February 2005

Transit Adventure – February 1, 2005 
I was “picked up” on the bus home from work today. He was so smooth that, by the end, we’d exchanged numbers. Why is it that I’m not interested in the men who hit on me, while the ones that I am attracted to are married / gay / live in Toronto / etc.? Also, how could this guy be so smooth during the “pick up,” while I collapse into a stuttering, blushing pile of goop? I’m irrationally angry with this man.

His name is Sam, by the way. I think he’s a musician.

In Other News 
Seamus and Caramel defy all logic. On their porch is the surplus straw from my latest insulating adventure. The straw is loosely wrapped in heavy plastic, with a 1×6 board on top to hold everything together. Every time I look outside, Seamus and Caramel are not nestled in their snuggly warm cage, as I’d intended, but rather perched on the 1×6. They are so comfortable there that Caramel has pooped right at the fulcrum of the board.

Work Epiphany 
Last week at the dog training class the trainer said that dogs need to be “paid” to do “work” (i.e. give them treats if they sit), just like humans. She said that of course she had other things she’d rather be doing, but this was her job, and she did it to make a living.

Astounding. Here is a woman who works all day with dogs, which I assume she enjoys, and even SHE doesn’t feel like working all the time!

I love my job; I love being paid to write and think strategically. But sometimes I would prefer to be in bed, or watching bad TV, or eating Salmon burgers and Maple salad at Moby’s on Slat Spring Island. Then I feel guilty and ungrateful. But if the dog trainer has those moments, then I suppose I can too.

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Water Symbolism – February 2, 2005 
I used to think it was goofy, the clichés about water being so prevalent in literature. It’s just water – why not trees or rocks or dirt? But then I read the Bible for English 409, and learned all the cultural/historical tradition of water imagery.

For example: the phrase “crossing the Rubicon” means a permanent decision, like burning bridges; there’s no going back. The Rubicon was a body of water (river? Lake? Ocean?) In the Hebrew (“Old”) Testament. It meant all kinds of symbolic things once the Hebrews crossed it. If I remembered exactly what, I’d tell you, but university knowledge has an expiration date. Emily Dickenson uses that phrase, “crossing the Rubicon,” in her poetry, and now the Rubicon is an SUV. I giggle every time I see one – it’s like seeing a car called Crucifixion or something.

Back to water . . . I finally noticed one day, while choosing bits o’ fiction for a reading, that there is a disproportionate amount of water imagery in my writing. I’m from Invermere, and my mental associations for water are either really cold glacier rivers or hot springs. Water means Beaver Fever, numb ankles, swimmer’s itch after a drunken skinny dip, sulphur, and fat Albertans with smarmy teenage children. Regardless, my stories include scenes from White Swan Park’s natural hot springs, drinking from a glacier spring, and (naturally – ew) sweat and tears and etc. It’s everywhere!!!

I don’t really have any stupendous conclusion to this rumination. I just think it’s nifty and worth recognizing that water has sneakily snuck (“sneakily snuck”???!) into my/our subconscious. Womb warmth, sustenance, rebirth, purification, comfort. And now I’m going to have a bath.

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Cuticles? What cuticles? – February 3, 2005 
I got my first ever manicure today. My nails are beautiful and feel like satin. Thank you, Jessie.

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Confession of Side Effects – February 5, 2005 
I write this knowing that

  1. Quinn (and potentially others) will admonish me for this; and
  2. Quinn doesn’t read my site on the weekends.

Due to certain factors, specifically my own laziness, I haven’t taken my anxiety meds for three or four days now. The problem with anxiety meds is that they are so effective that I feel 100% better when medicated, and therefore I have trouble believing that anything “bad” happens when I’m not medicated. I’ve been cured! Hurray! As a result, refilling my prescription is not a huge priority. (This reflects my desire to be independent of meds, I’m sure – I’d rather not take drugs in order to function.)

Anyhoo, the gradual effects of withdrawal have been building up for a few days now, and I’m starting to clearly remember why it is that I take the meds in the first place.

First Side Effect: I get angry and want to hit those who annoy me. Usually strangers. Usually drunk men.

Second Side Effect: My dreams are very vivid. I am confused as to what has actually happened in reality, because the dreams are so detailed and fraught with anxiety. For example: this morning I had no idea how to check the voice mail messages on my phone, because I clearly remembered punching in different passwords without it ever working. I wake up feeling like I’ve just fought with someone I love very much. And maybe I’ve killed my bunnies.

Third Side Effect: I can’t stop thinking. It’s like driving with a small hyper child who narrates everything she sees. (To be honest, that’s usually me . . .) The strangest part is that I kind of enjoy these side effects. A skateboarder once told me that pain should be appreciated, because it’s temporary and rare and therefore an interesting, unique experience. I’m the kind of person who likes to pick scabs. And the rare times that I find myself in withdrawal, it’s scary but fascinating to see the inevitable, predictable changes in my brain. But I know that this state will lead to hiding in my house, and not being able to answer the phone or talking to anyone or going to work. So the strategic part is getting down to the drug store before I feel that need to hide. It’s like playing chicken with my chemistry.

Perhaps this is partly why I’m so confused by people who use drugs. It’s exciting, sure, but given a choice I’d prefer to not ever feel this way. I hate knowing that I can’t control it. It’s like people with 20/20 vision closing their eyes when they walk along a highway.

On a Happy Note 
I have a pot of tea, lots of milk, a loaf of bakery-fresh rye bread for breakfast, and an energetic bunny renovating my couch. This is my favourite way to spend Saturday morning.

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Garden State – February 6, 2005
I might be pushing this interpretation, but Garden State (the movie with/by the guy from Scrubs ) has some sketchy parallels to Hamlet.

For example:
Rosencrantz & Guildenstern + the grave diggers = the hometown guy friends.
“Newark” = Denmark
Samantha = Ophelia, the crazy girl friend
Scrubs guy = Hamlet . . . actually, he’s not. Hamlet thinks but doesn’t do anything; the Scrubs guy does things but doesn’t feel anything.
The “silent Velcro” guy = Hamlet, kind of – rich but inactive – but he’s such a minor character . . .

And then you have the plot, with the dead parent, and the revelation about those circumstances . . . the incest aspect is covered via Rosencrantz, whose momma sleeps with a guy his age . . . and the themes of disease (“There’s something rotten in the state of Denmark”) are nicely dealt with via the psychologist dad, Sam’s epilepsy, Scrubs‘s medication, the mom’s paralysis, the dead hamster . . . and, speaking of pets, all the graveyards scenes! The water where Ophelia drowns could be the pool, but it’s the Scrubs guy who can’t swim, and Sam does just fine. Oh! It could be the bathtub, but then the mom = Ophelia. Hmm. Maybe it’s more the themes and plot that parallel – the Hamlet characters seem to be fragmented. Regardless, an interesting film.

Re: the whole medication aspect of the movie, I find that a lot of movies about meds seem a little one-sided and righteous. The person (usually a weak stand-in for the neurotic screenwriter) is mentally ill and medicated, but “chooses to feel” and so goes off his/her meds with minimal side effects. (The movie ends before they go crazy again and run, hysterical, back to their doctor.)

Lesson Learned 
Quinn reads my site on the weekends.

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Ohimigod ohmigod ohmigod – February 7, 2005 
Spencer cut my hair today after work! I love it. For some reason the hair on the back of my head tends to grow unreasonably quickly, and I live in fear of the inevitable mullet. But Spencer swooped in just in time, and now I’m trimmed and neat and “broomsticky,” which is the look we’re going for. Like that chick who sings “Kiss Me,” in 6 Pence None the Richer or some band like that. I can’t wait to wash it. That’s the best part after a hair cut, when you lather up the shampoo and then – hey! Where’d the hair go? Yep.

In My Mailbox 
No, not a letter from Levi. Blue Cross sent me my cards for extended health and dental benefits, beginning March 1. Now I can get my wisdom teeth yanked out, if I have to, and still afford rent! Very exciting. There must be a way to get massages covered.

Maybe that’s why society has/had that whole “choose a career or choose a family” thing for women – either I need a man to rub my back, or I can get my employer to pay a professional to do it.

My Dream 
Our floor at work is buying lotto tickets. If I won, I’d open a tea shop and bake ginger snaps and pie and serve great tea. I wouldn’t run it myself, but I’d sit at a table and drink tea and write all day long. Ironically, I don’t need to win the lotto to do this. So once I’ve paid off my loans, etc., that’s the plan.

And Finally 
I’ve realized that a perk of my massive student loan debt is that I get to claim the interest I pay as Income Tax credit. So that’ll make my 2004 claim extra exciting.

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The Warren – February 8, 2005 
I don’t know if all bunnies are as spoiled and demanding as mine, but Seamus, Caramel and Peter are very picky about their food. Pellets, specifically, which is where they get their protein and etc. A few years ago they refused to eat the same brand, and so I would visit two separate stores (Safeway and the holistic pet store at Fort and Foul Bay) and buy the blue & yellow bag for Peter, and the red bag for the babies.

(I think Caramel refused to eat anything but, simply because a brown lop-eared dwarf was pictured on the bag and she’s notoriously vain. And if Caramel ain’t happy, nobody’s happy, especially not Seamus.)

Eventually I realized this arrangement was foolish and stopped buying the red bag pellets from Safeway. (Peter is the alpha bun, after all.) Ever since, all bunnies have eaten the same kind. HOWEVER, I was down to my last bag this weekend, and when I got to the pet store they didn’t have the appropriate brand. This caused a disproportionate amount of concern on my part. And I thought, “They’ll just have to eat a new kind or starve!” and bought a third, untried brand.

