my butt cleavage from anyone’s direct sightline. How do I manage to stay so lady-like, yet so stylish in my low-risers? This is no easy feat. I have discovered various ways to sit, walk and squat. I have conditioned my body to contort into various angles to avoid ass flash.

In other words, we all need to take some responsibility! Check yourself when you sit or bend, do not promote the spread of crack. Please help me put an end to an addiction and trend that just screams: “blue collar betty/bob!”

SAY NO TO CRACK!

BONNE FETE PAPA

2006-08-29T21:55:00.000-04:00

It's my father's birthday, without him I wouldn't be here!

I AM FROM...

2006-08-24T23:14:00.000-04:00

I am from water gardens and wildflowers, from enchanting folklore and my father’s books.

I am from the patchwork of emerald rice fields, perfumed morning shadows and exotic customs.

I am from the shower of spring blossoms, the sweetly scented jasmines and the serpentine deltas.

I am from artist and educators, from storytellers and wordsmiths. From Tri, Thuong and Ba Noi. I stem from sturdy roots and ancestor’s war stories.

I am from my mother’s search for a better life and my father’s struggle to survive.

I am from my grandmother’s weathered hands and her generous spirit.

From unwritten rules and heartfelt laughter.

I am from a cross cultural odyssey, transcending nationality and language: an invasive species.

I'm from the tail of the dragon and the ash of the phoenix.

From the wooden fishing boats ravaged by angry waves, the mass exodus and the incredible yearning of ordinary people.

I am from a city lost in time, a country forever changed and a world condemned to repeat history.

ODE TO ALISON

2006-08-23T09:50:00.000-04:00

I'd like to dedicate this post to my dear friend Alison.

My heart aches, there's a void and my day grows dreary
I look to "Skipping Stones" for my daily inspiration
But alas,Alison has taken a blogging hiatus and I am teary.
I can't believe she has not returned from her long vacation.

I send this Ode to her, you see
Not in some melodious plot
'Tis only a desperate,desperate plea
cuz' I miss her update a lot.

P.S. Where my comments at?

P.P.S. Forgive the primative nature of this poem, I had five minutes people.