I checked on the babies today, and they have carefully eaten all of the old-style pellets, leaving the new brand pellets in the dish. Peter, however, as the responsible eldest and far more mature bunny, has eaten everything in his dish. THAT’S why he lives inside with me.

On Another, Less Rabbitty, Note 
I had so many letters in my mailbox today! Sure, there was a bill and one stupid credit card ad thingy, but the very fact that there were five is exciting. None, needless to say, from Levi MacDougall. I’m starting to doubt that he’s worthy of my affections.

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My Hands Smell Like Meat – February 9, 2005 
We used lamb meat for dog training tonight. (I’m sorry, Evy – it was already dead and packaged.) Celeste is a great student. She can sit and stand and pirohuette into a lie-down, and is learning to heel. Next week they’re going to have a skateboard there, to see if she attacks it.

Little Red Riding Hood 
There’s a crossing guard on the route to my bus stop, and today she said it makes her happy whenever I wear my red coat. Apparently being a crossing guard for preteens creates a specific kind of job anxiety – she’s reassured that drivers will see me and stop.

Another Countdown 
Alex will be here on the 17th! Yay!!!!!

And Finally: Canadian Television 
To be fair, I don’t know if Medium is a Canadian creation. But it really sucks. The dialogue is painfully flat and self-conscious. Ironically, the images and the violence are so real that it’s truly scary to watch the show. After the first nightmarish (in so many ways) episode, I wasn’t going to watch it ever again, but I have a weakness for mystery shows and the protagonist has bangs, which I support . . .

Also, Corner Gas. I don’t get it. Do other people think it’s funny???

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The Terrible Psychic – February 11, 2005 – 8 am 
Details will be posted later today . . . I came home last night late and drunkish, and now I am off to work, so no time for particulars! Teaser: fencing and shopping were involved . . .

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The Terrible Psychic – February 12, 2005 – 9:30 am 
This is now old news.

The Party Pants Book 
Mom sent me a book called Life is Short – Wear Your Party Pants and I now realize that I’m the perfect person. Growing up, moving from hometown to university to government work place, I sometimes feel “stunted,” like I’m still a kid being paid too much, surrounded by grown ups who actually deserve their successes. There’s this one woman who rides the bus with me sometimes, who’s about my age. She looks very professional every morning, with pointy-toed shoes and suits and a leather shoulder bag that undoubtedly contains critical documents. Sometimes I want to be like that, grown up and visibly a woman instead of a “cute” (EWWWW!) girl. But this book targets those visibly-grown up people, who are (presumably) unhappy in some way. It tells them to smile, to pay attention to the small pleasures in life, to see the beauty in a blue sky – essentially, to re-attain the curiousity and openness they had when they were kids.

But ha! I already do this! I take pictures of dead honey bees on the sidewalk, for Christ’s sake. I love manure season in Victoria, when the city workers put fertilizer in the plants and EVERYTHING smells like shit. Sure, I can become a moron around men I’m attracted to, but sometimes I also get exactly what I want, just because I ask for it. The other day I saw my bus-mate wearing very nice grey pants. I am fairly certain that they are the exact same pair that I own. And then I got off the bus, and saw myself reflected on a glass wall, and there was my broomstick hair and corduroy bag, and the green scarf from my Gramma, and now I see that I’ve chosen to be this way (to stay this way?) and that it’s a better way to be – at least for me.

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TODAY IS THE DAY!!!!! – February 13, 2005 
Levi MacDougall’s comedy performance airs TONIGHT on the Comedy Network!!!! It’s at 10 pm here in Victoria, but check your local (Invermere, Ottawa) guides: it’s listed under The Comedy Network Presents or something —- a Comedy Now! special.

We are still having a Levi party, even though 10 pm on a Sunday isn’t realistic for those of us who work early on Monday. Rachel has suggested it be a “support Heather in her love of Levi” party, which I think sounds perfect. I might even bake pie.

Also, I will DEFINITELY be taping the show tonight, so let me know if you miss it. I’ll happily provide a copy. This might be the final act of love in my relationship with Levi. (So sad . . .) He’s not the man I thought he was; his lack of spontaneity and adventure is disappointing.

Dreamweaver & Other Adventures
You might have noticed that my site is a pretty blue & yellow as of today. I’ve figured out the part in Fireworks/Dreamweaver where I can make the site and upload it to the internet — there are (of course) a few bugs, like bizarre gaps between the buttons on the left on some pages. If anyone has suggestions, please tell me. I’m just proud of having figured out the upload thing!

Yesterday I wanted to go dancing but also wanted a long hot bath and to snuggle with Peter. Compromise? I dressed up, did my Mac makeup, put my favourite red dye in my hair, and danced to Big Bad Voodoo Daddy while doing the dishes.

Peter was in a strangely friendly mood (it’s spring, after all — bunny mating season) and we rubbed noses and cuddled on the couch. He gave me a mini massage by walking & jumping on me — again, who needs a man???

Who Needs a Man? 
First off, if you NEED a man then you’re fucked, because you don’t, really. You need to figure yourself out.

Secondly, I do WANT a man — Quinn said the other day that I should have a boyfriend, but when we drove to the boyfriend store it was closed, so no news there. The tricky parts in the whole “man” area are as follows:
– I’m picky. I don’t settle. I’m also very independent and there’s a fine balance between closeness and smothering.
– There is a limited number of straight, single, quality men on this stupid island. The ones I HAVE met aren’t the one(s) for me. That leads to very unfavourable odds.

Conclusion: yet again, I will hold a Find Heather Some Booty contest. Those who know me know what I want: height, personality, strength, intelligence, ambition. The winner will receive dinner and my thanks!

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February 15, 2005

Dear Levi,

thank you for the lovely flowers. You are a good person. Even though you’ve never written to me.

Love,
Heather xxxooo

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And Then She Remembered She Had a Website! – February 15, 2005 
The last time I was home and NOT asleep was awhile ago, so I shall recap.
1. I lost my digital camera.
2. I drank martinis and ate steak for Valentine’s with some lovely, smart people, including my gay Mormon hair stylist who looks exactly like Brad Pitt in Legends of the Fall.
3. I learned that my friend and once-boyfriend is dating a couple.
4. I baked lemon meringue pies and they tasted yummy.
5. I found my digital camera.
6. I was nominated for an “M” Award in the category of Best New Play (for The Terrible Preservation of Valentine Pilate).

AND . . . I GOT FLOWERS FROM LEVI ON VALENTINE’S DAY! But here’s the thing — they were delivered to me at work, and Levi has no way of knowing where I work. That is, I’ve never mentioned it in my letters. The only way he could have found out would be via a search on google.ca, via which anyone can find my work address. Even then, there are two of us who work in the same place . . . Jessie’s theory is that Levi is stalking me. This doesn’t bother me, as long as he’s pleasant about it. And if he writes me a letter, I might even write back!

Levi’s show on Sunday night was WONDERFUL, and I am infatuated all over again. If anyone can hook me up, do it.

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What the Bleep Do We Know? – February 16, 2005 
I watched a nifty movie last night with Q and Andrew – What the Bleep Do We Know? at Cinecenta. I found it more helpful than my counsellor. Considering that one of the interviewees was a dead woman, channeled through a psychic, that’s not so great.

I liked the idea that traditionally flakey notions of “positive thinking,” meditation and mantras are supported by quantum physics. I still have those nasty social assumptions that science is more valid than spirituality.

And I like the idea that I can “test” the theories they discussed, just by “creating my day” in the morning and then seeing what happens has a result.

Work 
Today was my sixth month anniversary of writing for the government! Very exciting. No flowers or fancy certificates, though. As a result of waking up at 5:30 a.m., however, I’m sleepy and useless. I’m ready for bed — Alex comes to Victoria tomorrow!!! YAY!

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What the Bleep Do We Know? – February 17, 2005 
One of the points this film makes is that physical objects NEVER touch.

When, for example, a basketball nears the pavement, the electrons/whatever repel each other and that causes the ball to bounce back up. There is never a moment where the basketball actually TOUCHES the ground. It’s like an invisible shield around everything. (This means that you never actually touch anyone — an interesting perspective on love . . .)

Anyhoo, Jessie asked (after 3.5 martinis) why, then, there’s a sound that comes from the interaction of basketball and pavement (for example). That is a brilliant point.

Another point: physics does not distinguish between “past,” “present,” and “future”: there is no scientific basis for our assumption that what we do today affects our future.

AND FINALLY, the idea that most human beings (in our society) wake up in the morning and naturally do exactly what they did yesterday — we don’t even think about it, so we just function by habit. It’s like we’re living in our own self-inflicted Groundhog Day.

SO WAKE UP and do something different today! Get out of your rut!!!

Random Thought That Might Cross The Line 
Jetsgo.com has crazy flight sales to out East – I could stalk Levi in person for $176 + tax, return. It’s a testament to my personal strength that I didn’t pull out my credit card immediately after reading the ad in today’s paper.

How I Woke Up This Morning 
It was difficult, what with the bizarrely early work hours I’ve started. I woke up because Peter was tunnelling (or trying to tunnel) through my couch. Once I turned on the light, he did some “binkies,” which look like ninja kicks. He runs and then jumps up, a la Matrix, and does a sexy snowboarder pose, and then lands and turns around and does it again. SO funny. Bunny Capeoeira, or something.

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The Morning After – February 19, 2005 
We had a wee “Welcome Home, Alex!” party last night over at Quinn’s — Alex is visiting for a week or two from Ottawa. Rachel made ridiculously yummy Indian food; even the tzaziki was homemade! Yummy good. And one of our party attendees (Chris, the 30-something year old Pureblood-gay who had a bizarre experience on stage at an Amstardam sex show when he was younger) is an accountant! Hopefully he can show me how to do my income taxes as a Working Woman in the Real World.

Peter’s Bingeing 
Another episode in the saga of Peter the Alpha Bun’s weird spring behaviour . . . as I’ve previously revealed, we have switched pellet brands. Peter LOVES this new kind of pellet. In fact, this morning I noticed the bowl was empty AGAIN, so I refilled it. Peter, who was tunnelling under the couch, suddenly ran toward me, skidded on the hardwood floor, did a U-turn into the bowl, and started eating. I have never seen a rabbit do this. It’s like he’s a teenaged boy or something. Next thing, I’ll be finding PlayBun magazines under the cushions.

I Spy With My Little Lens . . . 
Now that I’ve found my camera, I’m excited all over again about taking pictures. Today was a BEAUTIFUL day — blue sky, green grass, sunshine, and not too cold. I’ll post some new photos when I get to that stage in my Dreamweaver tutorials. For now, I’m just excited to have figured out what “rollovers” are.

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Mom’s Cafe & The Sooke Potholes – February 20/05 
I had steak and eggs for breakfast today, and as a result I think I might have cracked the Dreamweaver code. We shall see, once this is launched online . . .

Justin, Jessie, Alex, Quinn, and Celeste and I walked up to the Sooke Potholes — the part where the resort is half-built, half-collapsed. It’s like a ghost-town version of Whistler, all stonework and high beamed ceilings, but the cedar beams are grey and the frame stands like a big skeleton. The Land Conservancy bought the land (thank god!) and saved it from potential development. This means that we’ll be able to swim and camp there next summer without paying resort fees and fighting fat Americans for the best beach spots.

Celeste ran free, and had a marvy time. I know I’ll go to Heaven now. We made a doggy smile and fall asleep in blissful exhaustian (how do I spell that word??).

Confession of an Obsession 
I’m really not obsessed, I just like it when words rhyme. I taped Levi’s show last week, and I like to have it playing when I do puzzles or play with this site, or whatever activities that need some background sound. I’ve fallen in like all over again, and am planning a ferocious (last?) letter to send.

While I do have a substantial trust in fate, destiny, etc. etc. I also believe that we are in charge of setting up the dominoes so that fate can knock them down. Perhaps I’ll meet Levi on a plane in 20 years and we’ll fall madly in love, but why not write him some letters now?

Perhaps this is only a symptom of my impatience, which my counselor has advised me (most unhelpfully) to reconsider as a character trait.

Impatience as a Negative Character Trait 
Because I don’t think it’s a negative thing. To me, impatience is a synonym for adventure, spontaneity, excitement, forward movement . . . Patience means stagnation, waiting, circular movement, not being in control of my future . . . it’s boring!

Like all traits, impatience can be a negative thing if it affects how I treat other people. But that’s why I don’t put myself in supervisory positions – I know slow workers would make me crazy and frustrated and cranky.

My best and closest friends challenge me in their pace. They think quickly, and they are excited about the future. I have little patience (ha!) for those who ruminate and ponder and rethink and blah blah blah. Nothing in life is that important, to require a pause in breath. Just move on.

(This is one of those entries that I might rethink in future years . . . but that’s the beauty of writing. It enables self-reflection.)

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I Hate Dreamweaver – February 20, 2005 
This is making me crazy. I keep trying different (logical) ways to make my pages look like I intended them to, but then they go online and the buttons eat up space and EVERYTHING IS CHAOS.

A crowd of us are going to go eat breakfast at our favourite greasy diner in 30 minutes or so — maybe that will help.

I Watched Movies Yesterday / This Morning 
Yesterday I saw Chicago (finally!). I LOVE musicals that are that sexy and jazzy and women-centric. In another life I would have been on stage like that, and been completely happy.

This morning I saw My Life Without Me, and Sarah Polley (from Road to Avonlea) is the star — my gal friend Liv is in love with Sarah Polley, and I must admit that I was impressed. At no time did I picture her in a bonnet or gingham dress. It was kind of a cliche film, though. And Sarah kept having relationships with tall, beautiful, sensitive men (none of whom were gay or Toronto comedians or married), so I kind of hate her a little bit now.

When I Wasn’t Looking 
Peter jumped onto the couch and managed to eat the Mute button on my remote.

Epiphany While Walking Celeste Along Dallas Road With Quinn Yesterday 
The sun was out and everything was a primary shade of green and blue, and I am very happy.

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I Sat in the Sun Today – February 21, 2005 
And then I got cold, so I came inside. But first I read a book that Nathan recommended: Weetzie Bat, which I got from the young adult section of Munro’s, but . . . well, it’s not like any young adult book I’ve ever read. Kids these days! Whewee! Anyhoo, it’s good. I don’t want to say too much until I lend it to Alex to read. Maybe some other people.

Now I’m drinking a lovely bottle of Glacier Berry cider. I’m a mountain girl, and I have a difficult time conceiving of what kind of masochistic plant would sprout berries mid-glacier, but it sure tastes yummy.

Things We’re Gonna Do This Summer 
Drink vodka slushies and/or wine in Beacon Hill Park, eat brie cheese and salmon pate and apples, nap on a blanket, play Nerf football, and play with Celeste. Dance at clubs until we puke. Camp at the Sooke Pot Holes and eat s’mores; build a huge bonfire, skinny-dip in the really cold water, snuggle in tents, and cook bacon. Reevaluate our career, lifestyle, and relationship choices. Or not.

Scary Moment in Heather’s Future 
Tomorrow is the “M” Awards ceremony. Alex, Q, and Jessie are coming to support me and feed me vodka. It’s a good rehearsal for the Booker Prize, but nonetheless I’m nervous. Let’s all pretend that I win!

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Bunny Pedicure & M Awards – February 23, 2005 
First off, I will update those of you who I didn’t already email today. I got home last night sleepy and drunk, so there was no time to narrate our M Awards adventure.

Summary is as follows: great dinner, wonderful friends, lotsa margaritas and martinis, “It’s just an honour to be nominated,” “Hi John Gould,” and good night! I am proud of myself for attending the festivities despite my fragile emotional state. I seriously considered staying away and drinking with my ever-supportive homies (Jessie, Q, and Alex), but in the end all was best with me there at a prime table, surrounded by oddly dressed communists, clapping wildly for strangers. I’m actually proud to have been nominated, considering that my co-nominees were Charlie Ross’s One Man Lord of the Rings, which is freaking awesome, and Trying, a play I haven’t seen but which won and pulled a Chicago-at-the-Oscars, sweeping almost the entire Performance category. So I still feel like a super star. Which is, sometimes, the entire point.

And Peter 
His nails were uber-long, since he runs around on hardwood floors all day (and night), and he hates pedicures so I try to avoid giving them. Anyhoo, he hopped up to join me on the couch the other day so I grabbed him and cut his nails, and I think we’re both glad that I did. It’s a surprise now to see him, because I don’t hear him approaching.

Dog Training Epiphany 
Celeste, Quinn’s Maltese-terrier diva lovey princess dog, is probably reacting to my/our expressions of apprehension when certain strangers approach, and therefore she thinks we’re scared of them and tries to protect us by attacking them. Of course, we look apprehensive because we’re just afraid she’ll attack them, so it’s just a vicious cycle. This is such an effective realisation.

Also, we had a skateboard at training class tonight, and it evolved from Celeste growling and hiding and jumping on Q for protection, to her actually standing on the board. Hopefully we’ll be able to convince her that wheels aren’t scary. The trainer also suggested that we put her food dish on a skateboard, to show her that they aren’t evil and inherently dangerous.

One Final Note 
Jessie is going to restart her writing passion, and I am thrilled for her. I’m trying to sell her on the Victoria School of Writing, in July. If anyone has an interest in running away for a few days to an environment of writing and calm and support, I HIGHLY recommend the VSW.

Plagiarism of the Day 
“What’s so deadly about greed? Greed is about a hopefulness for grabbing more out of life . . . an abundance mentality . . . an opulence not only of mind, but heart and spirit . . . a drive for creating . . . a way to express self-love and give to others. . . . greed is A MAJOR SPIRIT ENLIVENER, helping you to BELIEVE AND PURSUE an endless flow of what you hanker for.”

– The 7 Lively Sins, by Karen Salmansohn

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Another Atomic Vaudeville – February 25, 2005 – a.m.
(Tangent: Peter keeps following me around this morning, nosing my legs and licking my slippers. He just bit me – what the hell??? I think it’s a Full-Moon-Spring-Fever combo.)

Jessie and I attended another stellar performance of the Atomic Vaudeville series. Highlights include: the One Man The Matrix, in honour of Charlie Ross; and the Star Trek spoof, with an all-white cast due to limited Victoria actor-reserves, and Captain Kirk (Mike Delamont)’s bum crack.

Also, I reunited with Caroline, “the tap-dancing dishwasher” from The Terrible Preservation of Valentine Pilate.

As For Counselling
Pshwah. I’m losing faith in the healing power of conversation. Beth suggested acupuncture (I THINK NOT!!!!!!), Reiki, and hypnotism as further tools against the Deadly Anxiety Tsunami-Wave. I’m thrilled about the whole Reiki thing — I love the idea of energy and I intend to explore this homeopathic alternative.

Work 
I gave myself a later morning today because my bosses aren’t in, and so I don’t have to make a 7:30 a.m. call to announce the state of the world. Oddly, I still woke up at 6 a.m., which is truly unnatural.

Poetic License re: Spelling, Grammar 
First off, I know what the hell I’m supposed to do. I have a $50,000 poetic license and a job that pays me to know that shit. I’ve consciously decided not to care about spelling, grammar, etc. on this site because I like the idea of a spell-check-free space. Perhaps I’m contributing to the decline of the English language, perhaps I’m demonstrating my own dependence on the infallible spell-check tool, but what the hairy fuck.

Nonetheless, I do appreciate input on those goshdarned words that I have never been able to spell. For example: meringe (thanks, mom!). Phonetic spelling can be both a blessing and a curse.

(Tangent – or new topic? Peter is now skidding across the floor from living room to porch door. I think there’s crack in that new bunny food.)

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I’m a Trampoline – February 26, 2005, 10:21 a.m. 
Peter woke me up by jumping on my bed this morning. Whenever he’d get tired, he’d rest on my ankles. 10:21 a.m. Speaking of which, I was born at 10:21 in the morning on April 12. Nifty coincidence.

Jogging With Eminem 
Q has returned his discman to me, which enables me to jog. I ran around the block today, to Slim Shady, and now I feel like a superstar.

And then I was hungry, so I made minestrone soup, because there is nothing else to eat in my house. The eggs and cheese and rye bread are rotten, and I’m out of milk. I hope the apocalypse doesn’t come today.

Levi on TV 
While stalking (in a nice way) Levi on google.ca the other day, I discovered (via a current bio) that he’s just filmed a pilot for the Comedy Network. EEK! Imagine watching a show with Levi . . . I hope he writes me back before he gets all famous and successful and aloof. That way he can love me because I appreciated him when he was still a struggling comedian.

Also, Nathan was going to smuggle me into the Comedy Awards in Toronto, thanks to his Vancouver-girl who is on the board of something related. But the awards aren’t until October, which is a very long way away. Hopefully Levi and I will be penpals before October, and then I can be his date for the awards and I won’t have to squish into Nathan’s suitcase.

Plans For Today 
Jessie and I are going to shop for beautiful, sexy dresses today because we’re going dancing tonight. I’m thinking of something strapless, to accentuate my new boobs.

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Family Contact & Funny Moments – February 27, 2005 
My little sister Evy called me this morning, which was lovely as always. I find it hilarious every time we talk, because our worlds have become so incredibly different in the past few years.

Example: Evy asked what I was up to, what was new, so I told her about the sexy grown-up dress I bought yesterday to wear dancing, and I said I was drinking hot chocolate and working on my play, and very happy.

Evy’s news included an engagement ring (from Jared — I asked, hee hee) and her pregnancy.

I love how natural this is, her buying a home and loving Jared, and having a baby, etc., while I live with my house-rabbit(s) and go drinking with my friends. I love it that we can live such vastly different lives, and have entirely different perceptions of the “status quo,” and yet we grew up together and love each other, and can be happy for and proud of each other. Evy came to help with the premiere of my play, and to sit in the audience with me and read my interviews in the newspaper; I’ll go home in September and pamper her and love her new baby, and buy her slippers and manicures to make her feel loved and special and pretty.

In Other News 
I am extremely pleased with my dress purchase from yesterday. It’s the sexiest thing I have ever owned, and I can’t wait to go dancing and look stunning. Too bad dog-walks on Dallas Road don’t require formal dress.

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LETTERS TO LEVI – February 28, 2005

Dear Levi,

Congratulations on your Comedy Network pilot!! I hope it takes off and you become the next Seinfeld (but funny). Just remember, Levi, that I supported you when you were a Toronto-centric, beginning comedian; my affection for you goes beyond your newfound celebrity. You can count on me in good times and in not-as-good times.

Unless, of course, you never write me or acknowledge my letters, in which case WE ARE DONE, and I will love CSI’s Greg instead. And he’s an American, so neither of us want that to happen.

Anyhoo, write me soon 🙂

Love,
Heather xxxooo

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Another Day, Another Run Around the Block – February 28, 2005
Oh yes, I went for a run today after work – MY THIRD DAY IN A ROW! I am an athletic superhero. Also, I’m the coxswain for our rowing team at work, starting sometime in April, so I am going to be ridiculously buff ASAP. Except that I don’t think a coxswain rows (I’m not sure what I do) but I do know there’s yelling involved, so my vocal chords will be macho.

And Then I Ate Leftover Domino’s Pizza
It was yummy.

Let’s Make A List
Things I Like to Eat (Specifically: At Restaurants):
Salmon Burgers
Hamburgers with mushrooms on them
Tacos
Salads with maple balsamic dressing
the Salmon Chanted Evening salad at Pag’s
Roast beef dinners (with Yorkshire puddings)
Turkey dinners
Fettuccini Alfredo
Seafood Cannelonni
Pesto
Eggs Benedict with salmon, or spinach & tomato & bacon
BLTs on sourdough
Sourdough toast with various spreads
Rye bread toast with various spreads
Sandwiches with any of the following: swiss cheese, sprouts, cucumbers, pepper, mayo, dijon mustard, gouda, turkey.

And One Final Note
If Levi and I are not meant to be together, I might substitute “Greg” – the lanky lab guy – from CSI Las Vegas. He’s pretty in that same strange sort of way, and tall, and etc., and I like his (character’s) sense of humour. But first I’ll give Levi another chance, with a third (and final?) letter.

On an entirely separate note, if anyone has photos (ditigal or real) of me looking pretty and smart and sexy, please forward ASAP; I’m preparing a very special parcel for a certain Toronto comedian.

January 2005

Daily Epiphany – January 2, 2005, 4:35 pm
I have entered the modern world and now own a DVD player. At A&B Sound you can buy Golden Girls anthologies, and this makes me feel very uncomfortable – I chose Kids in the Hall, and now I just have to figure out how to connect all the wires from DVD – VCR – TV . . . . this might be more difficult than I expected, because the wires have a third, red plug and my VCR only has yellow and white sockets. My TV is so old school that there isn’t any plug-in other than the cable screwy thing. Anyhoo, Golden Girls. I mean, really.

Letters to Levi MacDougall
Yesterday I saw this country music video called “Live Like You’re Dying” and I had a horrible moment where I thought maybe I’ve chosen the wrong medium —- writing is such a personal, private, lonely genre — and my audience is limited by factors such as:

  1. my own motivation to get published
  2. the editor’s inclination to accept my submission
  3. the reader’s interest in reading the final product
  4. also, accessibility, language, literacy, etc.

And, Levi is a comedian, which is also limited because stand-up comedy is an in-the-moment, must-be-present kind of art, so he relies on his own motivation to perform each and every time. I just have to have one or two good-writing moments to make something that will last. So maybe we should just sing country songs and make music videos, and then lazy bastards who are too blah to change the channel from CMT will be exposed to our art.

The Warren
Peter, Seamus, and Caramel are fine. Thanks for asking. They had a great New Year / Christmas / etc and it’s currently bunny naptime at the warren. It’s been a long day of tunneling and pooping on the porch, so they deserve some rest.

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Daily Epiphany – January 3, 2005, 6:26 pm 
Goddamn Future Shop. Goddamn DVD wires.

Also, Kent Karemaker visited me today! He’s going to be a famous voice over actor guy one day. I haven’t seen him in months, and it was so good to see him doing well. Sexy as ever, and so easy to talk to. I’m glad we’re going to be friends.

Letters to Levi 
My epiphany re: country music the other day is ironic, considering that I’ve started this uber-high tech website. It’s immediate! My writing needs no publisher! I can access the lazy bastards who can’t be bothered to change the channel! Yay! How do I pay rent doing this?

The Warren 
I’ve realized the bunnies can’t be cold out there on the porch, because the bunnies at UVic survive winter every year. And the UVic bunnies don’t have the food, water, shelter, and constant hay supply of Seamus or Caramel. So no more worries. (Also, the porch is walled in to protect them from scary swooping owls and herons, as well as cats and naughty teenage boys.)

And Peter is so great. He was sprawled out in his road-kill-bunny happy pose earlier today!

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Daily Epiphany – January 4, 2005, 6:15 pm
To end my epic tale of technology, let me announce that I have figured out how to make my new DVD player work!!!! Yay!!! I figured it out by myself, and I have felt ridiculously competent ever since. However, I still have an extra connecting wire thingy that cost me a good $21.99 at Future Shop, and was sold to me separately from my DVD player as a must-have. I have been exploited, and I plan to cause a scene (loud but tasteful) when I return the unnecessary cord. Future Shop, beware.

I feel guilty for spending time inside when it’s so sunny and bright out these days. Victoria is sneaky like that – it looks lovely and walkable, but in fact it’s unbearably cold outside. If I’d followed through on the walk I had planned for after work, I’d be ill by now. But I still feel guilty, playing with my jigsaw puzzle and my photographs, problem-solving my new techy toys, when it’s blue and brilliant outside.

I miss Invermere, where it’s snowy and you can just look outside and see that, yep, it snowed, so therefore it’s winter and hibernation is acceptable. Eat, drink, sleep. But here the weather fools me! It looks like spring, with the stupid flowers everywhere, birds, etc. Sometimes I hate this bio bubble of an island, but it’s green and blue and pretty even in the middle of winter, so I should really just get on with it.

What’s for Dinner 
I’m making linguini and pesto sauce, which is my favourite when I’m lazy and hungry. There is so much garlic in the pesto that Quinn has commented on the lingering odour hours after I’ve eaten, brushed my teeth, and showered. But then, Quinn is sensitive to that sort of thing . . .

Quote of the Day 
“Women who pay their own rent don’t have to be nice.”

I could cite the source, but I don’t feel like it.

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Update – January 5, 2005, 10:45 pm
Happy News: Levi MacDougall will be on the Comedy Network sometime soon! It’s a feature airing of Comedy Now. More info will be provided as it emerges [DATE: FEBRUARY 13th , 2005, 10 pm!]. Also, pictures from the resulting Levi Party (denim theme?) will be posted 🙂

Sad News: Yogen Fruz in the Bay Centre food court has closed. I don’t know when it was gutted, but there is no more frozen-yogurt-and-fresh-fruit-goodness available in downtown Victoria. We’ll just have to make do with Booster Juice and fresh gelati. Oh, and the best homemade ice cream EVER at Sweet Memories on Government Street. And the super dooper soft serve cones at the Beacon Hill Drive In . . . (there are line ups for the outside service counter, even in the middle of winter.)

Upsetting Feedback
Questions have been raised as to the sexual orientation of Mr. Levi MacDougall. Despite being an ever-proud fruitfly/homo honey/fag hag I assure you that I do not always become infatuated with gay (or bisexual) men.

Regardless, my initial interest in Mr. MacDougall was not necessarily relationship-motivated. I think he’d be a super-fab penpal, and if we can develop a written correspondence then we can one day publish it or sell it on eBay and mutually benefit. Future Canadian comedian and writer, etc. So there. If he is straight, then so much the better.

Here is a poem, authored by my gal friend Jessie:

There once was a girl named Heather
Who tended to like guys who were clever
And then one day
In sometime past May
She realized that they were all gay.

In other news . . .
for those of you wondering how to pronounce “placate,” I have done the research: pla’kat’ or plak’at’. For those of you wondering what that means . . . I dunno. Also: white tea is great for you because of its anti-oxidants. But isn’t oxygen a good thing? Oxygen can cause rust . . . does white tea prevent us from rusting??? (Does oxygen cause rust?) (Is five years of university enough?)

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January 6th: HAPPY 23RD BIRTHDAY, EVY!!!!!!! 

Letters to Levi
Perhaps I should have some kind of Levi Hotline, via which friends / colleagues of Mr. MacDougall can call in and report.

Perhaps that crosses the line o’ creepy . . .

Healthy Things I Do
Intake: I bought this nasty tasting pseudo-Greens+ stuff. You mix it with water and chug it down — it takes like snot and wheatgrass. I love the smell of cut grass (my favourite scent, in fact – there should be a perfume*) but I definitely don’t like the taste. Anyhoo, it’s supposed to give me energy and make up for all the vegetables I don’t eat. Nasty.

When I remember, I take my “One Tablet Daily” multivitamin and mineral tablet. Side-effects include: yellow urine that smells like cabbage.

I don’t drink tonnes of water. I have chapped lips this week to prove it. But I do guzzle tea like a deranged English matron. That’s water . . . technically.

Output: Rockland is my neighbourhood. It’s lovely — old houses, stone fences, iron gates . . . I like doing a lap around Craigdarroch Castle. I’ve run around the block twice so far this year, and I feel like a rock star for being so healthy. Unfortunately, Quinn broke our communal discman the other day while treadmilling at the Y and now I can’t listen to Eminem to distract me from the physical discomfort. So no running for me, at least for awhile. Also, thanks to Jessie I have excellent running shoes.

I own a pilates ball . . . it’s pink, and looks really pretty on top of my bookshelf.

Sometimes Jessie inspires me and we do spontaneous sit-ups on Quinn’s living room rug. According to Jessie, my fitness guru, the perfect sit-up form is:
– legs up, parallel to the ground
– knees bent at 90-degrees
– chin away from chest (as if you’re holding a little ball or apple or something with your chin)
– arms (obviously) not pushing or levering your upper body into a sit-up
– do NOT tuck or rest your feet/legs on anything.

I miss the abs I had when I was thirteen and learning to snowboard. Nothing is better for your stomach muscles than falling on your ass and having to get back up.

Cut-Grass Perfume
A great idea. I’d buy it, and use it. I wonder how much that would piss off people with hay fever?

Other scents that I love include: green tea, lemon, lime, and vanilla. Once when I was 16 I used a tester of strawberry perfume at a sort-of-Body-Shop-store and then rode in a car for 1.5 hours with a bunch of teenaged boys. The air circulation made the whole car stink of strawberry, and the guys could not stop talking about sex. But maybe that was because they were teenaged boys, and not because of the perfume.

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LETTERS TO LEVI: January 7, 2005
I’m still trying to figure out if this is too creepy, to have a site where I publish unsent letters to someone I’ve never met.

So no entry for today.

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Weather Gone Wild – January 7, 2005, 4:16 pm
It snowed!!! I woke up to wind and whiteness. It was so much fun — everyone downtown was bundled up and smiley (yet fearful). Also, I got to go home early from work – we’re expecting more snow through to Monday. I love my job, but I also love being home, warm, with tea, pajamas, and my rabbits.

Things I Picked Up On The Way Home:
– a loaf of bakery-fresh rye bread
– six bunches of parsley and a bag of carrots for the bunnies (we’re almost out of rabbit food pellets!)
– $100 cash because credit cards will be worthless in The New Land That Is Snowed-In Victoria
– a rather large bottle of Bailey’s
– 2L of milk for tea (and to mix with the Bailey’s)

The Warren
Seamus and Caramel looked very confused this morning. Everything on their (sheltered from predators) porch was covered with snow! I dumped them into my wicker laundry basket and relocated them to a makeshift rabbit refugee camp (aka my kitchen). They’re warm but skittery.

Peter, aside from being mirfed about sharing his territory, is just fine. There were a few manic STOMPS* this morning, but that’s it.

* For those of you who don’t know bunnies, they actually do stomp, just like Thumper on Bambi. It’s REALLY LOUD and has kept me awake occasionally. They stomp for either one of two main reasons:
1. something is trying to kill them and there’s DANGER!
or
2. something is different (i.e. I swept).

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LETTERS TO LEVI – January 9, 2005:
When asked, those who know that I’m not a creepy stalker have suggested the following reasons for why it’s okay to “pursue” my interest in Mr. MacDougall:

– He might possibly be flattered by the attention, and it’s nice to make someone feel special.
– I’m (technically) making him more famous by spreading the Levi Gospel, which never hurts in a profession that relies on name-recognition.
– I’m providing him with some excellent material for his “My Stalker” comedy set.

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Weekend Update – January 9th, 2005, 8:07 pm
This weekend was wonderfully different from the usual. Quinn and some of our other friends attended the young model parliament conference thingy, in which about 90-something young people (16-30) take over the Legislature and pretend to be the House. Ivan was the Prime Minister, and Rowan was the Minister of something or other. Scott was the Leader of the Official Opposition (NDP). Pinder was also there, and a bunch of people I’d met via Quinn’s previous political shenanigans. I watched for a few hours each day, and everyone was mad with power . . .

Quinn won some great recognition awards: Best New Member, Sitting As a Minister; the Liberal Caucus’ Pierre Elliot Trudeau Award for his unapologetic Liberal arrogance and circular rhetoric; and the NDP’s Tommy Douglas Medicare Award, in recognition of his exceptional speaking performance.

If anyone knows how I can write off the costs of this weekend, as Quinn’s official biographer, please let me know.

Name Vs. Verb
Why Is it said: “to peter out”? Did some guy name Peter once gradually falter? And in a memorable way?

Similarly, something can “wane” (“Wayne”). ????????

Kids in the Hall
Three of the five Kids in the Hall members have “Mc” surnames. Coincidence?

Question of the Day
Is it in poor taste to sing the “Running Faggot” song while jogging with your favourite gay boy?

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Heather’s Comedy Commentary – January 10, 2005
Some Comedic Types:

i. Is Everyone in the Audience Drunk? Or a Relative?
S/he’s obnoxious but the audience laughs and s/he hears the laughter and is inappropriately encouraged. S/he sounds increasingly confident and that makes him/her more obnoxious.

ii. Aren’t You Dead Yet?
An American / older man / misguided young fella who (still) thinks that sexism is really funny.
Sample line: “My wife talks too much.” And you’re a dick.

iii. Sexy Accent Guy
Usually Australian, Irish, or British. He’s not very appealing physically, but his accent is so sexy! He’s funny, except that sometimes you can’t understand what he’s saying.

iv. Levi MacDougall
Levi is my favourite of them all. He is bizarre and fractured – post-modern, actually, for those of us who think we know what that means. I admire Levi because he’s so different from all the other comedians I’ve seen.
CAUTION: Someone once told me that liking a writer because of her writing is the same as liking chickens because eggs are yummy.

Family Contact
Also, I received a great letter from my Gramma in Burlington, Ontario today. She gave me a wonderful book one Christmas: How to Be Happy, Dammit! I highly recommend it, and the subsequent publications (The Seven Lively Sins).

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Online Intentions – January 11, 2005
I do have specific motivations for creating this site. Around New Year’s I resolved to stop writing without an audience. I have notebooks and files and floppy discs and drawers of loose papers full of my writing from the past 12 years or so, and I’m the only one who reads it (except for the editors I submit to, and the writing workshops of my university years).

How will I ever be the Great Canadian Writer of My Generation if no one reads me?

The creation and upkeep of these pages satisfy my need to note the details. It doesn’t even matter if anyone reads this, because I am writing every single day, and that’s wonderful.

On the Hunt
Similarly, my virtual correspondence with Levi MacDougal is satisfying regardless of whether he knows about it. I’d love it if he would participate, because dialogue is healthier than monologue. The only result that I wouldn’t be happy with is if he is mean to me (sensitive creature that I am).

It’s like writing in general. You can scribble in secret and never risk hurt feelings, or you can make it visible and open yourself to the good comments as well as the criticism.

Six Degrees, Discovered
Nathan read my website and (eek!) is dating a comedian who knows Levi. It was bound to happen. Nathan has been charged with the mission of discerning Levi’s sexual orientation, etc. (As a homo-honey I’m overly aware of the risks of having a crush on an artsy guy.)

Exciting developments, as always!

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Something Pointy This Way Comes – January 12, 2005
My wisdom teeth are sprouting and they don’t hurt. Current status is as follows:
– bottom right: pointy tooth like a mountain top growing from my gums
– bottom left: rough gums, which I have learned is the signal for an upcoming tooth
– top right: less-rough gums that shift to regular gums every other day, as the tooth seriously considers emerging
– top left: no developments as yet.

For the record, my dental benefits kick in March 1, 2005. I don’t plan to get my wisdom teeth removed unless they start to hurt, as per the excellent advice of my childhood dentist, Doctor Don.

Rumination of the Day
I’ve been considering this quote from the venerable Stephen King (yuck) from his book On Writing. I don’t particularly admire the man’s writing, so I don’t have to agree with his aphorism, but here it is:

“Life isn’t a support system for art. It’s the other way around.” (page 101)

The more I think about this, the less it makes sense.

Any time I discuss The Meaning Of Life with artsy people they tend to concur that art is what gives any life purpose. But is King saying that we need to put down our pens/paintbrushes/ballet shoes and start living? Art isn’t a justifiable purpose for life?

But if art is a support system for life, then . . . art sustains us? Art pays my rent? I don’t think so. The problem here, in part, is the sentence structure. A negative (“isn’t”), which is then reversed (“the opposite”). ????????

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Making Progress on the Puzzle – January 13, 2005
I left work, picked up a bottle of sangria-for-winos and a six-pack of cider, then stood around in the cold and almost-dark waiting for the bus.

It is a testament to my cowardice that, when a bus finally came, I didn’t get on because I saw an old friend inside. Jessie and I let our friendship with Jen “peter out” around this time last year. She’s younger than us, and a Scorpio, and (if that doesn’t explain everything) she takes a lot of energy to be friends with. Jessie and I agreed that we were both too stressed out and tired to deal with the drama, and so I abandoned my extra pajama set, blender and yellow string bikini, left at Jen’s apartment after one of our girly nights, and I haven’t seen Jen since.

The strange thing is that I’m not afraid of potential confrontation. I don’t like cruelty or pettiness, but I’m not scared of talking about personal things, being straight-forward, or even awkward situations. But when I saw Jen inside the #11, I just felt so tired! A full day of work, and all I wanted was to check on my bunny rabbits, drink some bad sangria, and watch the Comedy Network. It’s Thursday, which has always been my favourite day of the week; why would I invite stress? I’m still surprised, though – at my automatic decision to avoid Jen, and at the tired feeling I got when I saw her.

Everyone seems to have different ideas about friends, and what we owe our friends. I’m a self-proclaimed, selfishly independent person these days; I don’t have much energy or love to spare for other people. I don’t think this has to be a bad thing – I’m capable of taking care of other people, and being gentle with their feelings. A selfish phase is healthy for a twenty-four year old. BUT I still feel guilty about it, which is why I’m going on at such length . . .

Footnote #1
Buses in Victoria don’t come by very often: every 10 minutes or so, on a very busy route on a weekday. (I’ve waited hours for others that never came.) In Ottawa I remember buses arriving every few minutes, and even I could figure out the city routes and transfers.

Footnote to Footnote #1
However, the trees in Ottawa are nasty. They were stuck as afterthoughts into dusty holes in the sidewalk. The bark is black from smog and construction grit. So we can feel superior here in Victoria, and in B.C., because our trees are healthy and beautiful, and actually have names (e.g. arbutus, pine, poplar, cedar). And they don’t leave gunk on your coat when you hug them.

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Bunny Epiphany – January 15, 2005, 1:16 am
The bunnies (Seamus and Caramel) are definitely relocating back to their porch tomorrow. I was all sentimental yesterday and this morning, about having my bunbuns all inside with me, stomps and all, but then I checked in on the Rabbit Refugee Camp (aka my kitchen) and there was poop everywhere. They’ve made themselves comfortable, and I don’t like that.

THEN I went and (thanks to Quinn and his excellent VW Golf) got a bale of straw from Borden Mercantile, to make a happy warm nest for the bunnies outside. Spencer was already drunk but, being the sweet Mormon farm boy he is, he helped carry my bale up the back stairs, through the hallway, through my apartment, and out onto the porch. What a superhero! I was covered in straw by the end of it. Wool coat, etc. – like a magnet!

AND THEN when I got back just now from the movie (we saw In Good Company, or whatever, with that tall guy – Eric – from That ‘70’s Show – AND, I just realized now that one of the characters was named Dan FOREMAN, which is Eric’s last name . . . anyhoo) I opened the door and smelled rabbit. EWWWWW!!!! It’s not a good sign when you smell rabbit. That means that the hay and the straw and the piss and poop (from the litterboxes, mostly – ahem) have permeated the apartment and it’s time to vinegar the floors.

So tomorrow is the Exodus. Seamus and Caramel will return to their safe and predictable bunny-lives on the porch, sheltered by my dad’s hand-built trellis (lovely), and Peter will once again reign as Alpha Bun of our tiny apartment.

Everything back to normal.

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Cranium & Other Learning Tools – January 16, 2005, 1 am
Jessie and Justin had a bunch of us over for dinner and Cranium tonight! The dinner was yummy – lemon garlic chicken, a sweet apple/almond salad, and pesto pasta. J&J are a very fine hosting team.

I left my place around 6:20pm, and opened the door to fresh snow. Strangely, there was also the “rrroosh” of rain, but it was sort of dark outside and I couldn’t tell where the noise was coming from. Of course, it was rain, and I went back in for my big umbrella, thereby embracing the uniquely Victorian logic that an umbrella in the snow makes sense. I feel so dirty . . .

The night was fun – we played Cranium, and I love Cranium, especially the impressions & charades categories. It’s also one of the only times I can use my 2 years / four terms / $1,000 worth of Ancient Greek studies from university (it helps to figure out word definitions).

We’ve all been gradually converted into hiring Spencer as our favourite hair stylist, so of the nine people there, only three hadn’t yet used Spencer’s salon services. Rachel was still fresh and sexy from her 9am appointment.

Neato Things I Learned Tonight
Hair can give you slivers! Spencer had one under his fingernail. Apparently it’s common among hair professionals.

Tigers not only have striped fur/hair, they also have striped skin.

Cider bottles have twisty-tops that twist lower than the top allows, but that’s because the glass bottles are also made to accommodate other beverages (i.e. soda pop) that require lower twisty-area. (NOTE: that might be bullshit.)

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Context Has Purpose – January 16, 2005, 9:52 pm
In highschool I always hated learning the dates of significant historical events. The stories were interesting, but the numbers were extraneous. When I started university, I dropped The History of Art 101 because the exams asked for dates of artistic creation.

Some of my fellow English lit grads know when “The Victorian Era” was. I know it was when the word “homosexuality” was invented, and “heterosexuality.” (By the by, how can anyone justify an anti-homosexual reading of the Bible if it was written before that word existed? Sentences that translate into “He KNEW him” are a little ambiguous for bigots to quote. Anyhoo.)

History buffs have always frightened me.

Part of my distaste for chronological context has to do with my inability to grasp the notion of linear time. Also, I don’t like remembering numbers. They always seem so arbitrary. If you misplace a decimal point or a zero or any random digit, the entire meaning changes. How unreliable! Words are more sturdy — if I mispell a word, you can still understand what I’m trying to say.

BUT I’ve found myself watching comedy reruns, thanks to the blizzards/monsoons this Victoria winter, and I’ve suddenly realized the value of understanding historical context. Especially when in the company of others, and I feel I have to defend a joke. Sure, Scott Thompson’s Buddy Cole character sketches are a bit . . . odd, and maybe not all that funny. But Buddy was on stage during the AIDS plague, before Queer Eye for the Straight Guy and Will & Grace. It’s due to him, in great part, that Queer Eye ever made it on air. And while Queer Eye, etc., might not be the best champions of gay-as-mainstream, it’s a massive leap from the days of our parents’ TV evenings.

Tangent . . .

My point is that, with an understanding of what society, etc., was like BEFORE, it enables us to appreciate the art that came out of that time. And while some of you might already understand this, it was my epiphany of the weekend, and I’m very pleased to finally join those of you who appreciate the value of historical context.

Also
The bunnies have returned to their porch, and are VERY happy with their straw-lined lair. And Peter’s forgiven me for letting them inside – he wiggled his nose at me this morning. I might get some snuggles tonight!

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Peter Learns to Shit in Straw – January 17, 2005
Motivated by unreasonably high late fees, I finally watched The Barbarian Invasions. And it was okay. There was a lot of (French) talk of semen and blow jobs, and unnecessary close ups on drug injections. The most memorable moment, however, was the point when the subtitles stopped appearing.

First thought: Oh, I guess it’s symbolic and Anglophones aren’t supposed to understand this scene.

Second thought: I bet it’s because my DVD wiring is . . . creative. Stupid goddamn technology.

Third thought: I’m so sad. I was emotionally invested in this story; I thought I understood the characters. BUT THEY’RE SPEAKING FRENCH!! They were, all along. And I’m not part of their world, because I can’t understand what the hell is going on now. I’m just a gal on a couch, watching a foreign film.

Reward Thyself
Another motivation for sitting through The Barbarian Invasions was Dodgeball. Yes, I rented another moronic Ben Stiller creation . . . I needed a chaser for the intellectual shot that is Les invasions barbares. I’ve begun to notice consistent cameos in certain movies – Kevin Smith has Matt Damon & Ben Affleck’s souls; Ben Stiller’s favourite blonde actress has resurrected from Zoolander and is also in Dodgeball. I suppose I could look that relationship up somewhere – some cheesy internet fan site, or a shiny celebrity magazine. But, eww, I’m not that dirty.

Peter, the Alpha Bun
Peter’s new trick is untying the pink bows on my slippers with his bunny teeth. It doesn’t matter if I’m wearing the slippers or not – they’ve gone missing, and then I’ve found them, undone, under my bed (aka in Peter’s Lair of Bunny Machismo).

He was reluctant to accept straw in his litterbox at first. (We’ve used hay since his early bunnyhood.) But after a LOT of messing about with the box – dragging it back and forth with his front paws, digging out some of the extra, more itchy straw – he’s accepted my decision. I know it sounds really gross, but a rabbit’s poops are the only accurate way to gauge his/her health and happiness. (As prey, rabbits will pretend they’re perfectly fine so as not to attract predators.) But Peter pooped this morning, and that means that the world is a happy place. Straw and all.

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The Second Letter to Levi – January 19, 2005
I bet that some of you think I’m just joking (or maybe you’re HOPING I’m just joking) but I have really mailed two letters to Levi at this time. Handwritten, pen on paper, with a stamp and address and everything.

I didn’t want to scare the poor guy, so I sent them c/o the Rivoli theatre, which he performs at a lot. This shows great restraint, considering that he is listed on 411.ca, but I think that might be a bit spooky. Home address, and all.

The first one I wrote the night I saw him on TV – sometime last summer or fall, I don’t really remember. I’d been drinking.

The second one I mailed just before Christmas, which I thought would give the postal people lots of time to deliver it before Levi’s next performance at the Rivoli. But it definitely must have arrived by last night, the night Levi was MC-ing a comedy show (which, coincidentally, included The Wet Spots, who also performed at the Victoria Fringe Festival last summer, alongside my play).

And so I wait. I expect, if he intends to reply at all, it will take at least a week for the letter to travel from Toronto. So give it two weeks or so for a reply to be in my mailbox . . . I’m not entirely sure what I’ll do if he doesn’t write back. Is three (unacknowledged) letters a bit goofy? Should I JUST TAKE THE HINT and leave the poor guy alone?

Oh, I completely forgot! Nathan was going to investigate Levi via his comedian girl. I will follow up tomorrow.

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So Much Is Happening! – January 20, 2005
Am I the only one who feels the clichéd-but-true feeling of Spring this week? Sure, there was snow just last Sunday, but EVERYTHING is so SEXUAL! Even Peter the Alpha Bun has been following me around lately, instead of hiding under the couch. This morning there was a condom balloon hanging from the roof of my bus shelter! The transvestive-hooker from View Towers had new (5-inch) heels on this morning! And the men in Victoria are good looking – I’ve lived here for more than six years, and I have never seen so many attractive men in this 6 women:1 man, “I’m married, old, or gay” city.

I always thought that winter was the time for coupling-up, in preparation for the cold and dark. But no! The animals have it right! Let’s meet, mate, and be merry!

What I Want
#1: a good massage. I’ve never been without SOMEONE to give me a proper massage, but suddenly I find myself achy and surrounded by platonic friends. I’ve resolved to get myself a spa massage this year, for my 25th birthday present. Last year I gave myself a pretty necklace and bracelet; the year before, I made myself a quilt (which Peter has since chewed up and shat out).

#2: a career like Carrie Bradshaw’s on Sex in the City. I only like watching that show because of the occasional scenes with Carrie, comfortable in her pj-underwear, ruminating over her laptop. And she can still afford to live in New York! It must be possible – TV says it’s so. This is an eventual-dream, maybe for when I’m later-20’s or thirties. First I need to pay off my goddamn student loans, and learn EVERYTHING about issues management and professional communications, so that I can freelance when the Mastercard bill is due.

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Painful Observations – January 21, 2005
When I get nervous I become a moron. This was Quinn’s insight today, and (true to best friend form) he wasn’t reluctant to share his observations with me.

I know it’s true! How can I change?? I blush and make mundane declarations . . . I can’t seem to answer any question directly, I appeal to ANYone else nearby to provide the answers that I already know.

Anytime I become convinced that I’ve “grown up,” that I’m truly “becoming the man I always wanted to marry” (I love that!), something routine happens and I stutter and stammer and turn primary-red. Lately, triggers have included: introductions to large groups of people; awkward smile-exchanges with a hottie on the bus; and inviting my sexy banker to a martini party.

When will I become smooth and suave and uber-cool? Is there an age? An income bracket? Do I need a certain number of publication credits?? Maybe I should watch more/less television.

Condom Balloon – Update
It wasn’t at the bus shelter this morning, so I wandered around a bit, trying to find it on the ground. No luck. I’ll always regret not taking that picture the other morning.

Things I’m Working On That Have Stalled
My jigsaw puzzle.
Greek lessons.
Dusting.
Three shelves worth of “good books.” (To read – I’m gradually reading them. Books are for reading.)
Times Colonist crosswords (borrowed from work) and some logic puzzles, which for some reason I’ve become incapable of finishing. Maybe I’m stupidifying.

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Ugh – January 23, 2005
I love martinis. I feel so yucky today.

Really Great Idea
Every few months I think of some innovative, life-changing invention, etc., and then I tell people and they say “Great idea!” and then a while later that same idea becomes mainstream thanks to someone else and that person gets all famous and rich and stuff.

My idea last night (after a few martinis) was to have a martini restaurant like a Japanese restaurant, with a martini-maker for each table of people. That way the martini-maker could suggest special drinks according to individual taste, etc. (personal attention, an aesthetic experience – all good stuff).

I reveled in my brilliance all last night, and then opened up to Best Friend Quinn this morning and told him my stunningly genius idea.

“Sort of like a bar?” He said.

Yep. Right.

Heather Goes Back to the Drama Buffet For Seconds
My sexy banker is married, which I know because others told me. That’s not a cool way to find out.

You might be thinking: Well, gees Heather – the ring should have been a big old clue. Silly oblivious flirt! But I say NAY! There was no ring! Devil’s Advocate Quinn pointed out that maybe, like my daddy, the banker doesn’t wear his wedding ring to work for safety reasons.

However, my daddy is a carpenter and jewelery invites maimed hands, ripped-off fingers, etc.

The banker . . . is a banker!!!!!!!

To married people who act like they’re single: some of us are still fishing around, trying to catch the right one (or not). Keep your stupid feet out of the water; you’re making it muddy and scaring all the big ones away.

Good thing I have Levi – his love keeps me grounded.

Plagiarized Quote For the Day 
(I’m Too Ill to be Insightful)
“Of course I’m for Monogamy: I’m also for Everlasting Peace and an End to Taxes.”
– title of a book by Marilyn Vos Savant.

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The Pleasure of Giving – January 24, 2005
I got cool buttons and stickers today from Bitch magazine for my donation. I love them. Give them money.

Levi MacDougall
Important news first – or lack thereof: no letter as yet. How sad. Also, Nathan reported back to me re: his scouting via a comedian gal, and I can’t quite recall what he said (I was drinking martinis at the time) but I think he said that his gal friend didn’t know Levi personally and that there wasn’t much news there. So, yep.

Also, I’ve noticed, during casual “google.ca” searches, that no new listings are coming up for L.M. so either he has retired, or google is a lazy bitch search engine, or he’s in hiding because some crazy chick in Victoria is stalking him.

In the News
I’m VERY aware of current issues – it’s part of my day job – but I don’t like to rant about politics here. It’s a choice, to preserve job security and my sanity. But I highly recommend www.publiceyeonline.com for current events and local gossip.

Also, there was a story today in the Vancouver Sun (ew) that said that the formula for happiness is as follows:
[W+(D-d)]xTQ divided by MxNA
“where W is the weather, D is your debt (and small d is the amount of money you’ll get on your next payday), T is elapsed time since Christmas, and Q the length of time since you abandoned a New Year’s resolution or other self-improvement plan. M is a sort of all-purpose category for motivation levels. NA is the necessary action for making your life better.”
– “Today – The Most Depressing Day of the Year?” Vancouver Sun, Pg A1, January 24/05, By Tom Spears).

I haven’t done the calculations yet, but with my student loan debt I don’t expect fantastic results.

The Warren
I thought Peter had learned to shit in straw, but apparently he’s the one who’s been training me, because I’ve been forced (via various bunny manipulations) to go back to using hay for his litter box. Bunnies are nefarious. To show his disdain for the straw he peed on the floor, right beside the box, and then he spread the straw ALL OVER the floor of my apartment.

I’m not sure what this says about our relationship, but as long as I get my bunny kisses I’m okay with it.

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Stupid Goddamn A&B Sound – January 25, 2005
Stupid goddamn A&B Sound. I walked ten blocks back to A&B to get my CD after my doctor’s appointment – and I’d kind of been looking forward to this new CD for awhile – and they didn’t have it. (!!!!!!!!)

So I asked. Apparently some moron did something and it won’t be in until (maybe as late as) next week. (!!!!!)

I have a crippling Christmas Eve Complex (self-diagnosed), which means that I get VERY VERY EXCITED about certain things. This whole A&B incident is upsetting.

Speaking of Heather Being Crazy
My doctor’s appointment was with a counsellor, because I’ve been trying to STOP THE MADNESS of anxiety ever since second year university. Medication is fine and (to be honest) magnificent, but I’ve been searching for some counselling/therapy sessions to balance out the drugs.

Anyhoo, our first session, today, was great. Like most people, I LOVE to talk about myself (ahem – this website), so that was fun, and also I like the process of character development and analysis, which is what my counselor “Beth” is doing. I could almost hear the “aha!”s when I said certain things, about being an eldest child raised by middle children, etc.

I’m excited about how counseling might help, but I’m also confused by the chemical vs psychological nature of my anxiety. My doctor says that it’s okay to use prescription drugs, because if I had a heart problem, I wouldn’t feel guilty for taking heart medication. But then, the whole focus of counseling (or so it seems thus far) is figuring out what’s inside me that is causing the anxiety – the “underlying issues.”

Is it me or my genetics? Anxiety is such a potent force, when unmedicated, that I have difficulty believing that breathing exercises (ha!) will quash it.

We’ll see. I feel great that I’m trying something new.

Happy Thought
Income tax!!!! I LOVE tax time. This will be an unusual year to tax-ify, due to the variety of income-creating activities. I might have to hire an accountant. YAY!

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Training the Diva – January 26, 2005
Celeste has met her match! A clicker and a pocketful of treats, with Quinn and I thoroughly trained to resist her pretty wittle Westie eyes . . . awwww . . .

Our first dog training class was tonight. I’m joining Q in this endeavor as a back-up – he says it’s because I’m the one who needs to learn how to be tough with Celeste, but I’ve seen them spooning on the couch, and I know we’ll both benefit from the lessons.

Boo to Hugo’s
There’s an ad on the radio for Hugo’s; they try to sell themselves as the bar for “young professionals.” My experiences with Hugo’s are: being hit on by a drunk old man who smelled; and those disgusting posters around town for cheap “Jugs” with a close up of airbrushed boobs in a push-up bra.

Yes, my “young professional” girl friends and I definitely choose Hugo’s for our nights out.

Wisdom Teeth – UPDATE
The great thing about wisdom teeth is that they appear when you’re old enough to have forgotten any memories of still having parts of you grow. I’m in awe of these emerging bits of enamel (calcium? What are teeth made of?) and that my mouth can accommodate their pointiness and size.

(I still vaguely remember thinking “oh, these shoes are a bit big, but I’ll grow into them” and then realizing that my feet had stopped growing the year before.)

Lessons Learned
When your friend asks you to thaw some chicken for dinner, and you put it in the microwave, and then you decide you feel like making ribs instead, it’s a good idea not to forget about the chicken, and leave it in there for two days.

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Aside From Wisdom Teeth – January 27, 2005
Jessie and I had a wonderful date tonight. A truly girl-friendly event, with cosmopolisyns from Syn, that new martini bar on Yates – oh, and I had a very decent steak and veggies and mushrooms and potatoes and LOBSTER TAIL – and before that was bra shopping, a necessary chore which I love/hate because:
– it’s fun to buy pretty things
– it’s boring to buy useful, necessary things, unless they’re especially pretty.

But exciting discovery: aside from my new Bureaucrat Belly, I also have new Bureaucrat Boobies! I’ve grown from an “A” cup to a “B” cup and this is surprising, because I thought (aside from wisdom teeth) that I was done growing. But no, I’m becoming buxom. I love that word – buxom. Sounds like an animal. That we eat.

Anyhoo, I have three stunning new bras and a pair of pants that cradle my new gut very nicely.

The Date Continued
And we attended the eighth episode of Atomic Vaudeville, a sorta improv show with guest performers. (It’s held monthly at the Victoria Culture Centre on Broad Street.)

And it was funny. We laughed a lot. (There was also a bar.) And there was a great Oreo cookie skit, and a spoof Vaghina Monopause skit, and a strip show . . . just great. A wonderful girly date – the sort of girly date that girly date dreams are made of.

And now it’s time for sleep.

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Bowling for Carpel Tunnel Syndrome – January 30, 2005, 12:31 am
Jessie, Justin, Q and I went to Mayfair Lanes tonight, and Jessie sharked us – she’s a super striker! Q drank an entire pitcher of dark ale all by himself. Also, Q and I got a parking ticket because Robin parking is stupid and mean. But then we had ice cream at Red Robin, and everything was good – I am AMAZED at how much dairy product J&J can consume when they have a craving.

Ho on the Go
Sometimes I “go homeless” and leave my apartment for a day or two – I have spare toothbrushes (and sometimes contact lens sets) at friends’ houses. I’m not sure why I like to do this, considering how much I love my home, but I love the idea of being a nomad, and living out of a bag, and scrounging for food in Quinn’s cupboards (or Bagels on Broad Street, as the case may be). My bunnies are ideal pets because they are so independent.

Entertainment Tonight
Ani DiFranco’s new CD finally arrived at A&B on Friday!!!! I confess, I haven’t listened to it yet. I’m waiting for a quiet few hours when I can sit and do my jigsaw puzzle and listen properly.

And one last bit of entertainment news: I’ve seen two movies this weekend so far – Hide & Seek, and Touch of Pink. H&S is stupid. Touch of Pink is funny and lovely and highly recommended. But then, I’m biased: I’m a homo honey who hates horror flicks.

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Rent Day! – January 30, 2005 – 10:37 pm
I’m learning how to use Fireworks and Dreamweaver, which is frustrating but fascinating. There’s something so retro-academic about self-motivated instruction. It’s like school, but sans stress. Regardless, I’ve been staring at computer screens much too often lately.

A New Angle
Dad gave me a very useful perspective today on the whole ANXIETY: IS IT MEDICAL OR PSYCHOLOGICAL? debate. I’ve been thinking of mental “illness” as similar to a heart condition, or cancer, or something equally debilitating that you didn’t necessarily cause, it’s a genetic mutation, freak occurrence, and meds are expected in order to keep you alive. (With this view, counseling is silly.)

But Dad likens mental “illness” with a tender ankle – you can take meds to ease the pain when it flares up, but if you learn how to move around the weak joint, and strengthen the muscles, then you can (help) prevent a serious injury. Therefore, counseling is helpful.

I’ve noticed how much “spin” affects our world – the above is an example. But isn’t “spin” what our parents and environment teach us? To see the silver lining on the cloud? To take a spoonful of sugar, to help the medicine go down? Mommas and Daddys are raising little spin masters. How cute.

New DVDs in Heather’s Movie Library
I bought two goodies at Future Shop today: Donnie Darko, which Kent Karemaker introduced me to; and Don Juan DeMarco, which I haven’t seen in years. (Isn’t it odd how the two titles rhyme?)

I last saw Don Juan during my pre-university, pre-critical theory, pre-feminism years. I love the movie – besides Johnny Depp being JUST SO LOVELY, I was able to appreciate the sensuality more, watching it this afternoon. And I finally noticed the whole theme of identity and reality . . . I like it when we get those opportunities to stand in front of the growth chart, and measure the distance between “then” and “now.” It makes all that time (and tuition) worth it.

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I’m a Yogi! – January 31, 2005 
Rueben brought me into the world of grown up employment, and then I introduced Andrew and Quinn, and then Quinn forwarded Jessie’s resume to Tracy . . . (also, recently, Rachel has joined the ranks!) AND NOW I AM A YOGI!

My new protégé is named Dustin. He’s just a young thing, and I am helping him with employment and housing, etc., in Victoria (he lives in Duncan, I think). I call him my Yogu. Privately, of course – listed in the directory of my cell phone . . . my little Yogu, Dustin.

Being a Yogi satisfies the bossiest of my eldest child instincts. “Email this person; make your resume this size font.” Heaven.

In Related News
If anyone wants to hire a young’un or two, I have a stack of resumes on my desk from a whole bunch of great people.

Leaning on my Door Today
was a parcel! I was in Kiss & Tell the other day and the “staff recommended” book was Sexual Intelligence. There’s even a quiz. I have a fondness for sexual self-help books – the Powers That Be say that sex and death are the two most difficult things to write about.

Anyhoo, I was going to be a good person and buy the book at my locally-owned bookstore, but then I remembered my Chapters membership discount card (silly me) and went there instead. The book had recently been on sale, it seems, but was out of stock. I refused to pay full price ($37 or something) when I knew it had just recently cost a mere $4.99, so I went online to www.abebooks.com, and I bought it for $10 US (shipping and handling included). I know it’s the devil to buy American instead of Canadian, but I paid $1.75 for public transit to carry me four blocks this morning so I think we’re even.

So the book was at my door today, and I’ve read the first chapter and done the quiz. Definitely worth $10 US — I’ve already highlighted a few gender stereotypes and strangely Christian vocabulary (“sin,” “adultery” – who says “adultery” anymore?!), but we shall see. I’ll report back when I get around to reading the rest.

P.S.
I also made ginger snap cookies tonight. They are so good.

Heather McLeod is a mystery writer based in British Columbia, Canada.